The Devil s Right Hand

by Lilith Saintcrow

  “Your daughter?” My voice rose, the sun-disk rocking back on its stand, squealing. “Your daughter?”

  “Mine,” Lucifer replied silkily. “The human matrix means nothing, Dante. Only the Androgyne matters.”

  She isn’t yours. She’s Doreen’s, and you stole her. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” I snarled. “No way. Go fuck yourself, Lucifer, if it will reach.” I spun on my heel, static gathering on the air, and would have stalked away with my back exposed if Japhrimel had not caught my arm.

  He said something to Lucifer in their demon tongue, sliding consonants and harsh, hurtful vowels. I stared up at Japhrimel’s face, his hand burning on my arm—he didn’t squeeze, but his grasp was firm enough that I knew he meant business. He wouldn’t have broken my arm, but he would have kept me there, and an undignified struggle in front of the Devil wasn’t something I wanted.

  What the hell was he saying? I didn’t even know what hedaira meant. All I knew of demon language was Japhrimel’s name and the hissing sibilance of their word for no. And, oddly enough, the word for sunlight.

  Lucifer made a reply. Not even his golden voice could make that language sound good.

  Japhrimel asked something else, the intonation clearly a question.

  Lucifer’s reply was brief and pointed enough that I looked from Japhrimel back to him, craning my neck.

  This went on for a few minutes, question and reply; the horrible sound of that tongue crawling along my skin with prickling venomous feet. Finally, Japhrimel said something quietly, and the Prince of Hell’s lip curled. He nodded, once, curtly. His eyes were bright and avid, resting on me. I felt the weight of that gaze like a load of coldly poisonous sedation, flooding my veins and making me shiver.

  Japhrimel looked down at me, his eyes flaring green again for a moment. “Very well,” he said quietly. “A moment to speak to my hedaira, Prince.”

  “Granted.” Lucifer eyed both of us, then turned away to look back up at the sun-disk. He wore a very slight, very nasty smile that dried up all the spit in my mouth.

  Japhrimel dragged me down the aisle a few steps, his coat separating in front, then spread his wings slightly and drew me in. He rested his chin atop my head. Dante. It was a calm, quiet sound in the very middle of my head, a thread of meaning. We have no choice.

  Bullshit. We had a choice. There was always a choice. I closed my eyes, rested my forehead against his bare chest. Fine tremors walloped through me, each successive wave beating at the cocoon of Power Japhrimel held me in. My sword hilt dug into my ribs, I held the blade with creaking knuckles.

  Japh’s voice continued, inexorable. Either we bargain with the Prince, or we make an enemy of him as well as of the demons that have escaped his control. At least if we bargain with him we have a chance of continuing our life together.

  I didn’t want to “bargain.” I wanted Lucifer to leave us alone. I got the distinct impression that if I made any bargain with the Prince of Hell, I’d come off as badly as I had last time—crippled, barely alive, and possibly with another long, despairing time of trying to resurrect Japhrimel on my hands. Or the whole thing could end up with both of us dead, and no way was I in the market for that.

  Then let me negotiate. I have, after all, bargained before.

  I swallowed, let out a soft breath against his skin. Felt his sudden attention as his arms tightened, pressing me against his body. His fingers traced up my back through my clothes, a wave of familiar fire curling through me. He was taller, his shoulders broad, and with his wings around me I was completely enclosed. The small shudder of response—the proof that I affected him—comforted me much more than it probably should have.

  “Fine,” I whispered. “You go ahead, then.” We weren’t in Hell, the rule about him not talking probably didn’t apply. Besides, he was more likely to come out ahead when it came to fencing verbally with the Devil.

  He nodded, his chin moving against my hair. “Courage, hedaira,” he said very softly, mouthing the words. I shivered.

  I have plenty of courage. I just don’t have any assurance Lucifer isn’t going to turn on us both.

  Japhrimel led me back to the altar rail and waited until Lucifer faced us, green eyes sliding over us both. I saw a flash of something odd on the head demon’s face, just a flicker, his eyes darkening and his mouth turning down.

  What the hell was that? Did Lucifer actually look guilty? Or envious?

  Actually, I was betting on enraged. Or murderous.

  Danny, your imagination just works too well.

