“What, my curious?” Was that relief that made him shake, or was I shaking so hard I was jostling him?
Did I care?
“What demon was it? Back there? Which one?” My voice cracked again, husky with invitation. I couldn’t help myself, I always sounded like a seduction, like rough honey and damp skin. Why couldn’t I sound cold and ruthless, like a demon?
He shook his head, a movement I could feel even through my trembling. “Later.” He kissed my cheek, then my mouth; I melted into him. Relief cascaded through me. He would make it stop—the jittering in my hands, the helpless rabbit-pounding of my heart, the sour taste of terror.
When he led me into the bedroom, I didn’t even protest.
20
I wish I could say I made him work for it, but I was too relieved. He took his time with me, as usual; sex was the only language we truly shared despite all our time together. Even when he was talking Merican we had precious little common vocabulary. I can’t ever remember being frustrated to the point of tears by my inability to explain, before he came along.
I had a sneaking suspicion he felt the same way.
He didn’t let me tell him what had happened until we lay tangled against each other in a hotel bed, my leg over his hip, his fingers in my hair, his mouth against my forehead. I told him the entire story, pausing occasionally while he lifted sweat-damp strands of my hair and combed them with his fingers, his shoulder tensing under my cheek as I yawned. Softness draped against my hip, my back, his wing closed protectively over me.
I finally felt as if I’d survived.
Japhrimel turned slowly to stone as I explained about the reaction fire and the cracking of the house shields, and I could feel a fine humming tension in him when I told him about the hovertrain. He listened thoughtfully to the story about the reactive and the imp. His wing tightened, lying along my skin like a sheath around a knife.
He in turn told me of descending into Hell and of Lucifer’s granting of his request only in the briefest of terms. He had come back to collect me and explain, found the house burning and the hoverlimo that had carried me part of the wreckage, an imp’s trail mixed with mine. He had traced me to the hovertrain, taken one himself, lost my trail and caught it again, and arrived in New Prague shortly after the other hovertrain—the one with the huge hole torn in its back—had been remarked but before I rode into town. Hellesvront had been alerted, the two agents sent and set to finding a Magi worth the trouble of recruiting. Japhrimel started combing the city for me—and when Lucas Villalobos had started making inquiries, Japhrimel had gone to meet him personally, heard of the bargain I’d made, and had come to bring me in.
They found the door to Lucas’s sanctum hacked open but no sign of a demon; the hidden escape-hatch hadn’t been found. It looked like an imp just came in, found I wasn’t there, and left to go topside to track me. From there it was a race to get to the end of the tunnel I’d slipped and slithered through. Then my flare of Power had brought all sorts of fun to the table.
“Do you know who it was?” I asked. “Which demon, I mean? Either of them?”
He shrugged. The movement tightened his wing against me. “I am not sure; he fled as soon as I arrived. I was too busy weeding through the human shields to find you.”
“Human shields?”
“And a few imps. They may have been mercenaries to buy him time to escape—or to overwhelm a tired hedaira. I do not know, I left none alive.” Japhrimel’s voice chilled. “Enough of that. We have other matters to attend to.”
“Why not let Lucifer drown in his own stew? I know, I know. We’ve made a bargain.” I yawned again, rubbed my cheek against his shoulder. My body sparked pleasantly, languidly, comfort wrapped around me.
“Sleep, my curious.” His voice was soft, he pressed a soft kiss onto my forehead. “You attract far too much trouble for my comfort.”
“Hm. Would have been more trouble if not for the bracelet.” It felt good to be still, to not lay there cataloguing every sound and feeling my skin twitch with alertness.
“The bracelet.” He didn’t sound particularly happy about that, I wondered if I’d violated another arcane demonic protocol.
I forced one eye open to see him examining my face, his eyes two chips of light in the darkness of the hotel room. It didn’t smell like home; but Japhrimel’s scent and mine dyed the air, a soft psychic static. “It was in the hover. I thought it was from you.” I wriggled a little to free my left arm from under me, bent my elbow, and lifted the wristcuff to his examination.
