Working for the Devil dv-1

by Lilith Saintcrow

  "Didn't have a choice," he returned.

  We circled each other, wary. I shifted my weight forward, playing through the sequence that would end with his head separated from his body. He countered almost immediately, and we went back to circling.

  Point for him, he'd made me twitch first.

  "Yeah," I said. "You were in such a hurry you didn't even leave a note. Must have been really deep and hot, Jace, for you to just get up and leave." I let my smile broaden. "What was her name?"

  "I've been a fucking monk since our last time, sweetheart," he said, the easy smile dropping from his voice.

  Second point for me. I'd pushed him too far.

  "I hope it's made you a better fighter… than you were as a lover." I tacked that on just to goose him.

  "You had no complaints."

  "None I told you to your face."

  He was smiling again. He moved in, testing, and I countered.

  "When are they going to—" Eddie began. I tuned him out.

  "Wait." Gabe replied.

  I caught a flash of Japhrimel watching, hands behind his back, his eyes almost spitting sparks.

  "Try me again, sweetheart," Jace said, his tone low and purring. "I've been dying for it."

  "Good for you." I shuffled back, to the side; things were rapidly heating up. "Get used to disappointment."

  "You don't want an explanation?"

  "Three years too late, Jace. All I want to do now is forget you ever existed." My own voice dropped to a whisper. His eyes narrowed.

  "Good luck," he said. "I just bought myself free of the Corvin Family, sweets, and I have some time on my hands. Want to help me fill it?"

  "I'd rather turn into a Chillfreak whore." My blade whispered free of the sheath just as his did.

  "Now?" Eddie asked.

  "Just wait," Gabe whispered back.

  "Mmh." Jace said. "You say the sweetest—"

  He moved in then, with no warning. Metal clashed and rang. We separated, both of us breathing fast and deep.

  "You've gotten quicker," he said.

  "And you still talk too goddamn much," I said, wishing I could spit. That would add something to the festivities.

  "I should put my tongue to better use," he muttered, and gave me a flash of the famous Monroe grin, the one that had Mob groupies following him around all the time.

  "Try it on someone who cares, fucker," I spat at him, and that broke the tension.

  We moved in on each other, feet shuffling, sparks spraying from the metal and the Power in the air. He wasn't trying very hard, and I almost got him twice before he realized I was serious and began to scramble. Cut overhand, spin-kick, he tried to lock me into a corps-a-corps where his height and weight could overpower me but that was an old trick, move move move, scabbard flying in to jab him in the ribs, it was a cheap shot but every little bit told, I had speed and endurance, he had power and a different type of endurance—

  Parry, parry, a short thrust he had to shuffle back to escape, metal sliding, wall coming up fast, was I going to cheat or was I going to—

  I cheated.

  I popped my left hand forward, the scabbard held horizontal, and a dart of Power flashed from my rings, spattered on his defenses.

  We separated, both breathing hard now. It bought me some breathing room.

  "Cheater," he said. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his hair truly soaked now. Thunder rumbled outside.

  "Anything for you," I answered, showing my teeth. Sweat dripped down the shallow channel of my spine. My ribs flared with deep rasping breaths. "You going to come and get me, baby?"

  "You should be so lucky," he said. "We're full-on now, sweetheart? You sure? Last time we did this I spanked your ass."

  "I was holding back," I said. "Since you always bitched when you lost."

  He grinned. "You sure, Valentine?"

  "Come over here and find out, Monroe," I dared him, katana dipping into guard. He was coming in low, his shielding swirling with the peculiar spiky turbulence of a Shaman, impossible to predict. I was glowing, glitter spattering through my aura; reacting to his nearness and to my own defenses springing up, locking with his.

