Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5)

by Debra Dunbar

  Gabriel was momentarily distracted by the glossy orange and tan bag at his brother’s side. Did it hold some substance that neutralized undead? He’d never seen a weapon like this before, but humans had changed considerably since he frequented their home. Who knew what they were capable of? Too far, too fast, he thought with a scowl.

  “I’ve been reading the reports of the two dead angels and have found some unsatisfactory gaps. Since your Grigori discovered the deaths, I’d hoped you could shed some light on what happened.”

  Any other angel would have shriveled at Gabriel’s tone, but his brother just shrugged and opened the colorful bag, shaking it and peering inside thoughtfully. “And this couldn’t wait until the next council meeting? These ‘unsatisfactory gaps’ weigh so heavily on your mind that you risked your purity to venture here and disturb my important work?”

  Gabriel tensed, a reflex born billions of years ago, but he refused to let this brother intimidate him anymore. “I’m sure the undead in that house can wait while you turn your attention toward two dead angels.”

  The elder angel sighed, shifting his gaze from the bag to meet Gabriel’s eyes. “In the most recent death, the angel was destroyed in an explosion on an island off Washington State. He was not Grigori and did not have permission to be here. Cause of the explosion is unknown.”

  “Yes, I know that. It’s in the report.” Gabriel waved an impatient hand. “When will you have concluded the investigation as to the cause of his death, and his reason for being out of Aaru without following proper protocol?”

  Gabriel felt the weight of his brother’s stare and struggled to continue to meet his gaze. Slowly, the elder angel lowered his eyes to the bag, reaching his hand in and withdrawing a thin, circular object, dusted in orange powder. “We are Grigori. It is not our primary responsibility to investigate fallen angels who have met a just end.”

  Gabriel took a sharp breath. “And how do you know it was a just end? The report simply says he was here without permission. That alone does not deserve death, unless your standards have become refreshingly strict in the last few days.”

  “We’ll investigate in a fair and impartial manner. In due time.”

  Gabriel felt his temper rise. “What kind of explosion could have killed an angel? If the humans are starting up that nonsense again, then we need to take action. Really, brother, I didn’t expect you to have such a casual attitude toward this.”

  The elder angel fingered the thin disc in his hand, sprinkling orange powder like fairy dust on the pavement. “As I said, we will investigate in due time. The other dead angel was found in Parral Mexico by one of my enforcers. He left behind his corporeal form.”

  Gabriel sputtered in frustration. “Yes, yes. Why? Is this some new, dangerous human technology? Was it a devouring spirit? If so, I’d expect you would not be standing here playing with round orange things in a bag.”

  What was wrong with him? The brother he’d grown up with would have scoured the earth, sword a-blaze, filled with holy wrath until he’d found the murderers. Especially if there was a devouring spirit at large. The fate of all creation might be at stake, and here he stood as if he just didn’t care.

  “It was a devouring spirit. He’s dead. Case closed.”

  Gabriel felt words choking in his throat. “Why is that not in the report? A devouring spirit strong enough to kill an angel and you just conveniently leave it out of the report? We need to catalog this incident, record the power levels and add the data to our projections. How could you not report this?”

  His brother shrugged, turning the orange disk between his fingers. “Guess I forgot. My bad.”

  Forgot? He forgot? And since when did his esteemed, ancient brother use human slang? Gabriel felt his body shake with rage, but anger was a sin that would move him too far from the precious, balanced center. Clenching his fists, the younger angel took several deep breaths, willing himself to return to a calm and logical state.

  “Why was the deceased angel down here? What was he doing, and how did he manage to encounter a devouring spirit? Two angels, down here without permission, both dead—brother, what do you intend to do?”

  The elder angel looked pensive as he shoved the orange disk in his mouth and crunched it. “I intend to suggest that angels not journey down here without following proper procedure. It appears to be hazardous to their immortality.”

  For a few moments Gabriel could do nothing but stare, uncertain whether his brother’s action or his words were the most disturbing.

  “Did… did you just eat that thing?”

