Satan's Sword

by Debra Dunbar

  “Nah, let’s just see what happens with this one first,” I told Wyatt. It was a testament to the strength of our relationship that he didn’t pester me about what the bird was for, or lecture me about torturing, and probably killing, cute, defenseless animals.

  I snagged a hot wing and munched on it wondering if the buffalo sauce would be good on canary. I’d failed in my attempt to master the Sharpsburg gate today, and although the rest of my day had been wonderful, that hung over my head like a black cloud. Maybe if I tried something else I’d been working on it would cheer me up.

  Looking around the bar, I thought of hot wings. I envisioned the smell, the taste, and the bite of the sauce, the texture of the crunchy, spicy skin and hot juicy meat, and the orange color. I bundled the whole experience together and sent it out into the room, pushing it gently into everyone’s minds. Want. Want. Want. Then I waited.

  Now, how to gauge my success? I watched the waitresses bustle around and began to count the hot wing baskets coming out of the kitchen. It was no use. I was sure I’d missed some, and I couldn’t tell what the hell was on those big trays of food.

  “Wyatt? Can we find out how many hot wing orders have been requested in the last twenty minutes?”

  Brenda laughed when he asked her. “Is this a prank? We ran out of the things. I’ll tell you almost everyone in the place ordered them, although some tables placed one order to share among themselves. There were only three people who didn’t order them.”

  “Sam, what did you do?” Wyatt looked amused. “Is that the compulsion thing you were telling me about?”

  “No, it’s just a suggestion.” I wished I could do compulsion. “We can influence people to do stuff that they want to do anyway, but we can’t really compel people. Angels can, but we can’t. Evidently I can make people want to eat hot wings. Nice skill, huh?”

  “Well, it certainly has the potential for more fun than the water ball thingy,” he said.

  I agreed.

  “Is this what the canary is for?” Wyatt asked. “Are you going to practice a kind of suggestion involving yellow birds?”

  “No, that’s for something different.”

  I thought about the gate again and a shiver ran through me. I had a feeling, deep in my core, that I wasn’t supposed to go through there. I was determined to learn how to create gates though. I’d had success with the water globes and with the suggestion just now. I knew I could do this, too, if I just squashed my fear and kept at it. Still, I was glad to wait a few days until the canary arrived. Procrastination was a good thing.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, a demon arrived with the dreaded breeding petitions. I hadn’t seen her in centuries, but I immediately recognized the courier as my foster sister. I hadn’t spent much time with her in my childhood. Leethu had left our sibling group when I was only about fifty. She’d been the eldest of our group, and, as a Succubus, had needed to leave right at puberty for specialized training. I looked her over with curiosity and longing. She’d assumed the form of an Asian woman, Thai if I guessed correctly. It was beautifully done, and well chosen, with gorgeous dark eyes, a glistening curtain of black hair to her waist, and tawny skin. The real draw was beyond the flesh though. Succubi put out amazing pheromones, enough to overwhelm gender preferences and prejudices. Leethu was one of the best, enthralling her chosen prey but keeping them slightly at a distance and under her control. It was a skill few succubi mastered.

  “Leethu.” I was delighted to see her. “Did you have any trouble with the gate guardians?”

  I reached forward and kissed her gently on the chin; the traditional greeting for a younger sister to give an older one. Succubi were very fragile compared to other demons, so I could hardly welcome her like I would Dar or one of my other siblings.

  “Ni-ni,” she said, calling me by my childhood nickname. I felt a tingle race through my skin at her smile. “I can’t stay. I just had to see you. There have been such rumors. Are you really social with that disgusting gate guardian?”

  I took the packet of petitions from her and plopped them on the dining room table.

  “We have an understanding,” I replied. “It’s not like I have her on speed dial or anything. How long are you on vacation?”

  Leethu looked nervous. Succubi couldn’t stay very long without attracting notice, but she had good control. She was less likely than most to cause a mass orgy.

  “Not long. I just need to clear up a few quick things and then I’m back home.”

