Devil's Punch cs-4

by Ann Aguirre

  “I…what?” Beside me, Chance froze. “Corine…?”

  “Before I woke, she slept with one. You call him Kel.”

  “I knew about that. Not that he’s Nephilim. He says he’s the Hand of God.”

  I scoffed. “Those fools are made of empty titles. I suspect the archangels invent them to inflate their minions with false consequence and reinforce their blind faith when it falters.”

  “So there’s no master plan?”

  I shrugged. “If there is, I have no knowledge of it. Sheol is old, but so is your world. There are no answers to some questions.”

  He hesitated, as if unsure whether he ought to ask something. I encouraged him with a nod. “Did she…did Corine know his nature, when they—”

  “Yes. She loves him, you know.” Horror rolled through me—hers—in a quiet wave—and her protest echoed in my head. Not anymore. I love Chance. You’re only saying that to make him prefer you. “That is not an affection we share, unlike the one for you.”

  Chance pushed out a shaky breath, looking as though he’d been punched in the throat. “I’m done with personal questions,” he said quietly, eyes closed.

  I hate you for this. I ignored her pain and grief.

  “I love you.” I touched his cheek and wondered if he knew that I had never spoken those words before.

  His lashes flickered up; they were thick and spangled his eyes like stars. I felt I could stare at him forever and let the city burn. That, in truth, was too powerful an emotion. I should love no one person above the city that I ruled. Yet I did. He was the quiet repeating echo at the core of me, the smile within every heartbeat, and my dreams when I slept. The human Corine laughed in my head, delighted she’d given me this weakness.

  Then he smiled and my heart nearly stopped. “I see why they fought and died for your favors.”

  Heat touched my cheeks. “Have you been listening to gossip?”

  “They tell stories.”

  “About what?”

  “The old days when you tired of a consort and held a match in the arena. Scores of demons entered the lists and the survivor joined you in your bed.”

  “I expect they told you I had my lovers killed once the affair ended.”

  He nodded.

  “It was…prudent,” I explained, marveling that I felt the need for his understanding. “A consort who has fallen out of favor can foment rebellion among other malcontents, destabilizing entire zones.”

  “Any man would be bitter over losing you,” he said.

  I had heard such words before shaped in idle flattery, but this was the first time I believed them. His sincerity sparked between us, and it was terrifying. I had lost myself once; I could easily do so again.

  “I love the way you kiss me.”

  He paused, distracted. “You do?”

  “Yes. You kiss me like you mean it. Always.”

  “I lost a layer of civilization somewhere along the way, I guess, but I’m glad it works for you.” Chance went on, not looking at me, “Tell me where this ends. An execution when you tire of me?”

  The pain at this mere possibility eviscerated me. I would do anything to prevent it. Kill anyone. Burn the city I loved. His safety might as well be written in runes on my skin; I could never harm Chance.

  “Never. You’re mine, always. I will bind myself with the ritual they use upon the Imaron to reassure you, if you wish. That way, any actions I take against you would cost my own life. In truth, I’d prefer it that way.”

  He kissed the tip of my nose. “No, I don’t need the spell to believe you. Can’t live without me, huh?”

  “I can,” I said. “I don’t want to.”

  “Me either.” He leaned his forehead against mine.

  Greydusk knocked then. I donned a robe quickly, dropped the wards on the door, and answered. “Is the estate secure?”

  “It is, my queen.”

  That night should have signified the best time of my life. It should have heralded halcyon days.

  Instead it marked the beginning of the end.

  All In

  Two nights later, the first indication of new trouble came in the form of a terrified Noit servant dancing outside my door. “Monsters,” it shrieked. “Monsters!”

  Since the Noit preferred to communicate in annoying, obscure rhyme, the situation must be dire, even if I didn’t have all the details yet. I dressed quickly in my combat clothing—all black—and boots, athame strapped to my thigh. Chance was already pulling his pants on, roused by the Noit and the commotion outside our rooms.

