Devil's Punch cs-4

by Ann Aguirre

  Beside me, Chance collapsed. My heart twisted with fear, but I couldn’t show too much concern or they would realize how much he meant to me.

  Instead, I offered a wintry smile. “It is a pleasure.” Most of the Luren knew I meant I’d rather eat glass than make nice with them, but they did seem impressed by my fortitude. Who the hell knew how long it would last? I skimmed the room instead of approaching Sybella. “But do you truly mean to conduct our business amid such a multitude? How…egalitarian of you.”

  By her sharp sound, she knew precisely what I meant. “Guards, clear the room, save for Gilder and Lash.”

  In short order, the minions carried out her command. When the influence dulled, Chance stirred at my feet. Greydusk helped him up. I held myself stiff and still, conscious of Chance swaying at my shoulder. It had to be weird for him, hearing me described this way, even stranger that I’d stood against their charms. He’d found me clerking at a dry cleaners for fuck’s sake, but it was no less bizarre for me, remembering that Greydusk had called him a godling. And maybe that was why he’d felt that “click” he tried to explain; it had been our mutually odd heritages perking up.

  Greydusk stepped up on my other side, so that I had an honor guard of my own. I felt pretty sure he wouldn’t let Sybella get within touching distance, and I wouldn’t look into her eyes.

  Fixing my gaze over her left shoulder, I said softly, “You did something to my pet. Not one day, and you’ve already broken your promise.”

  She hissed out a breath at the boldness of my sally. “You dare to call me oathbreaker, here in the heart of my strength?”

  “Only because it’s true. You promised no harm would come to me in your house, and yet my dog won’t wake up. I love my dog. Therefore, I am upset. Worried. Hurt, even. And that is harm, by any definition.”

  Greydusk made a soft sound. I heard approval in it. Strength surged through me, surety. I knew how to talk to demons. I knew how to push them and twist them, manipulate and force them to my desires. It wasn’t something I had ever learned, but I knew it, like the curve of my own cheek or how to breathe as I slept.

  Shit. I really was the Binder. I had the old king’s magick, along with my mother’s. What that meant for the future, I couldn’t guess. I could only steer with one unshakable goal in mind.

  Save Shannon.

  Or die trying.

  “You are owed recompense,” Sybella muttered. “You may ask one boon before our true negotiations begin.”

  The knowledge came to me in a barely heard whisper, like there was someone else in my head. She wants your loyalty to the Luren, above all others, and your promise to raise them high when you break the castes wide open. Alarmed, I searched for the knowing presence, but it fell quiet, leaving me with a pervasive sense of dread. Well, creepy whispers aside, I understood what Sybella wanted. And she wasn’t getting it. I just had to buy some time.

  “You will grant me one week’s grace, as the time runs in this realm, to see the sights in the city and take Xibalba’s measure. Greydusk will stand as my guard and guide. You will not interfere by means direct or indirect with him or me, which includes those under my protection.” With a gesture, I indicated Chance. “That also extends to my dog, of course, whose health and awareness you will restore at once.”

  “Well said,” Greydusk whispered with approval.

  By his tone, I gathered I had made the agreement sufficiently watertight. I didn’t need to keep her from scheming. I just needed this week before I made a true enemy of her. Right now, I thought she respected me. She’d expected a weaker opponent, more susceptible to her particular allure.

  “It shall be done. Gilder and Lash stand witness.” Sybella whispered then in demontongue, a spell that made my skin try to crawl off my bones.

  “What—”

  But before I could complete the question, Greydusk reassured me in a low voice. “She’s removing the ensnarement spell on your mammal.”

  “Why did she mess with him anyway?”

  “She may have thought you intended to use the creature as food and believed she was assisting you in rendering it docile.”

  “Oh.” Gross. “I guess the Luren don’t meet too many humans.”

  “Not unless they’re summoned in sex rituals and those lucky few tend not to return to Sheol.”

  “Our business is tabled…for the nonce.” Sybella’s voice indicated she’d like to give me to her minions and let them do terrible, degrading things to me.