  “Five years of service,” Japhrimel said. “The full control of Hellesvront. Your word on your Name that you will protect Dante with every means at your disposal, forever.”

  The Devil’s eyes closed slowly, opened again. Some essential tension leaked out of the air. Now it was a bargaining game, cat and mouse, bartering for my life. Well, last time I hadn’t been able to bargain; it had been pretty goddamn simple. Do what I tell you, or be killed. This was a step up.

  Not really.

  Lucifer countered. “Twenty years, with a meeting to discuss renewal. Full control of Hellesvront, and my friendship to Dante Valentine as long as her life lasts.”

  “Seven years, full control, and swearing on your Name to protect her until eternity ends, Prince. That is nonnegotiable.”

  “What else?” The Devil didn’t look amused now. As a matter of fact, he looked sour. It didn’t mar his beauty, but it fascinated me.

  Japhrimel paused for only a moment. He said something in their language again, something very slow and distinct.

  What the hell? I looked up at Japhrimel, then over at the Devil. What the hell is he doing?

  Lucifer’s eyes glowed. I set my jaw, trying not to feel as if I was burrowing into Japhrimel’s side. Anubis, et’her ka, I prayed. Lord of Death, watch over me.

  “You dare?” Lucifer snarled, his face suffusing with rage. If I could have made any sound at all I might have whimpered. I’d never seen the Devil truly angry before—and I didn’t want to. “Abomination.”

  Japhrimel shrugged. “I learned too well from you. You should not have offered me freedom, Prince—even if you never intended to fulfill that offer.”

  Oh, Anubis, don’t piss him off. I don’t want to see the Devil in a really bad mood. Japhrimel’s arm was tight and reassuring over my shoulder. He’d been the Devil’s assassin. If Lucifer lost his temper would Japh be able to get me out of here alive? I certainly hoped so. The entire temple vibrated with Lucifer’s anger, stone groaning and air swirling, freighted with a soundless fiery static. One of the pews cracked down the middle, the sound loud as a gunshot. I didn’t jump—but it was close.

  Damn close.

  “I would not have, if your service had not been exceptional.” Lucifer bit off the edges of the words. Then he darted a look at me, and I would have sworn his green eyes lit up with glee. The Power cloaking him swirled once, spread out to haze through the cathedral. “Well, Dante. What do you think of your Fallen now?”

  I waited for Japhrimel to warn me not to reply, but he did nothing, standing curiously still. I cleared my throat. “I trust him a hell of a lot more than I trust you.” That, at least, was unequivocally true.

  That made the Devil’s eyes light up. Was he actually looking mischievous? Wonders never ceased.

  Then again, the Devil in a mood to play with his prey was not something I ever wanted to see, either. I was suddenly fiercely glad I wasn’t completely physically human anymore, for the very first time. A human would never have been able to stand the welter of razor-toothed Power in the air or the way Lucifer’s eyes suddenly drifted down to touch my throat. My heart gave an unsteady leap.

  “Well-matched, the pair of you. Very well, Tierce Japhrimel. Seven years, full control, and my protection sworn on my own ineffable Name for the miserable Necromance, for eternity. I accept your other terms.” His voice was brittle as glass. “Is there aught else?”

  I could have left it there. I should have
, Japhrimel’s arm tightened around me. But I couldn’t help myself. “Eve,” I said.

  Lucifer’s entire body tensed. “Be very careful,” he warned me, in a chill, beautiful, hurtful voice. “You do not know what you say.”

  I cleared my throat. If the Devil truly needed me, I had a way to erase at least one name from my long list of failures. “Freedom for Doreen’s daughter, Lucifer. That’s my condition, on top of Japhrimel’s.” My lips skinned back from my teeth. There comes a point past which terror gives you a crazy type of courage; maybe I’d reached it.

  His eyes blazed. He took a single step forward, the shadows in the cathedral suddenly pulling close, red eyes glowing in the dimness, the susurrus of flame or wings beating in the vaulted space.

  I didn’t see Japhrimel move, but he was suddenly a little in front of me, his shoulder pushing me aside and back. That put him mostly between me and the Devil, and my heart thumped sickly against my ribs at the thought of him facing down Lucifer. “Enough, Prince.” His voice cut through the thunderstorm of Power. “Have we reached agreement?”

