by Debra Dunbar
Unlike the angel’s binding, this one didn’t network deep within me. I felt no particular connection to Ahriman, no real bond. This was simply a way to mark me as his. Other household members would bear a sign of ownership, but this was a consort mark. In theory, I should be afforded especial respect. In theory, I’d be considered nearly a partner, able to represent Ahriman in certain matters. In theory.
As he pulled back, he snuck in another quick grope, which I was too slow to avoid. I’d need to watch this guy. Breeding contracts didn’t include this sort of thing, but I got the feeling Ahriman was going to set his own rules, and that he wouldn’t be above breaking our contract terms if he was particularly motivated. I’d just need to make sure I didn’t give him that motivation, which might mean expressing disinterest at intimacy rather than a more intriguing revulsion. I wouldn’t want to set off any predatory instincts, of which I’m sure Ahriman had many.
He stepped back, and I forced my eyes up to meet his glowing, red ones.
I will see you in two weeks, Az.
“Two weeks.”
His physical form shuddered, dissolving into thick, black smoke that rose in a tall column then dropped to spread wide across the floor. With a flash of light, the smoke was gone, and I stood in an empty room with a platter of raw meat and a decapitated corpse. One thousand years. At least it wasn’t an eternity.
17
By the time I’d walked the four-hour trek to my home from Ahriman’s it was late afternoon. I was exhausted and starving for something beyond raw meat or elf food. My house was lit up like a Christmas tree, and I remembered I’d promised my household a party. If someone had managed to get beer and hot wings, I was going to kiss them.
I walked through the door to face a group of expectant demons. Dar and Leethu stood toward the front, as their status allowed, eyeing me with raised brows and big eyes. I knew what they wanted to know. Turning over my arm, I showed them the raw, chewed underneath with an indistinct black smudge. The entire room erupted into cheers. Demons grabbed each other, crushing ribs and head butting so hard I heard the cracks of skulls. Dar and Leethu enveloped me in more gentle hugs. I was the only one not happy about the next thousand years.
“Oh Ni-ni! I worried… I mean, I know how you are and was concerned you and Ahriman might not come to an agreement. I’m so happy for you. You truly deserve this.”
I winced at the thought that I deserved a thousand years of servitude to a demon as cruel and unfeeling as Ahriman. There would be pain, quite possibly rape, and maybe even death. I hoped that I deserved better than this.
I felt Dar’s furred snout against my cheek. He pulled my hair with his usual sign of affection and made a snapping noise in my ear. He, of all my household, should understand. He’d been my friend, my closest sibling for as long as I could remember. Pulling back, his beady, crimson eyes looked into mine.
“It will be okay, Mal,” he said gently. “You’ll see. You’ve just been with the humans too long, and it will take you a while to come back to being a demon. A consort! To Ahriman! Just think of what that means. No more worrying about other demons trying to kill you, no more jockeying for position or status. All of Hel will be at your feet.”
I had an uncomfortable feeling that instead I was going to be crushed under Ahriman’s feet. I didn’t obey, was disrespectful and spent nearly every waking moment in some sort of hot water. Gregory was a stick in the mud but he loved me in spite of our differences—or perhaps because of them. I doubted Ahriman would be so willing to change. Instead, I could see him bending me to his will until I shattered into a million pieces.
I took a deep breath and ran a hand over Dar’s face, tugging at his whiskers. It was done. I’d go on being an imp, being Samantha Martin, and whatever happened, happened. As always, I placed my future in the hands of fate, hoping that luck still continued to smile on my antics with her favor.
The play fighting slowly wound down as the demons turned toward me, their faces happy and expectant. Party. That’s right, we were supposed to party. I stared back at them, wondering what to say. I felt trapped, desperate.
“Food, drink, games and mischief. Let’s celebrate.”
The room erupted again, and Leethu danced off to gather drinks. Dar hesitated, tilting his head as he eyed me with concern.
“You okay, Mal?”
