Saint City Sinners

by Lilith Saintcrow

  At the small chiming of the necklace meeting the floor, he slowly raised his head and looked at me, his eyes halting for just the barest moment at my left wrist and the dead black weight of the Gauntlet.

  I would have backed up, lifted the sword between me and his laser-green gaze again, but the granite egg inside my chest cracked. Rage boiled up, hot and satisfying, I returned to myself with an incendiary jolt. It felt good to let the anger out, as if a valve had been opened, some of the awful pressure bleeding away.

  I narrowed my eyes and stared back, hoping it was just as uncomfortable for him. It wasn’t bloody likely, but a girl could hope, couldn’t she?

  His lips moved. “Dante,” he said, quietly. Evenly. With no particular weight of emotion.

  Hey, sunshine. Glad to see me? I clamped down on the shudders jolting through me. “Japhrimel.”

  His eyes bored into mine. The command was immediate, peremptory. “Release me.”

  Not even a “Hi, how are you?” The fury mounted another pitch. Giving me orders, again. Well, now that he couldn’t manipulate me and lull me to sleep while he ran around doing gods-knew-what, I suppose it was about all he had left. It shouldn’t have made me angry—but it did.

  “What the hell for?” I shook my head, my hair brushing my shoulders and spilling into my face. I needed to find something to tie it back with. “I told you, I warned you. I begged you not to hunt her, didn’t I? I begged you not to lie to me, not to keep things from me. But I suppose that’s all a human’s good for. Begging.”

  He shrugged. He shrugged at me.

  It was a good thing my hands were shaking so badly, I decided. Otherwise I might have done something completely idiotic, like draw my sword and charge through the circles. As it was, I stared at him, my eyes moving over the face I’d thought was familiar. Why was I always so surprised to find him so attractive? His nose was a little too long, his lips too thin, the planes of his cheeks too harsh, his eyebrows too straight. But I liked it better than Lucifer’s golden beauty or Massadie’s genespliced perfection.

  Japh was beautiful like a blade was beautiful, anything well-oiled and deadly dedicated to a single purpose.

  Hate surged inside me, all the more intense for the spoiled affection and broken trust underneath it. It wasn’t fair to blame him for everything, but it was so easy. So convenient. He was here, and so was my daughter, and I might be the only thing standing between them.

  I would have to be enough.

  “You bastard,” I whispered. “You motherfucking demon.”

  “I am,” he returned calmly, “what you make of me.” His right hand curled into a fist. His eyes flicked away to the red candleflame, which began to smoke and splutter. “I warned you not to make me savage, Dante.”

  My voice hit a pitch just under “shriek.” “Me? This is my fault? You’re the one who deceives, and manipulates, and—”

  The candleflame guttered under the weight of his gaze, recovered with a sound like air sliding past a hover’s hull. “You are the Prince’s Right Hand, and you are implicitly aiding his enemies. Against your own A’nankhimel, I might add, the demon who Fell through love of you. Where is your precious honor in that?”

  I don’t think either of us believed he’d said that. The glassy floor creaked and shifted as the circles fought to contain him—and won, but just barely. They were right, he was going to get out soon.

  And all the gods help us when he did.

  “So it’s war,” I said. “Me and Eve on one side, you and the Devil on the other.”

  “Do not be so sure.” But his tone was now colored faintly with sarcasm. “I will have your compliance, Dante, one way or another. Free me now, and I can promise I will deal gently with the Androgyne and her rebellion. I can perhaps even save some of them.”

  Well, at least he’s being honest about not being on my side, for once. A jittering, thready laugh burst out of me. The gravball hoop nearest us shivered, the bolts holding it to the wall squeaking a thin song of agonized metal. The air sparked and danced like carbolic tossed across reactive paint, glittering and smoking.

  “There’s not a single thing you could swear on now that I would believe, Eldest.” I backed up one step, two, unwilling to turn my back on him. My traitorous eyes still drank in his face. I wished he would look at me, buried the wish as soon as it appeared.

  “I could swear on my hedaira.” He even managed to say it with a straight face.