Japhrimel touched it with one golden finger, his eyes luminous in the dimness. “Ah,” he said. “I see. . . . So.”
“So what?” I yawned again. He touched my left hand, curled his fingers around it, lifted it to his mouth. Pressed his lips against my fingers, one at a time, each touch a star in the darkness. Thunder shook the sky, but it was warm and quiet under his wing.
“Tomorrow is soon enough to begin. Sleep.”
“But what is this thing, if you didn’t give it to me?” The darkness was closing in, I was about to fall. He was the only truly safe haven I had ever known.
“I suspect it is Lucifer’s comment on you, Dante. Sleep.”
I slept.
21
When I woke, the bed was empty. Weak rainy sunlight fell in through the windows, outlining Japhrimel as he stood, hands clasped behind his back, looking out onto the Freetown. The light ran over his long black coat and the darkness of his hair—slightly longer now, falling softly over onto his forehead instead of a flat military cut. I liked his hair longer, it made him look a little less severe.
I pushed myself up on my elbows, the back of my neck naked without the heavy weight of long hair. I gathered the sheet, held it to my chest. Saw the glitter of the wristcuff, my rings sparking as another rushing wave of Power slid over me. It was nice, I decided. Maybe a side effect of him being . . . whatever he was, now.
Demon. Again. But still Japhrimel.
Still my Fallen.
I scrubbed at my face, my rings scraping. Ran my fingers back through my hair, wincing a little as chopped strands rasped against my skin. It was so silky the tangles would come out fairly easily, but so thick that combing promised to be a frustrating process. I looked at Japhrimel’s back, and the rest of the night crashed back onto me.
As if he felt my gaze, he turned away from the window. I felt the humming in the walls—he’d shielded this room so well it was almost invisible. His eyes scorched green in the gray light, his face was just the same otherwise. Except for the faint line between his charcoal eyebrows, the way one corner of his mouth pulled down slightly, and the odd shadow over his cheeks.
“’Morning,” I yawned.
He nodded. “More like afternoon. How do you feel?”
I took stock. Hungry, still a little shaky from the adrenaline surge of last night, and still not sanguine about getting through Lucifer’s newest game in one piece. “Not too bad,” I lied. “You?”
He shrugged, an evocative movement.
We both studied each other. Finally, I patted the bed next to me. “Come on, sit down.”
He approached the bed soundlessly, dropped down. I touched his shoulder through the coat, rubbed my palm over the velvet-over-iron, trailed my fingers up the back of his neck, slid them through his hair. Touched his face—he closed his eyes, leaned into my fingers with a silent sigh. I brushed his shadowed cheek, smoothing away the wetness.
I hadn’t known demons could produce tears.
I touched his cheekbone, the wonderful winged arch, teased at his lips with a fingertip until the bitter little grimace went away. Then I traced the line between his eyebrows until it eased out. Brushed my thumb over his eyebrow. His eyes half-closed, burning against their lids.
“What does that feel like, to you?” I whispered, my heart in my throat.
There it was, that slight tender half-smile he used just for me. “It’s quite pleasant.”
“How pleasant?
” I found myself smiling back.
“Pleasant enough, hedaira.” He submitted to my touch, his face easing. His aura enfolded mine, stroked up my back as I soothed him.
“Japhrimel.”
“Dante.” His mouth shaped my name, softly. He leaned slightly into my fingers, a small movement that managed to make my heart, trapped in my throat, leap.
“Why did you ask Lucifer to give you back a demon’s Power?”
His expression didn’t alter. “It was too good an opportunity to miss. Why did you cut your hair?”
“Camouflage. I don’t think I could use skinspray, and if I used a glamour psions would get curious.” I paused, acknowledging his wry expression. He appeared to find that extremely amusing. “I’m sorry. I was on a hair-trigger last night.” I offered it in the spirit of conciliation. I had to admit, a full-fledged demon on my side dramatically improved my chances of getting through this.