I forced a smile. “Yeah. I just need a few moments alone to absorb it all. Can you run this shindig for me? I’ll be back before dawn.”
He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. “If you need me, you ask. Anything. I’ll always have your back.”
This smile was genuine. “Thanks, Dar.”
He headed off into the crowd and the party began in earnest as I snuck off, out the back door, down a nearby lane and out through the grasslands toward the swamps. It was early evening, and if I jogged a bit, I could make it to the edge of the marsh.
The swamps are unforgiving to human flesh. I tried to ignore the relentless bites of the insects, and how the sharp reeds tore at my legs as I waded through the muddy water. Bitey fish that thrived in the murky shallows darted around my feet, tickling with their whiskers. I longed to grab one and eat it but I was afraid it might be poisonous to my human stomach. I’d have no way to negate the poison, no way to fix any damage it did. How did humans endure this life, constantly walking the tightrope of survival? It was nerve wracking continually trying to censor my behavior to keep alive and healthy.
Sitting down, I let my ass sink into the soft mud and felt the water rise up around my breasts. Ahriman. Two weeks. In two weeks Taullian would make his move against Feille, and I would waltz into a gilded cage for a thousand years. And if I defied the ancient demon and tried to kill Feille, that gilded cage would turn into something far more unpleasant.
Why bother? The elves hated me. I didn’t owe them shit. Taullian was an ass, Feille even more of an ass. I’d met a few that seemed okay, but what had they ever done for me? If I were in trouble, none of them would lift a finger.
Ditto for the demons. With the exception of Leethu and Dar, most of my household would sell me out without a second thought. I knew in my heart that none of the demons would pay my warnings any heed, none of them would care if others were taken, drained, killed—especially if the ones being targeted were Lows. That was the way of my kind—everyone for himself. Individuals would surely fall; it would only be through combined strength that we could possibly hope to defeat the combined force of six elven kingdoms.
Why bother? I should enjoy my remaining two weeks and just let the chips fall where they may.
I sat up higher in the cool water, feeling the strands of slime cling to my skin. Kirby. All the humans would suffer even more if Feille ruled all the elves. That poor human girl from my cell—was she still alive? How many more would end up like her? It seems like I was the only one in all of Hel that cared about their plight. And the Lows…. I thought of the one who had been trapped in Columbia Mall, now in my household, as well as the Low who couldn’t do more than change colors. I thought of Stab. I owed him. I’d promised to save him, and I’d failed. What happened to him should never happen to another Low.
But Ahriman…. I shuddered, the water suddenly feeling uncomfortably cold. He’d forbidden me to interfere in this matter, and if he found out I’d defied him, the punishment would be horrific—not just for me, but for my household. I’d need to protect them and be willing to accept the probable consequences of my actions, even while trying like fuck to ensure I got away scot-free. I wasn’t sure I could do that. In fact, I was fairly certain I couldn’t. I may be an imp, but I did have a modicum of common sense, a tiny bit of self-preservation instinct.
Closing my eyes, I tried to put it all out of my mind, to relax, forget about the insects and the reeds, the blisters that covered my body, my lower digestive system rebelling against whatever meat I’d eaten at Ahriman’s house. The mud sucked at my sinking feet, soft and slippery. Sweat beaded across my forehead and rolled down my fa
ce, pooling between my breasts, and under them. I felt my hair, damp and heavy against my back.
I’d spent most of my childhood in the swamps, hiding from Paquit and other siblings that loved to torture me. It was the one place I felt safe. My very own Garden of Eden. My past and childhood seemed right within reach, as if it were happening concurrent with the present, with the endless intertwined threads of my future. I could stay here forever. Hide from the elves, Ahriman, all the stupid responsibilities I’d collected over the last year.
