Heaven's Spite jk-5

by Lilith Saintcrow

  I hoped it was Rutger. But who would kill him? Belisa? Why?

  Worry about getting up first, Jill.

  Good advice. Except something dark appeared in the corner of my peripheral vision, and I threw myself back and rolled, hands going for my guns and the barrels coming up, but slow, too slow. Something was badly wrong inside my torso, darkness beating at the edges of my vision. Even my smart eye was clouding up.

  The masked ’breed hung in the air over me, banefire bleaching each edge, fold, and crease of his ninja pajamas. I knew, with a sudden sickening thump, that I wasn’t going to get the guns up fast enough. I knew he would come down and there would be a wet final crunch, and if I survived it I would have to go for my knives, but there was nothing in the world that would save me now. The scar was dead, not even a trickle of etheric power working up the nerve channels of my arm. He was descending from the apex of his leap, and the slow motion was not my speed working overtime but from the dragging slowness of a nightmare. One I wouldn’t ever wake up from.

  CRUNCH. A pale blur hit him from the side. They tumbled, and another flash of black filled up the world. The snap-crackle of flame turned into a roar, and if the fire didn’t get me I was probably going to bleed to death.

  The scar had finally failed me. Had Perry planned this all along? None of it made any sense. Nothing did.

  That’s what you always think before a case starts to jell. The thought rolled under a breaker of agony as my entire body seized up. The dumb meat thought it could get away from the pain by flopping around uselessly. I’d been relying on the scar too much. Just like any Trader, using up the bargain and spending what made me human.

  Oh, Mikhail, they’re lying about you. They have to be.

  “Chingada!” someone yelled, and more gunfire spattered. Growls and yowls, almost swallowed in the fire.

  “Found her!” A familiar voice, very close. Hands on me. I struck out weakly. “Holy shi—”

  “We’re trying to help!” Another voice, female, with a snarl running under the words. It was a clean sound, not the twisted groan of a hellbreed.

  Weres? Here? What?

  Lifted. Body bumping. Broken bones ground together. I cried out.

  “Bad shape!” Theron yelled. “Move move move!”

  What the hell is he doing here? But I couldn’t get a breath in. Something was pressing on my chest. A heavy weight, hard to dislodge enough to get a breath in.

  I fell back into darkness. My last thought, crystal-clear and oddly calm, danced for what seemed a very long time before unknowing swallowed it.

  If the Weres came down here they’re in danger. I’m going to just kill Theron.

  18

  Clear!” A hellbreed’s voice, ’töng rubbing and squealing below its surface. “Move back!”

  “You’d better not—”

  “Get back, Theron! Let him!” That voice. Female, with a snap of command under its softness, so familiar. Why?

  White light slammed through me. The scar lit up, finally. I might have wished it hadn’t, because it sent a grinding jolt up my arm as if it was going to rip the appendage off, and I convulsed again, blood spraying slick and hot past my lips.

  “Oh, you’re not going yet.” The hellbreed chuckled, like he was having a grand old time. I knew who it was now, and I couldn’t fight. My body simply wasn’t obeying any command I was giving it. The most I could manage was thrashing.

  Fever-warm, inhuman fingers clamped down on my forehead. The scar keened, zapped me again. A flare of sterile light filled my head, chasing out the sound of fire and screaming.

  Oh God—

  Another zap. This one found every bruise, every break, every torn muscle, and filled it with acid. Broken bones twitching and melding, all the pain of healing compressed into bare seconds. Silver crackled, and Perry hissed.

  “Just a little more, my darling,” he whispered. “Just a very little more. Then you can rest.”

  I didn’t believe it. Thrashed more, or tried to. Weak limbs twitching, I heard someone shapelessly moaning and knew it was me. I was saying something, over and over, the only prayer I had left.

  “Saul… Saul…”

  “Jesus,” Theron said quietly. What was he doing here?

  Then, the biggest surprise of all. I recognized the woman’s voice. What is Anya doing here? She’s supposed to be over the mountains in her own territory. “She’s going to be okay, kid.”

  What the hell?

  “Chingada.” Gilberto’s tenor, breaking at the end of the word. “What’s he doing?”