  We closed in again, and this time he was serious. Metal screamed and Power tore through the air, ozone, smell of musk, the mark on my shoulder suddenly coming alive. Spray of sparks, he was using a pattern I didn't recognize but muscle memory took over again and it was like riding a slicboard, trembling on the outer edge of adrenaline control, fully alive, fully aware, kiss of breeze against my sweaty forehead, clap of thunder like angels striking and neither of us flinched, spin, half-falling, get up get up, kicked his bad knee, felt the flare of sick pain from his shielding but he was too hyped on adrenaline to slow down, we closed again but I had momentum, push, Power crackling, across the room, running, his face inches from mine, eyes locked, my lips peeled back with effort, familiar, every other time we'd fought blurring under my skin, memory and intuition and action—

  Glass. Shattering. I drove him through the window, separating from him for long enough to gain footing on the stone walk outside, heavy scent of wet green air rising from the garden on the other side of the strip of stone flags. Boot soles gripping, sliding, cut overhand, he batted it away with more luck than strength. Harsh gasps of air tore at my throat. His shielding flared, trying to throw me off, I reacted without thinking, tearing Power from the air and smashing at him.

  Rain spattering against my skin, stinging-hard. Rivulets of water down Jace's face. We were outside now, booted feet crunching in glass, the wild rain pounding on both of us, soaked to the bone and suddenly chill, breath steaming, sparks flying like water as we danced.

  Flying. I didn't have to hold back. The rhythm of the fight changed, became insistent, no think! No think! Move! Jado-sensei screamed in my memory and I fell, landing on the wet stone scrambling, scrambling, throwing aside one of his strikes, on my feet again, whirling, his scabbard coming in, deflected, I was going to bruise there by tomorrow, didn't care, alive, alive, see you stay that way, alive, alive—

  Thunder.

  He fell, blood striping his face, landing sprawled on the marble. My blade kissed his throat. For a moment I was tempted—push the blade in, no resistance, you can watch him bleed, watch the soul leave the body, watch the sparks fly, and then—

  "Do you give?" I asked, my voice a harsh croak. My ribs flared.

  "Of course," he said, his eyes closed, head tipped back, throat exposed. Steel caressed the vulnerable place where his pulse beat. My hands weren't shaking, but they were close. "Anything you want, Valentine."

  "Stay off my case, Monroe." I let the temptation slide away. Not today. I wouldn't kill him today.

  Thank the gods, think of the paperwork… I sheathed my blade, suddenly aware that the rain drenched both of us, my shirt stuck to my body, my jeans chafing, boots sloshing in foaming water. I offered him my hand, still tuned to combat, watching his blade just in case.

  "Sure." He took my hand; I hauled him up from the stone walk-turned-river. "You still look good when you fight, sweetheart."

  I tore my fingers out of his, watched as he sheathed his sword. Both of us were bloody—scraped knuckles, a cut on his scalp, his knee, a shallow slice on my shield arm, my back on fire. "Good match," I said grudgingly. "You've been practicing."

  "So have you. That double-eight thing kicked my ass."

  "Where'd you learn that little shuffle-trick? That's nice." I pushed a strand of wet hair out of my face—no matter how tightly I braided it, sometimes little bits worked free.

  "Around and about. You still do knife-work?" His hair streamed with water, dark and plastered against his forehead.

  "When the occasion calls for it." I stepped through the shattered window. "Sorry about that."

  "It's okay. It's just a window." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Goddamn, you're good."

  "I train with Jado almost every day when I'm not on a job."

  "That old dragon? Chango love you,
girl, no wonder you're good." He stepped through, shaking the water off his hair and hands, stamping his feet. That'll foul the mats, I thought, and wondered if broken glass ground into tatami was a bad idea. Of course it is. But maybe he can afford it. "I couldn't even get time with him. Some say he only trains women."

  "No, there's men too. But he says women are better. Quicker reaction time. More evil." I found myself smiling. Adrenaline laid its thin copper taste against my palate. Now I wanted a hot bath, and I wanted sex.

  Too bad. Nobody here but unavailable men. And I don't want to trust the local escorts.

  Jace's hand closed around my wrist. His skin was warm, almost too warm, his shields rubbing against mine. His thumb drifted over my skin, an intimate touch. "Danny."

  I tore my hand away again. He tried to keep it. Again. "Danny—" Again.

  "No, Jace. Forget it. That's all you're going to get from me."

  He shrugged. "It's a shame. I remember how good it used to be after a sparring session." His eyebrow quirked a little. Even with blood running down his face—head wounds are messy—he was still beautiful. I'd always liked blonds. Maybe because I had to dye my hair to fit in with Necromance codes.

