Working for the Devil

by Lilith Saintcrow

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Let me find a commlink.”

  Eddie piloted the hover down. We landed with a thump. “Sorry,” he called back. I slipped the commlink in my ear, settled my wrinkled coat on my shoulders, made sure my knives were easy in their sheaths. My right hand ached deeply, all the way down to the bone. If I were still human, I might be maimed.

  I knelt down in front of Eve, who watched me with Doreen’s eyes. “I’ve got to go talk to whoever this is,” I told her. “You stay with Jace until I get back, okay?”

  She nodded. “It will be all right, Danny. My daddy says so,” she said, her clear piping voice oddly adult.

  “Great,” I answered grimly, and stood up. The ground swayed underfoot, or maybe it was just me. “Jace, I want you to promise. Promise you’ll take care of her if I—”

  He shrugged. “You know I will, Danny. Go on, get this over with.” His blue eyes skittered over to the girl, back up to me.

  I nodded, then Eddie popped the side hatch. I hopped down to the marble, almost losing my balance. The heat hammered at me, Nuevo Rio back to its old, bad, sunny self. I wish I was home, I thought suddenly, and that surprised me, too. I hadn’t felt like Saint City was home for a good two or three years.

  One of the limo-hovers opened its side hatch. A set of steps folded down.

  I swallowed. I had a fair idea of what could be waiting in there.

  I strode across the burning white marble and toward the sleek black hovers, trying to keep my shoulders straight and wishing I wasn’t dirty, bloody, air-dried, and so close to crying my throat ached keeping it all in.

  CHAPTER 52

  The inside of the limo-hover was done in all different shades of red. Crimson, cardinal, burgundy, magenta, carmine, lobster—I blinked, stepping onto plush carpet at the top of the stairs. The air swirled with the smell of demon, smoky musk, and I took a deep breath. It was as if I hadn’t been breathing until now. Whatever demons used for air, this hover was full of it.

  That’s why she smells familiar, I realized with no real surprise. She smells like him. Like Lucifer.

  The Prince of Hell lounged elegantly on a huge circular red-velvet couch, his booted feet crushing the velvet. I gave the surroundings a tired glance—wet bar, tinted windows, doors probably leading to a bathroom and a private bedroom. There was a sunken tub in one corner, bubbling and frothing with a clear viscous fluid that didn’t look even remotely like water.

  Lucifer’s golden hair burned among the redness. He was dressed, of course, all in black silk, loose elegant pants and a long-sleeved, Chinese-collared shirt. The walls were done to look like expensive red damask wallpaper, and heavy velvet drapes muffled every sound.

  I swallowed. “The decor sucks,” I said, too tired for any bowing and scraping. I cradled my right hand in my left—it was really starting to throb as adrenaline wore off.

  “Good afternoon to you, too,” Lucifer replied, his voice stroking and tapping at my ears. A thrill like old tired fire ran through me—I was too exhausted to really respond to him. If I’d had any more energy I would have been worried about it. “Have you brought me the Egg?”

  “Nope,” I said. “But Santino’s dead. And you didn’t really want me to bring you the Egg anyway, that was Japhrimel’s job. Looks like he did it, because you’re out of Hell and feeling frisky.”

  Lucifer held up one elegant golden hand. I could look at his face now, without my eyes blinking and watering. His smell folded over me, teased at my hair, permeated my clothes. My bones rang with his nearness, a vibrating electricity that made me want to go to my knees. I fought the urge.

  A fine golden chain wrapped around his beautifully manicured fingers. “The once-demon Japhrimel brought me this,” he said, twirling a diamond-glittering oval on the chain. The hum of Power filled the air. I couldn’t look directly at the glittering thing, it hurt even my eyes.

  My throat was desert-dry. “So that’s what that was.” Santino had thrown the Egg at Japhrimel, to fend him off.

  “Indeed. Vardimal managed to unlock a fraction of the Egg’s power and threw it at Tierce Japhrimel. The only thing that could possibly hurt my Eldest—because it is mine, and therefore dangerous to my line. Any demon would be grieviously injured by it. Except, of course, myself. I am the Prince.” Lucifer sounded amused. He cocked his golden head. “Where is the child, Dante Valentine?”