  “Report,” I demanded of Greydusk as I found him in the hallway.

  “The Vortex has gone down.”

  “What? How is that possible?”

  “Unknown, my queen. But the Xaraz have taken the opportunity to strike. They’ve overrun the Luren quarter and are marching toward the Barrens.”

  “And the monsters?” Chance asked.

  Greydusk replied, “You remember the Gorder? There are worse things in the wastes beyond our walls. Thumpers, magickeaters, wailers. They’ll all come without the Vortex to repel them. It will be mass carnage.”

  The Imaron seemed shaken, looking to me to set the situation to rights, but I’d never even heard of a spell strong enough to disable the Vortex, even temporarily. Unless…“Could it be done if all the surviving Saremon worked in concert?”

  “Perhaps,” the demon answered.

  A link of that magnitude, similar to what Greydusk and I had done in the courtyard, would be unspeakably powerful. Normally demon mages didn’t trust one another enough to permit such an undertaking, but when their survival depended on my extermination, desperate times called for desperate measures. It was a bold stroke and one that would end the battle once and for all.

  I wished I still felt confident that I would win.

  “Have they breached our walls?”

  “No.”

  “Protect the city,” I said. “Send a runner to the Hazo. They must fight. It’s what they live for, after all.”

  In earlier times I would have had a trained military to handle this threat, but I was still putting the pieces back together. They’d struck sooner than I expected, and I wasn’t ready. My spies hadn’t brought me the names of the conspirators, so I didn’t yet know who I could trust.

  Helpless and blind, Corine whispered in my head. You are no true queen, only a pathetic echo of ages lost. Let me out. Let me fight.

  This was an odd juxtaposition. Once, it was me, whispering to her as I scrabbled to gain a foothold. Now, I felt tempted to turn the mess I’d created over to her. While I worried, Chance slipped his gloves on, flexed long fingers, and whispered the command word. Flames burst to life around his knuckles—a pure white-blue, unlike the last time.

  I glanced at Greydusk. “Does that mean something?”

  “The gloves only burn like that for a true king.”

  Chance offered a crooked smile. “Told you.”

  That roused a smile and dampened some of my worry. “Did we confiscate anything that could help in defense of the city?”

  “No, my queen. You instructed me to focus on household goods.”

  So I had. It seemed important to get the palace habitable so I had a base of operations. A queen did not beg shelter from her subjects like a supplicant. In consequence, I wasn’t ready for such a battle. Fine. I’d improvise. My human half was best at that anyway.

  I grabbed the Noit running up and down the hall, delighted with the chaos it had created, and slapped it across the back of the head to settle it down. Satisfied that I had its attention, I demanded, “Were you outside the walls just now?”

  “Yes, Majesty!”

  “And you saw the monsters?”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “And where were they? How far away?”

  I couldn’t cower and let the Saremon wreck the city. There would be nothing left for me to govern. If the creatures had already ruined the Luren sector and were headed to the Barrens,
there must be a reason—

  “March, march, eat our hearts!” it sang.

  “Offer me another poem instead of a sensible reply and I’ll eat your heart myself.” I meant it, though it would doubtless be black, shriveled, and disgusting. Even if it made me sick for a week, I’d keep my word.

  The Noit knew it too; the creature sobered. “Apologies, my queen. Sometimes one gets carried away playing the clown.”

  “Understood.”

  “The situation is dire. The gates have fallen and the Vortex is long gone. The Noit and Phalxe sectors are burning. There are monsters everywhere. Magick hangs in the air, remnants of heavy spell casting. People are panicked, and they’re fighting in the streets. I’m not sure they even know who the enemy is.”

  “Tell the castle staff not to venture outside the courtyard walls. Dismissed.”

  The little Noit scurried off to carry out my orders, leaving me with Chance and Greydusk. Before I could formulate a plan of action, Shannon ran down the hall toward us. Her black hair was spiked, standing on end, but not on purpose, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well. A pang of regret pierced me. I didn’t want this life for her.