  “See you next week.”

  Somehow I made it out of the room without revealing how much the encounter had taken out of me. Once the doors shut behind me, I stumbled, reached for the wall, but Chance was there. He was shaky, but together we kept our footing.

  His expression was all confusion and raw wonder. “I’ve never seen you like that. You were…magnificent.”

  I leveled a shaky gaze on him. “If you say ‘regal,’ I’ll punch you in the junk.”

  “You’re sexy when you threaten me. But how did you keep them from putting you on your ass?”

  Holding up my wrist, I said, “Tia’s charm.”

  “Handy. I should’ve had her make me one.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think she can just whip them out. It’s powerful.”

  Greydusk emitted a sigh. “Can we move along, please?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Your first mission is to locate me some decent street clothes. I assume people don’t dress like this all the time?”

  The Imaron looked amused. “Indeed, no. The lesser castes would be put to death for donning royal silks…and many of my brethren don’t wear clothing at all.” It gestured at its own form.

  “Right. Well.” This time I led the way. I’d marked the route he took, and the floor tiles made it easy to remember.

  Greydusk excused itself to carry out my request. And I decided I could get used to this. When I stepped back into our chambers, Butch greeted me with a noisy yap and a lot of prancing in circles and whining. Then he got a good look at me and cocked his head, ears flapping. He growled.

  “I know,” I said. “I’m working on it.”

  Muttering about ungrateful dogs, I hunted up Chance’s backpack and set out Butch’s collapsible food and water dishes, then filled them. He set to with a vengeance. I guessed being enscorcelled made animals work up quite an appetite. When I glanced up from tending the Chihuahua, Chance was eyeing me with barely concealed amusement, tiger’s eyes gleaming like topaz.

  “What?” Then I realized.

  Yeah, it was pretty incongruous for me to be doing chores dressed like this. I tugged at the gown that fit me like a second skin and was relieved when it gave. Otherwise, I didn’t see how I could get it off. Under Chance’s intent gaze, I stretched the fabric and then pulled until it slithered over my head in a sinuous motion that seemed…sentient to my jangled nerves. That left me standing in the demon-corset.

  “Could you get my laces?”

  He came toward me, dreamy-eyed with lust, with the easy grace that once rendered me boneless with desire. It still did, I realized, as he turned me. His fingers lingered on my skin as he loosened, loosened, until my breasts fell free in front. Then he cupped my waist between his palms, stroking the indent of skin, slowly gliding down to the flare of my hips.

  I listed back toward him and his arms went around me. He canted forward, his pelvis nudging the curve of my back, and grazed my bare shoulder with lips that left a trail of fire tingling in their wake. It was exquisite. Unforgettable. He’d always been a slow, careful lover, but there was a leashed wildness in him too, a side he’d never shown me. Now he did, his hands hard, as he pushed against me from behind. It wouldn’t take much for him to bend me over.

  He wanted to. I felt it in every particle of his body, and I wanted it too.

  “You’ve been teasing me for weeks,” he growled into my neck. “And seeing you that way…radiating power. Christ, Corine.”

  I puffed out a shuddering breath. Maybe
it didn’t have to be sex. Relief would clear both our heads. I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t demon magick sparking our libidos, but I’d always desired him, and it would be cruel to leave him hanging again. I’d teased him in Kilmer, and if he’d told me the truth, he hadn’t been with anyone else since I left him. For me, there had been a few men in Mexico…and Kel, of course.

  “We’ll have to be quick,” I whispered.

  He never had been, and at first I hadn’t minded his measured lovemaking, the way he applied himself to my pleasure like a science. At first I’d screamed and thrashed and assumed he went as wild as I did. Only he didn’t. He never had. He watched and pushed me and he let go when he was damn well good and ready.

  Not this time.

  “I don’t think I could be anything else.”

