by R. J. Blain
“It can be, but Jonas has always been wired for touch. He was ridiculously touch starved when I first got a hold of him. I’m fairly sure the lack of generalized affection contributed to his issues as a mortal. He tried to fill in the holes pursuing wealth.”
Poor Jonas. “That didn’t work out well for him, did it?”
“I think it worked out just fine, all things considered.” Lucifer chuckled, released me, and closed the door. Then, proving he had a mean streak a mile wide, he zapped Jonas.
The incubus jumped off the bed with a yelp and landed in a heap on the floor.
I ate my ice cream, raised a brow, and somehow kept from giggling.
“Fuck,” Jonas announced, and he groaned, grabbed our stolen blanket, and covered his head.
“Playtime is over, I’m afraid. I caught your woman getting ice cream using money she stole from your wallet.”
“As it’s money I stole from your wallet, I don’t see a problem with this. It’s my fault for falling asleep. She lulled me into a sense of complacency. Damn it.”
I grinned, as I’d done a rather good job on insisting I needed some attention to keep my virus from doing something he’d regret, not that my virus had any interest in wandering off.
The passing days had done a good job of getting me used to no longer being alone in my head. I also understood why Jonas insisted my virus was a she rather than an it. She had opinions, and most of her opinions involved luring Jonas to bed and making sure he stayed where he belonged.
She also seemed to understand incubi tended to wander and had zero intention of allowing him to stray.
“She’s been doing a stellar job of feeding you, and you’ve finally relaxed enough you’re able to sleep again. Give her another week, and you’ll be back to being properly healthy, which means your sister won’t be pacing trenches throughout my many hells worrying about your general health.” Lucifer chuckled and took over the ratty computer chair near the piss-poor excuse for a desk, which was little more than a dinky shelf bolted to the wall. “I have a job for you.”
“Does it involve doing basic research into the labs?” I asked.
“Yes and no. Honestly, it involves turning you into our bait so we can find out what they want with you, Diana, and Darian. Diana and Darian can’t teleport. Jonas can, and he’s sufficiently bonded to you at this point in time he will be able to teleport directly to your location as needed, so you’re the best choice for this operation. The basic research into the labs part will happen after we get a general idea of what they want with you. We think they want to test your lycanthropy virus, and since your virus was forced to attune to a species, you will help our cause.”
“Their viruses aren’t attuned, correct?” I asked.
“Correct, and everything we’ve researched into the situation indicates they won’t attune their viruses without someone directly infecting them with an active strain. I think I will do what He did to you to them, attuning their viruses to their base species. I am hoping they assume you naturally attuned your virus, versus it being forced to attune to your new species. That’s actually on my to-do list today, in about an hour. I told them we have to go to a meeting. In reality, they’re going to be enduring some suffering. As I’m cruel and evil, I’ll take Darian out first, and before Diana can go full nightmare on me, I’ll subject her to the same thing. It’s always fun reminding the minions I am who I am, and I am not precisely shy about dishing out suffering for the greater good.”
Poor Diana and Darian. “You should probably compensate them for being an asshole, Lucifer.”
“I am compensating them. They won’t be used as test subjects in this stage of our investigation. I gave that job to you, and I do plan on compensating you and your bed buddy for your work. I haven’t decided how I’m compensating you yet, but it depends on how this plays out.”
“You think they will take blood tests and be done with it?”
“They’ll want you alive for certain. The research files we stole had a plan laid out for how to handle long-term captivity of lycanthropes, and they are attempting to acquire your medical history. They have identified you are in treatments for cancer, which are going well, and their files indicated they intend to continue your cancer treatments. I suspect they do have plans to test their strain as part of cancer care.” Lucifer huffed and shook his head. “If you were a willing test subject, I’d accuse them of wanting to do good for society, but the reality of the situation states this operation isn’t out to do good for society. I am not sure what their end game is, truth be told. But I do know we need to get someone inside for a direct look at it, and you’re our safest bet, especially since Jonas can get you in and out—and Jonas isn’t a factor in their files that we are aware of, so he’s your ace up your sleeve.”
I regarded the incubus, who remained on the floor hiding under the blanket we’d stolen from the Devil. “I wore him out. Will he be all right?”
“Your bed buddy is fine. He’s just whining because I showed up at my whim and shattered his little delusions he could actually escape from me.”
“You’re an asshole,” Jonas complained.
“The game amused me, but it’s time to go back to work. Diana is trying to figure out who is responsible for the leaks over at the CDC. Sandra, you’re at the highest risk right now, so I want to give you a tracker.”
“A tracker?”
Lucifer dug a small box out of his pocket and opened it, revealing a large syringe with a nasty tip. “This is the latest and greatest in trackers, designed to look like a subdermal implant used for some cancer treatments. We have had a note added to your CDC file that you have a subdermal implant that has no active drugs but is not being removed due to the possibility of complications, with a note that the implant should be left in place for a period of the year to minimize any potential complications of its removal. We are hopeful they will ignore the implant, as everything we have on them indicates they want you for a long period of time. Of course, they will be bringing a spicy pony with bite into their midst. They currently believe you’re an unmated lycanthrope female, which makes you more valuable, although that ruse will be up in a hurry. And no, Jonas, I do not want you to purge her virus. There will be no depressed mares in captivity for this exercise. As it is, she’s going to have separation anxiety because her virus has become accustomed to having you around all of the time. You’re going to have separation anxiety, too, because you really do not like when your dessert wanders off.”