  "Well, if you hadn't dumped me three years ago you might be a little luckier now," I said, and turned away.

  Gabe and Eddie were watching us. Gabe's eyes were round. Eddie's were narrowed, and he looked about ten seconds away from a growl. He had his arm over Gabe's shoulders; she leaned into his body as if she belonged there.

  Japhrimel stood bolt-upright, his hands behind him. His eyes were half-lidded and the smell of demon filled the entire practice room, warring with the tide of rain-washed air pouring in through the broken window. His coat smoked and fumed with darkness, a psychic stain spreading out from him.

  I don't know if that's really a coat, I thought, and stopped short, staring at him. What else could it be? Wings? An exoskeleton?

  Jace went utterly still beside me. "Is that it?" he asked. "You're dating a demon?"

  "Don't be ridiculous," I snapped, and stalked away from him. "Your dick always gets the better of you, Jace, maybe you should try thinking with your brain next time. Thanks for the sparring, I needed it. Next time I'll spar with Japhrimel—he's a real challenge." I was so happy with myself I used more of Jaf's name, and sounded as if I was talking about someone else. The name fit smoothly against my tongue. Japhrimel. I wondered what it meant, and if I called him by his full name, what would happen?

  "Fucking hell—" Jace began, his voice bitting a pitch I recognized.

  He'd lost his temper.

  "That's enough," Gabe snapped, even though Eddie pulled back on her shoulders. The emerald in her cheek flashed, sending a spear of green light through the heavy air. "Hades, haven't you two finished flirting? Get over it already so we can find the rucking demon and get rid of our Happy Little Pet here!"

  "Japhrimel," I said, over the last half of her sentence, "come on. The rest of you, we're going recon in two hours when the rain stops and it gets darker. I'll expect you all to be ready."

  "Oh, for fuck's—" Gabe began. Eddie shushed at her.

  "Danny?" Jace's voice.

  I stopped. Didn't turn around. Japhrimel hovered near my shoulder. I hadn't seen him blink across the intervening space, and that made me vaguely nervous.

  "Thanks for the sparring," Jace said. "I love working with you."

  "Sorry, Jace," I answered. "It's too late. I work alone."

  Then I strode out of the practice room, my anger crackling on the air, hearing Jace's awful silence behind me. I'd won both battles.

  Good for me.

  CHAPTER 27

  Japhrimel didn't say anything until we reached the blue suite. He closed the door behind us, precisely, locking it, the defenses he'd set in the walls humming as soon as I entered the room. "That was not wise," he said quietly. "A jealous man does not work well."

  "Jace works better when he's under pressure," I said, unwinding my wet hair from its braid. "And he deserved it." My rings lay dark and silent against my fingers now. I felt better, the headache eased out by pulling on Power from the well of the city now that my body had acclimatized, my back stopping its low-level cramping. I'd stretch out after a hot bath, and be ready for recon.

  My hands shook. I'd just faced Jace over a sword again. Three years. Three years—and he hadn't even tried to explain yet. Just acted as if—

  I took a deep breath. I could feel the weight of Japhrimel's green gaze on my back. Jace didn't matter. I'd said he didn't matter, that I didn't care anymore. I'd sworn many times, out loud and silently, that I was over Jason Monroe. Period. End of story, end of spell, so mote it be, amen, finis.

  "Nevertheless," Japhrimel persisted. "You should not have used me to prick his jealousy."

  I shrugged. "It's his problem. Not mine. My problem is finding Santino and getting that Egg back to Lucifer. Besides, he's only human. It's not like he can hurt you if he decides to do something stupid."

  "Perhaps," he replied. "But even demons understand jealousy, Dante."

  I started to unbutton my shirt, tossing my sword on the bed. Safe enough, I thought. At least for now. "Next time I'll spar with you. At least you'll give me a workout."

  If my voice had been any more brittle, it would have snapped. If I was over Jace, I was over him. Right?

  Right?

