Redemption Song (Daniel Faust)

by Craig Schaefer

  “It would be so easy,” she said. “Just say yes, and bare your throat to me. I can fulfill your every dream and nightmare, treat you to sensations beyond your mortal imaginings. Your friends? Protected and sheltered from the coming storm. I’d guard them like they were my own children, and ask them for nothing in return. You would have money, books, a palace if you wished it.”

  “And all I have to do,” I said flatly, “is become a slave. What a deal.”

  “When Prince Malphas’s severed head is beneath my heel, Daniel, with his brothers and sisters next in line for the chopping block, you will be the most envied man in the world. There is no shame in wearing my collar. In time, I think you would learn to take pride in it.”

  No more scraping to survive, no more doubt. A free ride for the people I loved. For a heartbeat, just a heartbeat, I was tempted. Then I remembered my mission.

  I had to tread lightly. Naavarasi knew more about me than I bargained for. She also didn’t strike me as the kind of woman who took rejection lightly.

  “Is it her?” she asked when I didn’t answer right away. “It is, isn’t it? You know it’s over, but your heart still aches. Did you know that my people are shape-shifters, Daniel?”

  Her flesh flowed like melted wax, reshaping and shifting in color and form. An instant later, Caitlin sat beside me. She reached a hand back and flipped a lock of her scarlet hair.

  “I can be her, if you like,” Naavarasi said in a perfect copy of Caitlin’s voice. “I can be anyone you want me to be.”

  “I’m honored, Baron Naavarasi, truly I am, but I have to be honest. I didn’t come here looking for a patron.”

  She shifted back into her former self, tilting her head. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Why, then?”

  “You’re right,” I told her. “We are two birds of a feather. So I’m here with a proposition that can enrich us both. And…maybe lead to greater forms of collaboration in the future, if it works out to our mutual satisfaction.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m listening.”

  “In the 1400s, a man named Gilles de Rais sold you his soul. Do you still have it?”

  “My little knight? Of course I do! He’s a faithful guardian and servant.”

  “I’d like to buy him from you,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Because,” I told her, “my enemies are conspiring, and they seek to snatch de Rais out from under your wing. If he were in my hands instead, their alliance would be an abject failure and they’d suffer a humiliating loss.”

  “And you’d have a bargaining chip, to lead them into further ruin,” Naavarasi purred. “Interesting. But I have no want of paper or gold, Daniel. What could you possibly offer me in trade?”

  “Status. Something that will put you in Prince Malphas’s confidence and esteem. Letting you get nice and close to him so that one day, you’ll be in the perfect position to bury a dagger in his back.”

  “Go on.”

  I took a folded piece of paper from my pocket, holding it closed between my index and middle finger.

  “Sitri has a spy in Malphas’s court. A highly placed one. I have his name. I’ll give it to you in exchange for Gilles de Rais’s soul and contract. An even trade.”

  She thought about it for a moment, her gaze focused on the folded paper.

  “Daniel,” she said, “you have a reputation as a trickster. So do I, so that doesn’t affront me, but I need to be clear. If I take that paper, and I discover you’re lying to me? You will never leave this room. I will rend you to pieces, one exquisitely slow, ragged strip of flesh at a time, and devour you alive. I’ll save your eyes for last, so you can watch every second of it.”

  I knew she meant every word of her threat. I had only a moment to choose: take a chance, or walk away.

  “I think we have a deal,” I said, sealing my fate.

  Twenty-Six

  “Not yet,” Naavarasi said. “I have a custom and a rule.”

  I tilted my head, curious. She slid a heavy plate across the banquet table, moving it to where we could both reach. I recognized the food on sight: roghan josh, a Kashmir dish with chunks of lamb simmered in a brilliant red gravy. The aroma opened my eyes and my sinuses with a mixture of dried chilies, garlic, and ginger, all blending together to make my mouth water.

  This being a rakshasi’s table, though, I doubted the meat was lamb.

  “I don’t do business with anyone who won’t break bread with me,” she said.