I relaxed in the swamp and watched the moons drop below the horizon, waited until the pink of dawn turned blisteringly hot. A splash as a bitey fish leapt above the water. Insects burst into song. The mating call of a Svelton sounded, and then a reply. Noise filled my ears and joined with the sensations against my skin, the smells of swamp in the hot sun filling my nose. With a sigh I opened my eyes and stood, making my way out of the swamp and back toward my house. The time to spend eternity hiding in the swamps, or under rocks, had long passed. Too many had died; too many still suffered, and I found that I got a major charge out of setting things right, evening the score. But there was one person I needed to consult, the one who had become my moral compass. I might not always take Wyatt’s advice; I might not always agree with him, but he grounded me. He made me human, and I valued his opinion.
The party was still in full swing when I returned, a significant amount of furniture smashed and being used as makeshift weapons. I snuck through my own house, kicking everyone out of the room before turning to my mirror.
“Wyatt, did I wake you?” I tried to figure out the time. Was it afternoon there, or four in the morning?
I heard him laugh. “Since when have I gone to bed at noon?”
Many times, in my arms, after a few hours of passion. I closed my eyes for a moment, willing the ache of longing away. It was no time to let my feelings for Wyatt overwhelm me.
“I need your advice.”
His voice became serious. “What’s wrong, Sam? Is it something to do with the elves?”
I swallowed, wondering how I was going to explain this to Wyatt. “It’s a demon. Remember that breeding petition I showed you? The one from Ahriman?”
“Your top contender? Yeah. Gregory didn’t approve. Not that it mattered. You said you weren’t going to accept any of them.”
“Well, as they say in the mafia movies, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Wyatt was silent for a moment. “Did he threaten you? Us? Your household?”
“All of the above. I figured I’d have time to weasel out of it, but then everything happened in Alaska and Washington. Now I’m here in Hel, and there’s not much I can do but make the best of a bad situation.”
“Can Gregory…?”
“No!” I panicked, just thinking of his reaction. “Don’t let him know. There’s nothing he can do, and I don’t want him to worry.”
“I’ll never see you again, will I?” His pain came through the mirror like a tangible thing.
“I’ll be allowed some physical freedom, and regular visits through the gates. It won’t be much, and I’ll understand if you don’t want—”
“Stop it. Don’t even think that. I know we had our rough spots, but there isn’t a day I don’t regret not making things right between us—especially after I thought you’d died. I love you. I’ll always be here for you. That’s all you need to know.”
I couldn’t see from the tears in my eyes. “Wyatt, I have a horrible choice. Ahriman has forbidden me from interfering with the elves. If I do and he finds out, I’ll not leave his dungeon for a thousand years—maybe longer. If I don’t interfere, innocents will suffer and die. Low demons, the most vulnerable among us, will be dissected, and no one will care. The humans will be tortured and played with, killed when they are too broken to serve.”
“It seems like you’ve made your choice, Sam.”
I thought he’d be sad, but underneath his sorrow, he sounded proud. I didn’t want him to sound proud. I wanted him to beg me not to do it, not to risk myself on this fool’s mission. I’d already sacrificed enough. Let someone else step up to the plate.
“I don’t want to,” I whispered. “I’m afraid of what Ahriman will do to me.”
“So, you’ll just be a good little consort, obey the powerful demon and defer to him on all things? How long do you think that’s going to last?”
I winced. I was an imp. “Probably about three days, if I’m lucky.”
“Yeah. And even if you do manage to stay on his good side, how long do you think it would be before Gregory found out?”
I looked down at the black smudge on the underside of my arm with a sick feeling. “The moment he saw me, he’d know.”
“How will you feel when you’re under Ahriman’s thumb, watching Lows systematically killed, humans tortured and tossed to the side? What happens to your household when Gregory grabs you on your first visit and refuses to allow you to return?”
I was damned either way. There were no good choices.
“Make the choice that will let you sleep at night, Sam. Make the choice that will console you when it’s your darkest night.”
I heard his unsaid words—make the choice that would make him proud, that would make Gregory proud. And work my ass off to make sure Ahriman never found out I’d disobeyed him.
