Satan's Sword

by Debra Dunbar

  “What?” he asked, noticing my expression. “I came to talk with you about your recent infractions and got tired of watching you play patty-cake with this thing. I’m busy. I don’t have all day to hang around, waiting for you to finally kill her.”

  I made a garbled, unintelligible response.

  “Besides, with the body count you’ve racked up this weekend, you can hardly deny me one lousy kill,” he added.

  That was true. I looked down at the head at my feet and wondered if I would be next. Gregory followed my glance.

  “You can keep that if you want.” He said this as if he were a suitor for my affections, handing me a bouquet of flowers.

  “Are you sure?” I asked in a strangled voice. “Maybe you’d like to add it to your extensive collection of trophies?”

  “I gave up on my collection a long time ago. There were too many, and they were taking up too much space. Besides, flesh doesn’t last long in Aaru. Trophies just disintegrate.”

  Ugh. I picked up the head by the hair and turned it to face me. Busyasta looked surprised. As if she didn’t see this one coming.

  “Of course, since I’m taking you back to Aaru with me, you’ll have the same problem.,” Gregory walked over and sat next to me in the dirt. “You can leave it here for your toy to keep for you, or take it with you and hang it on the wall of your cell to enjoy while it lasts.”

  Great. I’d escaped the threat of one prison only to land in another.

  “That bitch of an angel ratted me out,” I complained.

  He smiled. “Yes, Eloa did. But I don’t need someone to rat you out, I sense this stuff. Maybe you should have thought of that little problem before you latched on and kept my energy. Let’s see. We’ve got six human kills, one Own, and a real mess on the highway up in Delaware. I had to send someone in to make sure that didn’t come to light.”

  I sat beside him dejected. I wasn’t sure which alternative was worse, him banishing me to Hel and facing Haagenti or stuffing me in a prison in Aaru. I wondered if he’d still teach me things, spend any time with me at all, or if I’d just be left to rot in a cage. No globes of water, no more angel fucking. Just boring Aaru and nasty, mean angels poking at me.

  “Don’t worry, little cockroach.” His voice was affectionate. “I will take very good care of you. You’ll grow to enjoy being in Aaru with me, and I’ll work to reform you. Maybe eventually you’ll repent enough to be allowed some freedom.”

  I was reassured he’d actually spend time with me, but what was this reforming business? That had an ominous ring to it. I’d rather just stay here. Wasn’t there an option that would let me stay here? Door number three, perhaps?

  Gregory reached over and rubbed a strand of my hair between his fingers, sending his energy into it with a possessive caress. I felt that pull, that attraction to him. Maybe there would be angel fucking after all. That might make this whole reformation thing tolerable. I couldn’t help but extend my own energy out to meet his, the edges touching in a song of white. He went to push farther in, only to jerk away in a sharp, painful withdrawal.

  Gregory stared strangely at my hair. I ran a hand over my head and felt the hard metal of the feather-shaped barrette. Son of a bitch. I could have used it earlier, but I guess that was my punishment for leaving the thing under a truck in Delaware. I wondered if Gregory would let me keep it in Aaru, if he even had the ability to take it away from me. I unclipped it and ran my thumb over the ridges before offering it to Gregory.

  “Do you want to see it?” I asked.

  “No, no, no.” He waved it away.

  Too late I remembered this was the sword that had nearly cut his wings off. Yeah, he wouldn’t want to see it. He was going to probably find a way to keep it out of Aaru, too. Guess it would be going back to the vampires for another million years or so. I turned it over in my hand. It was just as fascinatingly beautiful as when it was an egg.

  “I know I should be shocked out of my mind that you have the Sword of the Iblis,” Gregory said. “But I’m far more surprised that you somehow convinced a powerful, sentient object to become a hair decoration.”

  I shrugged. “I was trying for designer shoes or a nice purse, but this is a good compromise.”

  “Little cockroach is the Iblis.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “The Ruling Council is going to go crazy over this one. The Creator must truly have a wicked sense of humor, or perhaps we are all being punished.”

