Devil Take Me

by Jordan L. Hawk

  The upper reservoir must have been closed off, because the tailrace was largely brackish, nothing but a side channel off the river now. Duckweed clung to the sides of the canal, and hydrilla brushed against the bottom of the canoe. The tailrace flowed beneath what had once been the room for generating power. Several turbines were in place, slowly rusting away, but one of the bays looked to have never had a turbine in it to start with, leaving a clear hole up into the generation room.

  Ralgath pointed at the hole. “By not putting in the final turbine, the plant could claim it was still under construction and get a large tax break.” He shot Chess a grin. “Sin of greed, you see. Amazing the sorts of things you pick up while working the Intake desk in the Underworld.”

  Chess laughed softly. “I’m impressed. Can you see in the dark?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Then let’s head inside.”

  They climbed carefully up through the empty bay. Chess motioned Ralgath to wait and then pulled themself up the last distance and scouted ahead.

  Then they were gone, so quickly and quietly that Ralgath didn’t have time to react. There came a muffled grunt from somewhere inside the building, followed by a thud.

  “Chess?” Ralgath whispered. When no reply came, he scrambled the rest of the way up, followed by Fluffpaw.

  Chess crouched over the prone body of a woman just a few feet away. When they saw Ralgath and Fluffpaw, they grinned. “Human sentry,” they whispered. “I managed to get the drop on her.”

  “One of Zemael’s contracted humans,” Ralgath murmured back. “I can smell it on her.”

  “If we encounter any more, leave them to me.” Chess stood. “Let’s keep moving. Zemael has to be here somewhere.”

  They let themselves through the door the sentry had been guarding, between the generation house and the main part of the mill. Here and there some of the heavy machinery had fallen through from above as rotting floors failed to support the tons of abandoned equipment. Ralgath nervously hoped what remained would hold up, at least until after they left.

  Another sentry stood at the bottom of a flight of stairs. This time they weren’t so lucky. The man was staring right at them when they rounded a corner.

  As before, Chess didn’t hesitate. They rushed the man before he could draw his weapon, and they exchanged a flurry of unarmed blows. Ralgath ran to help, but by the time he arrived, Chess already had the man in a chokehold. When he lost consciousness, Chess eased him to the floor.

  “You’re good,” Ralgath said admiringly.

  “You told me that already, back at the motel,” Chess said with a wink. “Seriously, though, if Keith hadn’t surprised us while we were sleeping, the fight wouldn’t have been as close.”

  It didn’t sound like bravado—more a statement of fact. “Why not?” Ralgath asked as he followed them up the stairs.

  Chess glanced down at him. “Because they’re new to this. Even if they were the sort to get in a lot of fights before, they still aren’t used to being this strong or this fast. I’ve had three years of practice against things that wanted me dead—things just as fast and strong as me.”

  “Oh.” It made a certain amount of sense, Ralgath supposed.

  The stairs let out on the second floor. At first glance the place was empty, just shadows and dust, interrupted by enormous iron beams holding up the ceiling.

  The scent of rue and cloves penetrated the dust and mold that coated Ralgath’s sinuses. An infernal Mark—and not Chess’s.

  “We aren’t alone,” he hissed.

  “No,” said a woman’s voice. “You aren’t.”

  THERE CAME a metallic clang, and light, blinding after the darkness, suddenly burst from fixtures high overhead. Ralgath flung up one hand, summoned his pitchfork, and blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted. Chess muttered a curse, and Fluffpaw growled.

  They were surrounded. Four men and women seemed to have materialized out of thin air around them, all holding unsheathed swords and knives.

  “Drop your weapons,” said a voice filled with demonic power, “or my followers will cut you down where you stand.”

  Unlike the rest of the mill, someone had gone to the trouble of restoring this room—repairing the floor, painting the walls, and even adding clusters of furniture, as though it were an artistic loft space. Catwalks hung high above. Whatever their original purpose, they now gave a perch to another man with a crossbow. At one end a dais had been built up, complete with an ornate throne-like chair.

  And on the throne sat the demon.