  “Have you heard anything about what’s going on with Dar and Haagenti?” Succubi knew all the gossip. “He’s trying to drag me into the middle of it, and I’m sure he’s not telling me everything.”

  Leethu looked a bit startled. “Dar is always in trouble with someone. It’s no more than usual, but I got the impression Haagenti was interested in you. It’s not just the gate guardian, Ni-ni, there are rumors that you are doing crazy things here and getting away with it.”

  Great. I’d help Dar this once, but no more after that. I was not getting messed up with that jerk Haagenti.

  “It was good seeing you.” She kissed me on my forehead before turning to leave. Lust streaked through me and ached deep between my thighs. I wished she could stay.

  “You too,” I told her and closed the door with regret.

  I spread the petitions out on my dining room table and was amused to see that the Steward had sectioned them off and ranked them according to perceived value.

  The first stack held four petitions that the Steward felt were my top contenders. I glanced at the first one in the pile and about choked on my coffee. Ahriman. Holy fuck, Ahriman. I didn’t even realize he knew I existed. Haagenti was dog crap compared to this guy. Ahriman was one of the top five in the hierarchy. He was one of the few living who’d been around at the time of the fall. One of the oldest of our kind still alive. There had been rumors that he would become the Iblis after the war, but nothing had come of it. He had amazing power and loved nothing more than destruction and inciting humans to war. Why in all of Hel had he set his sights on me? I was still just an Imp, a little cockroach. When it came to sheer raw power like Ahriman’s, I was a speck of dust. Fuck, I’d never met him. I didn’t even know what he looked like, what his favorite form was.

  Unsettled, I looked at the rest of the petitions. The other three on the short list were flattering. Salvor was very high up the ladder, just under Haagenti’s level, there was one of the Rhyx, and a well-known Succubus. Oooo, the Succubus would be fun!

  The next pile was considerably larger and included those within a level or so of mine. Dar’s was in there, as always. He had embellished his petition with cute little drawings of what appeared to be a mongoose chewing on hearts. Such the romantic. He’d been persistent in his petition since my age of adulthood and I felt like I should afford him consideration because of his loyalty and our long relationship. Plus he was a known entity. I knew his strengths and weaknesses and had a good idea of what type of offspring we’d produce. It wasn’t like I needed to breed with him to solidify our relationship though. He was forward enough with me as it was.

  The last pile were those below me that the Steward thought might be of interest. I glanced through them, but didn’t see anything that stood out. Honestly, after seeing Ahriman’s petition, I could think of little else.

  I pulled it off the stack. Ahriman. Well, at least I wouldn’t be as likely to kill him during the breeding process. He was probably the only one in the whole stack I could say that about with a high degree of confidence. Running a finger down the parchment, I read the petition carefully. From someone of his stature, I’d expected just a cut and dry offer. The benefit to me would be in the association alone, so the petition should be rather short and to the point without additional bribes or fringe benefits. It was rather stark, but I was surprised to see a consort clause. Basically, he would fold me and my small household under the protection of his status and I would grant him exclusive breeding right
s for the next two thousand years.

  I stared at the skin parchment. Why would he want exclusivity? If he thought I was going to go around spitting out offspring with every Tom, Dick, and Harriet, then why bother to petition me? And even more troublesome was the rolling in of myself and my household under his. This would propel us so fast up the hierarchy we’d all have whiplash. Why? There was no obligation to do that. How would that benefit him in any way? Because, in all honesty, if there was no benefit to him, then it wouldn’t be on the table. Ahriman wasn’t one to give away anything frivolously.

  I called my Steward.

  “Ahriman?” I asked before he even had time to greet me. “What the fuck is up with that?”

  “Oh Baal,” he gushed. “I cannot believe the honor! You should return immediately and accept the petition.”

  “Why? What on earth would he gain from this association with me? “

  “No idea. Maybe it was a mistake? You should return and sign the contract before he changes his mind and withdraws the offer.”

  Wow. Flattering. At least he was honest. I hung up without further comment and called Dar.

