I shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere, I just need some air.”
“And?” His voice was calm, almost excessively calm.
I didn’t answer. Twisted the doorknob, let myself out into the night.
Outside, the plaza in front of Jace’s house stretched away, expanses of white marble. The edges dropped down, sheer rock, until the suburbs of Nuevo Rio splashed against the cliff. He’d chosen this place for security, I guessed, and metaphorical height.
Japhrimel closed the door behind me. I paced out onto the flat white expanse, glancing up at the sky. Clouds scudded in front of a quarter-moon, I had no trouble seeing. Demon sight was far better than human eyes. I could see every tiny crack in the marble, every pebble and dust mote, if I looked for it.
Japhrimel, silent, halted at the bottom of the steps leading to Jace’s front door.
“So what am I?” I asked finally. The stink of human Nuevo Rio, the sharp tang of Power, vied with the night wind and the persistent smoky fragrance of demon. “What exactly am I?”
“Hedaira,” he replied, his voice weaving into the night. “I am Fallen, Dante. And I have shared my Power with you.”
“That tells me a lot,” I said, my hand tightening on my swordhilt.
“Why don’t you ask what you truly wish to ask me, Dante?” He still sounded tired. And forlorn.
“Can I kill you?” I asked, in a rush of breath.
“Perhaps.”
“What happens to you if Santino kills me?”
“He will not.” Stone rang softly underfoot as Japhrimel’s voice stroked it. His voice was almost physical now, caressing my skin as nothing else ever had. It reminded me of the barbed-wire pleasure, so intense it was agony, of his body on mine.
I turned back, saw him with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes gleamed faintly green. The darkness of his winged coat blended with the darkness of night, a blot on the white stone. “That’s not an answer, Tierce Japhrimel.”
Saying his name made the air shiver between us. He tensed.
My thumb slid over the katana’s guard. His dark eyes flicked down, then back up, a glitter showing on their surface from the moon. The pale crescent slid behind clouds again, and he went back to being a shadow. If I concentrated, I could see his face, decipher his expression. “You do not want to question me,” he said. “You want to fight.”
“It’s what I’m good at,” I said, wishing he hadn’t guessed.
“Why must it always be a contest, with you?” I could see he was smiling, and that managed to infuriate me.
“Why don’t you carry a sword?” I avoided the question.
“I have no need of one.” He shrugged. “Would you like me to prove it?”
“If you can beat me, Santino will—”
“Santino preys on humans,” he said. “He is a scavenger. I was the Prince of Hell’s Right Hand, Dante.”
“What did you prey on?” I tried to sound rude, only managed to sound breathless.
“Other demons. I have killed more of the Greater Flight of Hell than you can imagine.” His lips peeled back from his teeth, one of those murderous slow grins.
I tried to feel afraid. Every other time he’d grinned like that my skin had gone cold with terror. Not now. Now my breath caught, remembering his mouth on mine. Remembering his hands on my naked skin.
I almost drew my katana, five inches or so of bright steel peeking out. No blue glow.
He still smiled, watching me.
“Did you plan this? Or did Lucifer?” I swallowed, wishing for my normal human terror with a vengeance that surprised me. I never thought my own fearlessness would be so scary; I’d lived with comfortable fear for so long.
“Lucifer did not plan this, Dante; he will be exceedingly displeased. No demon plans to Fall. To become A’nankimel is to give up much of the power and glory of Hell.” He shrugged again, his hands still clasped behind his back.
“You can’t go back?” I asked. “What about . . . what about being free?”
He shook his head. “There are other kinds of freedom. My fate is bound to yours, Dante. I am bound to finish the Prince’s will in this matter, and then . . . we shall see, you and I, what compromise we can reach.”
I closed my eyes.
You’re so sharp and prickly, aren’t you? So tough. Someday you’re going to find someone you can’t bamboozle, Danny, Doreen’s voice echoed through my memory. Someone’s going to find out what a soft touch you are, and what are you going to do then?
I’m not soft, I had replied, and changed the subject. And Doreen had giggled, her fingertips sliding over my hip, a soft forgiving touch.
