The Devil s Right Hand

by Lilith Saintcrow

  I wondered just how trustworthy a Nichtvren working for the Devil’s agency on earth would be.

  Lucas’s hair was wildly disarranged. A splash of blood painted one yellow-pale cheek. His left hand was buried in his stomach—or what remained of his stomach, it was a mess. My entire body went cold. “I got hit, there’s a net out there,” he rasped, then glanced over at Leander and grimaced. “What the hell is he still doing here?”

  “What do you have, Lucas?” I wanted his eyes on me, started forward. He needed a healcharm, something to stop the bleeding, and I wanted to take a look at the wound. “You look like shit.”

  He flung out his free hand, fingers splayed, and I stopped dead. “Keep the fuck away from me, girl. I got gutshot. It’ll mend. Got a name around the sinks—Kel. The Hunter. He’s lookin’ for you just as actively as you’re lookin’ for him.”

  I opened my mouth, but Tiens blurred into being right inside the door. “Time to leave this charming place, n’est-ce pas?”

  “I threw the pursuit, but the net was already here.” Lucas doubled over, shoving his hand even further inside the ragged mass of his belly. My gorge rose, and I started forward again. I wasn’t a sedayeen, but Necromances were the next best thing when it came to healing a serious combat wound.

  A net? Thinking to sneak up on us, and Lucas comes back just in time. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks, my mind starting to click through alternatives, my pulse spiking. I tasted metal against my palate, the nervous excitement of a fight approaching.

  “Stay the fuck away!” Lucas’s voice scraped awfully as he backed up two shambling steps, his hand still outstretched to stop me. “I ain’t fuckin’ safe right now, bitch! Stay off and get the rest of these fuckin’ nacks outta here!” He doubled over again, going ashen, and my heart trip-hammered in my chest.

  “Out the window,” I snapped over my shoulder. “Tiens, Japh, you first, clear the alley for the rest of us.”

  “You should go with Vann,” Japhrimel said, as if I hadn’t spoken.

  I half-turned, grabbed his shoulders, and shoved him toward the window. He moved, shaking my hands away. “I’m safer up here until you clear that goddamn alley. I’ll be right behind you—just go!”

  Japhrimel made a slight movement, tipping his head, Tiens nodded. For all the world as if I hadn’t just told them what to do.

  Goddammit, if there’ s one thing I hate, it’s being ignored in a situation like this. Why even have me along if he’s not going to listen to what I say? That was an interesting thought, but one I had no time for.

  Vann pulled the window up, helped the limping, bleeding Lucas out. Villalobos was moving much faster than I’d expect a gutshot man to move, and I filed this away for further thought. He said he wasn’t safe, but Vann—

  Think about it later, Dante. Cover their retreat now. You’ll have plenty of time to ask questions later. I whirled back toward the door, shoving my sword into the loop on my belt. My hands curled around the projectile guns. “Tiens, how many?”

  “Four that I saw, belle morte,” he said over his shoulder, ducking out the window. Bella followed, and Ogami.

  Leander actually blew me a kiss before he ducked out, a knife glittering along his left forearm. His sword was thrust through his belt, and he looked fey. I promptly shoved Lucas and the Magi out of my thoughts—if they couldn’t make it through with that kind of protection there was nothing I could do now. My job was to stop whoever came through the door and give them time to get to cover.

  Japhrimel’s eyes met mine, glowing green and suddenly much more frightening. “This is dangerous,” he said softly. “Stay with me.”

  “Why aren’t you listening to me? I told you to clear the alley.” I ghosted across the room and put my back to the wall on the other side of the door, right where Tiens had been leaning. The hammers of the projectile guns clicked easily as I pulled them back, I settled against the wall and made it a point to breathe deeply, calmly. My heart pounded. A net, Lucas said, an encirclement. Expensive, and meant for capture or elimination, most likely the latter. And they’d managed to hurt the Deathless.

  Lovely.

  “Vann and Tiens are more than capable of protecting the humans.” He went utterly still, his eyes flaring.

  I shrugged. Listened.

  Demon-acute senses are useful most of the time. Since Japhrimel had finally taught me how to control them, they had become even more so. I heard slight shuffling sounds—human feet. Two sets of soft padding footsteps that weren’t quite human; the back of my neck wasn’t just prickling now. It was flat-out crawling.