  “You have the artifact?” he answered eagerly. “I’ll be over right away.”

  “No, you idiot,” I replied before he could hang up and appear on my doorstep. “I don’t even meet them for another six days. Can’t you keep track of a calendar? I called because I need to know if there is any buzz about me. Any rumors. Anything really odd or notable.”

  Did Ahriman somehow know about the brand? Was there some advantage he’d gain in breeding with a bound demon? Some way to control Gregory through me? I wished I knew what the fuck this brand actually did.

  “You mean the gate thing?” Dar asked.

  “No. Someone high up has petitioned me with exclusive breeding rights. I find myself wondering why.”

  I kept the details from Dar, and especially didn’t let him know about the consort clause. Dar was like a brother to me, but he’d sell me out in a heartbeat for the right price. As I would him.

  There was a lengthy pause. “There was a rumor that you were bound, but no one believes it since the angels no longer bind us and all of the sorcerers are on this side of the gates.”

  I was bound, although it didn’t seem to work very well. I still didn’t see what a bound demon would have to offer someone like Ahriman. Maybe Ahriman wanted someone loyal to him who could come and go across the lines as she pleased and do his activities without fear of retribution? Of course, even though Gregory seemed to be giving me latitude on the little stuff I’d done, I think he’d probably smack my head off if I provoked a developing nation into a nuclear attack.

  “Mal? Is this true?” Dar asked in almost a whisper.

  “No,” I lied. “Absolutely not.”

  I’m a terrible liar, but Dar was always a bit blind when it came to me. Thankfully he seemed to take me at my word. I really didn’t want to reveal to Dar that I was bound. It was all too fantastic and unbelievable. That I had a weird, obsessive relationship with a powerful angel. That I missed him terribly and desperately wanted to see him again. That he may show up any minute and kill me. Dar would never believe me. I wasn’t sure I believed it myself.

  “Mal, be careful. Maybe you should come back home,” Dar said with uncharacteristic concern. “As soon as you get the artifact for me.” So much for the concern.

  I hung up after assuring him once again I’d call him the moment I got back on Saturday, and straightened the breeding petitions in a nice, neat pile.

  Chapter 6

  The rest of the week went uneventfully. Well, by my standards anyway. My canary arrived and promptly died. I’ve been through four of them so far and haven’t been able to keep them alive long enough to take them out to the gate in Sharpsburg. They are stupidly fragile and drop dead if you use any mean on them at all, try to feed them dog food, or squeeze them too tight. I’m running out of local pet shops, and Wyatt is getting tired of begging them to ship me yellow canaries. Hopefully, the next one would live long enough for my purpose.

  Wyatt was also curious about the stack of papers on my dining room table written in bizarre script. I told him they were business stuff from back home. No way was I going to get into a detailed conversation with him concerning my breeding prospects.

  Saturday came and I hoped the latest canary didn’t arrive while I was running Dar’s errand. It would suck to come home and find Boomer had eaten it, or it had been frightened to death by a falling leaf or something. It was a beautiful fall day for a beer and seafood festival though. I was lamenting that they hadn’t held it in Baltimore. Beautiful harbor? Chesapeake Bay? What were they thinking? Still, although parking was a bitch in that area of DC, the venue was close to the museum action and not terribly far from Chinatown. I didn’t want to fill up on dumplings when there were crab cakes in my future, so I headed over to the National Crime and Punishment museum to kill some time.

  I’m not normally a museum person. Crime and punishment did sound interesting, although humans think of punishment in terms of being sent to your room without pudding, so I didn’t have high hopes. It was awesome. I was tempted to blow off the vampire appointment and spend the whole day at the place. Yes, there was some boring shit about legislation, and I didn’t see the fuss about whether death row inmates got a last meal or not, but wow, what a testimony to the sick, twisted, and creative minds these little humans had. Once again I realized how easy it was to underestimate them and how much we truly had in common.