  “Save it for someone who gives a fuck.” Each word was bitterness itself, almost bitter as the taste of Death in my mouth as I brought a soul back. “We’re over, Japhrimel. It’s war.”

  His eyes left the candleflame, traveled slow and scorching across the floor. Met my boots, slid gelid and heavy up my legs, caressed my torso, and finally found my face. The mark on my shoulder crunched with fresh sensation, steel fire braiding into my skin and turning to velvet, driving a fresh wave of numbness back down my arm and almost to the cuff.

  I ignored it. I was getting very good at ignoring that feeling. Just like I was getting very good at jamming down the squealing wall of rage. What would happen when I couldn’t push it away anymore?

  He drew in a sharp breath, two spots of color flaming high on his cheekbones. His eyes were incandescent, and he had never looked so much like Lucifer. “There is nothing, on this earth or in Hell, that will keep me from you. I am your Fallen.”

  I lifted the sword slightly, the hilt mercifully deflecting his eyes from mine. “Whatever weapon Eve’s looking for, I hope she finds it. The next time I see you, I’m going to fight you with everything I have.” My throat closed on the words, bit each off sharply. Made them a husky promise. Here among demons, I didn’t have to worry about the invitation in my voice, the Power that coated my words, my own unwanted ability to seduce. “I trusted you, Japhrimel. You betrayed me first.”

  He said nothing. There didn’t seem to be much else to say.

  I turned my back on him. I walked away, each footstep echoing. His eyes were on me the whole time, a weight against my shoulders.

  It took an eternity to reach the door. Eve slid her arm over my shoulders, and I was glad because I didn’t think I could stay upright much longer. She glanced back over her shoulder at Japhrimel and ushered me out into the hall. When the door closed with a quiet click I felt something inside my chest snap like a bone breaking.

  I ducked away from under her arm as soon as I could stand. “I need a slicboard and I need to get going. I’ve got business to finish.”

  She nodded, sleek hair swinging. “Whatever it is, be quick about it. That won’t hold him for long.” She looked like she wanted to say something else—maybe something ridiculously human like are you okay?

  But I knew the answer to that. I was not okay.

  I was not ever going to be anything close to “okay” ever again. I’d just thrown down the gauntlet, ha ha, and when he got out of there he was going to come looking for me. It was all out in the open now—his lies, and my refusal to live up to my end of the bargain we’d made with Lucifer.

  Now it was war. I didn’t think he’d fight fair.

  I didn’t think I would fight fair either. Not with Eve depending on me. I squared my shoulders, willed my legs to stop trembling. “I’ve got some business to finish. Where are we going to hook up?”

  She nodded slightly. It was an implicit agreement. I was breaking my word to Lucifer, I had betrayed Japhrimel. It was all over but the screaming, as they used to say.

  Now I just need to get this wristcuff off, and we’ll be ready to tango.

  Her dark-blue eyes held mine, a velvet cage. “If you can, meet me in Paradisse. If not, I’ll find you.”

  Paradisse, in Hegemony Franje, the glittering suspended city of a thousand lights and the Darkside underneath. A great place to hide, especially for a demon. I nodded. My eyes were suspiciously full and hot.

  Eve leaned forward. Her breath brushed my cheek, and then her cool scented mouth met my skin.

 
It was a gentle chaste kiss on my cheek, and very short, but it scorched all the way through me. When she backed away, I found I could stand up straight. I could even unlock my hands from my sword and push back a few strands of my rebellious hair. The hallway quivered, the dust in the air holding its breath.

  Does that mean the bargain’s struck? Sealed with a kiss. The kiss of betrayal. I can’t win against Japhrimel, but I can’t betray Eve either. I’m fucking doomed.

  “Thank you,” she said gravely. “I won’t forget this.”

  I have a sneaking suspicion I won’t either. I just did the one thing a Necromance should never do—I’ve broken my word. “I know,” I whispered. “Do me a favor and get out of here fast. He’s closer to breaking out than you think.”

