by Debra Dunbar
“Enhancing your magical abilities with demon energy as a catalyst,” I guessed. “Nice. You guys would be a force to be reckoned with in Hel. You could subdue all your elven neighbors, enslave nearly all the demons.”
A glass shattered at my conjecture and my blood felt like ice. Feille was fucking nuts if he thought he could get away with that one. All the demon energy in the world wouldn’t save him from a high–level demon. Or would it? I’d underestimated elven magic too many times before. I’d be stupid to do it again.
But what were the angels getting out of all this? There had to be something more.
I heard the swish of the door again, then a heap of dirty flesh slid beside me along the floor.
“Hello, darling.” The angel’s voice was full of good cheer. “I’ve found your little friend. He was hiding in a storeroom only a few hundred feet from the exit. So sad that he didn’t make an escape, isn’t it?”
I turned my head, trying to see Stab, but all I could manage to view was a lump on the floor and a bare foot.
“You, hook him to that table over there,” The angel instructed. “And you turn this little imp’s table upright, so she can watch the fun.”
I had no desire to watch the “fun”. I didn’t want to see what they were going to do to Stab, to watch helpless as the light went out of his eyes. I’d promised him I’d get him out of here—I’d promised—and now I had to see him die.
One of the guards raised my tabletop vertical, which meant I was suspended by the stakes through my limbs and my neck collar. I tried to hold myself upright, to take the pressure off my impaled hands and feet, but my one shoulder wasn’t up to the task. Gravity took hold, and I felt my diaphragm condense as my weight sagged on the metal spikes, my breathing further compromised by the pressure on my neck from the restraint there. I had to tense all my muscles and try to hold myself up by pushing against the stakes through my feet, which wasn’t easy in my weakened, starved state. Muscles shook, and I found myself constantly slipping and choking.
Stab didn’t look any more comfortable. They hadn’t bothered with the silver energy–blocking restraints on his wrists and ankles, but the thin chains binding him to the table cut deep into his flesh. Blood welled up from the cuts, thick and sluggish, illustrating how terribly dehydrated the demon was. He turned his head to me, and I saw he’d been battered by a hard object. His nose was smashed flat to his face, and both lips were torn.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You gave it a good shot. I wish I could have bought you more time.” I wish I could have killed this fucking angel and his sorcerer too. Then gone after Feille and mounted his sorry–ass head on a pike to parade through the streets. Fuckers.
Stab smiled. It was a gruesome sight with his torn mouth and mashed nose. “Hot wings sounded fun. Sorry I won’t be able to make it.”
My eyes burned. Fuck, I was not going to cry. Not in front of this angel. “Rest assured, this sorcerer is going to die. The angel too. And it won’t be an easy or quick death.”
Stab’s smile was fleeting, and I heard a laugh from the being that had quickly climbed to the top of my “want–to–kill” list.
“You’re in no position to kill me, sweetheart, but you keep on with your little fantasy.”
I snarled, feeling all the rage of the past few days rise up. The sorcerer hesitated, an odd, glowing tube in hand, and gave a quick glance toward the angel.
“Maybe not, but you’ll still die. Did you not notice I’m bound? He’s going to come after you and take you apart one tiny little bit at a time. You’ll never escape him, and you’re a fool if you think you can best him in a fight.”
The angel chuckled, taking the tube from Pash and slamming it into the center of Stab’s chest. The demon gasped, rising off the table as far as he could before collapsing down.
“I see who has bound you. I have no idea why he’d bind a nasty demon instead of just killing you as always. No doubt he’s got some job for you to do. He can’t summon you from here with all the shielding in place, and centuries from now, when he finally gets around to it, he’ll just think you died. Don’t flatter yourself that you matter at all to him, or to any angel. You’re all no more than a smudge of dirt on our wings to be washed off.”
