Hell Hath No Vengeance (Vengeance Demons Book 5)

by Louisa Lo

  “And now you conveniently have exactly what I need. How unsuspicious.” I placed my hands on my hips.

  “You want to go searching for your grandmother yourself, don’t you? I can help you get into the Internet so you can search it to your heart’s desire,” Vera purred. “It’s a good deal. Think about it. If my man is innocent, you’re honor-bound to confirm that anyway. If he’s guilty, you’ll get a free ride into the Internet for your trouble.”

  When she put it that way, it was an easy offer to accept. That was, if she was capable of doing what she claims she could.

  "How do I know you really could guide me and not trap me there?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “To answer question number one: the Internet is nothing but an illusion, a place where people go to pretend to be something they’re not. Photoshopped profile pictures, images of big happy families, inflation of one’s popularity… It’s the perfect nurturing ground for my kind, and we’ve been there ever since its inception. It’s like a built-in web of lies, ready for us to play in. We do our R and R and even nurse our younglings there. So believe me when I say I could take care of the Lies and Illusions component. I might’ve stopped doing shade activities when I met Boyce, but I’m perfectly capable of doing it again to get him back. As for the second question, my kind, like you mercenaries, have our own rules of conduct. If I give you my word, I’ll follow it through and won’t trick you. Isn’t that right, little sister?” The last sentence was addressed to Sassy.

  Sassy gave a little nod, however disgruntled she seemed at having to back up Vera’s words.

  Wait a minute.

  “Hey, have you been able to get me into the Internet yourself all this time?” I scowled at my cat.

  “No, she can’t.” Vera laughed. “It’s a Wild Wild Web out there. As I said, your pet has been domesticated for far too long. Lies and illusions don’t become her anymore.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Another Crisis

  I asked Vera to give me some privacy to talk to Gregory. She disappeared to wherever shades disappeared to when they get gone, leaving Gregory and I in the living room. Sassy watched us with unblinking eyes.

  If Vera was eavesdropping, there was nothing I could do about it—I knew next to nothing about shade-proofing. Here was to hoping the rules of conduct she claimed would apply here.

  I had to talk to Gregory privately because Vera’s offer only benefited me, but Gregory and I were business partners. The decision to help Vera involved actions that might lead to pissing off our biggest and most dangerous client, aka Lucifer, the Lord of Hell himself. And oh, to top it off, we’ll be working with someone who had just caused his mother a great deal of pain and distress.

  I would never have considered it had it not be what was at stake.

  “The Book of Life and Death is never wrong," Gregory began.

  “I know.” I sighed. “But—”

  “However—” Gregory held up a hand. “We are obliged to do at least a cursory investigation if a complaint is made. That is the mercenary code we must follow. Any personal benefit you happen to gain from this is your own business."

  I stared at Gregory. Did he just give me his blessing and support in going ahead with helping Vera? Despite his claim that it was all business, that was only half true. I was perfectly aware that he was taking on the risk of irking Lucifer because he knew that finding Grandma was important to me.

  "Thank you," I said gratefully.

  “Don’t mention it.” He shook his head.

  "All right then." I started making a mental summon to Vera so we could give her our decision, but Gregory opened his mouth, looking like he had something else to say. So I stopped the call, looking at him expectedly.

  Then he didn’t say anything. So I started the summon again, only to see Gregory wanting to speak again. After it happened for the third time, he just sighed and pulled me into his arms altogether.

  Oh.

  The unexpected embrace was nice. Very nice. He was solid and warm, such a contrast from the memory world we’d been venturing in. He kissed the hair around my temple, then pulled away from me slightly so he could see my face.

  “Megan”—Gregory looked me right in the eye—“before we go into another crisis, as there always seems to be another crisis when it comes to you and me, I want to take a pause and ask you, formally, if you would like to go on a date with me.”

  “A…a date?” I stammered.

  “Yes.” His eyes glinted with determination. “It’s about time.”

  Whoa, that was unexpected. After what happened inside Sophia’s mind, I assumed we were going to go through at least another month of song and dance—or as Gregory put it, a few more crises—before we deal with the whole soul-mate business. Things between us had gone the way of molasses in January for a long time now, and a part of me was a little afraid of moving forward in regular speed.

  Would I dare to explore a possible relationship with Gregory? He’d been running away from me for months. Now that we found out we have the free will to not be together, he wanted to give it a go?

  On the other hand, it was pretty amazing that despite how the idea of soul mate was perverted by his father, Gregory still wanted to try exploring it with me. If he was willing to do that, how could I back away?

  Gregory was looking at me expectantly, and I realized that I’d remained silent long enough to borderline on insulting. “Er…” Looking at Gregory, his face open and his eyes reflecting a hint of fear and vulnerability that I knew I probably shared in my own, I heard myself say, “Sure.”

  In the end, it was no tough decision at all. I wanted to see this through, even if we ended up crashing and burning.

  But there were a few things I wanted out in the open. I told Gregory about how I came to have Lucifer’s flowers in my bedroom, and his bizarre invitation.

  “I did nothing to attract his attention, I swear,” I told Gregory.

