Deliverance (Knights of Black Swan Book 12)

by Victoria Danann

  She took another bite and smiled slightly. “Never is a long time.”

  “I would know that better than you. How old are you?”

  “So you can ask me questions?”

  He shrugged. “You’re free to decline to answer. As am I.”

  “I don’t mind answering. I’m three hundred ninety-seven years old.”

  “You’re a child,” Deliverance said. “A child playing with matches.”

  “Whatever.” She took another bite. If she’d been needled by his comment, she gave no appearance of it.

  “A good word, whatever. Are you going to tell me why I was cursed? I believe I have a right to know.”

  “A right?” She looked at the ceiling as she took another drink of wine. “I wouldn’t take you for the sort who believes in such things as rights, or fairness and the like.”

  “I’m not an idealist. In general, I don’t believe in those things. But when it comes to me, I’m very clearheaded about what’s right and wrong.”

  She laughed out loud. “Do you mean to be funny or are you just naturally entertaining?”

  It infuriated Deliverance that the witch found him amusing. The last thing he wanted was to amuse her.

  “I can be very entertaining when I want to be. This is not one of those occasions. Are you going to tell me or not?”

  She raised a shoulder. “Sure.” She set her wine glass down. “It was Paris. I hadn’t been there in a long time, but had returned for a visit believing all those who might recognize me to be long dead. I didn’t stay long because it was all very distressing. The suffering. The tension. Humans get out of sorts when they’re cold and hungry.

  “I’d been living in Denmark for a time and had grown close to the court there. Close enough to have been given a title by marriage.”

  “You sold yourself?” the demon sneered.

  “In a sense. It was arranged by a friend. My husband was old, infirm, bedridden, and too demented to know if he occupied this world or the next. I gained a useful title and a useful fortune without having to give up a thing.”

  Deliverance had to admire that, grudgingly. She’d made a deal worthy of a demon. Just as she had with Rosie, come to think of it. “What does this have to do with me?”

  “For somebody so long lived, you’re short on patience. What’s the hurry?”

  He huffed, then said, “Go on.”

  “My husband died within six months. I took my title…”

  “Which was?”

  “Duchess of Schleswig. And my expanded fortune and went to Paris expecting it to be much the same as when I’d spent time there before. But things had changed. The city was swollen with tension. The people were hungry, cold, and hopeless while the rich engaged in obscenely lavish and decadent costume parties.

  “The French court made me welcome and invited me to a ball honoring Jefferson.”

  “President Jefferson.”

  “Well, he wasn’t yet President at the time. I found the party tawdry and distasteful, but Jefferson’s description of America, presented with persuasive passion sparked an interest in seeing the New World. That, combined with the fact that the American Revolution was perhaps contagious. Revolt was in the air and, since I had the means to avoid it, I decided to do just that.

  “The next day I booked first class passage to Boston. The trip was miserable.” Her eyes drifted to Deliverance. “You wouldn’t know about such things. Between the sea sickness and the primitive conditions… Ugh. The smells. And leers of sailors.”

  “But you survived.”

  “Yes.”

  “And, apparently the myth that witches can’t cross water is untrue.” He was being facetious and she knew it, but she laughed anyway.

  “I’ve always wondered how the purveyors of that idiocy thought witches had traveled to New England.” She shook her head. “When humans are afraid, they become as illogical as dogs.”

  When Deliverance said nothing to that, she continued. “When I arrived, I checked into a hotel and spent a couple of weeks recovering before venturing out. I was in search of some enterprise to maintain the nest egg I’d gathered between my own endeavors and my late husband’s fortune. Of course maintenance is a worst case scenario. Growth is always the goal.

  “I hired an escort to accompany me on my venture shopping. An Irish fighter. He was every bit as unattractive as he was large, but that served to enhance his purpose. Even ruffians don’t want to get crossways with a monster. Of course, I was fully capable of using magic to protect myself, but extranormal occurrences always draw attention. I’m sure you know about that.”

