Devil's Paw

by Debra Dunbar

  “There’s a video on YouTube from someone’s cell phone. I’ll send you the link. Evidently he made quite an impression at the airport. Dirty, torn clothing, limping from a bad gash to the right leg. He looks like someone beat the snot out of him too.”

  “Thanks, Sweetie. I gotta run. I think the seaplane port is on the other end of the city, by the cruise ship docks, so I gotta haul ass.”

  “Be careful, Sam. If this guy is hurt and desperate, he won’t think twice about using lethal force on anyone, Iblis or not. He wasn’t exactly sympathetic in the airport video.”

  I ran, cursing the rolling terrain even in this relatively flat section of town as I headed south through back streets, past pizza places, office buildings, and various outfitters. I turned toward the Channel, putting on a burst of speed as I saw a small plane on the horizon. By the time I’d made it to the port, I was on the verge of a heart attack. But I’d made it.

  The Cessna landed like a water skipper on the surface of the inlet the pontoons barely creasing the surface. It darted past the port, turning about once it had landed and slowed sufficiently. I struggled to catch my breath, hunched over with the worst side stitch in the history of the world. This fucker better be on the plane or I was going to have to yield to the urge to blow something up.

  There was only one guy on the plane except for the pilot, thankfully, since I hadn’t had a chance to look at the YouTube video and didn’t know what the human form Raim was using looked like. He must have changed clothing. Tan pants and shirt were wrinkled, but didn’t seem like he’d been wearing them for an extended period or been fighting an angel in them. He walked down the dock, eyes darting around as if he expected an assassin at every signpost. He was clearly afraid, so I decided to take a cautious approach.

  “Raim!” I shouted, waving at him from the parking lot at the end of the pier.

  He jumped backward, his eyes narrowing.

  “Dude! Bout time you got here. There’s an awesome fish place right up on the corner. Let’s grab some halibut and a cold one.”

  He glared at me, clearly undecided whether to walk forward, run for it, or launch an attack. I took his hesitance for a good sign.

  “Your household is frantic. Another demon saw you almost get dusted, down in Seattle, and told them you were trying to get home. They asked me to help you out.”

  His body relaxed slightly, but he clearly didn’t fully trust me or want to drop his guard entirely at this point.

  “Who the fuck are you?” He snarled, making an odd movement with his head, as if trying to crack his neck.

  “Az.” I gave him one of my demon names, figuring he might recognize it.

  His face remained wary, but he took a tentative step toward me. “How did you find me? How could you have known I was here?”

  It was a valid point. “I’m the Iblis. There’s a sword, and it’s magical, and I can locate demons.” It was total bullshit, but I’m not good at making stuff up on the fly.

  “That’s a crock of shit. You’re an imp. There’s no fucking way you’re the Iblis. How did you find me?”

  I sighed, and put on my most suffering expression. “You haven’t exactly been stealthy. There’s a YouTube video of you at the airport all over the fucking Internet, and all your credit card activity is easily traceable. Dude, it’s the twenty–first century; you can’t take a shit anymore without someone putting it on your credit report and tagging you on Facebook.”

  He took another step toward me. “I could take you with one claw tied behind my back. I guess if they wanted me dead, they would have sent something better than a piece–of–shit imp to take me out.”

  I was a little insulted, but if it helped him drop his guard, I’d go along with it. “I’m just supposed to help you out. That’s all.”

  He began to walk purposefully toward me, still making that odd movement with his head. The wary look had been replaced with a sneer.

  “I need you to get me home. Right now, before they find me and take me back.” This demon was an arrogant ass. Less than five minutes and he was already ordering me around like I was part of his household.

  “I know. You’ve come to the right place. This gate is virtually unguarded. Easy passage. Let’s get you some food and a cold beer, then I’ll help you get back home.” I hoped he didn’t ask me where exactly this gate was because I hadn’t a fucking clue.

