The Demon Always Wins: Touched by a Demon, Book 1

by Jeanne Oates Estridge

  They saw people beset by a whirlwind. A huge wolf, her teats dripping milk, chased another group, snapping at their heels as they ran. Further on, they encountered a storm that coated the windshield with brownish-green goo. Lilith turned on the wipers and sprayed washer fluid. The windshield cleared, but the stench was horrific. Despite her horror, Dara relaxed a little. It had nothing on the Hell Granddad had painted in his sermons.

  After a half hour or so, the pavement smoothed out a little. Lilith glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She muttered, “Shit,” and shoved her foot down on the accelerator. After that, Dara had no time to look at the scenery. She was too busy hanging on. The road spiraled down. With every ring, the sense of hopelessness grew stronger.

  At the bottom, they came to a suite of offices hewn from rock. Lilith squealed into a parking spot and jammed on the brakes. Only Dara’s shoulder harness kept her from slamming into the dashboard. Lilith got out of the car and swept out one hand to encompass the scenery. “Welcome to the funhouse.”

  Chapter 48

  It was poker night, and Belial was once again at the table.

  An hour before, a phalanx of demons had pulled him from the spider-hole again and cleaned him up. He assumed Satan wanted him looking his best for his execution, to show how far he’d fallen. And that was good. As much as he feared the pain, Dara was safe and that was what mattered.

  But after he showered, instead of taking him to the Lake of Fire, they dragged him to the rec room. When he tried to resist, thrall swept over his limbs and forced him to the table. There, he found the usual suspects assembled. Without volition, he said, “Good evening, everyone.”

  Fear skittered up his spine and his mouth went dry.

  He checked the clock and reassured himself. In just over an hour, the wager would expire and Dara would be safe. Satan had no power to change that. She would live out her life on Earth and then rejoin her loved ones in Heaven.

  Satan would exact his revenge and the Lake of Fire would consume Belial’s bones, but he cared nothing for that. All that mattered was that Dara was safe. Stay strong, my love. You can do this. You’ve been through worse.

  Across the table, Loki gathered the cards from the last hand and shuffled. He loosed one of his cackling laughs as he threw cards around the table.

  “Isn’t the time limit for the big wager about due?” Zeus stirred a tumbler of ouzo with his pinky.

  “At midnight.” Satan’s his lips formed the V that was his version of smiling. His horns sparked with excitement.

  Belial’s dread deepened.

  The Greek licked ouzo from his finger. “Who won?”

  “It’s still up for grabs.” Satan cocked his head and tapped one black talon against a front tooth. “One hour left. Now what can I do, in just one hour, to destroy the woman once and for all?” He looked at the blackened ceiling as though it might hold an idea.

  Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.

  “Hark.” Satan cupped a hand to his ear. “Do I hear visitors?”

  Belial’s heart thumped. At the far end of the hall, the doors swung open and Lilith sauntered through the door on her mountain-goat stilettos.

  “Here she is, boss,” she said. “Signed, sealed and delivered.”

  Belial’s dread took form and acquired a name. It couldn’t be. He wanted to howl to the heavens, but his body sat silent and unmoving. In the doorway stood Dara.

  “Mrs. Strong.” Satan got to his feet, every inch the suave host—if you ignored the crimson skin, ram’s horns and cloven hooves. Flames of delight danced in his eyes. “How lovely of you to visit us.”

  Dara seemed to shrink into herself. Belial tried to shout to her to turn and run, but his larynx made no sound. She looked around the table, her eyes widening as they fell on Zeus and Loki. They brushed past the Enemy as though he weren’t even there. Mortals, even holiest of them, could never see him. Their brains were too limited.

  Then her gaze landed on Belial and her face lit up like a thousand votive candles. Seeing her was at once Heaven and Hell. Heaven to gaze upon her beautiful face when he hadn’t expected to ever do so again, Hell to know that her being here put her in mortal, and immortal, danger.

  He was here as bait. He cursed himself for not jumping into the Lake of Fire when he’d had a chance. He tried again to force a warning from his throat, but he was no more than a marionette, able to speak only at the command of his puppeteer.