I’d met Jace at the party we threw to christen the house, and he started coming around after Doreen died, doing repairs, showing up once or twice while I was on a job to watch my back, and going out on a limb for me during the Freemen-Tarks bounty, the one that had given me the worst case of nerves from a bounty ever. I still had nightmares about being trapped in the rain, Tarks beating me with a crowbar until Jace appeared out of nowhere and took him down. Even when Jace had started to actively court me I’d kept him at arm’s length. Everything had to be a fight between us, and he seemed to enjoy the battles as much as I did, exchanging sharp word for sharp word, finally a sparring partner I didn’t have to hold back and be careful of.
I opened my eyes, looked down at my blade, peeking out between hilt and scabbard. Slid the blade home. It clicked back into the sheath, useless. What was I going to do, try to kill him because he’d made me stronger? If Santino couldn’t kill me now, if I was quicker and tougher because of what Japhrimel had done . . .
I didn’t realize I was walking toward him until he moved down off the bottom step, opening his arms, enclosing me in the warmth of a demon’s embrace. I sighed, my shoulders dropping, the weight of uncertainty slipping away. In his arms, I could breathe. As if he carried around the only sphere of usable air on the planet.
He kissed my forehead, gently. Fire sparked through my veins, recognizing the touch. “If you wish to fight me, Dante, fight me.” His lips moved against my new skin. “If it will ease you, I will play that game. Or we can devise new ones.”
I hadn’t thought it possible that a demon could seduce me. But seduction was what demons did. Cajoling, enticing, fascinating, tempting—they made it into sport, and had a long time to practice.
He kissed my cheek, the corner of my mouth; I tipped my head back, a small pleading sound escaping me, and his mouth met mine. This kiss wasn’t like the first—it was gentler. Softer. A sharp, greedy demon I could fight. Japhrimel, gentle, sharing his mouth with me as if he was human, and mine—I had no defense against that.
Japhrimel led me through Jace’s house, his warm fingers in mine. I cried without a sound, tears sliding down my cheeks as he closed the door of yet another bedroom behind us. He wiped away the tears, tenderly, and I forgot to weep as he told me silently everything I had always wanted to hear.
CHAPTER 46
It’s a ten-hour hover flight,” Jace said. “You said we needed something that could go over water.”
I eyed the freight hover, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. It looked like a garbage scow, dirty and blunt-nosed. Her name—Baby—was permasprayed on her hull in pink. “Any particular reason why you chose this piece of trash?”
“Watch.” Jace lifted his wrist and tapped his datband. He was grinning, an expression he usually reserved for when he’d won a card game
The hover—almost as big as a freight transport—vanished. My jaw dropped. I saw the marble plaza, the smoke drifting up from Nuevo Rio in the background, hover traffic beginning to slide through the city once more—but no garbage scow.
I lifted my own datband and scanned. Then I dug in my bag and extracted my datpilot, scanned again. I thinned my shields and tried to find any electromagnetic disturbance.
Nothing. If I hadn’t watched it vanish, I would never have guessed.
“Gods above and below,”
I said. “How did you—”
“Hegemony military tech and a little extra,” he replied, his golden hair shimmering in the reflected light from the vast marble courtyard. “I’ve got a great Tech guy, and your demon’s been pretty useful. Invisible to radar, deepscan, magscan, and psi. It’s faster than it looks, too. And it’s combat-equipped, fore-and-aft plascannons—”
“Yeah, but does it have that new-hover smell?” Eddie snorted. He handed me a small plas package full of six gray crystalline nubbins, each as big as my thumb. “Firestarters. Be careful, okay?” But his eyes didn’t quite meet mine. I didn’t blame him. I had trouble looking in the mirror, and I was living inside this new body.
Gabe shrugged, her coat settling against her shoulders. “I’ve got the map,” she said. “Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”
“One second.” Jace pressed his datband again, and the hover reappeared. “She only looks ugly, guys. She’s got a heart of gold.” He produced his chromium hip flask.