  I caught my breath as Raim drew near and tried not to stare. He was a wreck. His clothes hung off a gaunt frame, his eyes were fierce in bloodshot whites, greasy hair stuck to his head, clotted in places from some unknown liquid. Worse was his neck. It was torn and bloody, as if he’d dug something from it. Thick red caked his skin from chin to below his shirt collar. As he approached, he jerked his head to the side, making a clawing movement with a hand toward the bloodied area. What the hell had happened to him? Neither Baphomet nor the angel had shown this much physical damage. Raim wasn’t exactly a lightweight. Had the gate guardian done this to him? The humans in the airport? Had he burst into a bar with thirty werewolves?

  “I want to go back to Hel. I don’t have any fucking time for food. I need to go home right now.”

  “I know you do.” I tried for a servile tone. “The gate’s heavily guarded right now. We need to wait an hour. The guardian will head off for a lunch break, then we’ll make a break for it. We might as well eat while we’re waiting. You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”

  “They didn’t feed us,” he snapped, as if it were my fault.

  Who was “they”? There had been plenty of food in Baphomet’s house, and the Fremont place registered to Raim had shown signs of food preparation in the not so distant past. I shook my head. If he was the devouring spirit, maybe he had snapped, as Gregory had said, and was hallucinating.

  There was a little seafood place four blocks down. I maneuvered him in that direction, thinking we could talk. I wasn’t fully convinced he was the murderer, the devouring spirit we were looking for. Just because he devoured, didn’t automatically make him guilty. Plus, something wasn’t right with this whole thing. He looked like he’d had the crap beat out of him, like he’d been half starved to death. Neither his house nor Baphomet’s seemed to have seen any kind of battle. Baphomet hadn’t had a mark on him, but Raim was in bad shape.

  “Baphomet didn’t feed you?” I thought they were partners, but maybe something had gone sour and Raim had been imprisoned. Maybe Baphomet had deserved his demise.

  “No, you stupid fucking imp. Baphomet was starving too. If I’d known it was going to go down like this, I never would have done it. I never would have agreed to help. That asshole Baphomet, it was all his fault. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. This fucking crap is all because of him.”

  Yeah, they all said that. When things turned to shit, it was always best to blame someone else, or claim you had no idea what you were doing. It didn’t work very often, but playing the innocent participant sometimes paid off.

  “Did you kill that angel they found down in Mexico?” I asked admiringly. Killing an angel was a big deal. He’d be a superstar back home, and playing to his ego might get me a bit of the truth. This was the money shot. If he admitted to it, then Gregory was right. If not, well, then I’d need to find out some way around this whole thing.

  He puffed up slightly then glared, again clawing at his neck. “Of course I did! I had to. He was going to kill me. Everything was in such an uproar after I killed him that I was able to escape.” His eyes narrowed, his mouth creasing to a bitter line. “Not that I can claim it or any status for it. You know …the manner of his death and all.”

  Yeah, devouring didn’t carry the same cache as popping an angel’s head off or drowning him in a river of blood. I nodded sympathetically and cast him another admiring glance.

  “And all the demons found dead and drained . . .?” I left the question hanging.

  He laughed. “They were a bunch of stupid Lows. Lows and imps. Not like they mattered. Not like anyone e
ven noticed they were gone. Baphomet orchestrated the whole thing, but he clearly fucked it up. I mean, look at me!”

  My heart sank. Somehow I’d hoped that Raim was an innocent victim. Not that I relished being back to square one with no suspects, but I had hoped to find less of a psychopath. Raim hadn’t seemed to have snapped, but whatever his little project was with Baphomet, it involved thoughtlessly killing a slew of demons, and even an angel. He was strong enough to take down an angel and didn’t care to reign in his devouring urges. How many had he devoured? I didn’t even want to contemplate it.

  The demon paused at the door of the eatery, his face resolute. “If the angels find me, they’ll take me back. They’ll kill me.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed softly. “You devoured an angel. You’re in a lot of shit.”