  I shrugged. “That’s what you were after all the time, wasn’t it? Doreen’s kid. The Androgyne. You let Santino alone until he did what you couldn’t, and now you have everything.”

  “The sedayeen was never more than a template, Dante. The Egg contains my genetic codex, and pure Power. It is a mark of my reign and a useful tool.”

  “You knew the whole time. You knew. You just couldn’t afford to have anyone else know Santino had done what you couldn’t, so you had to find a human to do the dirty work. And all that tripe about the Egg being broken—” I shook my head, a lump in my throat. My voice sounded husky and harsh next to his smooth persuasive tones.

  “Think if Vardimal had managed to raise the child undisturbed, Dante. Imagine him ruling Hell, and our Hellesvront agents on Earth, through that child. That is what ‘breaking the Egg’ means. Breaking the chain of command, breaking the rule of Iblis Lucifer.”

  I had one of those sudden flashes of instinct that made my back chill with gooseflesh. He’s not nervous, I thought, but he is tense. Where’s Japhrimel? What game is he playing now?

  I glanced back toward the side hatch. It had silently closed. I was alone in a hoverlimo with the Devil. And wonder of wonders, it looked for all the world like the Devil was scared of little ol’ me. “That hover at Santino’s lair—that was you, or your agents. They brought you Japhrimel, and the Egg. And Santino’s dead. Case closed, contract terminated, bargain fulfilled.” I didn’t want to say it, but I had to anyway.

  Lucifer tipped his perfect head back, his green eyes crawling over me. “Aren’t you going to ask about Japhrimel?”

  The thought that had been tormenting me all the way back from the island slammed into the forefront of my mind again. Who do you think helped me escape from Hell? He’s Lucifer’s assassin, his Right Hand! You’ve been used! “I doubt you’d tell me the truth if I asked,” I said. “Why waste my breath?”

  “He is A’nankimel, Fallen. I can no longer use him, and he has tied himself to you. Besides, I promised him his freedom.” Lucifer seemed to sink even further into the cushions. “I never thought to see the day my assassin was brought low by a human woman.”

  I got the distinct idea that Lucifer was not pleased with this turn of events.

  Now we come to it, I thought clinically, wishing I had my sword. “So? He’s free. Fine.”

  Lucifer blinked.

  I suppressed a tired urge to giggle.

  “Let me be perfectly clear, Dante: you do not want to play with me.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not playing, Lucifer. I don’t care anymore. I just want to go and get some sleep.” I spread my hands—my new, golden-skinned hands, sparks from my rings popping in the charged air. It felt like a thunderstorm was gathering.

  For all I knew, one was.

  He sat up, his boots touching the floor. I tensed. But he only leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Very well then. Here is your choice. Give me the child, and I will give you Japhrimel.”

  That did it.

  I tipped my head back and laughed. It started out as a giggle, blew through a chuckle, and ended up full-fledged howling mirth. I laughed until tears squirted out of my eyes and my stomach hurt. When the laughter finally faded in a series of hitching gasps I wiped my eyes and regarded the Prince of Hell.

  “Go fuck yourself,” I said pleasantly, “if it will reach. If you think I’m going to hand an innocent kid—Doreen’s kid—over to you for gods-alone-know-what you want to do to her, you’ve got another think coming. You made the bargain with Japhrimel that he had his freedom when he finished this
job, and he finished it. You can’t keep him, you sorry son of a bitch, and I’d like to see you try. He’ll eat you for breakfast.” I took a deep breath, my rings sparking, Power cloaking me in close swirls. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Iblis Lucifer. Don’t ever try to double-cross a Necromance. As scary as you are, Prince, Death’s bigger and badder.”

  I finished my speech with my hands on my hips and my chin held high, my right hand flaring with pain as I balled it into a tight fist. Lucifer didn’t move. His eyes glittered, that was all. No wonder he was afraid—if Santino could challenge him with Eve, Lucifer probably thought I could too, if he pissed me off enough.

  “How do you think you will feed her, Dante? Or teach her to live in the human world? Hell is separate from earth for a reason. You cannot raise an Androgyne.” He said it softly, silk brushing my ears, whispering in my veins, tapping behind my heartbeat.