  What the hell is that? I looked at Japhrimel, my eyebrows raising.

  He clasped his hands behind his back, watching the door. I almost pitied the sad sonsabitches coming through, human or not.

  Wood snapped, groaning, and something slammed into the wall at my back.

  Of course. Imps don’t need to use doors, Danny. I flung myself away from the wall.

  Japhrimel made a short sharp sound of annoyance and moved forward as I rolled. I ended up on my side, hitting the table with a sickening crack. Another impact shattered the wall, splinters flying, dust smashing out. I squeezed the triggers, tracking two shapes that skittered away from the coughing roar of the guns. I clipped one human done up in assault gear—nightvision goggles, Kevlar, edged metal and an assault rifle. No plasgun I could see.

  Two humans—no, three. Four. And two imps.

  Why didn’t I hear the other humans? Why didn’t Tiens tell me there were imps? Goddammit. Made it to my feet, wood cracking again as I leapt up, boots slamming down hard on the groaning floor. Right hand moving, holstering gun and closing around swordhilt. Japhrimel moved, blurring between me and the two imps. They looked just like the other ones—babyfaces, sharp snarling teeth, black teardrops over their glittering eyes. I promptly forgot about them—Japh could take care of it.

  I had other problems. The humans were just crawling with illegal augments, twitched out on neurospeeders and muscle spanners to make them quicker and deadlier than human even as it shortened their lives. Even a psion would have a hard time four-on-one with these guys; not only were they augmented, their gear was also top-of-the-line. Whoever sent them was making money no object.

  Great. Time to dance.

  My sword left the sheath with a long sliding metallic sound. Half-step forward, blade moving in a complicated whirling pattern; one man went to one knee by the door, raising his assault rifle. My left hand came up, gun roaring; he dropped. Smell of cordite, of blood, the man I’d clipped leapt for me, rifle reversed to use as a battering weapon. Fast for a human, goddamn neurospeeders. I ducked, my blade whooshing down in a half-circle. Where’s the other one, don’t see him, where is he? Sword flickering, slicing through Kevlar as my kia split the air, intestines falling in a shimmering wet slither, a human sound of pain. More movement boiling into the room, slippery padding demon movement; I ignored it. I had enough to deal with.

  Whirling, feet slipping in bloody mess. Two other men, both moving in, one lifting the rifle to his shoulder. Shot him, recoil jolting up my left arm; moved forward so quickly I collided with the last one as I ran him through, twisting the katana to break the suction of muscle against metal, tearing it free from between his ribs as the smell of death assaulted me. Blood exploded as I jammed the gun under his chin for good measure, saw blond stubble on his cheeks, smelled human sweat and effort.

  Anubis, receive them kindly. I squeezed the trigger.

  Blood steamed in the air. I turned in a tight half-circle, sword whirling up as something streaked for me—clashing as an imp’s claws rang off the blade, an impact jolting all the way up my arm. Holy fuck! Where’s Japh?

  No time. Backing up along the wall, sword a streak of blue flame as the imp lunged for me again, soft cheeks smeared with gleaming saliva as it champed and foamed, its claws clanging off the sword with a grating shock, its breath hot against my cheek as it drove forward. I smashed my back foot down and lung
ed, shoving it back from the corps-a-corps. That gained me a few moments and freed my sword. I gulped down air, almost backed into the corner next to the fireplace. If it came for me again what was I going to—

  The imp chittered at me—and squealed, black blood exploding as Japhrimel’s claws tore through its belly from the back, twisting up through its chest. He carved through demon flesh as if it was water, finishing with a single swipe that opened the thing’s throat. Its squeal died on a burbling rush of black blood. Japhrimel flicked his fingers and the imp turned into ash, white flame flickering through it in a strange veined pattern before it exploded in a cloud of grit. “Dante?”

  He sounded furiously, coldly calm. I’d never seen such a casual use of Power from him before. The grit sifted to the floor in with a soft pattering sound.

  “I’m good.” My breath came harsh and tearing in my throat. The humans had been tricked out for serious night work—the nightvision goggles alone were worth a fortune. Not to mention the augments. “Any more?”

  “Downstairs.” He straightened, impeccable, hands clasped behind his back again. His eyes glowed, not an inky hair out of place. I swallowed. I could never be prepared for how spookily fast he moved; my own speed was scary enough, but his was flat-out terrifying.