  “What the hell’s going on?” she asked.

  Greydusk filled her in while I paced. Leaving the castle grounds might be foolhardy if the Saremon were trying to draw me out, but at least this would end. And then I had the answer. Thank you, human female witch. A quieter echo: Thanks, Mom.

  “This way,” I said. “Quickly.”

  “Why?” Shannon asked.

  “No time. If you’d rather stay in the palace, it should be safe.”

  “No way. Have you seen the things that live here? No offense,” she added to Greydusk.

  The Imaron bared his teeth. “None taken.”

  “I’m with you,” Chance said.

  “Even if it’s a wild, implausible plan?”

  He kissed me hard on the mouth. “That’s the best kind.”

  At top speed, I ran through the corridors, ignoring the way the frightened servants dropped to their knees. I didn’t have time for ceremonious behavior. The towers at each corner led to the walls overlooking the city square. With the others trailing behind me in various stages of interest and confusion, I dashed up the steep, curving stairs to the top of the wall, where there were a few guards posted.

  They snapped to attention on my arrival, stammering excuses, but I waved them off.

  “I don’t expect you to defend the city alone,” I said. “You were hired to keep watch over the palace, and that you have done. Now stand back.”

  Quieting, they did. I wouldn’t leave the safety of the wards without a little leverage, and I was about to summon it. First I built an image of the Gorder in my mind. Then I shaped the spell energies as I had done that first time, outside the city. Energy spindled to life at my core, flickering and wild, like lightning over water.

  Then I sliced a hole up high in the glimmering field that protected the castle. Too high for anything but a flyer to reach; it was a necessary, calculated temporary vulnerability. The guards cried out in protest, and I ignored them, along with mutters from Chance and Shannon. Greydusk held his silence, trusting me fully.

  With a shout of “Advenio!” I released the spell.

  Outside the walls, the ground rumbled. My Gorder was in the city, looking for me. I’d suspected that might be the case, as it had imprinted on me like a big pet, and now I would use it to destroy my enemies, just as it had freed us from the magus trap. I stood my ground as the others backed away. They didn’t know my plan and for obvious reasons I hadn’t shared it.

  I couldn’t protect them all. The wards would do it in my absence. This city belonged to me, and I would fight for it. Since I had no army, it fell to my magick and me. So be it.

  When the Gorder stuck its blind head up over the wall, scenting me with its open mouth, I took a running start and leapt from the rampart. I passed through the narrow gap in the field and as I tumbled back, I sealed it behind me, so they could not follow. Chance tried, and he slammed into an implacable wall. His face twisted when he realized my intentions, but I couldn’t hear his cries as I fell. I might have managed a levitation spell, if I hadn’t focused on closing the wards. I was too close to the ground to have time now.

  “Catch me, friend!” In answer, the Gorder snapped its jaws shut, snagging my thigh just before I slammed into the ground. The save hurt, wrenched my back and pierced my flesh, but the creature didn’t mean to harm me. It adored me; the feeling rolled off it in waves.

  “Down now.”

  The monster dropped me as gently as it could manage and shivered in delight when I stroked its side. I pictured our mutual enemy and sent it along our bond. Fury sang in my blood as I scrambled up; there was a place to rest where its wormy neck met its lizard shoulders. Gorder hide felt rough and hot to the touch while bumps along its back gave me a place to hang on.

  “Ready to fight?” My monstrous mount reared and carried me toward the battle I heard ringing in the distance.

  If I encountered more beasts, I might bend them to my will. I had power to spare and it could best be spent on driving an army instead of limited to offensive spells. The ones I’d left behind fell away like smoke in the wind. So did my doubts and fears. Distance became no obstacle with the fearsome Gorder carrying me at such breakneck speed. We raced toward the city gates. First I’d pacify the worst areas and then I’d hunt down the magicians responsible for dismantling the Vortex.

  “The queen!” The awed cry went up from those cowering in broken buildings. “Ninlil will save us!”

  I will, or die trying.

