by Debra Dunbar
“Caramort, Basilisk, and Popiel claim they killed angels,” Snip said. “Course, they might be lying.”
Caramort. That was the warmonger whose household the fire demon said he was a part of. Best to start with him. I had no idea who Basilisk was, and Popiel was an Ancient. It would probably take me two weeks to get an appointment with him if I was lucky.
And the significance of that didn’t escape me. I was the Iblis. I should be able to walk up to his house, pound on the door, and get an immediate audience. One more bit of proof that I was not the right demon for this job.
“Snip, go find and meet with Caramort and Basilisk and see if they really did kill angels or not. Then track down who paid them the bounty. Set up an appointment for me to meet with Popiel as soon as possible, too. Oh, and ask Mestal to come see me.”
Mestal was my snitch. If there was something to this tale of a bounty on angel wings, he’d know. Or not. Sometimes his information wasn’t the most reliable. Sometimes it was a whole bunch of stupid stuff and he was ignoring the important things going on right under his nose.
“Yes, Mistress. Do I do that after I arrange for Doriel’s visit or before?
Crap. Snip was better than most Lows at multitasking, but I’d clearly reached the limit of his abilities. I looked around the Lows and felt my heart sink. The only one here who was close to being at Snip’s level was the one who technically wasn’t in my household. The one I really didn’t trust.
Keep your friends close and your not-sure-if-they’re-an-enemy-or-not close enough to smell the grilled salmon on his breath.
“Barf, you…” Wait a minute. “Barf, did you find Leethu? I sent you to find Leethu. Why are you back here?”
The Low cringed. “I thought she was in Texas, but it was some other demon. I’ve been looking forever, Mistress. I can’t find her. I can’t,” he whined.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Barf was totally worthless.
“Rutter! You go find Leethu. If you can find her within the week, I’ll buy you a Vespa.” The Low had been obsessed with motorized scooters ever since he’d come from Hel, and I knew he fancied himself tooling around on a powder-blue Vespa.
The other Lows suddenly started clamoring that they all wanted Vespas as well. Barf was particularly pissed, and commented that if he’d known there was a Vespa in the offering, he would have tried harder.
I silenced them all with a wave of my hand.
“Gimlet, you meet with Caramort, Basilisk, and Popiel and find out if they really killed angels or not, then track down who paid them the bounty. Barf, you go find Mestal and tell him to come see me.”
“Do I get a Vespa?” the Low interrupted.
“No, you do not get a Vespa. You do, however, get to keep all of your limbs attached to your body. Mestal is probably at the casino. He likes to hang out there and work. Says the noise of the slot machines is soothing or something like that. Tell him I need info on these angel killings, and I need it fast. Snip, you do all the other stuff. Good? We good?”
“No, we are not good.” Gimlet glared at me. “I’m not in your household. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Did you just fucking eat the salmon I bought?” The Low squirmed under my stare. “Did you not just eat the cookies I bought? Did you just drink the beer I bought? Have you not been sleeping in my motherfucking guest house, availing yourself of my hospitality for the last few months off and on? Time to pay the hotel bill, asshole. Do as I say, or I’ll cut that half-digested salmon out of your gut.”
“She will too,” Snip whispered to the Low. “With that sword. If you’re lucky, it will just disembowel you and not turn you into a pile of sand.”
Gimlet ignored Snip and continued to have a staring contest with me. I forced my eyes to stay open, feeling them burn and water. Just when I felt like they were about ready to fall out of my head, the Low blinked. Then he grinned.
“Yes, Mistress.”
There was a hint of mocking in his voice as he said the title. I ignored it. This fucker was the least of my problems right now.
“Good, now everyone out of here and back to the guest house.” I stood up and headed for the kitchen, Lux in my arms. I had half an hour before I need to return to Hel for my meeting with Doriel, and my kid just drank my beer. There was nothing I wanted more than to relax in front of the television with a fresh cold one and pretend that I wasn’t about to spend the evening kowtowing to some fucking Ancient.