  I fell in love with Ted Bundy. Here was guy who totally flew under the radar, appearing harmless and even injured to his potential victims. He’d whack them repeatedly over the head with a crowbar when they tried to help him load stuff into his car. Then he would rape them, sometimes adding their lopped off heads to his collection. Occasionally, he’d continue to sleep with their decomposing body. That was dedication to your art. Too bad the humans had killed Ted Bundy. I would have been honored to Own this guy in a terrible and painful way that he surely would have appreciated.

  Reluctantly, I made my way back to the Verizon Center and hit up the closest booths for spicy crab balls and beer before winding my way through the crowd to the Jolly Molly Crab Shack. Jolly Molly must indeed be jolly if she eats her own food, because it was incredible. The crab cakes had barely enough breading to hold them together. They fell apart in my mouth with a bite of Old Bay seasoning and hot mustard.

  I’d forgotten my original errand when an attractive man in jeans and a t-shirt walked up to me and handed me an envelope. It looked like an embossed wedding invitation and I wondered what kind of artifact this was. I could see the humans going crazy over an ancient Roman party invite, but demons wouldn’t really care about that sort of thing. I opened it up and saw that the card inside had a date, time, and meeting place. Fuck. This whole thing was supposed to be easy and now I was going to be running around on a stupid hunt. According to the lovely embossed card, I was to go to the Inner Harbor in Baltimore on Monday at noon and meet someone by the aquarium. I swore under my breath, thinking that meeting would probably leave me with a treasure map and instructions to dig at an X on Assateague Island.

  I bought a box of crab cakes to take back to Wyatt, figuring he probably hadn’t eaten much beyond chips and salsa during his tournament, and headed home. No surprise, there were three messages on my mirror from Dar with increasingly insulting demands that I call him and let him know where to meet me to pick up the artifact.

  “The vampires are leading me on a merry chase,” I told him. “All the guy gave me were directions to meet someone Monday afternoon in Baltimore. That’s two days from now, Dar,” I told him, trying to impress on him a sense of time.

  Dar swore up a blue streak, threatening the entire vampire race with a bloody and short future. “They don’t want the damned thing. They’ve been trying to get rid of it forever. What did the guy say to you? Why didn’t he just hand it over?”

  “I don’t know, Dar. I�
��m just a fucking courier here. The guy didn’t say one word to me, just handed me the envelope and vanished into the crowd like a ghost. I’ll go to this meeting on Monday just because I like hanging out at the Inner Harbor, but you and Haagenti better get your fucking ducks in a row on this deal. I’m not haring all over the country playing cloak and dagger for some piece-of-crap antique.”

  “I’ll get with Haagenti,” he assured me. “I’ll make sure the vampires give it to you on Monday. And Haagenti will be very grateful, Mal; he’ll be very grateful.”

  My skin crawled at the idea of Haagenti’s gratitude. I wasn’t sure it would be the kind of “gratitude” I wanted. Besides, even if there were any status or money, Dar would find a way to screw me out of it. I don’t know why I put up with his crap. He was not worth risking Haagenti’s notice or anger. This one last time was it. No more.

  Once again, I assured him that I would contact him as soon as I had the item, right after the meeting on Monday, and impressed on him that he was not to be driving me insane with calls before then.

  Wyatt was grateful for the crab cakes, and his gratitude did matter to me. As I thought, he’d been so engrossed in his tournament that he’d barely eaten. I heard an exhausting amount of detail about the various competitors’ strengths and weaknesses, and how Wyatt used strategy and superior skill to make it to the top five. Evidently there was some woman in Cleveland who took the top prize, beating Wyatt with ease and humiliating him with her victory. I offered to kill her for him.

  “Why am I thinking you don’t mean ‘kill her’ as in beat her at checkers?” Wyatt asked.

  “No, kill her,” I told him cheerfully.

  I was sort of teasing. I knew humans didn’t do this sort of thing. Well, maybe that Bundy guy did, but he was special. Still, I really did want to do this. It would be a wonderful gift to him. It would show him the depth of my affection, how much I appreciated him. Demons did it all the time back home. Wyatt was pretty accepting of my non-human urges, maybe I could talk him into it.