  Silence.

  “I know that,” he said eventually. “You’ve never even met him. Neither have I, for that matter. You did a good job with declining it. Keep it ambiguous and not too hardline.”

  “Thank you.” The compliment meant a lot to me, since I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right. But what was I missing? “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is not with you.” Gregory grunted. “The problem is with him. How dare he come near my—”

  He paused, looking a little embarrassed at himself, “Er, you.”

  I guess neither of us were ready to say the words solus iungere out loud. Fine by me. One date at a time.

  “What does it mean working with him going forward, though?” I asked, keeping to a more neutral line of conversation.

  Gregory gave me a look. “Let’s just see where we stand after this investigation is over, shall we?”

  Right, one issue at a time.

  “And about Candy.” I made a face. “I should’ve checked with you and Mel before trying anything with her.”

  “I know how persistent that little rascal can be.” Gregory smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I was rather harsh with you.”

  That was very understanding of him. I doubt I would be as reasonable if our roles were switched, but I was grateful of the olive branch.

  “Well, I’m just glad nothing bad happened.” I said, “I mean, permanently.”

  “Me, too,” he agreed. “And Megan, I might be assessing the situation with Lucifer clinically, but make no mistake that I am very glad that you’re showing no romantic interest in him.”

  “Oh please.” I rolled my eyes. “It’ll take a lot more than that to sway me. He didn’t even send chocolate. So, how do you feel about shawarmas?”

  That got a chuckle from him. “Shawarmas, for our first official date?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, deadpan. “They got the freshest veggies.”

  “Don’t you want to go somewhere more romantic, like an Italian restaurant or something?”

  Gregory looked so conf
used, it was my turn to laugh. “Actually, French restaurants are more romantic.” Plus I’d always been curious about frog legs and escargots. A person should try anything once, right?

  “I don’t get it. Why a shawarma place then?”

  I turned serious. “Because there’s one on every street corner. It’s inexpensive and accessible. Given our lifestyle and how things have a tendency to get blown to shit and back, it’s the best way to make sure our date will even happen, and happen soon.”

  “But we’ve eaten at places like that before, as business partners.”

  “I’ll know that it’s different this time.”

  And it would be enough.

  I didn’t want to put this date on some kind of pedestal. I already felt like I’d spent a long time waiting for it to happen. Besides, shawarmas was what was in my head right before Gregory kissed me for the first time. I would take that as a good luck charm.

  “And, oh—” I winked. “I’m holding you to the French cuisine for the second date if we make it through the first one. Hold onto your credit cards.”

  Even if we liked each other enough on the first date for the second one to happen, it would probably be, like, another five crises later. He would have plenty of time to save up for the big meal.

  Such was my life.

  PART TWO

  THE INVESTIGATION

  Chapter Twelve

  The Heart of Vengeance

  To make sure that both Sophia and Rosemary got the proper rest after their ordeal, Gregory and I gave them herbs that would make them sleep for three days straight. While there didn’t seem to be any long-term damage to their minds, the extra healing time would make absolutely sure of it.

  I re-arranged Rosemary’s schedule around, telling everyone she had a bad flu, then built in a charm to discourage visitors, even her boyfriend, Jordon. People would be concerned about Rosemary upon hearing about her condition, but then they would put any desire to visit her out of their mind the minute it popped in.

  Gregory did the same for Sophia when it came to her business clients, but said his mother didn’t have any close personal friends that needed notifying of her sudden absence.

  Note to self: never get so busy with love that there was no time left for friendship.

  Sassy was assigned the task of watching over the ladies while they stayed in their healing state. My feline shade would much rather stick with me to make sure that Vera wasn’t up to any funny business, rules of ethics or not, but somebody had to stay behind and it couldn’t be helped.

  So she settled with glaring and dirty looks as we teleported away. Poor kitty.

  We had to gather as much information as we could about the multiple murders that Boyce Armstrong was convicted of. Our work order from Hell didn’t give us much. All it said was it was a robbery gone wrong involving the death of four people.

  Before we started digging, though, we went to Vera’s home to pick up a key piece of evidence she claimed would prove that Boyce was otherwise engaged during the time of the murders.

  The apartment seemed pretty much the same as in the memory, except the coffee table was covered with empty take-out boxes. Looked like someone did a bit of emotional eating before setting out to hunt the loved ones of Gregory and mine down.

  Vera reached into the bookshelves containing the fantasy novels and Pathfinder books, and pulled out an oversize booklet about an inch thick. She waved it at us triumphantly.

  “What is that?” Gregory asked, his voice sharing the same puzzlement I was feeling.

  “It’s a syllabus for the London Kiwanis Music Festival. It takes place every year in London, Ontario. On the vengeance plane.”

  “Okay, but what does this have to do with Boyce?” I asked.

  Vera flipped the syllabus to a section she already earmarked and pointed at it with a wealth of pride in her voice. “There.”

  Under Class ST22-04 – Male Voices – Classical Opera – Adult Under 35, there was Boyce’s name as a contestant.