  Zemael.

  Ralgath’s heart pounded, and he glanced wildly from Chess to Fluffpaw. He didn’t know how Zemael had concealed her followers from them. He should have been able to see through normal demonic glamour.

  “Drop them,” Zemael repeated.

  Chess drew out their sword and tossed it on the floor, followed by two knives, a gun, and a garrote of silver wire. Fluffpaw whined and lay down, head on her paws. Ralgath swore and dropped his pitchfork.

  As soon as it hit the ground, they were swarmed. Ralgath forced himself not to fight back as hands searched him for hidden weapons. One of the men drew out Chess’s contract from his pocket. “You might want to look at this, Zemael,” he said.

  “Bring it here.”

  Zemael was beautiful, if one liked the sort. Her skin was inhumanly pale, more like a sheet of paper than a normal complexion, and it gave her a deathly cast. Hair the color of flame stood out from her sharp features in a feral shock. Her bloodred lips matched her eyes, and ivory claws tipped each hand. She took the contract, studied it briefly, and arched one brow. Then she rose to her feet.

  “Ralgath,” she said as she slowly descended toward them. “Imagine my surprise when the kennel master told me you were the one they were sending after me.”

  Ralgath’s heart sank. “The kennel master?”

  “Fluffpaw, no!” Chess exclaimed. “You betrayed us?”

  Fluffpaw lolled out her tongue and cocked her head in confusion.

  “Of course not,” Zemael said. “That mongrel doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together. Utterly useless, but she comes from a good line, so the kennel master can’t get permission to simply put her down. I offered to solve his problem if he would solve mine.”

  Ralgath gasped and instinctively put himself between Zemael and Fluffpaw. “That was how Keith tracked us to the motel. The kennel master gave you some of Fluffpaw’s fur.”

  “You’re not as stupid as I thought.” Zemael folded her arms over her breasts. “Not intelligent enough to avoid my trap, but not a complete idiot either.”

  Ralgath felt heat collect in his cheeks. “I’m not the one who tried to wear high heels to a muddy crossroads, now am I?”

  “What do you want?” Chess asked before Zemael could retort. They gestured to the ring of mortal men and woman who watched in silence. “You’re building an army… but why?”

  She regarded them for a long moment. “I’ll answer your question, mortal.”

  “The name’s Chess.”

  “Chess,” she repeated. A warmth that Ralgath instantly distrusted entered her demeanor. “I’ll answer your question and then ask one of my own. Deal?”

  The hair on the back of Ralgath’s neck stood up. That wasn’t a word crossroads demons threw around lightly.

  But Chess merely shrugged. “Deal.”

  “I got the idea from Ralgath, actually.” Zemael’s red eyes seemed to shimmer. “When news of his humiliation spread, most of my colleagues only laughed. Gizrun had to bend over backward to placate Celestial Affairs, who saw it as a mockery of their Chosen One program.”

  Ralgath struggled to keep his expression neutral, but her words stung like acid in his veins.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Chess said. “What idea?”

  “Of creating my own Chosen Ones. But I took it a step further and made certain they were loyal only to me.” Zemael was being far too friendly toward Chess. She was certainly
up to something. “I’ve been a crossroads demon for almost a hundred years—decade after decade of meeting mortals, listening to their petty wants, and negotiating for their pathetic souls. And what did I have to show for it? Nothing. Gizrun could have at least offered me an office overlooking the Lake of Fire, but no. That suck-up Janelle got it instead. She’s not even a natural-born demon, just some human who sold her soul and then lucked out at job-placement time.”

  “Janelle?” Ralgath exclaimed. “She brings in twice the souls anyone else does. And the marks she gets for customer service are second to none.”

  Zemael flung out a hand, and a wave of infernal power crashed into him and sent him to the ground. “I wasn’t finished talking.”

  A bit to Ralgath’s surprise, Chess didn’t attempt to help him up. He climbed to his feet and leaned heavily on Fluffpaw as he did.