  “I promised,” I said. “I promised to take care of her. I don’t want Hell or any fancy-schmancy deals. You should have told me everything at the beginning, Lucifer. She wasn’t part of the deal. Let Japhrimel go.”

  I waited. The air turned prickling-hot. I didn’t move, meeting his eyes, finding out that I only had to be too tired to care before I won a staring match with the Devil.

  He finally spoke again. “Japhrimel is no longer a demon,” he said quietly. “Any bargain I made with him does not apply. I will keep him in Hell, enchained, tortured for as long as his life lasts. And I will be certain to let him know that you could have saved him from his fate, and did not.”

  “You really are a piece of work,” I said, my left hand creeping toward my knifehilt. Left-handed? I couldn’t kill the Devil left-handed. “I am not handing a kid over to you, you freak. And if you go ahead and torture Japhrimel—which I don’t recommend—you’ll just be a fucking grifter. How will that look—the Prince of Hell has to welsh on a deal? You’re already known for being a liar, now you’re a cheat, too—”

  I didn’t even see him move. One moment I was standing there, hands on hips, talking smack to the Prince of Hell. The next instant, he had me by the throat, his grip crushing-strong, holding me against the side of the hover as casually as he might hold a kitten by the scruff. “I am being merciful,” he said softly, pleasantly, “because you have been useful. You are under the illusion—” His hand tightened, here, and I kicked fruitlessly, “that you have a choice. Do not interfere with the child, and I will let you and Japhrimel live out your miserable lives unmolested.”

  What happened to being my friend? I struggled, black spots dancing over my vision. His fingers were like iron bars even for my newfound demon strength. Something crackled in my throat; he eased up a little. I managed a little bit of air. “Fuck . . . you . . .” I croaked, and his eyes blazed. He didn’t look so pretty when he was angry.

  My left shoulder began to burn. Faintly at first, but steadily. The black spots danced over my vision. I kicked, weakly, once, twice.

  “Ah.” Staring over my shoulder, out the window, he dropped me like a pile of trash and I coughed, rolling onto my side and rubbing my throat. Blessed air roared into my lungs. It took me two tries to get to my feet. The side hatch of the hoverlimo was open, white sunlight from the Nuevo Rio day pouring up and making a square on the ceiling.

  I half-fell out of the hover and down the stairs, sharp edges biting into my hip, smacking my head on one. The skin split and blood dripped down my face. I landed in a heap on hot slick stone and scrabbled to my feet.

  The child—Eve—stood by the garbage scow, the fierce sunlight making her hair seem even paler, glittering. Her eyes blazed, incandescent blue.

  And Lucifer stood in front of her.

  “No—” I choked, scrambling over the marble. “No!”

  The Prince of Hell knelt slowly, sinking down, a black blot on the carnivorous white of the day. I saw Jace, braced in the side door of the hover, shaking his head as if dazed. Lucifer held up the Egg, and settled the thin gold chain around Eve’s neck.

  She smiled up at him.

  My abused body couldn’t go anymore. My feet tangled, and I fell. Lucifer rose like a dark wave, and the child put her arms around his neck and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  Just like a little girl with her daddy. My gorge rose. But demons weren’t human—and human rules didn’t apply to them. For all I knew, all of Lucifer’s bed-buddies were his children. He was the Androgyne. The first.

  Then Lucifer turned on his heel, took three steps, and lifted one golden hand. His hair ran with sunlight, a furnace of gold, glittering unbearably. I heard the whine of hover displacement, didn’t care. I saw Iblis Lucifer rip a hole in the fabric of reality and step through as if going from one room to another. Flame licked the corners of the hole he made, and the last thing I saw was Eve smiling over his shoulder, her blue eyes fixed on me, calm and tranquil and utterly inhuman. Power rippled, rent the air, nausea spiking under my breastbone.

  Something thudded on the marble. Jace’s boots rang—but the thump was from behind me. He reached me, dropping to his knees with a heavy sound, grabbing my shoulders. We watched together as the limo-hovers lifted into the sky, quickly, then dived over the well of Nuevo Rio. The police cruisers made one circuit of the mansion and then slid down into the city, going back to patrol probably.