  “I’m in a lot of shit anyway,” he said, his face grim. “They broke me. I’m damaged, dying. I’m broken and I can’t fix myself. Maybe if I get home I’ll be okay. I’ve got to get through that gate.”

  Unexpected sympathy lit through me. I pushed it away. Broken and dying didn’t excuse what he’d done, or his callous attitude toward the deaths of at least four demons. I might feel sorry for his damaged state, but that didn’t keep me from realizing what he’d become if he were allowed to return to Hel. There was no way I was letting this guy through that gate. He’d killed countless demons, killed an angel, and killed Baphomet. He’d leave a swath of death in his wake throughout Hel then devour all creation. I’d buy him a sandwich, lead him out of town into the wilderness, supposedly toward the gate, and then fight him in an unpopulated area. I reached up to my hair and felt the comforting hum of the feather barrette holding my hair back. Raim was far more powerful than I was, and I’d been forbidden from devouring. He hadn’t. I’d need an advantage to take him out, and my weapon, my symbol of office, was it. I’d lead him as far away as I could before I transformed the barrette into a lethal weapon to kill him, then shoot his head off. That way, no humans would get hurt in the crossfire. I had enough four–nine–five reports on my to–do list without adding more.

  “Fix yourself and we’ll grab a quick bite to eat.” There was no way they’d let him in looking like a botched guillotine execution victim.

  “I can’t. I fucking told you — I’m broken.” Raim’s eyes became glassy and unfocused, and he snarled once more, clawing at himself.

  Crap, this was bad. This guy was more unstable than I’d thought. I needed to get him out of the harbor area right now before he lost it and launched himself at me or some passing tourist.

  “Okay, okay,” I tried to calm him. “We’ll head for the gate. I’m sure the guardian has left by now.”

  I led him across Franklin Street and into a densely wooded area. My map hadn’t indicated any houses up here, and I hoped to get him a bit away from the populated area before I blew his head off.

  “How are you broken?” Why couldn’t he fix himself? And he seemed pretty mentally and emotionally unstable, even for a demon.

  “I told you. They tried to kill me.” He choked, his words coming out in pained gasps as he clawed at his neck. I stepped up the pace, moving as quickly up the steep terrain as I could.

  “The angel?” I remembered the white stuff Althean had shot at me last summer. If Gregory hadn’t been there to heal me, I would have died. Had the same thing happened to Raim? If so, no wonder he was so terribly injured.

  “Two angels, and the others. We had a deal, but I should have known better. You can never trust an angel.”

  “A deal? With an angel?” The guy was clearly deranged. He was a devouring spirit who’d killed off a bunch of demons, managed to get the upper hand in a fight with an angel, and was now seriously, if not mortally, wounded and on the run. I was beginning to think “broken” extended to his memory and cognitive process.

  “You have no fucking idea what kind of bad shit went down. We were betrayed, not that I ever trusted this wild scheme of Baphomet’s. Did he make it home?”

  What was he talking about? He’d killed Baphomet — devoured him. I turned around to face him, wondering if he was truly insane, or if there was something behind his ramblings.

  Before I could inform him of his partner’s demise and question him further, Raim halted, a look of pure fury and hate coming over his face.

  “You bitch! You sold me out!”

  I heard a familiar hiss behind me and jumped to the side as a streak of white energy flashed past, exploding a good–sized clump of trees and scrub brush. Raim dove out of the way and the blast blew a hole in the ground, sending the demon tumbling in a spray of dirt and pulverized wood. With a scream, the earth trembled around us. I felt oddly unbalanced, as if the very ground were crumbling to nothingness under my feet, then Gregory snatched me, turning me toward his chest. Hard bits of earth pelted my back and legs while I buried my face safely into the angel’s polo shirt and shielded my head. The blast quickly subsided into silence, and I lifted my face to peer questioningly into Gregory’s grim face.

  Nearly twenty feet behind him was the dense forest, but as I turned my head, I saw a blasted clearing instead of foliage, and a hole where I’d been standing just seconds before. Unlike in Seattle, this hole was nearly fifty feet across and at least twenty feet deep.