The chatter of my Lows faded as they headed back to their guest house. I plopped Lux on the counter and turned to open the fridge.
“Want another beer?
The young angel was angling his wings to keep himself balanced on the counter as he poked a stack of dirty dishes in the sink. He held up his other hand and gave me a peace sign.
“You’re not having two beers. I’ve got to go to Hel in a few hours and I’m not leaving Nyalla with a drunken baby angel to take care of.”
He huffed, then went back to poking the dishes. I grabbed two Bud Lites and twisted the caps off. By the time I turned around, the dishes were squeaky clean, dry, and neatly stacked on the counter.
“You’re hired,” I handed him a beer and scooped him up off the counter. “Do the bathrooms and dust and I’ll let Austin come over for a playdate tomorrow.” Actually I’d already invited Harper and Austin to come over. I had something to discuss with the woman, a sort of business proposal, something I was pretty sure she’d be thrilled to take on.
“Kar-ay too,” Lux replied in between swigs of the beer.
“Not this time.” I grimaced. One rowdy Nephilim and one infant angel was more than I could handle. Add Karrae into the mix, and I’d be way over my head. The three together under one roof for a few hours? Not unless Dar sent his dwarf over with Karrae.
I plopped down on the sofa and balanced Lux on my lap as I reached for the remote. This domestic parenthood shit was a pain in the ass. How long before Lux could move out and get his own place? Demons took a few centuries before they were truly able to manage on their own, and I got the feeling it was probably longer with angels. Which meant I’d be saddled with this bullshit for hundreds of years. Suddenly I envisioned Austin, Lux, and Karrae partying it up in my house. Add in another angel that Dar and Asta were sure to create, plus one or two from Rafi and Ahia…
Maybe I’d just stay in Hel. The demon equivalent of going out for milk and never coming back.
Then I thought of Gregory and Nyalla, of all my friends here. Lux lifted the beer bottle to his mouth, took a swig, then lowered it before planting a wet, sloppy, beer-smelling kiss on my cheek.
“Ma.”
“Yeah, you’ve got the cute thing mastered.”
I wiped my cheek, adjusting Lux’s position as he shifted his form from a toddler back to a younger baby. The beer bottle slipped from his hands and hit the floor, spilling the small amount left in the bottle across my carpet.
“Uh oh.”
“You’re drunk,” I told him, scooting back against the sofa cushions and flipping through the channels. “And you can’t hold beer bottles with those fat little baby hands. Make yourself older. Like maybe eighteen with your own apartment and car.”
He cooed and cuddled up against me, those fat hands gripping the neckline of my shirt, his wings brushing against my arms. Within minutes, he was asleep, snoring his boozy breath across my neck as I watched some old gangster movie. It was like cuddling a beer-soaked puppy.
I kind of liked it.
By the time Nyalla breezed through the door, I was regretting my appointment in Hel and wondering how pissed off Doriel would be if I cancelled. Probably really pissed. And right now, I needed all the allies I could get.
I smiled at Nyalla and carefully passed the sleeping angel to her. A sappy expression came over her face and she rocked Lux, whispering adoring nonsense at him and smelling his skin.
Uh oh.
“Sam, why does Lux smell like beer?” There was a whole lot of disapproval in that hushe
d whisper.
I motioned to the bottle on the floor and lied. “He tried to take a sip and it fell when I took it away from him. Some must have gotten on his onesie or something, because there is no way I would ever give an infant angel alcoholic beverages. Never. Not me.”
She bought it, thankfully. Then she looked at the television.
“Sam! You can’t watch those shows with Lux. Remember the last time?”
I hadn’t thought that particular movie was all too violent, but Lux took great exception to the scene where the guy woke up to a bloody horse head in his bed. I had to buy a new television, and repair a series of holes in my drywall and ceiling. Lux spent the next three days in the stables, obsessively watching over my three horses, refusing to leave. Eventually he and Diablo had a conversation and the angel left the other two horses in my hybrid’s quite capable hands. He still went out several times a day to check on them, though.