  I spun in his arms, half naked, every inch a seductress in these exotic rooms. I felt disconnected from my customary fears, as if the power that turned him on still streamed in my veins. I was Circe and Aphrodite and my will was absolute. He proved just how eager he was when I unbuttoned the flat of his trousers. His shaft leapt into my hands, and I took him in my hands with bold demand, tugging, stroking. Arching, he watched my face, his gaze laser-focused on my mouth. I rose up to kiss him, hotly, endlessly. Chance gasped into my mouth and his heart slammed against mine, racing in time to his thrusts. There was no careful judgment now. His harsh breaths melted into groans, and then he peaked in my hands. Lost to everything but me. He gave himself completely, and I went wild with the surrender.

  We fell together onto the bed, and he wrapped his arms around me. Fast and frantic, I came over him and worked to a quick finish against his trembling thigh. He petted my back with clumsy hands, his eyes dazed. His lashes fluttered toward his cheeks. Once, twice. I’d never seen him so utterly undone.

  This Chance could destroy me. And he was irresistible.

  By the time Greydusk came back, we had tidied up, Butch was done eating and taking his stroll around the patio, and I was decently covered in Chance’s shirt.

  The demon paused on the threshold, sniffed, and sighed. “It reeks of copulation in here.”

  Fire washed my cheeks. “Hi to you too.”

  “I suppose one must be thankful you have one another with whom to sate these urges. It would be disastrous if you succumbed to a Luren. Gilder or Lash, for instance.”

  “Disastrous for whom?”

  “Everyone. If you take any native as your lover, you make him—or her—your consort here in Sheol, should you ascend.”

  “Anyone who tries to touch her comes through me,” Chance bit out. “I need better weapons, demon.”

  His eyes were scary-fierce, primal in intensity; I’d seen the last of my hypercontrolled, calculating ex. That genie was out of the bottle for good. I suspected he’d always had these tendencies, carefully leashed, but something in Sheol—demon magick maybe—seemed to draw it out of him. Neither of us might be entirely ourselves, but I didn’t regret what we’d done. Not when I felt so good.

  Greydusk studied us for a moment longer and then shook its head. “I was afraid of this.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You’ve chosen him as your consort. That will affect his thinking. He can’t help but respond to the ancient magick.”

  “Is there anything I can do to stop it?” I asked.

  “No. Once chosen, the consort belongs to the queen until death.”

  “But I’m not the queen.”

  “Near enough.” Greydusk thrust a package toward me. “Clothing for both of you. I’ll wait in the next room.” It turned with precision for such long limbs and went out.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” Chance answered in reflex, and then he gazed at his curled fist as if surprised. “No. I’m not. Tell me you’re mine. To guard and keep and protect. Please.” The last word came from him on a pained groan.

  I sensed it wasn’t the time for questions or exceptions. Quietly worried, I took his hands in mine, stilling them. Unfurling the tight fingers. “I’m yours.”

  A heavy sigh slid out of him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This place fucks with my head.”

  Just like Greydusk warned.

  “I know. But we have a week to find Shannon and get out. I’ll keep you safe if you do the same for me.”

  “I promise,” he whispered.

  Dark City

  Before we left, Greydusk took us to the armory.

  The guards at either side of the door were beautiful, like all Luren, but at this point, the effect was starting to wear off. I imagined our sojourn here was sort of like a supermodel convention. At first you’re totally overwhelmed by the sheer amount of physical perfection surrounding you, and then slowly you build up immunity. You started wondering if any of them could sing or hold a decent conversation. And these demons looked like the answer was no to both questions; their eyes were pretty blank.

  They let us pass because they had orders not to impede us, I supposed, or maybe Greydusk had some pull. Either way, I stood marveling at the range of weapons—not that I knew how to use any of them. But Chance was in his element. He tested several blades before choosing a set of gloves that glimmered faintly with magick. Since he usually fought bare-handed, the gloves would help. They weighted his blows with knuckle guards, and I was sure the spell would make his strikes more effective.

  “Can you tell what these do?” he asked the demon.