  He looked over at me, actually smiling. “I hope you like meetings and paperwork and hearings.”

  I was a bit panicked at the thought of meetings, paperwork, and hearings.

  “I don’t want to be the Iblis. This thing just followed me home and I can’t get rid of it. Maybe we can pretend I don’t have it? Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

  Guess it wasn’t going to stay under my bed. Fuck, I’d left it on a highway in Delaware, under a truck, and it still managed to find me. I didn’t have much hope of ditching the thing.

  “Too late,” he said with a grin that was completely out of place on an ancient angel. “I’ll be popping by all the time with lengthy documents for you to read, kill reports to sign.”

  “So, you’re not taking me back to Aaru and putting me in a cage for punishment?”

  “Oh no,” he assured me. “It would be bad form to drag the Iblis back by her hair and stuff her in a cage. Besides, this is shaping up to be a far more entertaining prospect. I think I’ll wait on your punishment a while and see how this goes down instead.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure which of the three futures before me were worse: Haagenti’s torture, Gregory’s punishment, or meetings and paperwork.

  “I’ll need to put you on the agenda for the next Council meeting,” he said, barely getting the words out as he laughed. “Gate you in to Aaru for it. Oh, I can just see their faces,” he gasped before dissolving in laughter.

  I didn’t see what was so funny. I had no desire to attend Ruling Council meetings. I’d been to Aaru and wasn’t impressed. Admittedly, I only jumped in through the wild gate enough to leave random objects, but it still didn’t strike me as a place I’d like to spend any amount of time. He struggled to regain some semblance of control. Finally, he wiped his eyes and took a calming breath.

  “You take care of that head, and I’ll be back tomorrow with this week’s kill report.” He chuckled again, then got to his feet and gated away.

  I looked down at the head. Wyatt and I needed to get this back to Hel somehow to show Haagenti how futile it was to face me. Unfortunately, Gregory had dusted the elf button along with Busyasta’s form, so I had no quick and easy way to send the head back. I’d need to send it through a gate. I also needed to call Reed and check on my other looming problem. But first, I had to find my dog and my horse.

  I headed back to the barn and stopped in amazement. There was Diablo. Right where I’d left him in his side pasture. I know I wasn’t hallucinating. He hadn’t been there earlier, and now he stood before me with a sheepish look on his face. Had he learned to latch and unlatch the gate? Without opposable thumbs? How the hell had he gotten out? And how the hell had he gotten back in? Putting the mystery aside for another day, I walked up and patted him on the neck, letting him know how glad I was that he was okay. He rubbed the top of my head with his nose. I think it was affection, but with horses I’m never really sure. He could have just had an itchy nose.

  I searched the barn for Boomer with growing concern and was relieved to find him hiding under the boxwood bushes by the pool. He’d dug himself a huge hole and practically buried himself in it. He, too, looked rather sheepish, but I didn’t care. I grabbed him, hugging him and planting affectionate kisses across his gritty, dirt-covered head. He licked me and his breath reeked of death. He must have been snacking on road kill before he’d gone to ground to hide from Busyasta.

  “Stick around, Buddy,” I told him. “I’ll need you in a few hours when I get back.”

  Next on my list: call Reed.

>   There was a text from Candy that I’d missed in the chaos of my last twelve hours.

  Reed shot. Need you back now or he’s going after the guy himself.

  Fuck. What else could go down in a twenty-four hour period? I’d hoped I’d at least be able to get a few hours sleep before having to deal with this. I texted Candy back.

  On it.

  Then I called Reed.

  “I’m back. I need to take care of something first, then I’ll be right over. Give me a couple of hours.”

  “That cur shot me. I caught him taking one of the tenants last night, and he shot me,” I could feel Reed’s fury through the phone. “If you’re not here by midnight, I’m going after this mongrel myself. No one takes a human I’m protecting, shoots me, and gets away with it.”

  Yikes. Candy was right. I was sure she’d used her authority as pack leader to hold him in check this long, but he wasn’t going to wait much longer. I felt for Reed, but sympathy wasn’t going to cut it in this instance, authority was.