Jonas sighed and curled under the blanket in a futile attempt to escape from the Devil. “I feel like I’ve been tricked.”
“Yes. How dare I trick my little brother into being a happy, well-fed incubus. I am the absolute worst.”
I giggled at the sarcasm dripping from Lucifer’s tone. “He won that round, Jonas. I’m okay with being used as the bait as long as steps are being taken to make sure I don’t end up becoming a permanent part of their lab operations.”
“That’s the idea.” Lucifer hopped to his feet, bent over, and snagged his blanket, engaging in a tug-of-war battle with Jonas for it. “You can keep the blanket, but you need to get your naked ass dressed so we can get this dog and pony show on the road.”
“What dogs?” Jonas demanded, but he obeyed and went to get dressed, muttering curses all the way to the motel’s bathroom. “You collect ponies and cats.”
“Belial is basically a dog.” Lucifer shrugged. “A very strange and disturbing dog.”
“According to my sister, Belial is a crushed tomato with tentacles that unfortunately has Belial’s face haphazardly plastered into the mix, and if she never has to look on his true visage again, she would be quite happy about that.” Jonas closed the bathroom door, and I laughed at the curses the incubus spewed while he got dressed.
“Don’t mind him. He’s always grouchy when he’s woken up from a good nap. He’s even grouchier because he doesn’t want you at risk at all. I understand that, as I get rather cranky if I think my
darling is about to get into trouble. He can’t deny the need for what we’re doing, which is doing a good job of making him even surlier. I am going to be cheating a little for this to help make certain you’re as protected as I can make you.”
“Oh?”
“I’m going to ask Him to keep an eye on you, and should things escalate beyond your ability to handle, He will make certain the situation is defused. We do not want to see this world end because of the machinations of pathetic humans. He cannot directly intervene—but He can keep an eye on you, for you are part of our family, and the universal rules have some allowances for such things.”
Huh. I raised a brow and engaged the Devil in a staring contest. “If you tell me you wanted me to shack up with Jonas specifically so you could use this as part of your scheme, I’m going to help Darlene with her latest cruel and unusual punishments of your person.”
“No. I’m an asshole, but I don’t throw people together for that sort of reason. Usually, I’m after the kids of my target. Jonas gets special treatment because he’s my darling’s little brother. In his case, I wanted a woman who could keep up with him and tolerate his character flaws, of which he has many.”
“I’m still not seeing all of these character flaws you claim are there, Lucifer.”
“He lies and steals,” the Devil reminded me. “He will also pull many a prank on you, and it’s only a matter of time until you find your panties in unusual places. He is arrogant as well.”
“I’m an attorney. I’m a professional liar. I’ll work on the stealing thing, but as long as he doesn’t get caught and he’s not hurting people who can’t afford to have things stolen from them, I really don’t care that much. If you’re his primary target, I’m going to encourage his thieving ways. And anyway, is it really his fault Diana left her panties where he could get ahold of them?”
“I see Jonas has corrupted you.”
“I’m pretty sure I came pre-corrupted. Anyway, if you’re going to stick a tracker in me, get to work. Will I get better cellular reception?”
“Alas, this chip won’t make your internet connection any better.”
Damn. Built-in internet would have rocked. “Well, that’s disappointing. Am I getting an injection of the Mark of the Beast with this?”
“I really don’t see why people think I’m going to literally mark people during the end times. The End of Days is a battle, not a people registration. It’s the souls that matter at that stage, and they mark their own souls according to their sins. Maybe if they didn’t sin and expect Him to forgive them for no reason whatsoever, they wouldn’t have to worry about any marks I might give them.”
Apparently, I had stumbled upon a sore point. “Should I just apologize now?”
Lucifer dismissed my offer with a wave of his hand. “Humanity has always been good at twisting things. There is no Mark of the Beast. The only mark is the darkness of their sin on their souls. There are wages they pay for their sin, and no matter what they want to believe, the entirety of their lives are weighed for determining their final destination and the wages they pay—or the rewards they receive. No amount of begging, pleading, or asking for forgiveness will change that. In reality, the End of Days is just that: the end. Nobody will be getting out of it alive, not even Him, and not even me. We all will perish, although the universe itself will preserve certain seeds.”
“Like yours?” I guessed. Having seen the Devil with his beloved Darlene, I wondered if her seed would find its way back to Lucifer someday after the end had destroyed everything.
“Like mine,” he confirmed. “And then the cycle begins anew until the next End of Days resets everything once more. As such, we have decided we would much rather like to avoid the End of Days to begin with. And so ancient enemies have become staunch allies in the face of a world willing to bring about its own end.”
“That does seem rather stupid.”