  Greydusk took them and whispered in demontongue. In response, the gloves spat fire and then ice. How cool.

  “They augment your strikes with elemental strength. There are two effects on the gloves, but you choose which to use with a command word. Only one can be active at a time.” The demon set the gloves down, and then whispered to Chance, I guessed to prevent activating the magic.

  “I don’t need a weapon,” I said.

  “Perhaps not. But what about an athame?”

  Those generally weren’t used for stabbing or fighting; they were ceremonial blades used in rituals, though some witches kept them sharp in case a spell called for a small blood sacrifice. I had the one I’d purchased in Laredo, but one from Sheol might help with my casting. It might also come with a price.

  “Will it show in the human realm if I cast spells here?”

  Greydusk cocked its head. “You mean will it be evident you’ve been using demon magick?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Of course, Binder. The only energy you can access at this time belongs to us—and you shape it through your father’s lineage.”

  “Wait—so I’m casting my mother’s spells via dear old Dad?”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  Crazy. But it was also making a mess of my halo. By the time I got out of here, the other practitioners in Mexico City would put me on the Most Wanted List. I shoved that worry aside and joined the demon where it stood before a polished, lacquered shelf. Blue velvet sheathed this athame; it was carved of smooth obsidian with ominous sigils etched all the way down the blade. The handle shone like sanded bone—I hoped it was ivory—and the symbols circled the hilt as well, which was banded in shining platinum. The whole knife looked old, well preserved, and priceless; it was also razor sharp.

  “Sybella would allow me to take this?”

  “Perhaps allow is the wrong word,” Greydusk said.

  I grinned. “She doesn’t even know we’re in here, does she?”

  “Not as such. She did not expressly forbid it, however.”

  Which just went to prove how careful one had to be in dealing with demons. If they did this to each other, imagine how much more thoroughly they could screw humans, who weren’t used to crossing all the t’s and dotting all the i’s in a verbal agreement. I resolved to be on my guard.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, considering the damage I might do to my spirit, I forced myself to think of Shannon. If this magical athame could help me save her, I couldn’t afford to be squeamish. It would be selfish not to gras
p every advantage. And that brought me right back to making evil choices for the right reasons. Stomach churning with dread, I snatched the artifact off the shelf. It seemed to nuzzle into my palm, not exactly a movement, but a vibration, eerily in sync with my heartbeat.

  “The more you use it,” Greydusk told me, “the more it will attune to you, and the more powerful your spells will become.”

  “I wonder why the magick still hurts here, if it’s different than the energy I use in the other world.” The human one. Which was already starting to feel far away.

  I didn’t ask in expectation of an answer, more musing aloud, but Greydusk gave it real thought. “Since I don’t know why it hurts you to cast, I can’t be sure, but I’d speculate it’s because those channels—neural pathways—are already cut.”

  “What’s done cannot be undone,” Chance murmured, easing into his gloves.

  Between the gauntlets and the black clothing he’d donned earlier, he looked like a beautiful enforcer, capable of the most delicious mayhem. Before, I’d always thought him elegant, not brutish, but his expression held traces of the latter. He wanted to hurt someone, and I wasn’t sure why.

  It’s Sheol, a small voice whispered. It’s turning him. He doesn’t belong here.

  This sounded like the same person who had explained about Sybella’s motives. Who are you? I asked. But the voice didn’t reply. Maybe I was going crazy.

  With nod at Greydusk to acknowledge the explanation, which made as much sense as anything, I tucked the athame into the back of my pants. Fortunately, my clothing was nondescript, black as well, which—along with brown—lower-ranked demons wore a lot. Darker colors didn’t show dirt and blood.

  And that ought to indicate just how I foresaw the day going.

  Greydusk led us unerringly to the exit, and true to Sybella’s word, her people did not interfere. I wouldn’t come back here before my week was out. There must be someplace safe for us to hole up while we searched for Shannon. I’m sure the Luren knight expected us to make use of her lavish hospitality, but I preferred staying out of her reach as much as possible.