“I may never see you again, Wyatt.”
There was a few seconds of silence. “You will. I know you will. Before the end of the year, you’ll be jogging with Candy, mixing it up with those angels, naked with me on a blanket in front of a roaring fire. Oh, the things I intend to do to you.”
Now this was a far more promising conversation. The dark clouds around my heart lifted somewhat. “Please tell me about these things you intend to do to me while we’re naked on a blanket,” I teased.
“First, I’ll take off your clothes, slowly easing them down and kissing every square inch of your skin as I go.”
“Mmm, do I get to take your clothes off too?”
“Only when I’m done. I want my hands and mouth on every inch of you.”
I smiled, touching the mirror as if I could reach through it to him. “Me too. I’ll drink vodka shots from your belly button. Find something delectable to lick off your cock.”
“No hot sauce,” he interjected.
I laughed. That had been rather disastrous. Poor Wyatt. “Chocolate?”
“Whipped cream, honey, strawberry sauce.” I could hear the heat in his voice.
“With a cherry on top?”
“With you on top.”
Top was my favorite spot. “I love you, Wyatt. I’ll call you every night, and if there comes a time when I don’t call, know that I’m thinking about you.”
“It will be okay, Sam. And I love you, too.”
I turned away from my mirror, hoping that Wyatt was right. I’d made my choice, but I still had to talk to Dar and Leethu, to make sure my household was safe no matter what went down.
“I have two weeks,” I told the pair of them after finding them squabbling over who could insert a chair leg furthest into another demon’s ass. “Two weeks to do this thing with Feille and report to Ahriman.”
Dar caught his breath, and Leethu’s lovely eyes widened in alarm.
“Forget about the elves, Mal,” Dar urged. “You need to focus all your attention on regaining your strength and lost skills. What if he wants thing’s you’ve lost? You need to make sure he’s happy with the bargain he made. Let the elves deal with their own shit.”
“I can’t forget about it. I nearly died trying to escape these guys. I know what Feille plans to do, and I’m not going to let him go through with it. Too many demons and humans will die if he does.”
Leethu tilted her head, looking oddly bird-like in spite of her tiny scales. “Is Ahriman in favor of this? We need to have his approval before going forward.”
I didn’t blame either of them. Ahriman was powerful, and all of our futures depended on retaining
his favor. I hesitated, realizing that it wasn’t just me I was risking, it was my whole household. So I carefully skirted the truth. “Are you kidding? An elf assassination and a chance to kill a bunch more elves? It’s a dream come true.”
Dar raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. I saw him waiver, torn between his love of a good fight and fear that we’d wind up worse than dead at Ahriman’s hands. I knew he was dying to get in some action. Like me, he’d always enjoyed messing with the elves. “How many of his household is he sending along?” he asked, his voice full of suspicion.
I squirmed. I was a terrible liar, and I didn’t want to get my household in trouble. Technically, our contract didn’t take effect for two weeks, and I fully intended to be back at Ahriman’s door on time. Hopefully he’d never know. If he did, I was counting on my taking the heat since he’d agreed any transgressions from my household would fall on my shoulders. Even with our contract, I planned to make sure all of them were far away for the next thousand years.
“I’ll coordinate with Ahriman’s household,” I lied. “Can one of you approach Taullian and arrange a meeting? I’m sure he’s pissed about my rescue, so we’ll need to assure him that we still want to fight under re-negotiated terms.”
“I’ll do it,” Dar chimed in. “Leethu is still on his shit list. Not that he likes me any better, but at least I’m not suspected of fucking elves and knocking them up.”
“Just the one,” the succubus protested. “Although I have gotten to third base with quite a few.”
It’s a wonder Leethu was still alive. If she was so good at tempting the stoic elves to sin, then she might be able to do the same with angels. I eyed her, thinking I needed to get her alone and see if she could give me some pointers. I’d happily take third base with Gregory. For the time being, anyway.