  “I’m repairing my investment.” Perry clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “It’s unpleasant work. Perhaps you should look away.”

  “You just better hope she keep breathing, cabron.” Gil sounded steady enough.

  “Have no fear, little boy. Our dear Kismet has not seen the last of this weary earth just yet. She has ever so much more to accomplish.” A soft chuckle, like a razor blade against numb skin.

  A silver nail ran through me from crown to soles. The world lifted up and shook me off like a flea from a dog’s back. I clung desperately, fingers and toes slipping. Rammed back into my racked, convulsing body, skin stretching, an obscene, dying scream filling my smoke-burned throat.

  “This is what you get,” Perry murmured. “Banefire. What next? Too impulsive by half, Kiss.”

  “Saul,” I whispered. But the machine trained into my head clicked into life. I wasn’t dead yet, and the scar settled down, humming nastily to itself while it repaired bone and stitched together muscle tissue. I coughed, retching. Blood steamed and spattered. There was a roaring, and sirens in the distance. It was a welcome sound.

  It meant the cavalry was on its way. But if they got here and hellbreed were hanging around, not to mention Belisa, then I was looking at possible casualties. And where was that masked bastard? Had he survived? Why had Belisa jumped him? Or had it been her?

  I jerked into full consciousness, slapping Perry’s hands away. He made a small spitting sound of annoyance, and tried to grab my head again.

  The gun smacked into his ribs. My fingers were slick and wet, but steady enough. “Back. Off.” I coughed, spat more blood. It dribbled down my cheek, because I was flat on my back. Lying on pavement, the entire scene drenched with unholy light. The banefire had burnt itself mostly out, and now the entire warehouse was a mass of regular old orange and yellow flame. A pillar of black smoke rose, garishly underlit, and it was looking like it would involve the structures on either side too unless the fire department could do something soon. It was morning, gray light just touching the tops of the mountains. I’d lost a whole day in there, somehow.

  Shit. Monty’s going to have a heart attack over this one.

  “A thank-you would be nice.” Perry’s pale hair was mussed, soot grimed into it. Under the mask of smoke and dirt, he was grinning. His eyes twinkled. “Since I did just drag you out of the dragon’s maw.”

  Another coughing fit rasped at my throat, I pushed it down and back. The gun was steady, jammed up into his ribs, plenty of play in the trigger but that could change in a heartbeat. “Back off.”

  He moved away, gingerly. The pale linen suit was spattered with blood, hellbreed ichor, other fluids. Tarnished with smoke, and crisped in a few places. No wonder he looked like he’d had a good time. His wingtips were still glossy, though, and you could see the suit had been ironed and starched at a not-too-distant point in the past.

  “Eh, profesora.” Gil, from behind me and to my right. “Thought you was a goner.”

  I did too, kid. “Gilberto?” The word slurred. My mouth wasn’t working correctly. The scar crawled against the flesh of my wrist. Perry’s smile turning to a wolflike leer as the fire sent shadows dancing.

  “Right here. Los gatos hombres aquí.”

  Well, thanks. I figured that out. “I told you. To stay at Galina’s.”

  Slight snort. “I ain’t too good at listening, chica.”

  “I got that.” I foun
d out my body would move. Shaky, like a newborn colt. My arms and legs creaked as I moved. The scar chuckled and hummed, behaving just like it normally did. A velvet tide of pleasure slid up my arm—Perry, trying to make me react.

  I kept the gun trained on him as I hauled myself up. “Anya? Anya Devi?” Coughed again, spat a mouthful of something bright red.

  “Here.” Very quietly, also to my right. If I knew her, she had her guns trained on Perry too.

  “And… Theron?” I had to know who else was here.

  “We’re here, Jill.” A growl ran under the edge of Theron’s voice. He sounded like one pissed-off Were. Galina had probably told him what was happening. Or at least about Saul, because I didn’t have a clue what was happening otherwise. And if she did, she would have told me.

  “Not just one beast, but dozens.” Perry shrugged. “We should move from here, dear one.”

  “Shut. Up.” Until I figure out what the fuck you’re doing here. “Anya, what the fuck?”

  “Your house, Jill.” She sounded calm, and utterly certain. “Then we’ll ask all the questions we need to. Perry will meet us there. With the Sorrow.”