  Without will, his lips widened into smile of welcome and he rose and circled the table. He pulled Dara into his arms, dipping her backward in a kiss that made Loki howl like a coyote while Zeus beat a tattoo on the table. When he set her back on her feet, her face was scarlet with embarrassment. She yanked herself away, glaring at him. He had never told her about thrall. Why had he not warned her?

  Because it would have been too humiliating to admit to such weakness.

  Nearby, Satan’s horns sparked like Roman candles. “What brings you to my humble lair, Mrs. Strong?”

  Dara lifted her chin. “I’m here for Ben.”

  “You mean the demon Belial?” Satan pretended to be surprised. “Belial is one of my most valuable demons. What makes you think I’d be willing to release him? “

  If Belial had been able to roll his eyes, he would have.

  “Lilith said you were willing to make a trade.”

  Satan gave Lilith a look that promised rewards beyond what any she-demon had ever received.

  “A trade?” He stroked his goatee. “What are you proposing?”

  “That you let Ben return to Earth with me. That you allow us to live together for the duration of my life.”

  It was the same gambit Belial had tried, only to fail. He wanted to shake her for her naivety. No human could bargain with Satan and win.

  “And what do I get in return?” Satan asked.

  Don’t do it. Belial directed the thought toward her with little hope that she would heed him. Don’t do it.

  Dara swallowed. She glanced toward the spot at the table where the Enemy sat, her brows knitted. She seemed to be holding some kind of internal dialogue. After a moment, her face cleared.

  “My soul once my life is over,” she said.

  Satan snapped his fingers at a nearby demon. A triangular grin twisted his face. “Go get the paperwork.”

  The demon scurried out the door.

  Why was Satan doing this? It wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed to win the wager. Run, Dara, Belial willed. Run away. She didn’t move. He cursed his thrall-held body.

  “You are aware,” Satan said, “that at the end of your life, both you and Belial will be returning here for the remainder of eternity?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was calm. Didn’t she understand the hellish bargain she was making?

  “And that there’s no guarantee of how long your life will be?” Satan said.

  A second wave of dread washed over Belial. Satan was talking her out of the deal she’d so foolishly accepted, luring her into the one he wanted her to take.

  “Are you planning to kill me?” Dara didn’t seem concerned by the notion.

  “Of course not,” Satan said.

  Don’t believe him. He is the Father of Lies.

  She shrugged. “With any luck, I’ll live another forty or fifty years.”

  A fat gray cat with a crooked ear jumped into Satan’s lap. Milton. Why was he here?

  Satan stroked his head. “Based on your history, you don’t strike me as lucky.”

  Dara looked at the cat. Her face tightened. “I think my luck may finally have changed.”

  “What if I sweeten the pot?” Satan said. “What if I offer you a guarantee of fifty years together—fifty years of perfect health, not subject to accident or disease, along with great wealth and influence over mortal events?”

  Belial could tell by her face that Dara was tempted, not by the money or power, but by the promise of time together. Don’t do it.

  “What do I have to do in return?” s
he asked.

  Satan looked at his fingernails. “One tiny thing.”

  “And that is?”

  “Curse God and die now, tonight, before the clock strikes twelve.”

  The color drained from her face. “You mean, go back as a zombie?”

  “Of course not. I’d allow you to continue as though you were still alive. You could still have your little clinic. You could even have a child.”

  Looking repulsed, Dara shook her head, but before Belial could breathe a sigh of relief, she looked at the spot where the Enemy sat, and at the cards lying on the table. She said, “How about if I play you for him?”

  Was she insane? He loved her to the ends of the Earth and back, but she would have been out of her league playing poker with kindergartners, never mind this crew.

  “If you win,” she said, “I will curse God and die tonight. If I win, Ben comes with me as an ordinary human being and we’re free to live our lives without your interference.”

  “But when they’re over, you belong to me,” Satan said.

  “No.” She shook her head, and the negotiation skills she’d developed running a free clinic surfaced. “We go into this with an equal stake. If I win, I get what I want. If you win, you get what you want.”