  I called Jado from a public callbox in the University District, leaning against the side of the booth and watching the crowd of late-afternoon shoppers contending with the steady persistent drizzle. Another storm was moving in, I could tell from the way the rain smelled and the air was full of uneasy crackles. Whether that storm was weather or trouble, I couldn’t tell. I suspected it was both.

  Jado could tell me nothing except that Cam and Mercy were gone. Not particularly surprising; I’d expected it. He still had the sealed pouch with the mastersheets and file—it would take more than either of them had to steal from him.

  He asked if I had found what I was looking for.

  “After a fashion, sensei.” I hardly trembled at all, though I did sound husky and ruined. For once, I felt just as tired as I sounded. “Thank you. I’ll keep in touch.”

  That done, I hailed a hovercab at the corner of University and Thirteenth. The driver, a fat pasty normal in a blue felt hat, for once didn’t mutter or turn pale when he saw my tat. He seemed blissfully unaware that I was a psion.

  Well, little miracles do happen.

  “Trivisidiro, North End. Get me there fifteen minutes ago.”

  I only hoped I wasn’t too late.

  28

  Jace taught me more about bounty hunting in a single year than all the law-enforcement supplements at the Academy had in five. The first rule, he always said, was to understand your prey. When you comprehend the nature of what you hunt, you understand what it is capable of—and can anticipate its next move.

  I watched as dusk fell over Trivisidiro, chill purple shadows gathering in rain-drenched corners. The high walls of Gabe’s property line stood mute under a lash of rainy just-above-freezing wind; the shields were still viable, the work I’d done binding them together holding steady. I leaned against the wall of my hiding spot, tucked between another house’s high walls and a dripping holly hedge prickling against my hand and shoulder and hip, poking through wet fabric. My skin steamed where the rain hit it, but the steam shredded before it could rise above the hedge and give away my position. I waited still and quiet, counting on the instability of the storm and the flux of Power to keep me hidden—since I was having a hard time keeping myself buttoned down anymore. I needed rest, I needed food, I needed sleep.

  I wasn’t going to get any of what I needed. Best just to deal with it.

  There’s a mind-numbing brand of circular mental motion that takes place while you’re on stakeout. I thought about Japhrimel, would remind myself not to think about him and wrench my mind into remembering Gabe, lying tangled in a young hemlock. I would think of Gabe’s daughter and a holostill smile. Would she have the dimple in her left cheek, like Gabe? Would she have a hoarse little braying laugh like Eddie? Would I be able to protect her while I was running from both Japhrimel and Lucifer, trying to keep Eve alive long enough to make a difference?

  Though Eve didn’t seem to be doing too badly. What the hell did she need me for? What was it with demons being so interested in me?

  Which would lead me right back to thinking about Japhrimel. I’d begged him not to hunt her. Yet he’d refused to tell me what was going on, left me with McKinley while he went out looking for her. If he had managed to catch her and return her to Lucifer, what would have happened? Would he even have told me?

  I shouldn’t have been, but I was still surprised. Wearily, heart-wrenchingly surprised, each time I thought of it. He was a demon. His idea of truth wasn’t necessarily mine. To him, I might be no more than a valued possession; a pet, even. You love your cat or your cloned koi, but you don’t treat it like a human. No, you pet it, feed it, take it to the Animone for its shots and checkups. You don’t treat it like a partner, or an equal.

  Even if it’s referred to in the singular, with you.

  Had he thought that it would push me back on Lucifer’s side if he appeared to be in danger? Or had he miscalculated, not thinking Eve was strong or smart enough to catch him or hold him this long?

  Why? If I could have asked him anything, that little word would be it. It would cover so much, if I could trust his answer.

  But he had held me while I cried, hadn’t he? And no matter what kind of trouble I was in, I usually could count on him to bail me out. That was worth something, wasn’t it?

  I cherish my time with you. His voice, smoky-dark and smooth.

  I tore my thoughts away from him again with an almost-physical effort, wondering about Lucas and Leander. Where were they? Were they even now frantically looking for me? Or had they been killed?