  I chuckled nervously. “What if I’m a vegetarian?”

  “You aren’t. Besides, if you were, that would make you a prey animal. Are you sure you want to be something so edible, at my table?”

  “What is it?” I nodded at the dish.

  “Meat.”

  “What kind?”

  “Delicious meat,” she said. “I have exacting standards.”

  Even in my life of crime and sin, there were lines I could safely say I’d never crossed. I protected those lines as best I could. They were the ones that let me look myself in the mirror every morning. Whatever Naavarasi wanted to feed me, I was pretty damn sure it was nothing I wanted to eat.

  Was it that big a price to pay, though? I needed to make this deal happen to toss a wrench into Lauren’s plans. She’d already almost brought the world to ruin, and that was by accident. Whatever she needed de Rais’s help for couldn’t be much better. My personal scruples seemed pretty tiny in comparison.

  “Just one bite,” the rakshasi whispered, as if reading my mind. “What could one little bite hurt?”

  One more lurch forward on my long downhill slide. Just another few inches closer to hell.

  “All right,” I said. “One bite.”

  She reached out with her bare hand, dipping her fingers into the bright red sauce. I noticed she used her left hand, a taboo in Indian culture. I wasn’t sure why that surprised me. I did the same, plucking a bite-sized cube of meat from the dish. We raised them to our lips at the same time. I held my breath, put it in my mouth, and chewed.

  If it had been horrible, I could have endured it. Some kind of rotten, stomach-churning abomination, something putrid and foul. I expected that. I could have handled that.

  It was the most delicious thing I’d tasted in my entire life.

  The spices were hot, sultry, caressing my mouth like the tail of a silken whip. The meat fell to pieces with every bite, tender and moist and perfectly rare. I didn’t have to force myself to swallow. I did it without thinking, closing my eyes and letting out a faint murmur of pleasure.

  Naavarasi giggled softly. I opened my eyes and stared at the dish, wondering what I’d just eaten.

  “You are thinking,” she said, “that you want more. You know you do. And yet.”

  A skeletal hand clawed at the back of my mind, laden with guilt and dread. I felt like I’d opened a door I could never close again, but I wasn’t sure.

  The rakshasi said, “I have a kindness for you. And a cruelty. I am not going to tell you what you just ate. Was it lamb? Or long pig? Did you savor the flesh of a newborn infant? Or a fine cut of meat from the most expensive delicatessen in Denver? It could have been anything. Perhaps you’ll be able to convince yourself it was perfectly mundane fare. Or perhaps the question will keep you up at night.”

  I wouldn’t be able to shrug this off. Not until I knew for sure. She knew that as well as I did.

  “The day you enter my service,” she said, “that’s when I’ll tell you. And on that day we will feast.”

  You’re gonna have a long wait, I thought. And so will I.

  “So do we have a deal?” I said, struggling to avert my eyes from the dish, to force down the urge to eat one more piece. I’d never felt so hungry.

  She held out her hand. I gave her the folded paper. She read it, and her eyes went wide.

  “Wait here,” she said, rising from the divan. “You’ll be my guest until my servants can verify this information.”

  “Guest” was a n
ice word for “hostage.” She wanted me at arm’s reach in case my intel was wrong. Close enough to shred. I watched her leave and wiped my clammy palms against the legs of my slacks. I’d just gambled my life on a scrap of information handed to me by a demon prince. One with a decidedly black sense of humor. He does enjoy his games…

  The dish sat there, tempting me. I’d already had one bite. Would another hurt? Either I’d committed cannibalism or I hadn’t, no middle ground there. Another piece wouldn’t make me any more or less guilty.

  I closed my eyes and counted my breaths instead.

  The beaded curtain rattled. Naavarasi stormed into the room, looking furious. My stomach clenched. She stopped near the archway, her attention caught by a faint, pleading whine from the booth I’d stopped at before. The one with the bloated shadow and the half-gnawed hand. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it put a sadistic smile on the rakshasi’s lips.