  Satan’s face turned burgundy. “No.”

  Dara shrugged. “Okay by me. Can someone take me back to the surface, please?”

  Satan looked like he’d caught his tail in a spring trap. If he’d had any control over his body, Belial would have laughed.

  “All right.” Satan held up a hand to stop her. The demon he’d sent for paperwork reappeared with a scroll and a quill pen.

  Dara read through the scroll from top to bottom. She shook her head.

  “This still feels like the odds are in your favor.”

  Satan’s eyes flashed fire. Then he looked at his watch and swallowed. “How about if I play both of you? If you win, you’re both free.”

  “Both of us?” Dara pretended not to understand, but Belial was sure, from her sharpened gaze, that this was exactly what she’d intended.

  “We’ll all play. If I’m out while either of you still has chips left, you win.”

  For an instant, Belial’s hopes rose. He’d spent centuries watching Satan play cards. He knew his habits, his weaknesses, his tells. With the other gods there to prevent Satan from cheating, Belial had at least an even chance of winning. Just as quickly, his hope dissolved. In his current state of thrall, he’d be out in no time.

  “That sounds pretty good,” said Dara.

  The scribe updated the scroll and Satan’s eyes burned with unholy glee once more. Her pen hovered over the scroll. No!

  “There’s one more thing.” Dara gestured toward where Belial sat. “I don’t know who this is, but it isn’t Ben Lyle.”

  “Of course it is,” said Satan. “Look at his body, his beautiful face. This is the man you fell in love with.”

  “This may be his shell,” she said, “but it isn’t Ben. And I’m not risking my eternal soul for a blow-up doll.”

  Belial sent up a silent cheer as black smoke shot from Satan’s horns and his face turned the color of dried blood. “What if I refuse to give you a ride back to the surface?”

  Dara smiled at Zeus and Loki. “Then I’m sure one of these gentlemen will oblige.”

  “I will give you a ride in my chariot,” Zeus said. He stubbed out his cigar.

  Not great, but anything was better than Dara’s current circumstance. Smoke roiled from Satan’s horns, but Dara just stood there, her arms crossed, not yielding an inch. Satan checked his watch again and his hold on Belial’s limbs loosened.

  Belial stretched like he’d just awakened from a nap and smiled at Dara.

  “There you are,” she said.

  “Here I am.” He took the pen from her hand. “Now go home.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You can’t save me.”

  “I can try.” She reached for the pen.

  He held it out of range. “No. You need to go back—”

  Before he could complete his sentence, she turned to Satan and held out her scarred hand. Satan took it in his leathery claw and they shook. Belial groaned. For good measure, Dara took the quill from his nerveless fingers. A splinter on the barrel of the pen pricked her finger, releasing a single drop of blood. She nodded like she’d expected that, but signed her name at the bottom of the scroll for good measure.

  At the table, Satan allotted each of them the same stake everyone else had brought into the game. Whoever still had chips when the other two were out would be declared the winner. Statistically, the two of them should have had a better chance of winning, but Dara was such a lousy player, she was worse than useless.

  As Belial expected, she was out before she even got a chance to deal, but Belial was unconcerned. Her contribution had been freeing him to play.

  The game continued. The Enemy folded, and then Loki dropped out. It was just Belial, Satan and Zeus remaining. It was ten minutes until midnight and the stacks of chips sitting in front of Belial and Satan were identical.

  Belial considered slowing the play until midnight struck, but he didn’t know the contents of the contract Dara had signed. It would be like Satan to insert a clause declaring the house the winner if time ran out. Perspiration beaded his forehead. Dara handed him a napkin. Satan grinned, but Belial shrugged and blotted his face. His human genes made him vulnerable, but they’d also allowed him to love Dara.

  He held his breath as the Greek dealt. When Belial fanned out his cards, he held the ace, two, and three of spades, plus a pair of jacks. It wasn’t bad, but across the table Satan fiddled with his goatee, a sure sign he’d drawn a strong hand. Belial’s heart sank, but he gritted his teeth. It wasn’t over until it was over.