  “I will handle this,” I snarled at him. “You stand down. These are my people, you are my employee. I will take this fucker down myself. Do you understand?”

  I felt him bristle, but back down he did.

  “Is the little boy okay? The one I asked you to look after?” Worry clenched my gut.

  “Yeah, he’s fine,” Reed said, his voice still gruff. “I’ve got a friend keeping an eye on him since I can’t be two places at once. This guy seems more interested in your homeless tenants right now.”

  “Good. I’ve got to go to Columbia, then I’ll come straight back. Wait for me.”

  I hung up the phone and turned to Busyasta’s head.

  “Come on, bitch. We’ve got to hurry.”

  Wyatt and I made it to Columbia Mall in record time and dispatched Busyasta’s head, with a note stapled to her forehead, through the gate as the guardian watched grimly. Thankfully, the gate was in the parking garage at the moment, so no shopping humans witnessed me drop kicking a head through. I briefed Wyatt on the way home and hoped he could protect himself until I took care of this asshole snagging my tenants. Sobronoy could show up at any moment, but after that it would hopefully be at least a day before Haagenti sent another crew of demons after me. I had that long to think of something long-term to protect Wyatt since I couldn’t always be around. Right now, I had a serial killer to deal with.

  Chapter 28

  I looked down at Boomer. I’d locked him down so tight that he was practically powerless here. He had so little self–control that I’d been worried he’d attract angelic attention unless I put a damper on his powers. I’d been allowed pretty much free reign by Gregory, and I’d thought many times about loosening up the restrictions on Boomer, but I’d never done so. It had just been easier to control him and his actions like this. It had been eating at me though. That stupid guilt I’d been feeling more and more lately.

  Boomer grinned up at me and wagged his tail expectantly. He knew something was in the works and was eager to participate. The guilt dug in deep. I was just as bad as the damned angels. I hated how they controlled the werewolves, restricting their activities and lives to the point that they were practically human. They were barely allowed to do any wolf-like activities, nothing that would allow them to live the life their birth dictated. I thought of Candy, unable to run free, live where she wanted, date, and breed in accordance with her own desires. Boomer, too. He was a hellhound and I’d reduced him to a neutered, submissive, canine. Yeah, he’d probably get himself, and possibly me, killed with his actions, but that was the life he’d been born into. Who was I to clamp him down to fit my desires?

  I put my hands on his head and his tail wagged furiously, anticipating a good scratching. Rubbing the velvety hound ears, I untied the knots restricting him and set him free. He panted in happiness, still retaining his Plott hound form.

  “I know you’re going to dump me in all sorts of hot water. But I can’t exactly cast stones. Just try not to get yourself killed. I’ve become rather fond of you.”

  Boomer sneezed in agreement and shook himself, flapping his ears wildly around his head.

  “We’ve got someone we need to track down.” He perked his ears and tilted his head expectantly.

  “Some guy has been hunting in my territory, killing my human property.” Boomer looked outraged.

  “He’s human, and there will be a lot of competing scents to sort through. I’ll need you to use your special skills to pull out the human who has killed recently. It probably won’t have been an emotional kill, or heat of the moment. He doesn’t know his victims. He may feel a sense of joy and excitement at killing them, or he may feel nothing at all. I doubt he feels angry, but he might be driven by an impersonal, generalized anger. We might need to check out a couple trails until we find the right one. I know you’ll be able to find this guy for me.”

  Boomer wiggled his whole body in excitement. He loved this sort of thing, and I again felt a twinge of guilt that for decades he’d been reduced to chasing rabbits and foxes. I might let Boomer make the kill. He’d enjoy that.

  It was dark as we pulled up to the row houses. Reed waited outside with his arm in a sling. I was pretty sure the gunshot wound had healed by this point. Candy said werewolves healed at a remarkable rate. The sling was a good touch though. If the guy came back, he’d expect Reed to be wounded and at less than his best. He’d be wrong.

  “I kinda hope you don’t catch him and he comes back here so I can have a shot at him.” Anger radiated like waves from Reed. “I like to take care of my own business, you know. I don’t like to call you in like this.”