  My heart gave the sort of leap usually reserved for teenage girls in horror movies, right when the bad guy bursts out of the shadows. I couldn’t take my eyes off Perry, but if Belisa was around…

  Perry heard the hike in my pulse, and his grin widened. “Don’t worry.” His tone was a parody of soothing, coming out of that lean, grinning face. “I don’t intend on leaving her behind again to get into mischief. She served my purpose—proof of my good faith. Just like that pretty bauble you’re wearing.”

  For a bare second I contemplated unleashing the Talisman. It would make a smoking crater out of whatever remained of the warehouse. I wasn’t sure it would kill Perry, but it could make him very uncomfortable.

  The fact that I was even considering it meant I wasn’t thinking straight. I made a harsh, almost physical effort to prioritize, clear my head, and figure out what to do next.

  Perry leaned forward, all his weight on the balls of his feet. The wingtips gleamed, incongruously clean. “After we’re done, Jill, you can have the Sorrow. We can get a room. Just she and thee, and some pretty shiny blades. Won’t that be nice?”

  It was a relief to find out I could still tell when he was laying a trap. The guns lowered, and the scar settled down, a live coal pressed into my wrist.

  I never thought I’d be glad to feel that. The strength pouring up my arm was an unhealthy glow, like a cocaine rush. It would give out soon, and the fog of fatigue would set in until I could get some other fuel in me.

  I needed to be somewhere safer than the open street when that happened. This was getting me no closer to my objectives. Either Saul was dead and vengeance needed to be planned, or he was alive and needing a rescue I couldn’t accomplish if I was dragging. Not to mention the fact that someone planning on bringing a big-time hellbreed through might or might not be related to the whole mess.

  I’d already fucked up by running on emotion.

  Perry and I studied each other. The sirens drew closer.

  I thought of saying something. Like, If you’ve taken him, Perry, you will die. But it would serve no purpose. He had to already know that.

  Just like he knew I wasn’t going to shoot him now.

  On to the next problem, Jill. “Belisa,” I croaked. “Where?”

  “Oh, I’ve put the chain on that little cat. She won’t be selling you to my enemies again. At least, not just yet.” He tipped his head back a little. My eyes didn’t want to focus past him, but I saw her. She crouched, in tattered blue silk, rocking back and forth. Her black eyes were empty, and her long fall of dark hair was mussed and full of soot. My right hand jerked, the gun almost locking on her, before I forced it down.

  Perry turned smartly on his heel, reached down, and picked up a length of chain from the pavement. He twitched it, and Belisa pitched forward a little, the chain jingling where it met the collar’s metal gleam.

  The collar positively crawled with the same golden tracery of Chaldean runes as the cage had. No glaring white spots of orichalc, though. She rose awkwardly, and I noticed that her feet were bare and horribly battered. She left dark bloody prints on the pavement as she stumbled forward.

  “Little snake.” Perry’s half-fond tone was utterly chilling. “Did you enjoy your half freedom? Now we’ll see who you betray. I expected you to do something like this, seeking to cheat me of my prize.”

  Oh, God. Bile crawled up into my throat.

  I backed up. It was probably a bad idea. The way my legs were shaking I ran the real risk of going down in a heap. I almost ran into Theron, who closed a hand around my shoulder. I realized several other Weres were moving to surround me. Amalia—a lioness of the Norte Luz pride—had two vertical stripes of black painted down each perfect golden cheek. Some of the bird Weres had feathers in their hair; others wore variations of the paint Saul sometimes used. Red, black, white—they were dressed for battle.

  And there, a mop of dark hair and a pair of bright blue eyes. Anya, in a long leather duster. Her guns were out, pointed steadily at Perry. The silver in her hair—beads instead of charms, and threaded onto small braids in the dark hanging mass—ran with blue light.

  It’s always a good thing to see another hunter. But if she was here, shit was about to get more complicated than it already was.

  Theron’s lean dark face was set. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh, but I’m having so much fun.” Perry twitched the chain again. The links made a tinkling, icy sound under the roar of the inferno. Belisa swayed toward him, pliant and terribly empty-eyed. “Would you like to hold her leash, Kiss? It’s an experience.”