I flicked off the television. “He’s sleeping. And this one doesn’t have decapitated animals in it, only a whole lot of shot-up humans and one that got knifed. No biggie.”
Nyalla sighed and shook her head. “Sam, he’s a baby.”
“He’s an angel baby,” I corrected.
“Still a baby. He needs love and positive experiences. He needs to see the best of human, demon, and angel behavior so that’s what he models his own behavior on. He needs experiences that help him build a solid moral foundation, not beer and violence, and porn.”
The porn had been the Lows. And there was nothing wrong with a baby watching porn, no matter what Nyalla said.
Actually, this speech of hers sounded an awful lot like Gabe. I guess it wasn’t surprising. She was clearly influencing him and his views. He was bound to be rubbing off on her—in more ways than one.
Ew.
“Okay, you’re right. I promise I’ll do better,” I lied. “There’s a gallon of milk in the fridge, because I know you like to give him warm milk for some weird-ass reason, and there’s that mashed up fruit shit in jars on the counter. I’m going to try to be back before dawn, but just in case I get delayed, Harper agreed to come over at nine with Jaq and Kelly to watch him during the Ruling Council meeting.”
Her eyes glowed. “Oh, Austin! He’ll love that.”
He would. And not only was Harper experienced at taking care of angelic offspring, but Jaq as a Nephilim was almost as good as having a dwarf in the house.
“Be careful, Sam,” Nyalla told me. Then she grabbed one of Lux’s chubby arms and waved it at me. “Bye, Mama,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Love you, Mama. Come back soon.”
I was going to puke if she didn’t stop that. But she was doing me a huge solid watching the kid, so I held back a gag and plastered a smile on my face. “Yep. That’s nice, that love and stuff. Bye.”
Then I left. Fast. Before Nyalla could spout any more baby-talk at me.
Chapter 7
In my haste to escape Nyalla’s cutesy talk, I’d arrived in Hel with about a half hour until my meeting with Doriel. I’d come in by the Maugan Swamp to avoid getting sucked into any drama at my households, and took a moment to admire the evening landscape. Night had fallen, and the sizzling daytime temperature had dropped dramatically. Insect song filled the air and I heard the splash of bitey fish jumping to snag their evening meals. It smelled like damp moss and decaying lizards, and durft fur, and I loved it.
It felt like home. It felt like…it felt like me.
There had been times in the past when I’d remembered a fond childhood memory and felt nostalgic for the harsh beauty of Hel. There had been times when I’d missed being around demons, my own kind. But this was different. Lately I’d begun to think of Hel as a sort of sanctuary for me.
Yeah, a good two thirds of the residents still didn’t view me as the Iblis, and the other third were on the fence about it. Yeah, I still had some old enemies that would be more than happy to see me dead. But there was something about the place. No, not just the place, there was something about the entirety of Hel that drew me.
It was mine.
And with that realization came that strange sensation that I’d felt in Seattle, only a hundred times stronger. I felt the threads of connection joining me not just with the demons and other life here, but the place itself. For a brief second, it was as if for each breath I took, Hel breathed in unison. Every fish in the swamp, every grain of sand in Dis, every shard of glass in Eresh, every mountain and sea and tree and tumbleweed seemed an extension of myself.
And then it was gone.
The lights of Libertytown twinkled off in the distance, Patchine in the opposite direction. In that moment, I’d felt them, the humans in their homes, most of them sleeping, the demons in the streets, most of them partying. For a brief second I felt them all and they were mine.
Had it been real, or just some strange, homesick illusion?
I shook off the sensation and quickly judged the time. Figuring I might as well kill two birds with one trip to Hel, I headed toward Libertytown, flying over the gates that protected the city, and giving the sleepy guard a reassuring nod as I passed. He looked momentarily startled, then relaxed as he saw my wings.
“It’s late Iblis.”
“Not too late,” I told him, knowing there was one resident of the town who would still be awake.