  I could feel his frustration. Reed was more than capable of handling this guy. He could probably track the guy better than Boomer, since he’d had a good smell on him. I’d be chafing, too. I remember how irritating it was this past summer when I hadn’t been allowed to kill Althean, when Gregory had effectively leashed me.

  “I don’t want you running afoul of your contract,” I warned Reed. “Trust me, if I wasn’t worried about you winding up dead with angel wings on your forehead, I’d sic you on the guy. It’s personal for you, and I hate taking this kill out from under you, but Candy would never forgive me if I let you do this.”

  “Even if you didn’t have a special dispensation, you’d still go after this guy,” Reed complained. “You’d take the risk and give the angels the finger. You wouldn’t put up with their nonsense, not when someone attacked you. Not when someone snatched a human you were supposed to guard and then rubbed your nose in it. I can’t stand sitting on my paws like this. I’m a werewolf. I need to act like a werewolf.”

  “I’m sorry, Reed,” I told him. I meant it. “Believe me, I understand. Now is not the time to be giving the angels the finger. Wait until it’s something really worth dying for. Until then, just stay under the radar.”

  Reed didn’t look convinced. I needed to talk to Candy about him. I was all for rebellion, but he really shouldn’t throw his life away on a stupid human who was foolish enough to shoot him.

  “Kitty is waiting for us around the side by the canal,” Reed said.

  He led Boomer and me around the block of row houses to the canal side. Sure enough, there was Kitty, shapeless in her huge green coat with the disturbing scarf ends dangling like wasted legs from her crotch. She looked me over as she had before, then performed the same level of scrutiny on Boomer.

  “Sniff here.” She pointed to a corner of the eroded cement walkway along the canal.

  Boomer went to where she indicated and sniffed in a loud snuffling way as he swung his head back and forth. He padded around in a square grid, widening out from the central point and sorting through the scents. He looked up at me and pawed the ground.

  “Three people who have killed have been here within the last twenty four hours,” I translated for the others.

  Boomer did a complicated paw, head shake and whine combination.

  “The first killed with hate in his
heart,” I told Reed and Kitty. “We’ll track him first since his is the strongest scent.” I looked at Reed. “There’s a two in three chance we’re wrong. Can you stay here? If he comes back, you’ve got full license to defend yourself. And I define “defend” pretty much any way you want to define it.”

  Reed seemed satisfied with that possible scenario and stayed at the row houses as Kitty and I followed Boomer. We walked a few blocks and around the back of an old cannery where a tent was set up. Boomer looked up at me, and I motioned for him to catch and hold the man. My hound tore through the tent like it was butter and we heard a man’s shriek, then silence. Walking up, I pulled aside the torn tent piece to see Boomer in partial form with massive head and shoulders, hackles raised, and long beads of spittle dropping from his bared fangs. He had the man locked in place with his yellow eyed stare.

  The man looked terrified. I couldn’t tell if he regularly wet his pants, or if he’d done so in response to Boomer’s snarling appearance. He was tall and unexpectedly well-fed for a man living in a tent behind an abandoned cannery. His personal hygiene left a lot to be desired though. His beard and hair were matted and streaked with grey amid the dirt. His hands were practically black. The only clean things were the whites of his eyes.

  “Hold him Boomer. Good boy.” He wagged his tail, which looked odd with his ferocious front half. “Is this him?” I asked Kitty.

  She peered at the man. “Can I touch him?”

  I nodded, and Kitty went over to run her hand down his cheek and across his mouth. Her hands blurred slightly as they touched his skin, becoming slightly transparent and disappearing when she pushed against his matted hair.

  “Cold,” he said, shuddering slightly. Softly, she chanted something, then again ran her hand over his face.

  “No.” She shook her head with regret. “This man has murdered. He killed a man in the group he used to camp with. The man slandered him, stole his belongings, and would set traps to hurt him and make him look foolish in front of the others. He planned for many weeks and killed the man, leaving his body in the woods and taking his belongings before he left. He has only killed the one man.”