An ash-smelling wind touched my hair. Nuevo Rio had stopped burning, but it would be racked with gunfire again as soon as Jace’s lieutenants moved out into the city. Hours of frantic planning had narrowed down to this: if his network succeeded, Jace would take over all the Corvin Family’s assets in Nuevo Rio and probably elsewhere in the Hegemony. It was the accepted method for a Family to start out, in murder and fire after all the legal paperwork of incorporation was done. And we hoped it would distract Santino—he was arrogant enough to think that if we were attacking the Corvin Family, we weren’t going after him, right?
Wrong, I thought.
Jace unscrewed the flask, took a swig. Rolled it around in his mouth. Tossed it back. “We who are about to die, salute you,” he said. Handed the flask to Gabe, who glanced at me.
“A sort of ritual,” I said. “Every time we started a job, we would take a slug and give a quote. Good luck.”
She shrugged, took a hit, and coughed, her cheeks flushing pink. “Let the gods sort them out,” she said, and grimaced. “Hades love me, that’s foul.”
Eddie took the flask, took a long swallow. “Fortis fortunam iudavat,” he growled. Coughed slightly, blinking watering eyes. “Goddammit, Jace, what is that?”
“Jungle juice,” Jace replied. He was smiling, and his eyes glittered madly. Fey.
Eddie handed me the flask. If it was a gesture, it was a good one. I tipped it into my mouth, a long swallow, felt it burn fiercely all the way down. I coughed, my eyes watering. “Go tell the Spartans, passers-by; That here, obedient to their orders, we lie.” It was just as awful as every other time I’d tasted it. I gave the flask back to Jace, who watched me for a moment. Had he been watching the flask meet my mouth, the way my throat moved as I swallowed? Maybe.
Then he passed it over my shoulder to Japhrimel, who stood dark and silent as ever. “Take a swig and give a quote,” Jace said. “You’re one of us.”
I don’t know what it cost Jace to say that, but I was grateful. I bit my lip, sinking my teeth in, but nobody looked at me.
“I suppose he is,” Gabe chimed in. “He saved Danny’s life.”
“And got her involved in this in the first place,” Eddie snorted. She elbowed him, her emerald glittering in the late-morning sunlight. The afternoon storm was just beginning to gather on the horizon, a dark smudge. I could smell approaching rain and nervous peppery adrenaline from them all. Except Japhrimel.
Japhrimel took the flask, lifted it to his mouth. A single swallow. His eyes dimmed slightly. “A’tai, hetairae A’nankimel’iin. Diriin.” He handed the flask back to Jace. “My thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Jace tipped the flask, poured a smoking dollop out onto the marble, and then capped it deftly. “Well, if we’re going to make a suicide run, let’s get on with it.”
“Let’s hope it’s not suicide,” Gabe said dryly. “I’ve got property taxes. I can’t afford to die.”
CHAPTER 47
I watched out the window as the dark nighttime ocean slid away underneath us. Japhrimel leaned against the hull on the other side of my window, looking out as well. The hold was fitted with utilitarian seats, the entire back section filled with crated supplies. I hoped we didn’t need everything we had brought—we could hunt Santino for months on what we’d packed. If I had to spend months doing this I would probably go crazy.
Gabe, strapped into the captain’s chair, piloted us with a deft touch. Eddie paced down the length of the hover’s interior, silently snarling, whirled on his heel, paced back, stared out the front bubble, then whirled back and repeated the whole process. He was readying the golem’ai to be released. They were a Skinlin’s worst weapon, the mud-things. I felt a small shiver trace up my spine.
Jace leaned back in his chair, his eyes shut. It was his usual prejob ritual, to sit quiet and still, maybe going over the plan in his head, maybe praying, maybe silently chanting to a loa. The thorn-twisted tattoo on his cheek shifted slightly.
And me? I sat and stared at my hands, clasped loosely around my katana’s hilt. Golden skin under my rings. Light sparkled under the amber and moonstone and silver and obsidian. They rang and shifted with Power constantly now, demon-fed.
I had far too much now, too much to control. Power jittered in the air around me, working its way into my brain, teasing and tapping and begging to be used. I slid my katana free, just an inch or so, and watched a faint blue glow play over the metal. The song of my runespelled blade, familiar, resonated under the whine of hovercells.