  “You should have thought of that before you published your review,” she told him. “One star? Now you get to sample the real restaurant. Eat up. Your next course should be here soon, and I’d hate to have to get the feeding horn out again.”

  Then her eyes fixed on me, and my blood ran cold.

  “He’s gone.” She glided toward me like a freight train on ice. “He packed a bag this morning and fled. Someone warned him.”

  I held up my empty hands. “Don’t look at me. I’ve been watched by the prince’s men or by yours since the second I crossed into Utah. You know every move I’ve made since yesterday.”

  “I do,” she said, stroking her chin. “And yet.”

  “Was the information good?”

  “It was. We found journals, photographs, evidence on his computer. He was funneling information to the Court of Jade Tears. Had been for years, by the looks of it. A damaging mole.”

  “A damaging mole that you just single-handedly uprooted. I didn’t sell you the man; I sold you his name. You can’t tell me Malphas isn’t going to honor you for this, either. You’re getting exactly what I promised you.”

  She sat down on the divan, composing herself, her anger smoothed away behind a mask of panther grace.

  “I still smell treachery,” she said. “But you speak the truth. This will further my ambitions nicely. Very well, a deal’s a deal.”

  She reached across the banquet table, picking up a covered tray I hadn’t noticed before. Something told me it hadn’t been there a minute ago, but I hadn’t seen anyone put it down. Under the lid, a rolled-up scroll of yellowed parchment rested beside a slender bottle of glazed blue glass.

  “The soul of Gilles de Rais, and his contract,” she said, unfurling the scroll. I couldn’t read a word of the spidery, ornate glyphs that filled the curling paper—it might have been Sanskrit—but she offered me a fountain pen and pointed to the bottom of the page.

  “Sign here. Your full name, if you would, and your sigil if you have one.”

  I scribbled my name beneath her florid seal. I suddenly felt dizzy, off-balance, as if something in the universe had shifted under my feet. The sensation fled in the space of a breath.

  “You are his master now, and he is obliged to obey your commands,” Naavarasi said. “Until such time as he passes into another’s hands, or the contract burns. The bottle contains his soul. He’s going to need a body to ride, if you plan on putting him to work.”

  I shook my head and rolled up the scroll. “I don’t have a lot of work for a child-abusing serial killer. He can stay in there and rot for all I care. I just don’t want anyone else to have him.”

  “Where’s your imagination?” She pouted. “A weapon is a weapon. Well. Should you change your mind, simply uncork the bottle close to the flesh you’ve chosen for him to inhabit. Those with little magical training make the best choices. Easier to possess than those who can defend themselves.”

  “Yeah. I’m familiar with how possession works.”

  Naavarasi looked as if she was about to say something, a twinkle of mischief in her eye, then stopped. Instead, she picked up a bag made of blue crushed velvet, sealed with a golden drawstring.

  “Where will you go now?” she asked.

  “Back to Nevada. It’s not safe, but I have unfinished business to take care of.”

  That was probably the most truthful thing I’d said all day. She held out the velvet bag.

  “I’m sending you away with a parting gift.”

  I worked open the drawstring and took a peek. The brass collar lay snug inside, dark and glittering.

  “I’m flattered,” I said. “But really, I’m not looking for a—”

  She held up a hand, sharply.

  “Hear me out. That, Daniel, is your ‘get out of death free’ card. If you’re in danger, simply put it on and wherever you are—anywhere in this world or any other—I will hear you, and I will come for you. Of course, once I do, you will be mine. Keep it with you. Just in case. What could it hurt?”

  I held up the scroll and the bottle.

  “Thank you for lunch, Naavarasi. Pleasure doing business with you.”

  I took the velvet bag, too. Just like she knew I would. The rakshasi might not be a demon in the traditional sense, but she had the temptation part down pat.

  What could it hurt?

  Twenty-Seven

  About an hour out of Denver my stomach started growling, so I pulled into a drive-through, ordered a cheeseburger meal, and found a shady spot to park and eat. As long as I was in Prince Malphas’s territory, I felt safer in my car than out in the open. Barring a quick fill-up or two, I aimed to tackle the rest of the trip without stopping until I hit the Nevada state line.