  I was suddenly, appallingly, completely glad he was on my side.

  “There’s one wounded.” I pointed out into the hall. My breath came fast but even, and I holstered my left-hand gun. Slid my sword back into its sheath. There was a lot of that fine, sparkling ash on the floor, swirling through the air. Just how many imps had come? None were left. “I just shot him once. Question him?”

  “No need, the imps told me everything I need to know. Quickly. Out.”

  I didn’t stop to argue. Ran for the window, wrenched it open—

  —and ducked back as bullets chewed at the wooden frame, splintering the glass. Cursed savagely, Japhrimel’s hand closing around my arm.

  “This way.”

  Now this is more like it. I can see a demon doing this—but smashing me with a hover? No. “What did the imps tell you?” Dappled green light flared from my wristcuff, I held it up as Japhrimel pulled me out the shattered door, turning right, stepping over the moaning, bleeding man I’d shot. Japh didn’t quite drag me down the hall, but I had a hard time keeping up with him. His hand had turned to iron on my arm; he didn’t hurt me but I couldn’t have broken free if I’d tried.

  “Enough that I see the wisdom of leaving this place now,” Japhrimel said. “Later, Dante. For right now, let us go.”

  He didn’t have to tell me again.

  Up the stairs. I heard something—thundering footsteps. Claws skritching against wood, a chilling glassy squeal. It didn’t sound human, whatever it was. Memory replayed itself, matched the sound—I’d heard it in the abandoned building, only that time it had been a sort of snarl. What was chasing us? More imps? But they didn’t sound scratchy, they sounded soft, padding, and almost wet, like strangling fingers in the dark.

  One flight. Two. Three. It was getting closer, smashing against walls. It sounded big, and I smelled heat. Tang of smoke against my nostrils. The wristcuff squeezed my left arm, a terrible wrenching pain that made me gasp; the mark on my left shoulder flared in response. Japhrimel’s face was set, his eyes glowing so fiercely they cast shadows under his cheekbones, spots of green light flickering as he checked each hall.

  Sixth floor. No more stairs, he whirled and headed down the hall, his boots soundless against threadbare carpet. I was too busy trying to keep up to ask him what the hell he was doing. I certainly hoped he had an idea, at least, because I was fresh out. He kicked another door open, my nose filling with the smell of dust and human desperation. I caught a quick flash of a room—done in green instead of red, a cheap table and four chairs, the remains of takeout cartons scattered on said table—before he pivoted and aimed for the window. “Brace yourself.”

  I grabbed his shoulder, his other arm circled around me. What do you mean, brace myself?

  He launched us both out the window, plasglass shattering and bullets screaming past. Fire dug into my right shoulder, and Japhrimel twisted, Power burning incandescent in the darkness. Clattering gunfire, a yell from high up on my left, the sound of a falling body. Whoever the sniper had been he was now dead—Japhrimel had shot him.

  Anubis, this is going to hurt.

  Impact. Too soon, I wasn’t ready, the breath driven out of my lungs in a long howling gasp. Japhrimel hauled me up, his fingers slipping in black blood dripping down my right shoulder. Orange citylight glinted off the gun in his hand. My breath plumed in the chilly air. Desultory rain steamed as it met Japhrimel’s aura. He literally burned with a mantle of Power so intense it was like looking into a furnace of black diamond flames. I had to blink fiercely to screen out my otherSight and see the real world.

  It wasn’t the street below, but another rooftop. He finished pulling me to my feet as easily as I might have picked up a piece of paper. Well, that was wonderful; can’t wait to do that again; gods, what was that thing?

  I gasped again, this time dragging a breath in as the hurt in my shoulder sealed itself away. Fine drizzling mist kissed my cheeks. “Sekhmet sa’es,” I hissed. “Warn me next time, will—”

  He pushed me behind him so hard I skidded across concrete rooftop, my back slamming into a climate-control unit. I found myself squeezed between him and the unit’s plasteel side. He went suddenly motionless, both arms up, two shiny silver guns in his hands. His aura spread over me, hazing and sinking in through my skin. I blinked furiously, trying to see, relieved when otherSight retreated. He was damn near blinding me with that trick.

  I swallowed. He so rarely used a weapon it was almost shocking. If he had both guns out like this instead of one, it was bad.

  “Dante,” he said quietly, “if I tell you to, run down the fire escape on the other side of the roof. Do you understand?”