I looked up at Japhrimel, who studied the waves, his profile sharp and somehow pure in the blue light. I blinked.
His eyes were no longer bright laser-green. Instead, they were dark, dimming. I gasped, shoved my katana back into its sheath. “Japhrimel?”
He glanced at me, then smiled. It was a shared, private smile that made my breath catch. I was lying in bed with him this morning, I thought, and a hot flush slid up my cheeks. “Your eyes,” I said, weakly.
Japhrimel shrugged. It was an elegant movement. Would I share his grace? The crackling aura of Power that followed him around? There are worse things, I thought, and then flinched. No. I’m human. Human.
No, I’m not. I realized for the umpteenth time, my fist clenched on my katana’s hilt.
“Dark now,” he said. “Probably. I am glad of it.”
“Why?”
His smile widened slightly. “It means I am no longer subject to Hell,” he said shortly. “Only to you.”
“So you’re technically free? You could walk away from this?” I persisted.
“Of course not. It simply means that once the Egg is returned to Lucifer, I stay with you.”
“I’m not so sure I’m comfortable with that,” I answered, and went back to staring out the window. “What is he likely to have on that island, Japhrimel?”
“Several rings of defenses, human guards, other things.” Japhrimel still leaned against the hull. “It is impossible to guess. Best just to wait and see.”
“Like a standard hit on a military installation,” Gabe supplied from the front. “Can’t tell until we get there, going to have to just go loose and fast. Not enough time for proper intel.”
We’d gone over this before, but the conversation was comforting. Better than the silence, anyway. But something was bothering me, some question I couldn’t quite frame.
“Well, if we’re invisible, we can recon a little before we send their asses to hell,” Eddie growled. Then he glanced at Japhrimel. “No offense.”
Japhrimel blinked. “None taken.”
I watched the sea heaving below. I’d never liked the sea. Anything that big and unpredictable gave me the willies. Ditto with thunderstorms, some of the Major Works . . . and demons.
The question clicked into my conscious mind as I sat staring out the window. Just how exactly did Santino escape Hell? He was scary, much scarier than any human monster I’d faced. But still . . . I’d seen Hell now, and it didn’t seem likely that Santino had possess
ed the kind of Power necessary to wrench himself out of the Prince’s grasp, especially with something so valuable as the Egg. Of course, the Egg wasn’t often used . . . so it was probably guarded.
Guarded by a demon Lucifer thought he could trust.
My eyes traveled up Japhrimel’s coat, fastened on his profile. I did not want to be thinking this, especially since I’d spent the morning rolling around in bed with him. He hadn’t let me down yet; I could ask him the hard questions later.
If there was a later.
We had about four hours before we reached the island, and then we had to find whatever installation Santino had there, and then we had to crack it and kill him—and rescue the little girl.
Doreen’s daughter. Or Doreen cloned. Lucifer cloned with a bit of Doreen. One-quarter? One-half? How much? Did it matter? Of course not. I owed Doreen. If nothing else, she had given me my body back, made it possible for the terrified girl inside me to finally go to sleep and the adult begin to come out.
Oh, come on, Danny! I thought, lifting my katana, resting my forehead against the sheath. I was glad we were running dark, so I couldn’t see my reflection in the windowplas. What are you going to do with a demon child? Play mommy? Send her off to school and hope she doesn’t burn the whole goddamn place down?
Doesn’t matter, I answered. You can’t hand a little kid—Doreen’s kid—over to Lucifer. You just can’t. What will he do to her? You owe Doreen. She saved your life at the expense of her own.
I sighed. Here I was, sitting in a retrofitted garbage scow, dragging my best friend—and who qualified as my best friend now if Gabe didn’t?—and her boyfriend into this. And Jace. And Japhrimel, but he could probably take care of himself.
Could he? Why the hell was I worrying about him?
I lowered my katana, drummed my fingernails on the hilt. “Japhrimel?”
“Dante.”
“Are you . . . are you vulnerable, now?” I sounded a lot less certain than I wanted to.
“Not to humans,” he said, shortly. “To some demons, perhaps. Not many.”
Working for the Devil Page 27