  Game over. Lucifer wins.

  Jace cursed, shook me. “Danny! Danny!”

  “What the fuck?” My tongue felt too thick for my mouth.

  Jace’s arms crushed me. “Fuck, Danny. What happened? The kid heard his voice on the commlink and just walked out; she said her daddy was here to get her.”

  I groaned. “I hate this line of work,” I husked dryly, then looked back over my shoulder, to where the limo-hovers had rested.

  Another black blot on the pavement, this one with short ink-black hair.

  “They tossed him out,” Jace said into my hair. “Danny—”

  “Help me up. Help me up.”

  He dragged me up to my feet, steadying me as I swayed.

  “What the fuck is going on out there?” Eddie yelled from the hatch.

  “Go back,” I told Jace. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” he shot back at me. “Look at you. Your hand—your throat—”

  “Go make sure Gabe’s okay,” I said, and shoved him away. “Go on.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. He took a step back, his face going cold and hard as the marble under us. I think I watched Jace Monroe age five years in that one moment, his shoulders slumping, his blue eyes gone pale as frost.

  “Danny,” he said. “You’re not seriously . . .”

  The heat poured down on us like oil from Nuevo Rio’s blue sky. “Go on, Jace. Go.”

  I turned away. Limped toward the crumpled dark shape lying against the whiteness. Too still. He was too still.

  “Danny,” I heard Jace say behind me, shut the sound out. I didn’t care.

  It took me a long time to limp across the marble. I finally reached him and went down on my knees. He lay twisted against the smooth slick stone, legs shattered, his face unrecognizable. Nothing could possibly be that broken and live.

  I flattened my left hand against his shredded chest. His wings lay bent and broken, tattered, draped across him. He had stopped bleeding. Smoke threaded up from his wings, his blood burning, burning.

  “No,” I whispered. “No.”

  His eyes were mere slits, glazed over. “Japhrimel?” I whispered. The mark on my shoulder had stopped its flaming pain. Now it was cold, all the way down to my bones. Numb cold, the cold of shock.

  No spark of life. I touched his throat, pried up one ruined eyelid and peered at his eye. No pulse. No reaction in the pupil. Just the steady drift of smoke rising from him.

  My head dropped. I sighed. The sound seemed to go on forever. My throat pulsed with pain.

  I reached, with all the Power I had left. I tried to find the spark of life in him. I rested my left palm on h
is body and closed my eyes, searching, but nothing was there. This was only a shell.

  Japhrimel was gone.

  Free. He was finally free. Lucifer had killed him—or let him die.

  I didn’t realize the tears splashing his battered face were mine. I bent over him for a long moment, frantically searching for any sign of life, and then settled back on my heels, cold in the middle of the furnacelike sunshine. The flames began in earnest, eating his demon body, self-combusting with a smell like burning cinnamon.

  Then I tipped back my head and howled to the uncaring blue sky.

  EPILOGUE

  Gabe was fine. Shaky, battered, weak from blood loss, and possessed of an interesting new set of scars where Santino had ripped her belly open, but fine. She lived, and after a couple of days she called me to say Eddie had stopped rampaging through the mansion threatening to break windows. I stayed in a hotel down in Nuevo Rio, a cockroach-infested place where I had to listen to screaming and the pops of projectile guns outside my window every night. Gabe also told me Jace was going to give them the Baby, and they planned to fly the garbage scow back to Saint City. Eddie had wanted a hover anyway.

  I said nothing, just listened to her on the phone and then slowly closed the sound of her voice away, setting the receiver down in its cradle. Good for them.

  I flew first class in a passenger transport. My right hand was an awkward claw, but I got around with my left just fine. It would take me a long time to bless another sword if my hand ever straightened out.

  I carried the urn with me. It was black lacquer, beautiful, and heavy. Pure fine cinnamon-scented ash, scraped together from white marble and carefully placed in the urn’s embrace. Every speck of ash I had been able to find had gone into the urn, left by Lucifer as a parting gift maybe. Just to rub everything in.

  Jace did not see me off at the dock. I didn’t expect him to. I’d left his mansion like a thief in the middle of the night, carrying Japhrimel’s ashes with me. Jace hadn’t tried to find me or talk to me.