I landed on the cobblestone street, then walked toward the shop with the candlelight glowing from the windows. It was Kirby’s magic shop, but I saw the moment I opened the door that Kirby wasn’t alone. There was another man with him, an older bald man wearing robes, with one oddly young-looking hand. Gareth, the sorcerer. Of the two, Gareth was the more skilled and talented mage. Of the two, Gareth was the one who tended to lock the door when he saw me coming. Part of that was because he was my go-to for magical devices. Part of that was because I had a habit of not paying him. Well, that and the incident with the stolen gem I was supposed to track down and return to him. I’d found it. And I hadn’t returned it.
“You still owe me a lot of money for all the stuff you ‘bought,’” Gareth scolded.
I did. I’d pretty much cleaned the guy out when I’d needed to arm my household.
“I’m not here for more stuff,” I reassured him. “I’m here with a business proposal.”
Gareth and Kirby exchanged a wary glance. “Go ahead,” the sorcerer said.
“You both are committed to remaining in Hel, correct?” I waited for their nods. “I don’t really blame you because there’s a fucking shit show going on in the human world right now. Angels all over the place, trying to micromanage human affairs. Dragons and harpies and sirens and crap like that. It’s not a great time to be a human on the other side of the gates.”
“And what does that have to do with a business proposal?” Kirby folded his arms across his thin chest and leaned back against his counter.
“Humans need a way to protect themselves. They’ve got some pretty badass weapons, but not much that’s going to keep them safe against dragons and harpies and sirens…” I paused for effect, “…and angels.”
Gareth’s eyebrows shot up. “Wasn’t there some guy up in Alaska selling bullets that killed werewolves? I heard he was working with an elf, and that they were trying to develop something that would kill an angel.”
“I’m not getting involved in that,” Kirby protested. “Next thing I’ll have angels cutting off our food supply, sending hit squads into Hel to take us out. No way. Not me.”
“First off, I’m in charge of Hel and I’m neither going to let your food supply be cut off, nor let the angels send hit squads in to kill you all. But I’m not talking magic bullets here, I’m talking home protection. I’m talking defensive magic. I want to give you guys some parameters for what humans on the other side of the gate might need to help them feel safe, help them feel like they have some control over their own fucking lives. I’m talking nets, amulets, wards of protection, that kind of thing. There’s a human woman who is going to start a company for th
is, to sell these things. She’ll buy from you, sell to the humans on the other side of the gate. We’ll use demon couriers, or even human couriers with a marble for the deliveries. You guys will get everything you need. Food. Building supplies. Generators with gasoline that can run air conditioners. I’ll bet you guys could make enough to even put in a whole human-style power grid over here with solar panels and wind turbines.”
Gareth and Kirby exchanged another look.
“Who is the human in charge of this company?” Gareth asked.
I put up my hands. “Not Nyalla. It’s a woman named Harper. She has a Nephilim child. She was wronged by an angel, and I’m positive she’s going to jump all over this. She’d love running a company that could help humans avoid the kind of manipulation that happened to her. She’s not part of my household. I can’t influence her, trust me I’ve tried. If I try to pull anything, she’ll tell me to fuck off. Then her Nephilim kid, who is besties with my kid, will kick my ass. And then my kid will kick my ass too.”
Again, the two exchanged a rather meaningful glance.
“You can’t be involved at all,” Gareth told me. “I only want to deal with humans if we’re going to agree to something like this.
I couldn’t be involved. I was the Iblis, a member of the Ruling Council. The amount of grief I’d get for running a company supplying anti-angel magical items would be huge. “I’ll set up the meeting between Kirby and Harper, then it’s all between you guys. I don’t even want to know if you’re doing it or not. Keep me completely in the dark.” That way I could deny any knowledge. Yeah, I could lie, but I still wasn’t very good when it came to believable falsehoods, especially when it came to Gregory.
“What do you get out of this?” Kirby’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Well, a few laughs to start with. I mean, can you imagine how fucking hysterical it would be to see some angel bouncing off a line of wards? Or discovering there’s a no-fly zone over an entire city? That’s some comedic gold right there.”
“And?” Kirby clearly wasn’t buying that motivation.