  His brother brushed his fingers across his jeans, leaving a trail of orange. “Potato chips with some sort of crab seasoning on them. I prefer the salt and vinegar ones myself, but Wyatt likes these best.”

  He extended the bag toward Gabriel, who just shook his head in mute astonishment. “Let it be, Gabriel. I will take care of this business, and I promise you will eventually have your full report.”

  With that, the elder angel dug another chip from the bag, popping it into his mouth before turning to walk back into the house, leaving Gabriel to stare after him.

  3

  Two weeks. At least I think it had been two weeks. There was no daylight in the cell, no way of counting the passing hours, so I was pretty much guessing. Could have been two days, could have been two years. It certainly felt like two years. The shorter elf scout, the one called Lyte, had come back for the girl, furious to find her still alive. She was weak, but managed to stagger out when he’d told her to go. I only hoped someone healed her wounds and kept them from infection. I hoped she’d gotten something to eat, some sort of relief from the nightmare her life had become. I worried that she might have been killed, but perhaps that would have been a relief to her.

  Soon after the girl left, Lyte had scooped me back in my bucket and dumped me in another, more filthy cell. I wasn’t sure why. This time he’d taken the bucket with him, leaving me alone in the cell with whatever bugs and rodents could penetrate the magical barriers.

  Since then, that fucking elven scout had been down ten times to check on me. He’d taunt me, dangle a finger temptingly close then stand back and frown, as if he wasn’t sure whether I was animal or vegetable.

  I’d made progress. I could feel the bits of my spirit-self knitting together with a hideous network of scarring. That’s one of the reasons I felt I’d been down in this cell at least several weeks. Damage like I’d sustained didn’t repair quickly. In my semi-liquid state, I could shift myself across the floor. Mobile pond scum was a step in the right direction but I was more ecstatic that I could now change the composition of my body. I could manage a solid form—some kind of lizard with internal organs and legs. I wasn’t the fastest thing in Hel, but I could move, and I had little teeth. I formulated a plan to burst from pond scum into my little lizard being, escape from the dungeon and hopefully manage to get into the forest. I just needed to wait for the right moment.

  I still couldn’t store raw energy, but here in Hel, that wasn’t really necessary. If that skill was lost forever, I’d never be able to return to the realm of the humans, though. There, I’d be defenseless, unable to fix any injury or change my shape or create even the most basic of elements. Without any storage mechanism, I was damned to Hel forever. Baby steps, though. Right now I just wanted to be mobile, and to get the fuck out of Wythyn before they figured out what, and who, I was.

  I was trying to convert into something more ferocious, and possibly with a voice box, when I heard the clang of the dungeon door, and footsteps. Quickly I resumed my original state, oozing back to the spot where I’d originally been deposited.

  “See? There.” It was my elven nemesis, accompanied by three individuals out of my range of vision.

  There was a moment of silence while I contemplated the chill of the stone floor, the thick layer of dust stacked high in the corners of my cell. Someone really needed to clean this fucking place.

  “It’s some kind of pond scum,”
announced a bored voice. Maybe I wouldn’t need to plan a jailbreak after all. Maybe they’d finally let me out, take me in the woods and dump me where I could repair myself in peace. It would really suck if they just power-washed me down the grate at the edge of my cell, although at this point I’d be happy to take that option. I’d no idea where that thing went. I was sure it would not be pleasant, but it had to be better than this boring, filthy dungeon.

  “No, look. It’s been moving. See how there are marks in the dust on the floor? It’s in the same place every time I come in here, but clearly it’s been moving about.”

  Fuck! I hadn’t thought about having to cover my tracks. Not that I had any way to do so.

  “Rats. Or snakes. Or a breeze.” The voice was bored, irritated with the bother.

  “No! The footprints are too big for rats, and the pattern isn’t like a snake. There’s no breeze down here strong enough to move the dust in that pattern. Look at the other cells, they don’t have those kind of marks on the floor.”

  I held my breath. Well, I would have if I had lungs. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw a figure move into view. A human, tall and thin, wearing green robes embroidered with golden runes. He carried a carved yew staff with a blue stone in a claw at the top. He leaned close to look at me through the bars and scratched his grey hair with a bony hand.