  There was no more time for thinking. My prey came down the sidewalk in the early-morning dark, walking arm-in-arm as if they hadn’t a care in the world. They might even have believed themselves safe.

  After all, what did a sedayeen and a Saint City cop have to fear?

  Only me, I thought, silent and deadly in the shadow of a holly hedge.

  Only me.

  I let them get through the shields. The layers of energy flushed a deep blue-green, settled as the healer stroked them. Bile rose in my throat. Gabe would not have denied a sedayeen entrance into her house, especially one working with Eddie. So she would have been already inside when something alerted Gabe to a possible attack on her property and the defenseless healer inside. Gabe, sword in hand, went out alone to defend her home and got shot. Then it was child’s play for the healer to “clean” the psychic traces inside Gabe’s house after she and the normals she’d let in through Gabe’s shields searched for the vials.

  Just like now it was child’s play for the healer to slip in through the defenses with her normal in tow.

  I let them get inside the dark, silent house, then drifted across the street and touched the shields. Softly, a kitten’s brush of a touch, warning them not to react to me. Gabe’s work recognized me—how could it not?

  Oh, Gabriele. I failed you. I should have stayed. Even though it was hard, I should have stayed. Why didn’t you tell me you were getting married, you had a kid, you were afraid for your life? Why? Didn’t you trust me to come if you needed me?

  No, she hadn’t, because I’d lied to her about Japhrimel. With the best of intentions, because it would only raise more questions, because I couldn’t stand to admit to her that I loved a demon and I was no longer fully human. Each phone call, with its long silences and the things neither of us could say, was another failure on my part. I should have told her.

  It was my fault. I hadn’t been here to protect her.

  I slid through the layers of energy slowly, so slowly. Gabe’s front gate squeaked as I pushed through it, but they wouldn’t hear. Even if there had been Saint City PD magshielding or a lock on the place as the site of a homicide, a cop would have no trouble getting clearance, especially a normal homicide deet flush with dirty Chill money.

  Everything so neatly arranged. Everything so perfectly planned. Down to the fact that I’d bet hard credit the cop had the missing fifth vial to sell to the highest bidder—the sample the healer had probably talked Gabe into producing after Eddie’s death. I didn’t know for sure, but that felt right.

  The front door was open, the shields on the house quivering with the presence of intruders, even acceptable ones. The windows, blank empty darkened eyes
, watched as I approached carefully, cautiously, and closed my right hand around my swordhilt. Up the stairs to the massive double door, not the side door that any friend of Gabe and Eddie’s knew to go to. I slid through the front door, my new boots soft and soundless.

  Just like a thief.

  I found the trigger by the front door, my fingers sliding over the base of a bronze statue. The statue was Eros in Psyche’s embrace, his wings pulled close around the half-nude female. Eddie had called it Classic Porn, sniggering every time he passed it. Gabe would icily remind him that it was an antique, and that it had been in her family for generations, and that the artist had been a close family friend. I could just see her immaculate eyebrow lifting as she repeated this patiently, as if Eddie was a primary-school kid with a dirty mind.

  Of course, Eddie did have a primary-school kid’s dirty mind. It was one of his greatest personality traits.

  It was dark, but demon sight pierced the darkness easily, showed me the coats and boots from Gabe’s hall closet scattered in careless lumps, each pocket sliced. They were coming back for another search, looking for the four vials I had given away.

  I smelled kyphii and Gabe’s particular scent, the tang of Eddie’s dirt-drenched aura. Then I felt the other psion’s shock as I dropped the outer layer of my shielding and blazed through the Power-soaked house like a star.

  I pressed down on the trigger, and had the satisfying experience of hearing the locks on each window and door click shut. Maglocks, to turn the house into a fortress. The front door whooshed on automatic hinges, thudding closed and locking too.

  I’m sorry, Gabe. I walked through the foyer, my boots absolutely silent. I could feel them both, the sloppy wash of the normal man tainted with fear and thudding heart, copper adrenaline. And the healer’s deep well of violet-scented calm, underlain with a slight nasty wet-fur smell of panic fighting with her training and genetic disposition to tranquility.