  Despite her official rank in the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers, Naavarasi was right when she said we were birds of a feather. I’d just handed a political boon to a relative outsider, which meant Malphas’s loyal cronies might not be feeling too kindly toward me right now. There was also the chance that the rakshasi might waylay me on the road to bust our deal and take de Rais’s soul back, but I didn’t count that as a worry. She’d been earnest, in her way. Her offer to recruit me was as genuine as they came.

  Then there was the fact that she’d been keeping tabs on me for years, and I’d only found out she existed a couple of days ago. She had personal details about my relationships that only my close friends should have known.

  “So you’ve got a stalker,” I said to my reflection in the rearview mirror. “And she eats people. Great.”

  I unwrapped my burger and took a bite. It tasted like cardboard and ashes. I thought back to the taste of Naavarasi’s dish, the succulent meat, the perfect, almost overwhelming blend of spices.

  For a second, just a second, I wanted to turn the car around and drive back to Denver. I shut my eyes and rested my forehead against the cool, hard steering wheel until the moment passed. Then I forced down my burger and fries, trying to remind myself what food was supposed to taste like.

  I got back on the road. I even managed a smile. For the first time in days, things were starting to turn my way. With Gilles de Rais out of the picture, Lauren’s plans for the Enclave would grind to a standstill. That also meant she had no reason to get into bed with Sullivan and the Redemption Choir.

  Now to brace for the blowback. In my experience, not even high school students gossip like demons do. One way or another, Lauren and Sullivan would find out what I’d done, and when they did they’d come for Gilles de Rais. Lauren, because she needed him, and Sullivan, because he could trade the bottled soul to Lauren in exchange for the Ring of Solomon. That little glass bottle had just become the hottest potato in town.

  I couldn’t keep it on me, and I didn’t have a home to stash it in anymore. Hiding it at Bentley and Corman’s place was out of the question. They were in enough danger as it was, ditto for anybody else in my inner circle. I needed to bury the bottle deep, stash it someplace Lauren wouldn’t think to look, or wouldn’t be able to go.

  I turned the problem around in my head as the miles sli
d by. What I really needed, I realized, was to stash the bottle with somebody who had no connection to me or my friends, was absolutely trustworthy, and was capable of defending himself if my enemies tracked the prize to his front doorstep.

  Good luck with that, I thought. Sounds like I need an Eagle Scout, and I don’t know any—

  Yes, I did.

  I pulled over at a Utah rest stop, nothing but cornfields and blue sky as far as the eye could see. Then I dialed the operator and asked for the Las Vegas field office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

  “Yes, hello. I’m looking for Special Agent Harmony Black. I believe she’s temporarily working out of your office. Tell her it’s Daniel Faust. Yes. Yes, I’ll hold.”

  I tapped my toe to the elevator music for a few minutes. Then the line clicked twice and the music died.

  “Faust?” Harmony said. “You should use the number on the card I gave you. It’s my direct line.”

  “Would love to, but I put it in my wallet. Wallet’s gone. So’s just about everything else. I’ve been having a rough week.”

  “There was an altercation at an apartment building off Bermuda Road. Would you know anything about that?”

  “What am I?” I said. “Public enemy number one? Sheesh, you’ll blame me for just about anything.”

  “A blazing fire, eyewitness reports of billowing green smoke. And when the smoke cleared, do you know what was left behind? Two dead cambion.”

  I frowned. She was way more clued-in than she had any right to be.

  “You know what cambion are, huh?”

  “I know what cambion are,” she said. “Like Nicky Agnelli, for instance. Let’s not mince words. I know what you are. You know what I am. We don’t have to put on the mystery act for each other.”

  “Fine by me. If you want blunt, try this on for size: you’re being played. This little ‘task force’ of yours came courtesy of a government bribe from Lauren Carmichael. She’s stalling for time and throwing up roadblocks—”