  He sat on Zeus’s left, so he anted up a dozen red chips. Satan doubled the bet and Zeus matched him. Knowing anything less than running the table was a loss, Belial stayed in. He started to take two cards, but three of a kind wouldn’t do it. He needed a straight flush. Holding his breath, he slid the two jacks, face down, toward Zeus. Zeus gave him the next two cards off the top of the deck. Satan rapped his knuckles on the table, content to stay with what he had. Zeus took three cards.

  Belial looked at his cards and shoved his remaining chips to the center of the table.

  “All in, demon?” Satan asked.

  Belial took Dara’s hand in his. “With everything I have.”

  Satan swept all his chips to the center.

  “Too rich for my blood.” The Greek laid his cards face down on the table.

  “Show us what you’ve got,” Satan said.

  Belial fanned out his cards on the table: ace, two three, four, five of spades. He didn’t even have to ask Satan what he held. As soon as the old sinner saw Belial’s cards, his face turned the color of cranberries and smoke gushed from his horns.

  “You cheated,” he screamed.

  “How could I cheat?” Belial asked. “I didn’t even deal.”

  Behind him, the clock struck midnight. The wager was over, and Satan had lost.

  Satan rounded on Lilith. “This was your fault. I had matters well in hand until you interfered.”

  “You told me to bring her here.” Lilith backed away. “I didn’t tell you to play cards with her.”

  Satan signaled two husky demons. They grabbed Lilith by the arms. “Take her to the maggot pit. A little larva time may improve her memory.”

  Dara’s face was a study in horror. She reached out, as though to catch Lilith’s hand, but the guards dragged Lilith away, kicking and cursing.

  Satan turned back to Belial. “You’re not going anywhere. I refuse to be bound by the results of a bet you won by chicanery.”

  “Keep your word,” the Enemy said, “or I’ll ban you from the poker table. Forever.”

  Dara didn’t react to that, reminding Belial she couldn’t hear or see the Enemy, but Satan looked like the horns would explode
right off his head. After a moment’s struggle, he forced a sickly smile.

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Strong,” he said.

  “Thank you,” said Dara. “May we go now?”

  They’d won. Against all odds, they’d pulled it off. Belial gave Satan a cocky grin. “Can we borrow a golf cart? Just as far as the surface?” If not, they’d walk, but either way, they’d make it to the entrance to begin their new life together.

  Satan smiled again, a false smile. Worry awoke and niggled its way through Belial’s gut.

  “Take the Lamborghini,” Satan said. “The keys are in it.”

  Worry morphed into fear. Belial’s old boss was being too accommodating. There wasn’t anything Satan could do to them, he reassured himself. Not with the Enemy watching.

  “Thanks.” He led Dara toward the exit.

  “In fact”—Satan followed them to the door, the very picture of a gracious host—”to show I’m a good sport, keep it. Consider it a wedding present.”

  Fear blossomed into outright panic as thrall swept over his body. Dara smiled up at him, unaware of the change. He struggled to regain control of his limbs, but they would not obey him. He stopped walking and Dara stopped, too, her brows drawing together.

  He took her face between his hands. She lifted her mouth for his kiss. His lips formed a smile and then he wrenched her head sideways, snapping her neck. His thrall melted away.

  “Noooo.” His howl caught the attention of everyone still at the table. They turned as Dara collapsed to the ground, her head canted at an unnatural angle. He dropped to his knees and pulled her lifeless body into his arms, swaying back and forth, as though by rocking he could pump life back into her.

  “Demon.” Satan affected a look of horror. “What have you done?” He turned to the Enemy. “That’s the problem of pairing demons with humans. They play too rough and someone gets dead.”

  “You did this,” Belial shouted. “Not me. You.”

  “All right.” Satan bobbed his head playfully. “I might have had something to do with it.” He put a hand to his ear. “What’s that commotion I hear up in the vestibule? It sounds like they’re welcoming a new client—a celebrity, by the sounds of it.”