  “Now, where was I? Oh yes. My choice was to spend the next few centuries living in a one-room apartment, dating succubi, and eating noodles. Or I could abandon my post, remain in the mortal world, and live like a goddess.”

  “I’m fairly certain there were actually more options than that,” Ralgath said. “Did you think about transferring to another department?”

  Her lip curled. “They said they had an opening… in Intake.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. “Never mind. I completely understand.”

  “I thought you might.”

  Chess scuffed their boot against the floor. “Won’t the Underworld just keep sending demons after you, though? They aren’t going to just sit back and let you get away with doing whatever you want.”

  Zemael stepped closer to Chess. “It will take those idiots a while to figure out I’m the one behind this. And by the time they do… well, even I was shocked by how many mortals are eager to trade their souls in exchange for physical prowess and the promise of power—souls I will keep.” She glanced briefly at Ralgath. “I was discontented with my lot in the Underworld, yes. But then I learned something, a secret not even dear Gizrun knew”—her eyes flashed—“about the true power of souls.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What do you mean?”

  She snorted. “Why would I tell you? I’m signing contracts left and right. By the time the Underworld sends anyone truly dangerous after me, I’ll have the power to hold them off. The only ones who might hope to stop us are Chosen Ones, and we all know how stingy Celestial Affairs is when it comes to handing out its gifts.”

  Chess smiled wistfully. “That we do.”

  “I thought so.” Zemael’s gaze raked Chess’s form. “You’ve proven you can fight better than several of my men.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I know who you are, Chesapeake Richards. I was curious about the mortal who had so inspired me, and I looked into your family legacy. Celestial Affairs didn’t want you. Infernal Affairs didn’t want you. But I do.”

  Chess stood very still, lips pressed together, not answering.

  “Chess, no,” Ralgath exclaimed. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

  “Can’t I?” Chess tossed their head back and flipped their braid from their shoulder to swing free. “I’ve spent three years fighting vamps and weres and everything else. And do you think my parents had a good word for me? No, because I was expected to do it. All they did was criticize. I could have found that vamp nest faster or taken down that moth man easier. I spent my whole damn life trying to live up to what they wanted. I sold my fucking soul to make them happy. And it wasn’t enough.”

  “Chess,” Ralgath whispered.

  They shook their head. “Sorry, sugar. It’s been fun, but I told you up front I didn’t want any take-backsies. Your offer was crap. Hers isn’t.” They shrugged. “Nothing personal.”

  Zemael grinned and revealed rows of sharp teeth. “Excellent.” She snapped her fingers. “Put Ralgath and the mutt in the holding cells. I’ll decide the most entertaining way to dispose of them later.”

  “No,” Ralgath said. “No! Chess!”

  But Chess had already turned their back.

  Ralgath struggled against the hands that pinned him. He refused to look away until he was dragged from the room and the door slammed between them.

  X.

  RALGATH SAT on the bottom of his cage, face buried in his hands.

  The cage was just large enough for him to sit and far too short for him to stand. It hung suspended several feet above the floor, and every time he moved, it swung nauseatingly.

  Not that he felt like moving, or doing anything else, except maybe banging his head into the iron bars repeatedly.

  Chess had done it to him again—manipulated him, tricked him, and then abandoned him the second it was convenient.

  Gods below, he was an idiot. He knew better than to get involved. But Chess flashed him that smile and batted those long eyelashes, and Ralgath had let himself be led around by his cock all over again.

  Except, somehow, this time was worse.

  He’d believed Chess when they said they’d never set out to trick him the first time, believed the first seduction had been spur-of-the-moment and that they genuinely felt bad Ralgath lost his job over it. The connection between them had seemed so real.

  So he’d let his guard down, done what he swore he wouldn’t do again, and then been surprised when Chess stabbed him in the back.

  “I’m an idiot,” Ralgath groaned.

  Fluffpaw let out a despondent bark from where she hung in a cage to his left. To his right was a third cage that contained only empty clothes and a dusting of ash. R.I.P. Muzzaxin.