  “Fine. But if it turns out to be pond scum, I’m going to request that you scoop it up with your bare hands and clean the entire dungeon floor on your hands and knees.”

  A sorcerer. I’d feared as much, but hearing him address an elf in such a fashion had confirmed it. Sorcerers were top of the food chain among the human slaves and had enough value to rank higher than some low level elves. Probably even higher here in Wythyn, where they were becoming somewhat of an endangered species.

  The sorcerer sprinkled a powdered substance on me, and began to chant. I wasn’t sure what to do. If I pulled my personal energy deep inside, as Gregory had taught me to do, my physical form would suffer and the change may be noticeable. If I extended myself out as far as I could into my corporeal shell, it would appear realistic, but might register more easily on a divination spell. Unsure, I just kept as I was and hoped luck was in my favor.

  It wasn’t.

  “It is a demon,” he said, his voice full of wonderment. “How long has it been this way?”

  “Two months.”

  Ugh. Two months I’d been down here, plus the three days I’d lain in the forest before these scouts found me. Did Gregory wonder whether I was alive or dead? Was Wyatt frantic with worry? How were the girls getting on? Did Michelle ever rent that unit on Monroe?

  “Are you sure?” The sorcerer turned to the scout, his tone full of skepticism. “It’s not very intimidating for a demon to look like a couple gallons of pond scum. I could see one doing this to lure someone in close before changing and frightening them, but I can’t believe one would continue with this strange, limited physical form for more than five minutes. They just don’t have the patience for this sort of thing.”

  Tell me about it. This whole thing sucked big time.

  “I don’t know,” the scout replied. “I have no idea why it’s still like that, but it’s been that way since we found it two months ago.”

  The sorcerer made a “come hither” motion with a hand, and another person out of my line of vision came forward. Another human—a servant carrying a box. I felt mild curiosity, and a significant amount of dread as I contemplated the possible contents of said box.

  “All right.” The sorcerer sighed, as if he’d much rather be home in bed, or poring over a huge, leather-bound tome by magical light. “I’ll check.”

  Check what? I was already facing spending the next few months here in this cell, or however long it took until I could successfully formulate a jailbreak. The sorcerer took out a series of colored stones from the box and instructed a hovering guard to open the cell door.

  “Are you sure?” he asked nervously, darting a quick glance in my direction. “If it’s a demon, maybe you should stay out here.”

  “It’s been pond scum for two months,” the sorcerer said dryly. “What’s it going to do, stain my robes?”

  I doubted I could even do that, but I could change shape and bite his ankle. Unfortunately, with two armed elves and a human, I doubted I’d have much chance of getting out, even in lizard form. I’d hoped to wait until Lyte was down here alone, but I might not have any other alternative than to surprise them and take my chances. Four against one. I didn’t like those odds one bit, especially with my current injuries.

  The sorcerer motioned the elven guard forward, and I was amused to see the scout happily step aside, making sure the guard would be between himself and the soon-to-be open cell. The guard opened the gate, which slid back with a horrible, rusty screech. These elves really did a shitty job of maintaining their dungeons. Feille should be ashamed of himself.

  “Protect me,” the sorcerer commanded. The elven guard drew a rather impressive-looking sword, and the scout readied his bow with a cocked arrow. I didn’t think either would damage me in my current form—the only advantage to pond scum that I could think of, but they’d skewer me in the lizard form. Could I be fast enough to outrun them? Or should I just hold tight and wait for another opportunity? They’d discovered I was a demon. How much longer until they discovered I was that demon?

  The sorcerer placed a series of smooth, round stones in a circle approximately ten inches from the edge of my shape, alternating in colors.

  Standing back, the sorcerer threw up his hands. “Blican!”

  Immediately the stones began to glow, sending up a stream of colorful mist toward the ceiling.

  “Cennan I beost-hord.”