  “What is it?” I whispered. “It didn’t sound like an imp.”

  “It is not an imp.” His voice was so chill and sharp I could feel cold air touch my cheek. “As you love life, hedaira, do as I tell you this once. Will you?”

  I gulped down another breath, lungs burning. My pulse pounded in my throat. “What is it?” It doesn’t hurt to ask, does it?

  “Hellhound.” Steam rose, twisted into angular shapes. “Be still, now.”

  Hellhound? That doesn’t sound good. That doesn’t sound good at all. I froze, barely even breathing. Watched the gaping hole in the building we’d just burst out from. The moisture wasn’t even enough to qualify as rain, more like a heavy mist, tapering off. It steamed away from Japhrimel’s aura, and I wondered why I felt so cold. “They’re going to try to flank us,” I whispered. “Japhrimel—”

  It bulleted out from the hole in the side of the hotel, a low, streamlined lethal shape. I forgot about being quiet and screamed, the mark on my shoulder squeezing, my bloodslick right hand closing around my swordhilt. Japhrimel moved forward, the guns speaking in his hands, fire puffed out in small bursts from the side of the building as he tracked it. It moved with the same eerie speed he did, its eyes glowing unholy crimson. My sword sang free of its sheath. Blue fire crested, spilled free of the blade, the steel’s heart flamed white.

  It was shaped like a leaner version of a werecain, low and four-legged with hulking shoulders and long claws that snick-snacked as it landed on the rooftop and snarled. It was made of blackness, a dark so deep and fiery it burned. A vapor trail followed, its heat scorching the water in the air.

  So this was a hellhound. None of the Magi texts had ever mentioned anything close to it.

  I’m going to have to tell the Magi a thing or two. Just as soon as I get out of this alive.

  Teeth made of obsidian snapped, Japhrimel faded aside; he shot it twice. Watching him fight was always strange, he moved with such speed and precision it was impossible not to be impressed. He kicked the hellhound, a sound like a watermelon dropped on a
scorching-hot sidewalk. It howled, a long screeching sound, and its eyes swept across the roof, locking on me.

  My sword flamed blue-white, etching shadows on the roof. My rings sparked, a cascade of gold; the emerald on my cheek burned.

  The hellhound let out an amazing screeching yowl. Its claws scrabbled.

  Japhrimel hit it from the side again, his booted feet connecting solidly. It rolled, twisted on itself, and streaked for me.

  “Dante! Go!” Japhrimel bolted after it.

  I set my feet in the concrete, my sword dipping, sudden knowledge flaring under my skin. I would not run, I would not let him face this thing on his own, no matter how good or inhumanly hard to kill he was. “Anubis!” I screamed, my cheek suddenly flaming with pain as the emerald answered, I leapt forward—

  —and was knocked aside by a solid weight slamming into me, rolling in a tumbling mess of arms and legs, me trying to keep my sword from splitting my own flesh. I hurled a curse at whoever had hit me, got an accidental elbow in the face—a brief, amazing starry jolt of pain.

  The hellhound streaked through where I had been standing, crashing into the casing. Sparks flew, hissing steam as the climate control circuits blew. Blue-white sparks fountained up. I cried out, throwing up a hand to shield my eyes, the light searing through dark-adapted pupils. Heard more snarls, more claws, and a curse in the spiky hurtful language of demons that made my blood run cold.

  McKinley rolled free, gaining his feet in one fluid movement, I spat blood. Shook the dazing impact out of my head. There was a massive crunching sound, another scrabble of claws. Sekhmet sa’es, it sounds like more than one of them, oh please, Japh, don’t get hurt, I’m on my way—

  McKinley, dark eyes blazing, held up his left hand. The oddly metallic coating on it sparkled like quicksilver. “Come on,” he said, low and taut. “Come on!”

  Who the hell is he talking to, me or the hellhound?

  The hellhound snarled—and Japhrimel, his coat flaring behind him, shot it twice in the head. Japh descended on the thing. I levered myself painfully up, watching as he moved gracefully, avoiding the thing’s dying clawswipe as he tore the life out of it. Then he gained his feet, black blood smoking from his hands, and spat a single word I covered my ears against, the hilt of my sword digging into my temple. There was another low slumped shape—a second hellhound, lying twisted and broken on the rooftop. Where the hell did that one come from? Anubis et’her ka, two of those things?