  As she sipped wine, Deliverance didn’t confirm or deny the truth of that. So, again, she continued without encouragement.

  “After a few weeks of having a good and thorough look around, I concluded that a dockside tavern would be the most lucrative investment. The world, even the New World, was not yet ready for women entrepreneurs or business owners.” She laughed. “Well, hel. The world is barely able to continue spinning even now when a woman amasses the means to be independent.

  “By that time I’d repeated the silent ownership model many times, hiring men to be the face of my businesses, sworn to secrecy that the owner and real manager was none other than moi.

  “Selection of those persons, whom I thought of as my masks, always depended on the business. If I wanted to appeal to women, I chose a ladies’ man. If I wanted to appeal to men, I chose a man’s man. In the case of the tavern, I wanted to nurture a reputation for gritty with a hint of dangerous.” Sixt chuckled. “I called it The Harbor Harlot. We didn’t offer prostitute services, but the name had a ring to it along with a strong suggestion that you wouldn’t take your mother there on Sunday.

  “Now, MacNamee, my Irish fighter, had been good enough in his day that he’d managed to keep a few brain cells. He was considerably smarter than he looked. Sufficient brains paired with his fearsome looks was the exact right recipe for a Boston bar intended to attract ruffians and sailors who’d just come off a sea voyage and been paid. When I offered him the job, he was so grateful he got tears in his eyes.

  “I found a property in the perfect location, where sailors had to pass by to go to and from ships, and set about converting it to its best possible presentation. During the renovation, MacNamee was learning bartending. I’d paid a bar owner some distance away to teach him everything about running a drinking establishment. During the final days before opening, he interviewed bar maids while I sat at a table in a darkened corner far enough away to seem harmless, but close enough to make a judgment call about suitability. I’d give him a nod or shake of the head.”

  “Are we coming to what this has to do with me sometime this millennium?” Deliverance clipped.

  “I see you have no appreciation for storytelling.”

  “Not really.”

  “Every ‘I Love Lucy’ is a story.”

  He smiled with unmistakable meanness. “And yet those stories managed to be interesting.”

  Sixt smiled. “That hurt, demon. Just hang on to your big girl panties. I’m almost to the part where you come in.

  “MacNamee hired people to keep the drink flowing. We had a kitchen and two cooks, but our customers had more interest in getting sloshed than replenishing a vacancy of nutrients. He also hired two thugs who looked the part as bouncers.

  “Sometimes I’d stop by to observe and see how things were going. I like to stay close to the operations of my investments. I’ve found that business doesn’t thrive when owners lack interest.” Deliverance made a circular motion with his hand. “So a corner table, out of the way, but with a vantage point of the entire establishment, was reserved for the bouncers. That’s a modern term. We called them peacekeepers.

  “Anyway, I would sit at their table. That was perfect for me because I could see everything and no one would think to approach.

  “One night my eyes were drawn toward the doorway. And there you stood. Maybe I was curious because I sensed you’re
a demon.

  “Your eyes cast around the room and came to rest on me. Just as you had drawn my interest, I’d drawn yours. The sense of being near another non-human, I guess. I got up and walked toward where you stood, not really knowing what I was going to do or say.”

  She paused and smiled softly, a faraway look suggesting that she was reliving the moment. “You whispered in my ear, ‘Come walk by the water with me tonight.’ I think I was probably helpless to do anything but agree. I said I’d get my cloak and be right back.

  “That’s what I did. I told MacNamee that I was leaving and said to compliment the cook on the meat pie. But when I returned you were nowhere in sight. I stepped outside. Something, I don’t know what, drew me to turn to the left. I walked a few paces, but spotted you soon enough. Fucking some human against a wall in the darkness.”

  Deliverance’s head angled to the side. “Jealousy?” After a few seconds the demon threw back his head and laughed. When it was out of his system, he said, “We’d barely spoken, but you were vindictive enough to rob me of choices for centuries?”

  Sixt had acted impulsively and flung a curse at the demon without thinking it through. Because it had been fueled by the strong emotion of hurt combined with petulance, it was powerful. And stuck.