  “Seven years. Full control. Protection for her. And you, Japhrimel, restored to your place of pride in the Greater Flight. I agree.”

  My heart slammed into my throat. I couldn’t help myself. I looked up at Japhrimel, who was utterly still, pale under his golden skin. What the fuck? The full meaning of the words slammed home.

  “Done.” Japhrimel’s jaw tightened after the word. His eyes flared, angular green runic shapes sliding through the darkness.

  “Done,” Lucifer repeated. His eyes turned to me.

  Oh, gods. Gods, no. He’s going back to Hell, I thought numbly. What did he just do? But Eve—

  “I am waiting for your agreement, Necromance.” Lucifer’s voice turned silky. “I counsel you to take this bargain; it is the best you will receive from me.”

  “Done,” I said, tonelessly, shocked. I had no choice—Japhrimel had already agreed, and if I pushed it, he might not be able to keep Lucifer from ripping me a new spleen or two.

  Trust me, Dante. Do not doubt me.

  The first rule of dealing with nonhumans: their idea of truth isn’t the same as ours. Maybe Japh had grown tired of hanging out with a damaged human, maybe I’d pushed him too hard. He’d maneuvered me into agreeing, played me neatly as a synthesizer. Eve’s freedom wasn’t a part of the bargain.

  It hit me again, like a thunder-roll after lightning. Japhrimel was going home to Hell for a while, and I was sold to the Devil for seven years.

  Great.

  Lucifer’s elegant lip lifted in a sneer. “Send her away, Tierce Japhrimel. I will wait.”

  I didn’t struggle, but Japhrimel had to drag me away, my boots scraping the floor. The last I saw of Lucifer, he had turned back to the altar, his golden hand resting on the rail again. His black-clad back rippled, as if some force streamed away from him. “Fools,” he hissed, and I wondered if he meant humans in general, or demons, or just me.

  10

  Japhrimel closed the cathedral door behind us, hauling me into the smoky dark of a Venizia night as if I weighed nothing. The whine of hovercells settled against my bones again, not only because of the city but because a sleek black hoverlimo was now waiting, a plasteel stepladder flowing down from the side entrance to touch the cathedral’s steps.

  Oh, look. Mad glee bubbled hot and acid in my throat. The boys send Dante home in style. Pack the human off until we need to use her again.

  “Go home,” Japhrimel said. “Wait for me.”

  “Wait for what? You’re coming back?” I asked numbly. Or maybe I just thought it, a roaring filled my head. My bag bumped my hip, and I was glad I’d suited up. If I’d had to deal with this without my weapons I would have started to scream. “Wait a second—Japhrimel—” My fingers tightened around the sword. If I drew it now, what would he do? What could I do?

  “There is no time for explanations, Dante. Do as I say.”

  “You asked to go back to Hell? Is that what happened? Are you coming back?” This time I was sure I’d spoken, but I didn’t recognize the small, wounded voice as mine.

  He made a short sound of annoyance and dragged me down the steps. Something hard and clawed rose in my throat, I closed my teeth against it. Denied it.

  I’m not going to cry. It doesn’t hurt. I am not going to cry. It doesn’t hurt.

  Number one rule for anyone who practices magick, don’t ever lie to yourself. I knew, with miserable clarity, that I was breaking that rule. “You bastard. Are you going back to Hell? For how long? What’s going on? At least say it out loud if you’re not coming back, at least tell me, the least you could do is tell me—” Instead of sounding angry, I only sounded tired. Curious numbness spread through my chest. Numbness like metal must feel when a blowtorch kisses it.

  Japhrimel stopped. He caught my shoulders, and before I could back up he pressed a hard, closed kiss on my mouth. I would have struggled, would have tried to break free, but his hands were like steel claws.

  “Listen to me.” His voice held none of the plasgun-charge of Power he’d used inside. Instead, he sounded carefully restrained, almost human. His eyes were full of green sparks, dancing in their depths like fireflies. “I will come for you. I will always come for you. Wait for me at home, do not open the door to anyone. I will be with you soon. Now go.”

  What could I say to that? I simply stared at him, my fingers nerveless-tight around my sword.

  He shoved me up the steps and into the hover. “Go, and wait for me,” he repeated, then leapt back down from the steps. I collapsed on the pleather seat, all the strength running out of my legs. The door closed, I heard the whine-rattle of the hovercells beginning to take on flight frequency.