  “Where is he?” I demanded, twisting around to try and see. I didn’t exactly want the angel to let me fall into the deep hole of dirt and rock, but neither of us could successfully mount either an attack or a defense intertwined in this position.

  The angel moved backwards, and I realized his wings were visible. The decorative ones remained stationary, while the massive main wings beat silently, maintaining our hovering position as we cleared the edges of the hole. Gregory descended, gently setting me down before hiding his wings.

  “He’s gone. I couldn’t tell if he teleported or used the cover of the blast to slip away.”

  “You let him get away?” I snarled. “I had him. Had him. Now we’ll never find him again.”

  Gregory huffed, his hands roaming quickly over me to check for damage. “Sorry. I was more concerned about keeping you from being blasted into tiny particles, or devoured. I guess I should have left you to your fate and just worried about catching the murderer.”

  Last year he would have. And he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I was grateful for his quick actions, but if he hadn’t shown up in the first place, they wouldn’t have been needed.

  “Where were you?” I pounded his chest with my fist. “You’re gone for over a day, then come swooping in at exactly the wrong time. Where the fuck have you been?”

  He glared down at me. “I had things to do — personal, private things that I’m not about to discuss. I got news last night that the killer had once again tried for the Seattle gate, had been seriously injured by one of my enforcers and had taken off.”

  “Personal, private things,” I shouted at him. “You’re off doing personal, private things with a killer on the loose? And you have the nerve to question my priorities.”

  His form shimmered in anger. “Yes. And I do question your priorities, as well as your motives. I come back, thinking you’re just out hiking, and find you with him. Were you helping him? Were you going to hide him from me and sneak him through the gate?”

  “I don’t even know where the fucking gate is.” By this point I was screaming at him, wanting desperately to punch a hole through the middle of his thick head. “I’m not helping him, I’m trying to catch him. I had him ready to come with me willingly. He thought his household sent me to help him get back home. I was trying to get him further away from the humans before I tried to take him out with my Iblis weapon. Now he’ll never trust me again; I’ll never be able to get near enough to him. You fucked this all up.”

  “You’re ill–equipped to take out this demon, even with your sword, or shotgun, or whatever you’re using it as now. Stay at the inn, handle the information gathering, and leave the rest to me.”

  “Fuck you!” I s
houted. “I’m the Iblis. I killed Haagenti and a bunch of demons far above my level. I can certainly ‘take out’ this guy without any help from you.”

  “He devours,” Gregory shouted back. “I don’t want him to send you over the edge. I can’t risk you losing control.”

  “I’m fine. I’m not going to go crazy and eat the universe.”

  The angel took several deep breaths, his anger fading. “You will, eventually. Hopefully in the very distant future. If I can help delay the process in any way, I will. And I really don’t care whether you like it or not.”

  He vanished, leaving me sweaty beside what appeared to be a giant sinkhole at the edge of the woods. I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t going to live my life counting the moments until I went over the brink. If it ever happened, fine. But until then, I was the Iblis; I was Az; I was Samantha Martin, and I wasn’t going to go easily to could be my end.

  ~22~

  I didn’t see any reason to rush back to the hotel, especially since I needed to burn off some of my temper before I took it out on Gina’s adorable B&B. So I explored Juneau, blending in with the cruise ship tourist crowd looking at whale–themed shot glasses and t–shirts, all made in China. Making my way north into the working part of the city, I discovered a little fish shop tucked away behind an insurance agency near the waterfront. The staff was more than happy to provide me with samples, and seemed oddly delighted by my willingness to try anything they had in its fresh, raw state. By the time I left, I had nearly five pounds of wrapped bundles under my arm. By the time I arrived back at the inn, at least one pound was already happily in my stomach.

  “Do you have a fridge to store these in?” I asked Gina. She glanced at the labeled packages, pausing in surprise and lifting the nearly empty one closer to her nose to sniff.