  Gorge rose hot and fast again. Oh, God, what have I done? I reeled back into the Weres. Theron was leaning forward, a snarl thrumming under his skin. Anya was still covering Perry, her strong-jawed face set as if she smelled something even more horrific than usual. Gilberto, carrying a snub-nosed .38, probably loaned from the Weres, came into view. His sallow face was alight; he looked about ready to lunge for Perry. The gun was lifting, and the savage joy in his eyes warned me.

  I pitched forward, grabbed his arm, sank my fingers in. The scar gave a flare of pain, as if someone had tried to yank out the knot of corruption by its roots.

  “No.” I held Gilberto’s gaze for a long second. He resisted, but even with every bone and muscle in my body weakened I was more than a match for his skinny human strength. “No, Gil. No.”

  “You better not, boy.” Anya’s drawl, soft and clear, chill with certainty. “You fire at him, I’ll be the one to knock some sense into you. Right after she finishes.”

  Perry giggled, a high sharp note of glee. Gil swore, and the shaking in me must have infected him, too. The sirens were almost here, and dawn was coming fast.

  I let the Weres draw me away, Theron’s hands gentle and the collective rumbling from them shaking me down to my bones.

  I only looked back once, but the firelit street was empty. Perry and Belisa were gone.

  But I could still hear him laughing.

  Saul had cleaned up a little before he’d been snatched, but my warehouse still stank of hellbreed. I went straight for the bathroom and into the shower. I couldn’t stand the filth one more second. Plus, the warm water would give me another short-term burst of energy.

  And I could also load up on more ammo.

  It took me more time than I liked to clean up. I kept having to stop, staring at my hands, willing the shaking to go away. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But assuming Perry had taken Saul was reasonable, especially with the way—

  Who was I kidding? Assuming is never reasonable. I’d lost precious time and wasted resources going off half-cocked. I’d gotten caught, trapped. My Weres and my apprentice had put themselves in danger to rescue me, and that was a fine kettle of fish they should never have had reason to open.

  Weres don’t fight hellbreed. They get hurt too badly. Th
ere is no corruption in the Weres that will allow them to outthink, track, or eradicate a ’breed. Traders are dangerous, too, but a Were has a chance against something that’s basically human.

  Against ’breed? No. Yet plenty of them had shown up to save my bacon. Or because one of their own was taken. Either way, they’d put themselves in danger. That wasn’t their job.

  It was mine. I was sucking at my job.

  I looked up at the mirror, my bathroom wavering around me for a split second as if it was underwater. The scar twinged sharply, and the sound of cold iron chain links crashed inside my head.

  Christ. Buckle up, Jill.

  “Profesora?” Gil, in the door. He had an armful of black leather.

  “I should kick your ass.” I pulled the hem of the fresh T-shirt down. “You were supposed to stay at Galina’s.”

  “An’ you were gonna bring back su marido.” He shut his mouth as soon as I half-turned and looked at him. The fall of black leather in his arms was a fresh custom-made leather trench; I’d found a new supplier who didn’t balk at sewing in the ammo loops and extra pockets to my exacting specifications. I buy them in bulk, and my last supplier had been hauled in on tax evasion charges.

  For once, it was completely mundane and not anything to do with me. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

  I couldn’t go off half-cocked on my apprentice for telling the truth. “Gil.”

  He shrugged, offered me the coat. “Es muerto?”

  “He’s not dead.” I took the coat, held it up and shook it a little. Slid into it, then started slipping the contents of my old pockets into the new ones.

  “How you know?”

  I don’t. I just refuse to believe it. “Nobody wants that much trouble from me.”

  “El Diablo rubio, he might. He don’t like Saul.”

  “Of course he doesn’t. ’Breed don’t like Weres. The feeling’s mutual.” I looked up. A chilly silver charm touched my cheek before I tucked the curl it weighted down behind my ear. “Wait a second. Is Perry here?”

  “Si. With the chica on a leash.” Gil was pale under his sallowness. There were bruised-looking circles under his dark, flat eyes. “Sparring room. La otra cazadora is drinking some licorice shit. Says she shoulda known you’d end up like this.”