  I had no fucking idea what happened, but four pairs of eyes doubled in size as the entire group raced out of the cell, slamming the door shut. In their haste, the door didn’t latch, bouncing wide open. I made a split-second decision and transformed into my only other shape and took off. The result would have been hysterical if I hadn’t been so deadly serious about getting out alive. All four screamed as if they’d been castrated, the human throwing the box across the room and racing for the door. The guard had more presence of mind and hacked at me with his sword, all the while dancing around on his tiptoes. Two arrows bounced off the ground before Lyte high-tailed it after the human.

  That left me with less legs and feet to avoid, although I wasn’t sure I would be able to beat the human and the elven scout to the dungeon entrance, and I doubted they’d hold it open for me. Darting back and forth with as much speed and finesse as a lizard could manage, I saw an opening and ran for it. Unfortunately, I only made it three feet before a foot came straight for my head.

  I refuse to be kicked in the head without retaliation, so I latched onto the sorcerer’s leg, digging my little claws in tight, and bit down. He didn’t taste very good, and his frenzied leg shaking was giving me vertigo, but I held on like duct tape to his calf.

  “Get it off, get it off,” quickly changed to “Don’t stab me, you stupid idiot.”

  I could only imagine the guard, reluctant to get his hands or feet within range, was trying to jab me with his sword. Sure enough, a blade flashed by me, tearing a jagged hole in the sorcerer’s robes. Finally, the sorcerer reached down with both hands and grabbed me, pulling with all his might. If I had been a bigger lizard, I might have managed to hold on. Instead, he ripped me from his leg, losing a bit of flesh in the process. I flew through the air and smacked against a filthy wall with a painful thwack, before sliding to the floor. Before I could get my feet under me to rush the door again, it clanged shut—this time catching firmly in the latch.

  The elven guard locked me in, hands shaking. The sorcerer muttered a quick spell and a curtain of gold fell before the bars, evidently an added layer of magic to keep me safely inside. Spell complete, he bent over, wheezing as he dabbed his torn robes against a bloodied leg. The human seemed long-gone, but Lyte crept back
into view, looking at me nervously through the safety of the magicked door. The very one I’d wanted to bite had run away, and my bid for freedom had failed. I had no idea what the spell had revealed, but I had a feeling the jig was up. At least they’d been frightened enough from my attack to abandon their glowing stones in the room with me. I wondered if I might be able to use them to my advantage. At the very least, they’d make decent projectile weapons. Too bad my two available forms didn’t have opposable thumbs.

  “I can’t believe.… I just can’t believe it,” the elven scout stuttered.

  The sorcerer panted, clearly taxed by the unusual physical effort of dancing around with a lizard attached to his leg. “Well, that answers the question as to why she remained a mess of pond scum for two months.”

  “What do we do?” the scout asked. “I’m not going back in there. I heard what she did last time she was here.”

  The sorcerer wiped a line of sweat from his brow. “We tell His Lordship, that’s what we do. There’s a bounty out for her, and he’s eager for revenge after what happened last time.”

  The three backed carefully out of the dungeon, wide eyes on me the whole time. I glared at them as they left, then crawled back into my circle of glowing stones, feeling like lady luck had finally deserted me for greener pastures. They knew who I was, and they were on their way to tell Feille—the very one I’d pissed off beyond any chance of forgiveness. Any day now, he’d arrive for his revenge, and there was nothing I could do. Nothing. I had the choice of either a gelatinous ooze, or a nuisance-sized lizard. I had no demon powers with which to defend myself. Nothing beyond the physical abilities of my two forms. Escape was looking unlikely. I could only wait, frantically try to recover more of my abilities and hope my death would not be particularly long and painful.

  4

  Neutral balance eluded him, even here in his most precious Aaru. A brief moment of peace was all Gabriel could manage before thoughts crashed his composure, filling every space of his being. He tried to clear his mind, to concentrate on the essence that surrounded him. Aaru—so clean and sharp, so soothing in its uniformity. Here, he had no corporeal form subject to physical sensation, tempting him to actions far beneath one of his evolved status. Here in Aaru, there was nothing to disturb him except the tangle of emotions that currently destroyed his concentration.