  After having spent time crafting fairy tales, Sixt believed she understood consequences and, at that moment, thought it would be a righteous use of magic to give the demon what he apparently wanted. Sex all the time. Without respite.

  MacNamee gave her a curious look when she stormed back to the table she’d just vacated, still seething at having been passed over, thinking, He couldn’t wait three minutes?. The tavern stocked very little wine, but kept some for her. She ordered a glass and fumed while she drank. After a few minutes of cooling off, she had second thoughts about the hex she’d hurled at the unsuspecting demon. She decided it was, perhaps, a little bit of an overreaction.

  She returned to the street to find him and reverse the curse, but he was gone, leaving behind no way to find him. She didn’t know his name, didn’t even know what kind of demon he was. It was a lesson on impetuous behavior for Sixt at the expense of Deliverance. Although she still spoke without thinking, occasionally, she’d never after used her power in irresponsible ways. At least not intentionally.

  When the time was right, she would confess her crime to the demon and beg his forgiveness. Meanwhile, she shrugged and lifted her glass. “Like I said. I was young.”

  He shook his head. “Look, I don’t know why I snubbed you. I actually have a thing for witches. Maybe she needed attention more than you did.”

  “Needed attention?” Sixt laughed, beginning to feel a little less bad about the hex. “Are you hearing yourself?”

  “Like I said, there’s a lot you don’t know. Like that incubus demons are good at sexual healing.”

  She burst into laughter. “Okay. That clinches it. You apparently do not hear yourself.”

  He was clearly offended. “It’s a calling. Unmated Abraxas demons fix people. Women,” he added, just in case he wasn’t being clear.

  “Fix people. Uh huh.”

  “Believe what you want. I’m sure I thought you were pleasant-looking at the time. If I didn’t know that you’re a black-hearted bitch, I might find you marginally attractive even now. But I do know what you are and I also know this. The punishment did not fit the crime. Instead of binding me to this ridiculous servitude and depriving me of freedom for yet another year, you should be begging forgiveness and asking what you can do to make up for the wrong that’s been done to me.”

  It was odd that the demon had voiced her very plan. She looked around for Ashes, wondering if the cat was telepathically transmitting, carrying tales.

  “Well,” Sixt said nonchalantly, “like you said, it’s easy to believe you see right and wrong clearly when it’s being applied to you personally.” She rose and took her dishes to the sink. “So tell me, how did you get your name?”

  His body language left no doubt that he would not be answering that question. “Let me go. End this foolishness. I’ll tell you how I got my name and then we’ll go our separate ways. No harm. No foul. One time offer.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Very generous,” she said sarcastically. “You’re dismissed. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be more agreeable.”

  Deliverance couldn’t decide which word made him angrier, dismissed or agreeable. Both made his teeth grind together hard enough to create sparks like they were made of flint. Understanding that the only way out was through, he vowed again to bide his time with as much reserve as he could muster. Rosie was right. What was a year, really, relative to the long free-from-hex life he had still ahead?

  He smiled at the witch in a way that left no doubt that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking and disappeared.

  At thirteen minutes past three, Deliverance was passing the time studying dark web tactics on Graydon’s computer when he heard screaming. At first he thought the security system was going off, announcing an intruder, but after another second of listening, he realized it was Sixt.

  Within seconds he was standing by her bedside watching her live through some terror in her sleep. The cat, Ashes, was curled up in a French bergere chair nearby looking on, but making no move to wake the witch who sustained her magically.

  The scene should have delighted him. After all, seeing the witch experience discomfort to the extreme was exactly what he wanted. Wasn’t it? Impulsively, without the self-analysis the situation deserved, he reached down and shook her. Perhaps a tad rougher than necessary.

  Sixt immediately stopped screaming and opened her eyes slowly.