He didn’t know. Didn’t know who I was, or that Gregory’s bond with me went far beyond the traditional one. He must have been down here with the humans for over a year without communication with Aaru, or surely he would have known. Angels love gossip as much as we do, and I’d been the subject of much gossip over the last year.
“Don’t bet on it. He’s the one who killed your other mage. Hunted him down and shredded him like coleslaw. Cut off his hand and sent it to me in a freezer box as a gift. Your fate will be worse.”
The sorcerer had backed away, his face gray, his hands over his mouth. He looked terrified, like he was about to puke.
The angel shot an irritated glance at him. “Don’t let her get to you. She’s lying. Demons do. You should know that by now.”
“Your mage had a ring on the middle finger of his right hand. A gold ring with a black onyx stone inscribed with an inverted triangle and an ‘x’. I know. I’ve seen the ring, held it in my hand. I’ve held his severed hand in my hand. The angel is looking for you right now. I told people where I was going.”
The sorcerer gagged, and the angel waved a hand at him to come help with Stab. “Get on with this. If he was looking for her, he would have been here by now. She’s lying.”
Pash edged over to the table, keeping one wide eye on me as he placed his hands over the glowing tube and began to chant. The lights dimmed and a bright white began to fill the large glass teardrop–shaped bottle off to the side. It must have been some substance other than glass, had to have been magically enhanced. Raw energy can only be held inside a demon. Once it is released, it has to become something — usually something terribly explosive, but somehow it remained in its neutral state within the glass.
Stab was still alive and breathing, and he didn’t look to be in terrible pain as the energy flowed out the tube and into the vessel. He’d been telling the truth about not being a particularly powerful being. The glass jar was not even a quarter of the way full when the glow faded from the tube.
“Disappointing,” the sorcerer murmured.
“Let’s see if the rest of him is any more interesting,” the angel commented as Pash removed the tube. The flesh glistened around the wound, knitting and closing to leave nothing but smooth, unscarred flesh.
Stab’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, his jaw beginning to tremble. We can survive just fine without raw energy. We can’t fix injuries, or defend ourselves beyond physical abilities, but we don’t die. What came next would kill Stab. The dead demons had all been drained from their bodies, just as if a devouring spirit had taken them. I now realized that outside of the dead angel, Raim hadn’t drained any of them.
The sorcerer wheeled the glass container off to the side and picked up what appeared to be an amulet and a metal box. He handed the box to the angel, who opened it and removed a rod that pulsed with crimson light. Stab closed his eyes and clenched his fists as the sorcerer placed the amulet on his forehead and murmured a string of words in Elvish. Stab jolted, and a deep indigo mist rose from his mouth, spiraling as it rose to the rod. With increasing speed, the mist coalesced inside the rod, swirling into a purple light that churned with a life of its own.
Stab was clearly dead on the table, and I worried that his soul was trapped inside that glowing rod. The angel smiled at me as the sorcerer began to tidy up the equipment.
“I’m off to go see if this one will work. We’ve been adjusting the methodology, but I don’t have much hope for this particular experiment. I’m thinking these demons are far too low in status. No matter. If this one fails, we’ll try again with you.”
With a flash of light the angel vanished, leaving me to wonder what experiment he was doing with a demon’s spirit being and wh
ere he needed to go. The only use I’d ever known for our personal energy was breeding, when we separated off a portion of ourselves and passed it to another for the formation of new demon life.
Oh fuck. Unlike demons, angels couldn’t interbreed. They needed a demon for the process, and the war had divided us, taking away any opportunity for procreation among them. But it wouldn’t be as easy as yanking us out of our bodies. In angel/demon pairings, the demon needs to do the formation. Without a willing demon, an angel could never breed — unless they’d somehow managed to figure out a way to employ a surrogate.
I glanced over at the sorcerer and realized that was the symbiotic relationship between them. The angels gave technology to the elves that would allow them to better control demons, to contain their raw energy for their own uses, and the elves assisted them in finding a baby mama method of procreation. I could only imagine how much that would divide the angelic host. Those who were desperate to have offspring, but not kiss and make nice with the demons, would jump at this chance while the purists held firm to their vows. It would be a turning factor that divided Aaru in two.