  What just happened in there? If he goes back to Hell and leaves me alone, how long will I last against four Greater Flight demons? What did he really ask Lucifer for? I thought he couldn’t go back! The thought rose like bad gas in a reactive-painted shaft. I let out a choked sound that rattled the glasses in the rack over the wet bar.

  The driver didn’t speak. I wondered for a lunatic moment if it was one of Hell’s human agents or just autopilot.

  He’s going back to Hell. For how long? When will he come back? Soon, he said. What’s a demon’s idea of soon?

  Abandoned. Again. All my life I’ve been left behind—by parents, lovers, friends. I’d thought this time was different. Would I ever learn?

  I scooted over as the hover rose, pressed my forehead to the window. I had one glimpse of Japhrimel, his face upturned like a golden dish, standing on the cathedral steps and watching as the hover rose into the night sky. His black coat fell down, melded with the shadow lying over the steps, then he was gone.

  Vanished. Back into the cathedral.

  Back to Lucifer.

  Back to Hell.

  I collapsed back against the seat. The trembling got worse, running through my bones like hoverwhine.

  “Gods,” I breathed, and closed my eyes.

  It wasn’t numbness burning cold inside my chest.

  It was a pain so immense I immediately drove my fingernails of my left hand into my palm, squeezing my hand with every erg of demon-given strength. My rings popped and snapped, a shower of golden sparks filling the air. Panic. I was panicking. Stop it. Ride the pain, Dante; come back, get a grip on yourself. Get a goddamn grip. You’re alive. You’re still alive.

  For how long? The smell of my own black blood rose to assault my nose. I opened my eyes, lifted my bloodslick hand, dragged it back over my hair to wipe it clean. The nasty ragged half-moon marks from my claws sealed themselves away, closed seamlessly.

  The hover banked, turning to go over land. So I wasn’t going to be dumped in the sea.

  Good to know.

  As soon as I realized the thin keening sound was coming from me, I swallowed it. The hole in my chest got bigger. The mark on my shoulder flared with heat, one last caress burning all the way down my body. I’d lived without Japh f
or a little under a year last time, when he was ash in a black lacquer urn, waiting for me to figure out how to resurrect him. I never wanted to do that again. It hurt too goddamn much.

  I moved again on the seat, and paper rustled.

  What the hell?

  I looked down. There was a brown-paper package on the seat I was sure hadn’t been there before.

  “Well,” I said out loud. “That was interesting.” My voice broke.

  I will always come for you. Don’t open the door.

  “Gods.” Seven years, was that what I’d agreed to? Seven years of working for the Devil. Not just a hunt like last time. Lucifer was probably sitting in Hell right now laughing his immortal ass off. Seven years of working for the Devil, and if Japhrimel went back to being in Hell where did that leave me? Was I going to turn back into a human, without him around? Would I like it? I hoped the process wasn’t too painful.

  Goddammit, Dante, wake up. You saw the Devil again and lived through it. You should throw a party. A big one. With lots of booze. Fireworks. And a goddamn military marching band.

  Only who would show up? Who would even care?

  I reached down with shaking fingers and touched the package. It was tied with twine, wrapped in brown paper, bigger than my clenched fist. I picked it up as if dreaming.

  The twine and paper fell away.

  It was a wristcuff made out of oddly heavy silver metal. Etched into its surface was a complicated pattern that reminded me of a Shaman’s accreditation tattoo, thorns and flowing lines twisting through each other. The inside was smooth and blank except for two daggered marks that looked like fangs. It had the slightly alien geometry of something demon-made.

  Great. A party favor? An afterthought? What was this?

  I touched the cuff with one finger, feeling smooth silver. I traced one etched line.

  Oh, what the hell. Nothing can get any worse. I winced at the thought—thinking that was the surest way for some new and interesting twist of awfulness to show up. Any Magi-trained psion knows better than to tempt Fate, even if only inside one’s own head.

  I picked it up, slid it around my left wrist, twisting so the open part of the cuff lay upward, the flat demon-carved surface along the underside of my arm. It settled against my skin as if it belonged there, a little higher than my datband. It looked barbaric—I’ve never been one for jewelry, despite my rings. I like all my accessories to have lethal capability.