  She didn’t seem the least afraid when she saw Deliverance standing by her bedside. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Her voice was raspy. Sexy. He didn’t know if that was from sleep or screaming, but he felt the stirring of interest against his crotch seam and it infuriated him. He’d had enough sex to last a thousand demons a thousand lifetimes. The choice to not engage in sexual activity was a luxury he’d been dreaming about for a very, very long time and, for the moment, he was very content to be abstinent as a monk.

  He mused that, if Sixt could interest him, it was a clear sign that it might be time to consider resuming normal Abraxas behavior. He couldn’t be interested in his persecutor otherwise.

  “The matter is not with me, but with you. Some kind of nightmare I suppose. You were screaming loud enough to wake the dead.” He glanced at the cat. “And that thing just sat there. You should read it that story about the cat who saved his mistress from the Mount Vesuvius volcano.”

  Without moving her body, she swallowed, blinked a few times and said, “Thank you.”

  Deliverance didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to do the witch a service, much less a kindness. And he certainly didn’t want to be thanked.

  The demon scanned the room, not that he hadn’t been there before. He’d looked at everything in the penthouse at various times when Sixt was at the office and he was feeling curious. He told himself he was doing research.

  “Don’t bother me again. I’m busy,” he said just before disappearing.

  CHAPTER Ten HARM

  As the days passed, the demon and the witch fell into a routine. He tried to aggravate her to the point where she’d throw up her hands and release him from the contract because she’d be glad to be rid of him. She tried to ignore his barbs, getting more frustrated that he wasn’t growing the least pliable.

  Deliverance sat at the table, saying as little as possible while Sixt ate dinner. She attempted to keep up a one-sided conversation, telling him all about her day at work. Then they adjourned to her cozy sitting room where they watched TV.

  Since he wouldn’t admit to liking anything and refused to respond when she inquired as to whether he’d like to watch this or that, she began provoking him by deliberately going out of her way to choose movies that were well known for being hated by men. He sat. He watched, but neve
r gave an indication how he felt about her choices.

  He entered into a grudging one-sided truce with the cat. He learned to tolerate Ashes. She, on the other hand, decided the demon was cat-worthy and availed herself of every opportunity to jump on his lap. It happened so regularly when he used the computer in Sixt’s office that he’d stopped shoving her away. He allowed the cat to curl up, purr, and make bread on his doeskin-clad thighs.

  Occasionally he even talked to it, knowing that, should that information ever get out, his humiliation would be complete. He knew Ashes wasn’t an ordinary cat, but she seemed content to pretend and demons are very tolerant about creatures keeping secrets.

  Deliverance was rapidly rediscovering things about himself that had been lost to him. For instance, he’d forgotten the simple pleasure of being.

  Just being.

  Sitting still and needing nothing.

  Doing nothing.

  He’d forgotten that he liked to read and listen to music. He even liked a trickster version of chess, the kind of wargame where the only rule is win. He began to play regularly with a firemander named Mercury in Eruptian dimension.

  And wine. Though he didn’t need to eat or drink, he found that he liked wine. He’d never had a reason to sit for dinner on a regular basis. Watching Sixt enjoy wine with dinner every night gradually began to reshape his perspective.

  One might say it was consciousness-raising. He liked the way it looked, the way it smelled, the way it was inextricably tied to romanticism. His daughter was a vintner and, of course, he’d had Black Swan wine, but there’s no rest or pleasure for addicts, only a compulsion to look for the next fix. While he’d been in that state, true enjoyment of anything was an impossibility.

  The problem with reconnecting with simple pleasures was that the realization of what he’d missed, for centuries, made his blood boil like he had fire in his veins. Which he did, actually, but it was usually more… dormant.

  The night he confronted the biggest wrong done him by the witch he felt his anger erupt into rage like the eruption of a volcano. He realized that his Rosie, Litha’s mother, had taken her life because Deliverance couldn’t control his constant and insatiable need to copulate. When he drew a line to the cause of Rosie Pottinger’s death, he found the witch, Sixt. If she’d never cursed Deliverance, he would have mated with Rosie and extended her life so that she’d be alive that very day. They would have raised their daughter together. Perhaps had other offspring.