One of the guards lowered my table into a horizontal position. I gasped, feeling the pressure off my feet and the pain return to all the places that had gone numb. Stab was dead and I’d be next. My mind swam in agony and I felt a moment of despair. My corporeal form was badly damaged. I couldn’t fix it, couldn’t create another. I couldn’t fight as a demon, and I sure as fuck couldn’t fight as a human with the injuries this body held. Sleep would be good right now, but I worried that sleep might drift into forever.
Pash finished tidying up and walked out with the two guards, leaving me in the well–lit room with Stab’s corpse and the creepy laboratory equipment. I craned my neck to see the glass containers. Three were full, one had that small amount of energy Stab had unwillingly contributed, and two more were empty. Lows didn’t have much energy storage capability. I doubted a dozen would be able to fill more than one container. How long had they been at this? How much raw energy did Feille have in his weasely little elven hands? Staring at the containers, I realized that I had far more raw energy contained within me than they could hold. If I overflowed one, would everything explode? Would it set off a chain reaction with the other storage vessels?
I looked into Stab’s lifeless eyes with grim resolve. No matter what happened, I’d find a way to take these fuckers out. I’d promised him we’d get out of here. Vengeance for his death would need to be the next best thing.
~33~
Sadly, your friend’s offspring didn’t make it out of the tube alive. I saved some samples, just in case, but I think he’s a lost cause.”
I opened my eyes to see the angel rubbing his hands in anticipation. They’d removed Stab’s corpse at some point, and I wondered where they’d dumped his body. Probably down around Richmond, Virginia, if their past pattern of corpse disposal was anything to go by.
Pash wheeled the mostly empty glass container toward my table. I’d been sleeping, dozing fitfully as my mind wandered. I was beginning to hallucinate, which, while entertaining, wasn’t doing anything to help me think of a strategy for either escape or destruction.
The sorcerer approached the table and picked up the glowing tube. This all seemed to be going quite a bit faster than Stab’s procedure had. I wondered if they were just trying to get it over with, or if they’d drawn the other demon’s death out to torture me.
“Hold on.” The angel frowned. “Better get one of the empty containers instead.”
The sorcerer met his eyes defiantly. It was the first time I’d seen him actually have some backbone around the angel. “This one’s almost empty. None of them fill a full one, and I don’t want to waste the space. I’m the one that has to haul them through the gate while you sit and watch.”
The angel glowed slightly, allowing a hiss to escape his lips. I couldn’t help a quick grin, because he suddenly reminded me of a wussy version of Gregory. Poser.
“Watch your mouth. You’ll do as I say or I’ll kill you and tell that elf to send me a new sorcerer.”
The sorcerer paled, but I laughed.
“I don’t think Feille has any sorcerers left. He’s a complete asshole, and they run off regularly. I used to do retrieval, but even I won’t work for him anymore.”
Pash started, turning to me. “You’re the one? The one who brought the guy home in a bag, in little bits?”
“Yep,” I told him proudly. “Elves need to give us clear instructions, or they’re going to get a dead guy when they wanted him alive.”
“Empty. Get an empty one.” The angel cut me off with a wave of his hand. Pash complied, wheeling the semi–full container back with the others and brining an empty one forward.
The sorcerer’s hands shook as he held the tube toward my chest. Not wanting to make his job any easier, I snarled, grinning in what I hoped was a maniacal fashion.
“Just do it,” the angel commanded.
“She’s gonna kill me,” Pash whined, looking at the angel with pleading eyes. “Chop me into little bits and stuff me into a bag.”
“Of all the stupid, weak–willed, cowardly humans, I get stuck with you!” the angel shouted, snatching the tube from his hands. He reached toward me and jabbed it downward.