  As I passed, I called, “Get to safety! This will be over soon.”

  The Noit hadn’t exaggerated the threat. Smoke rose from multiple fires, and the screaming increased when I drew closer to the battle. I unleashed a spell to suck the air away from the flames, and they sputtered out. The Gorder ate a demon mage casting from a rooftop, and I raised up on my knees to assess the scene. Saremon insurgents, definitely.

  A nightmare monster lashed out at random victims, eviscerating them with its swordlike talons. It had black skin and spines all over its body. Mine, I thought. The spell took shape in my head, a sweet, soul-stealing magick, and I unleashed it on the Swordwraith. The creature stiffened, its wild rage fighting my mental leash, but I pressed while the Gorder whipped its tail, smashing another Saremon. With a scream, it accepted my mental domination and turned its natural weapons to my will.

  Swordwraith and Gorder—my army grows.

  But it gave me some indication how many creatures I could hold at any given time. One more would tax my limits. Four would break my mind wide open and unleash those I controlled at the worst possible time. I’d pit these two against any foes, however, so I shouldn’t need more.

  In short order, the Swordwraith and Gorder threshed through my opponents, leaving the terrified citizens intact. A few at a time, they rose from the wreckage, cheering. Even in the old days, they could not have sounded more glad or grateful. Listening to the welcome shouts of “Ninlil! Ninlil!” I turned the Gorder toward the next pocket of insurrection.

  As we moved, the magick purled out of me in trickles. I gauged my reserves and calculated how long I could manage these two beasts. The Gorder, since it liked me, required less output. The Swordwraith fought my tether with each step, draining me faster. In time, I’d kill it and seek a more docile pet.

  I went from zone to zone, destroying resistance and putting out fires. After each fight, I grew weaker. More exhausted. But I pressed on, hearing the screams in the night that said there was nobody else coming to save my people. The wreckage ravaged me; nothing so dire had happened inside Xibalba in living memory.

  The streets ran with blood, choked with the detritus of fallen buildings. Corpses lay with no one to cart them away, and quasits shrieked and circled, diving to rend and gnaw the flesh. Noit sector, clear. Luren sector, fires out. In the Phalx
e part of the city, I collected another pet, and added to my mental burden. The Wailer resembled an enormous stingray made of darkness and malice with a broad, flat mouth that hurled sonic screams at my enemies. They fell after one blast, eyes bleeding. I stopped casting entirely. Taking the wailer for my small army also meant hitting my limit. I could manage no more.

  Pain became my constant companion as I swept the streets, searching for the Saremon who kept the Vortex down. I hit heavy resistance in the Mhizul quarter and I ducked low against the Gorder’s neck as a fireball exploded on the stones in front of me. The Swordwraith screamed and charged; it was all I could to aim it at the mage instead of the helpless mob fleeing before her.

  Its long, bladed arms lashed out, severing the Saremon at the waist. The upper half of the body tilted and fell over while the legs took two more steps before buckling. Blood fountained up, slicking the streets, and the terrified cries increased until the citizens realized the Swordwraith wasn’t attacking them. The monsters trembled, tugging fiercely against my mental leash, but I held firm.

  “Find shelter!” I called.

  As one, the crowd dropped to its knees amid the carnage and bowed their heads. “Yes, my queen.”

  “Now!”

  They did as I bade them, running away toward the city center. The worst of the damage lay closer to the walls, where more monsters gathered. By dawn, I had quieted the last city block and turned toward the broken gates. There, a monstrous army gathered, but they were so wild with hunger and rage that they fought among themselves, just inside the city. My vision turned spotty from the effort of holding my three pets, and I could only send them all a vague order to attack.

  The Swordwraith hurled itself into the fray, slicing limbs and veins and keening its vicious delight. The Wailer fluttered over the mass of beasts and aimed a shout that liquefied half their brains. A mob of monsters fell over, all wings and fangs and razor-sharp claws. The Gorder lashed and ate and smashed with its tail while I held on with the last of my last strength.