“I am not some faithless human, Dante. I fell; I am Fallen, and my fate is bound to yours. It disturbs me, that you forget it.” His eyes were still closed. He tipped his chin up, exposing his throat, I ran my finger down the vulnerable curve under his chin and he shuddered.
Oddly enough, it was that little shudder of reaction that convinced me. Did I need convincing when I’d slept next to him again? Shared my body with him again? “If you’d just talk to me about this, I wouldn’t get so tangled up. Is that so much to ask?” I think it’s reasonable, Japh. Far more reasonable than anyone who ever knew me might think I was capable of being. I’m not known for forgiving people.
“You promised not to doubt me.” His voice was low, rough honey.
That’s beside the goddamn point. It’s because I trust you that I’m asking you this. “If you’d tell me what’s happening when people are trying to kill me, I’d have an easier time,” I repeated, but without my usual fire. “You just spun a complete one-eighty on me in front of Lucifer—how was I supposed to feel?”
“You had to appear shocked. It was necessary.” He said it so kindly, so reasonably, that I felt like an idiot for still pressing the point. His eyes glowed green, a shade that reminded me of Lucifer’s eyes even though they lacked the inherent awfulness of the Devil’s gaze. I couldn’t say exactly how it was different, but he looked more . . . human. Even with the glowing force of his eyes and the strangeness of his face, harshly balanced between severity and beauty, he still looked more human than he ever had.
“Necessary.” I didn’t like the way my hand shook. “Gods, Japhrimel. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Can you not simply trust in me?”
I never thought I would live to hear a demon plead. A new experience to add to all the other new experiences. They were coming thick and fast these days. The oldest curse in the book: may you live in interesting times.
“Listen.” I tried another tack. “You’ve got all this power, you can make me do whatever you want. Can you understand that I might feel a little uneasy? I don’t like being jerked around. Being forced. You know that, it’s been there since the beginning. You know everything about me, but you won’t tell me a single thing about what you’ve made me, or about this whole goddamn situation. I do trust you, I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone else in my whole life, but you’ve got to help me out here.”
His mouth turned down at the corners, almost bitterly. If I had to guess at the expression on his face, I would have called it frustration. Why couldn’t he understand something so eminently reasonable?
“Let’s bargain,” I said finally, when I could talk around the lump of ice in my throat. “I’ll do whatever you think’s best if you promise to talk to me. Don’t spring things like that on me. Deal?”
“I cannot, Dante.” He sounded sad, now. Another first. His mouth actually trembled instead of being pulled into its habitual grim line. “There are things you must let me do. One of them is act for your safety.”
“How is asking Lucifer to turn you into a demon again safe for me? How is any of this safe for me?” I kept a firm hold on my rising irritation. The ice slid down my throat and into my chest, like the creeping numb chill of Death.
“I am not demon, Dante. I am A’nankhimel, a Fallen with a demon’s Power. There is a difference.”
If you would just bloody well talk to me, I would know there was a difference. I thought this over, playing with the rough silk of his hair. “Gods.” My breath hissed out. “I’m warning you, Tierce Japhrimel. You pull another one of those and I’ll. . . .” I wasn’t used to speechlessness. What could I do to him?
Another tremor slid through him, shocking in someone so controlled. “Fearing for your life is punishment enough, hedaira.”
I decided to let it rest and touched his collarbone through the coat, he shivered again. “I suppose you hired all those people?”
“Hellesvront. If we are hunting demons, if makes sense to use the resources available. There will be more if we need them.” He looked like he wanted to say more, his eyes opening wider and a short breath inhaled. I waited, but nothing came out.
I ruffled his hair affectionately, he smiled again. An unwilling smile touched my own mouth. I’d do anything you wanted if you just explained it to me, Japh. It’s not that hard. “I don’t work well in groups, Japhrimel.”
“Neither do I, my sweetness. Neither do I.”
I let it go then. He had never called me that before.
22
You’re kidding.” I braced myself on my hands as I leaned over the table. “This is all?”