  “He entered with Nessun Dorma,” Vera explained. “That’s his favorite aria. Not even the death of his pet parrot could drag him away from this competition. It’s what he’s been working on for months, the one thing that gives him joy and peace while trying to make a new life as an ex-con. Why would my baby drop out just to rob a bank?”

  The guy had a pet parrot? Never mind.

  “So let me get this straight—Boyce couldn’t have committed the crime because he was at an amateur opera-singing competition?” I asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” Vera said with a straight face.

  So the seven-foot dwarf-giant thug with the tattooed arms and facial scars couldn’t possibly have killed four people, because he was busy killing the high C at a local music festival?

  Gregory and I exchanged a look, wondering if Vera was playing us.

  And yet, it was so ludicrous, it was almost believable.

  “Why would they even welcome him?” I asked. “I thought that kind of festival is known for its snobbishness.”

  I knew a thing or two about snobbishness of the vengeance society. One look at Boyce and they would’ve disqualified him.

  “He’s a tenor,” Vera replied, as if that ought to explain everything.

  The annual festival, ran by a group of society ladies and catered to people who could afford private music lessons, was the last place I would expect the former convict to be. The competition was closed to the public, with no official recording of it, making the only witnesses to support Boyce’s claim being the judges themselves and the other competitors. Since Boyce’s supposed participation was early in the game, and he was only in Hell for a short time before the prison break, the three-week long festival wasn't over yet. In fact, tonight they had the trophy final for the voice category.

  I had to admit, with the evidence of his entry the judge assigned to his case should’ve at least asked for a more thorough investigation before convicting him for murder. Huh.

  “So you were at the competition with him?” I asked.

  “Yes, but being his girlfriend, my words aren’t considered evidence.” She sighed. “Conflict of interest, they said.”

  For the first time, there was evidence staring at me in the form of the syllabus, pointing to the possibility that Vera might be telling the truth. Being in the apartment she was sharing with Boyce, having the sofa they’d spent tender times together on in full view, was hitting home to me the stake in this investigation—not just the potential fall out with Lucifer, but the fact that I, Megan Aequitas, might’ve inadvertently had a hand in sending an innocent man to be tortured by Hell.

  And the torturing was still happening right this moment.

  Like any other vengeance demons, mercenary or otherwise, the very idea that my own action might’ve ironically caused injustices was horrid to me.

  Boyce looked like a criminal, he’d fought us like a criminal, and we’d sent him back to Hell like a criminal. Vera was right. I went into the whole thing with preset prejudices. I would do well to remember not to do that again.

  The trophy final wasn’t until tonight, and it wasn’t even noon yet. We had some homework to do in the meanwhile.

  “Gregory”—I turned to him—“is it alright if we go to Mel’s?”

  We went to Mel’s whenever we needed information gathering for our business. But after what happened with Candy, I wasn’t sure if that was a foregone conclusion for this case.

  Gregory sighed. “Of course. We need him for more than just information. Vera might be holding the Lies and Illusions key, but Mel is holding the Hardware and Facts. We need both to access the Internet when the time comes.”

  We teleported to a discounted supermarket on the human plane and went straight to the deli section. Staff waved at us along the way, with built-in perception filter to see us as regular customers picking up our staple milk and cereal. We pushed open the vertical plastic strips covering the entrance next to the deli counter and headed in.

 
We crossed a small tiled area to another door, which opened into a dark hallway. Judging from the echoing siren music and the overpowering incense, Mel must be in session. The new-age-y crap upon entry was only for show.

  At the end of the hallway, a fire demon stood at the entrance to Mel’s office, carrying a whip that sizzled at the tip. The female demon wore the outfit of a belly dancer, with a deep red skirt lined with silver metal coins that jingled when she moved. Her exposed navel was covered in grey cluster of asbestos ash, and so were her collarbones and ankles.

  Her stance was formidable, and when she saw us, she ran toward us immediately.

  And morphed into an elementary-school-aged girl along the way. As she ran, the siren music stopped and the incense smell cleared from the air.

  It was Candy.

  Though it had been barely half a day since I’d last seen her, it felt longer. Remembering how shaken she was the last time I saw her, I was relieved to see her being so lively and well. Oh, the resiliency of children.

  “Pete and Megan!” The little girl hit Gregory’s middle with the force of a miniature cannon ball, her blond curls flying everywhere. Then she somehow found the momentum to bounce herself onto me, only to go right back to Gregory with a carefree laugh.

  “Hey, little brat.” Gregory picked her up affectionately and swung her around, much to Candy’s delight. “I see you’re feeling better.”

  Like everyone else in the mercenary world except me, she referred to him by the moniker “Pete.” I just couldn’t get into it. To me, he would always be Gregory, a guy who was born into the shadow of a prestigious family, but became so much more on his own.

  While Gregory was busy listening to a chatty Candy update him about her day so far, I turned to Vera. “I saw that.”

  Her expression was blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “When you saw the fire demon rushing toward us, your first instinct was to pull ice magic around yourself, the same kind of cold power that your boyfriend used when he tried to run from us. You taught him that, didn’t you?”