“That is one of the prices of free will. We are allowed to do stupid things, even if it brings about our destruction. Food for thought, isn’t it?” Lucifer went to work prepping the ridiculous needle and the chip he intended to embed beneath my skin. “In good news, thanks to your lycanthropy virus, this won’t hurt for long.”
“How reassuring,” I muttered, sighing and presenting my left arm to the Devil. “I’d say do your worst, but you would, so please don’t.”
“I knew you were a smart one.”
Fifteen
In good news, I woke up.
As the Devil’s prey already searched for me using the CDC’s database, he decided to make the bastards work to catch me. To get information on the outfit, he installed a mix of magical and mundane surveillance intended to gather information on those out to study me. I contributed by creating a series of illusions to trick my kidnappers into believing they’d caught me completely unaware, as Lucifer worried what they would do if they were tipped off I was serving as willing bait.
Then, to make sure I enjoyed a comfortable kidnapping, Lucifer had the CDC’s file adjusted to imply I was rather fragile, something I enforced with an illusion to cover my better-than-expected health. Another flag went into the file concerned for my poor little virus, something that made me laugh. To help protect me as much as possible, the Devil also had an assortment of medications added to my file, some of which I’d even take to trick our adversaries.
My randy little virus wanted nothing more than to trap Jonas in bed for the rest of eternity rather than deal with a bunch of asshole illegal lab operators. I wondered if she’d ever calm down or if I’d be stuck enduring cravings for the incubus and his special brand of attention.
Jonas fretted about the entire venture, annoying everyone until Lucifer captured the incubus and dragged him back to hell for a timeout while I prepared for my date at some lab. Any other day, I would have enjoyed my stay at the country cottage thirty minutes outside of Athens, one of Lucifer’s many properties, operated by a land management firm most had no idea worked for the Devil. While my virus whined over being separated from our incubus bed buddy, I finished my work staging the place for my debut as a test subject. After erasing the evidence we were aware our prey came for me, I settled in to wait.
On schedule, I took the handful of pills meant to mitigate pain and treat the cancer I no longer battled to make certain they detected the correct drugs if they did a blood test. As the CDC’s file included my last tests, which showed some improvement of my cancer but did not include its eradication, if they did any scans for the cancer, they would believe my virus worked to cure me.
My job was to pretend the drugs worked as well as expected for someone in the final stages of cancer and being experimented on in a last-ditch effort. The wait annoyed me, especially as the first two or three hours after taking the drugs went by in a blur.
The Devil had warned me, but I still disliked the clinging drug-induced haze, especially when aware I invited myself to a kidnapping and some time in a lab. As we didn’t know how aggressive our prey was about checking the CDC’s files on me, or if they had someone closer to the top, we would go in unaware of when they’d hit, although judging from Lucifer’s behavior, he considered it to be a guarantee.
Four hours after my location was added to the CDC’s file on me, trouble came calling. As my medical file said the drugs would keep me out for five hours, I stuck to our plan, playing as close to dead as I could. My virus loathed the idea of enemies prowling around our space, but I ignored the presence of at least two people in the rustic home ideal for escaping the city.
Keeping still sucked, especially when my kidnappers took the time and effort to check my blood pressure and pulse to make sure they wouldn’t kill me moving me. My virus wanted me to bitchslap the sin right out of the two men, who spoke in low tones, recorded my vitals, and played the part of meticulous researchers rather well. The bastards poked me with several needles, and a few minutes after one of them, the lights went out.
In good news, I woke up.
In bad news,
I woke up in a cage with my hands manacled over my head. They’d used some sort of padding to keep the metal from cutting into my wrists, although I learned the position did my shoulders and back zero favors. My virus came to a single conclusion: only the brutal deaths of our prey would do.
I wore the same clothes I’d been kidnapped in, although I spotted new blood stains. On a closer investigation, I determined someone had taken a scalpel to my arm, using a marker to track the size of the incisions. I could only assume they tested my rate of healing.
One of them still bled, leaving a scabbing trail of blood down my arm to my side. Removing the mess without magic would be a bitch, especially as it caked to the little hairs on my arms. I glared at the evidence I’d participated in some form of test or another. After taking a full inventory of my new cuts, bruises, and marks, I expanded my investigation to my nearby surroundings. Several cages similar to mine, barely large enough to fit a bound human, took up one wall. The rest of the room reminded me of an ER, although I held zero delusions.
From surgical table to medical implements, the operators had everything needed to take apart a body, and judging from the state of the person they worked on, they didn’t need their subjects alive.
To my relief, I spotted no other captives in the room, although that didn’t bode well for me. Lucifer had believed they wanted me alive, but the non-intact state of their other subject concerned me. What did they hope to learn from the corpse they dissected? The dissection process involved a great deal less blood than I had anticipated, to the point I assumed they’d drained the corpse before taking a scalpel to him.
As I had no idea what to call the bastards chopping apart their other test subject, I decided they counted as fucking assholes. While I had no problems with willing donors giving their bodies to science, I suspected the man on the table hadn’t been willing.