“All we really need.” Vann leaned back in his chair. “Just the nameglyphs for three of them.”
“Oh, Sekhmet sa’es,” I hissed. “What good is that?” How were we supposed to track down demons with only three runes? Not even their complete names, just the demon version of nicknames, shorthand. Demons kept their truenames a closely guarded secret, which is the reason for all those stories of a quick-thinking Magi solitary using a name to stop a demon.
I’ve always suspected those stories aren’t anywhere close to the truth. I have difficulty believing a simple word will stop a demon, and I’m a Magi-trained psion. I work my magick by enforcing my Will on the world through words and will, so I of all people have a healthy respect for the magic of names. But still . . . demons. If you can’t kill it with cold steel, hot lead, or a plasgun, I have a little difficulty believing a simple name spoken by anyone will stop it.
I never wanted to put it to the test, either. It was one of those questions I could go my whole life without answering definitively. Funny how the older I got, the more of those I had.
“We know how to deal with demons, ma’am. We have a Magi,” Bella pointed out. “Give Ogami the glyphs, let him work.”
I threw up my hands. “Great. Just great. Have I mentioned yet how useless this is?”
“Many times,” Lucas wheezed, looking over some magscans of New Prague. There were a couple of places with enough interference to hide a demon, mostly in the Stare Mesto. “Pointlessly. At great length. Shut up.”
I subsided. He was probably the only person on earth other than Gabe who could have gotten away with that, if only because I had a healthy respect for him. I might not fear him as much as I had when I was human—but a man who couldn’t die was a bad enemy to make. Lucas had a reputation for professionalism. If he told me to shut up, it was because I was being ridiculous.
Vann handed the file folders over to the Asiano, who gave me a long dubious look and retreated to a chair next to the fireplace. Japhrimel stood where he had for the last hour, in front of the rain-spotted window, his hands clasped behind his back. He seemed to be ignoring the rest of us, uninterested in events.
The storm had blown itself out, and the rain was dying in fitful gasps. I poured myself another cup of coffee. The Nichtvren had gone to ground and wouldn’t be up until nightfall. Hell, I didn’t even want to be up until nightfall. Thirty-five years of being a night-walking Necromance was a hard habit to break even after year
s as a hedaira and only needing sleep every third day or so. My body-clock was all shot to hell, and I was suddenly conscious of time passing in a way I hadn’t been since the hunt for Kellerman Lourdes. I’d grown used to days that ran endlessly into each other, spent with Japhrimel’s steady attention and my books. Now, suddenly, I was in a hurry again.
I didn’t like it.
The other nonhuman agent—McKinley—was gone on some errand for Japhrimel. The two of them freaked me out—not human, but no other species of paranormal I’d ever seen before either. They didn’t even smell human, which irritated me on a very basic level. They smelled like burning cinnamon and a faint tang of demon. And McKinley was seriously creepy; he just rubbed me the wrong way.
The rest of them were getting on my nerves too. I was still scrubbed too raw, all hyped up on adrenaline with nowhere to go. Sex had taken the edge off, true . . . but I was still twitchy.
As soon as I realized it, I tapped on my swordhilt, my claw-tip nails making a clicking sound. “Is there a sparring room in this pile?”
Silence met my words. Japhrimel turned away from the window. “You need combat?” It was a shock to see his eyes glowing green again. I’d grown so used to a human darkness in them.
An A’nankhimel with a demon’s Power. All the Magi shadowjournals and demonology texts I’d read had never spoken of such a thing. If I was Magi, I’d have a better chance of knowing or guessing. I couldn’t even do what a Magi might and call up another imp to answer my questions. I never wanted to see another damn imp ever again.
“I think I’d best get out of the way.” I left my coffee cup on the table as I straightened. A waste of good java, I’m too keyed up to even enjoy it. “The only demon I hunted down was Santino, and I already had his trail from Abra. Until we get a direction to go in, I’m just going to fret and pull my hair out. Besides, I think better when I’m moving. Sparring qualifies as moving.”
The Devil s Right Hand Page 15