I twisted as far as I could. The tube missed its mark, plunging into my right lung. A hiss of air exploded, and I gasped for breath. I wanted to consolidate inside myself and escape the pain of a slowly dying body, but I fought the urge. I needed to remain in control of muscles and nerves until the last possible minute, even if it meant my death.
“Hold still,” the angel commanded, compulsion in his voice.
“Fuck you.” I twisted again, and he jabbed again, missing and hitting the already–deflated lung.
The angel’s knuckles were white on the tube as he tried to aim it at my thrashing chest. Instinctively, he reached out with his other hand and pressed on my shoulder, trying to hold me still. Agony lanced through me as his hand hit right on my gunshot wounds, but I smiled. Reaching out to his spirit self through the contact of our flesh, I grabbed hold and pulled.
He screamed, frantically trying to yank away, but I’d gotten a firm hold. He was stronger than I’d expected, and I was so weak — physically, as well as within my spirit self. Yes, I’d seized hold of that portion of Gregory when he’d tried to bind me, but it had been an instinctual response, and I’d never tried to actually devour him. I’d never tried to devour anyone but a demon. I pulled, slowly gaining ground, even in my current state. Haagenti had poured into me like a spool unwinding, Raim had been a desperate struggle over who would devour who, but this angel’s powers were unfamiliar, and his will strong. Slowly, he edged closer to me, tantalizingly within reach.
Pain exploded within me, and I gasped, everything narrowing to a pinpoint of white in an endless black. I struggled to hold on, but the angel began to regain the parts of himself I thought I’d won. Again a bolt of pain shot into me, and my grip slipped, allowing the angel even further advantage. Bolstered by the turn of events, he renewed his struggle to pull away. I was weakening. Pain once again slammed through me and I lost my grasp, the angel snapping back into himself.
As my vision cleared, I saw him, on the floor, panting and staring at me in astonishment. I realized the pain I’d been feeling was because of the sorcerer, who’d been slamming the tube into my thrashing body, eventually hitting his mark. I felt the stream pouring from me, and I was powerless to stop it.
“You nasty, disgusting creature,” the angel gasped. “How could there be two of you? How? The one that killed Sallep, and now you?”
I’d almost had him. If that fucking sorcerer hadn’t suddenly decided to make a stand. I glared at him, and he smirked back, confident and unafraid now that my energy flowed out of me into his glass globe. I guess I couldn’t blame him — the angel was likely to keep him alive as long as he was useful, but I would have killed him right after I’d devoured the angel.
<
br /> “I’m not about to perpetuate a devouring spirit.” The angel sneered, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. “I don’t want to try to breed this one. We’ll just kill her after you’ve drained off her energy.”
“Just as well,” I taunted him. “I’ve got a whole stack of breeding petitions ahead of you, some of them from very notable demons. I can’t imagine your request would have met with my favor.”
“Sir, the container isn’t big enough; it’s going to overflow.” The sorcerer’s voice radiated with fear. I grinned.
The angel raced over, grabbing the tube that protruded from my chest. I struggled against my restraints, trying to push more raw energy forward as he tried to push it back in. The glass vessel foamed as raw energy spilled over the top. Drops of acid rolled down the sides, sizzling as they hit the floor and burned inch–deep pockmarks into the stone.
“Hold it in, hold it in,” the sorcerer screamed. He chanted, his hands on the container blistering with contact.
With a pulse of power, the angel wrenched the tube from my chest, rebounding the energy back into the slippery restraints, but not before I’d managed to grab a substantial chunk. Relief flowed through me. I felt lost without access to my energy. All those times in Aaru when I’d been restrained and naked, I’d been in the throes of a panic attack. It wasn’t just the lack of corporeal form, it was the defenseless feeling of being without any demonic skills. The amount I now held was a fraction of my usual amount, but it was still a comfort.
Pash knelt, breathing heavy, his hands horribly burned from the acid. The angel shoved him aside, wheeling the glass container off with the others and placing the glowing tube back on the table.