  “Gizrun sent me because I was expendable.” Ralgath raised his head, careful not to rock the cage too much, and looked at Fluffpaw. The hellhound lay with her head on her paws, her ears drooping and her tail tucked between her legs. “And the kennel master sent you for the same reason.”

  Fluffpaw cocked her sad gaze in his direction.

  “He was wrong about you, though.” Ralgath dashed the back of his hand across his eyes. “You’re not useless. You’re a good dog.”

  “The best dog,” Chess agreed.

  Fluffpaw leaped to her feet and wagged her tail so hard, her cage began to slowly spin in a circle. Ralgath kept his gaze fixed on her. Poor dog, too stupid to understand she’d been betrayed.

  “Have you come to gloat?”

  “Is that what you want?” Chess asked softly.

  “Since when do you care what I want?” Ralgath wished he could stand and glare down at Chess, that he could be the angry, defiant demon, unbroken by a second betrayal. “Go back to Zemael and lick her boots and leave me alone.”

  “Mmm, no.” Chess’s step sounded on the barren floor of the little room. “Don’t get me wrong, those are some darling boots. I wish I’d thought to ask her where she got them. But I suppose it’s too late for that.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have many happy years together. She’ll probably buy you a pair just like them. You can be twins.” Then Ralgath’s brain caught up with his mouth. “Wait—what do you mean?”

  Chess cleared their throat loudly, and Ralgath finally looked in their direction. They stood just inside the doorway, hip cocked. In one hand they dangled what was unmistakably the key to the cages.

  Ralgath lunged forward and grabbed the bars. The movement caused the cage to spin on its chain. “Where did you get that?” he asked the wall.

  Chess laughed. “Where do you think? Off of Zemael.”

  Ralgath widened his eyes. “You had sex with her, didn’t you?”

  “What the—why would you think that?” The cage swung far enough around for Ralgath to see Chess’s shocked look. “I’m a one-demon sort of human, you know.”

  Ralgath bit his lip. “I… wasn’t sure….”

  Chess sighed and rolled their eyes. “Honestly. You really don’t think very highly of me at all, do you?” They marched over to Fluffpaw’s cage and unlocked it. Fluffpaw leaped out and ran joyful circles around Chess. “I can’t believe you thought I was serious.”


  Hope sank painful roots into Ralgath’s heart. “You didn’t let her amend your contract?”

  Chess steadied Ralgath’s cage and reached for the lock. “Well, I couldn’t get around that,” they admitted. “But it was the only way I could think of to keep us alive, and at least one of us free.”

  Oh no. Ralgath’s heart began to race. “You didn’t agree to the same terms Keith did, right?”

  The lock clicked. Chess swung open the door, and Ralgath dropped to the floor. “Let’s not worry about that now,” Chess said. They started to turn and wiped surreptitiously at their nose as they did so.

  Their hand came away smeared bright red with blood.

  Fear spiked Ralgath’s veins. “Chess?”

  “I’ll be all right,” Chess said without meeting his gaze. “Let’s just concentrate on getting out of here so you can go back to the Underworld and warn them Zemael’s recruiting mortals and collecting her own batch of souls. You need to be at a crossroads to travel, right?”

  Ralgath grabbed their shoulder, spun them, and swept them into his arms for a searing kiss. Chess sagged against him and gripped his lapels with superhuman strength.

  “I’m not leaving,” Ralgath said when they broke apart. “I’m not going to let you die for betraying Zemael.”

  Chess swallowed heavily. “There’s nothing you can do about it now. She has my contract.”

  Ralgath’s heart plummeted. It was all his fault. He was the one who agreed to do Gizrun’s bidding, who dragged Chess into this mess. “If we defeat her now, while she can still be stopped, I can force her to amend it again or even do it myself, if I can get the contract back in my hands.”

  Chess shook their head. “I can’t let you take the risk.”

  Fluffpaw let out a concerned whine and bumped her nose against Chess’s leg.

  “Not your choice.” Ralgath cupped Chess’s jaw in his hand. “I’m not going to let you die, and I’m certainly not going to let her have your soul. This is one deal you aren’t going to negotiate your way out of, so just accept my help.”