  "You were not sparring with him," the demon pointed out. He leaned on the door, his arms folded on his chest, his eyes half-lidded. There was a faint red stain on his caramel cheeks. Dear gods, was he blushing? "You were trying to kill him."

  "I don't see any other way to play," I tossed over my shoulder as I headed for the bathroom. "I'm going to clean up."

  "As you like." He didn't sound too pleased.

  I stopped and looked back at him, my shaking fingers pausing on the fourth button. I didn't do anything wrong, I repeated to myself. I simply sparred with Jace and made it clear he doesn't affect me anymore. Now everyone knows what's going on, it's official, it's all aboveboard and time-stamped. I didn't do anything wrong. "What? Go ahead and say it."

  Japhrimel didn't move. He might as well have been a statue, leaning against the door. Warm electric light caressed the planes of his face, sparked in his eyes. The faint reddish stain had drained from his cheeks. "You are… trifling with his affections, and using me to do so. The game is exceedingly dangerous."

  I examined him. "What are you really trying to tell me, Tierce Japhrimel? That Jace has some sort of feeling for me? Why did he leave, then? Huh? You answer me that."

  "If you like, I will find out."

  I clutched my shirt together. "I don't want to know. If it was important, he would have sent me a message or something. I'm not interested in his excuses now."

  "Then stop needling him. Treat him as an equal."

  "Hey, demon, I didn't know if you noticed, but everybody gets the short end of the stick from me."

  "Do not use me to make a human jealous, Dante. It is very unwise of you."

  "Sekhmet sa'es," I hissed. "I didn't. Don't get your girdle in a twist."

  "You did, Dante. I would advise you not to trifle with him, and not to trifle with me either." He didn't move, but the air swirled uneasily. Thunder boomed outside, muted by the bulk of the house but still enough to raise the hairs on my nape. The demon's stain on my aura moved, drawing closer to my skin, a gentle brush against the edges of my awareness.

  "Like you care," I said, and turned on my heel, stalking for the bathroom. "Leave it alone, hellspawn. This is a human thing."

  He said nothing. I stamped into the bathroom and slammed the door, then started peeling off my wet clothes. "Gods damn it, " I hissed, yanking my jeans down, kicking them into the corner. I could really hate them both, couldn't I? I sure could. Especially the gods-be-damned demon. Because?

  I found myself staring in the mirror, wet lank dead-black seaweed hair, indeterminate dark eyes, pale face, dark rings under my eyes, my mouth pulled
tight in a bitter grimace, my fingernails skritching against the counter as my hands tensed. My tattoo shifted uneasily, serpents writhing against winged staff, the emerald turning dark and glittering angrily.

  Because he's right. I want Jace to suffer. I want him to lose his temper. I want to win, goddammit. Even if it's a hollow victory. I want him to hurt.

  "Fuck," I breathed, looking at my eyes. Dark circles, mouth drawn tight, Power trembling at the outer edge of my control. Deep breath, Danny. Take a deep breath and get cool with the program, okay? Chill down. Chill down.

  I'm going to die.

  "Shut up," I whispered. "If I die, I'm taking Santino with me. I owe Doreen. And I've lived long enough."

  It sounded good, but the woman in the mirror didn't believe it. I had a mortgage. I had a Me I was just beginning to piece together and go on with. I didn't want to die.

  "How much longer would you live anyway going up against Santino, Danny?" I asked myself. "Huh?"

  Not very much longer, some deep voice replied. Just long enough to make him regret it.

  "Good," I said. "So stop fooling around."

  I don't want to die.

  "I don't have a choice. If the god takes me, He takes me."

  I still don't want to die.

  "Too bad," I whispered, turning away from the mirror. I couldn't take looking at myself any longer.

  CHAPTER 28

  " El diablo Santino," Jace said, the knife pressed against the thin Hispanic's throat. "Okay?"

  Gabe and Eddie had the mouth of the alley and the demon stood behind me. I watched the man's eyes flicker, white rolling around their edges. He was sweating, great drops of water sliding down his face. The reek of fear warred with the smell of demon. The alley was piled with garbage, hot and rank and wet from the afternoon's rain. It was only slightly cooler. My hair, trapped in a braid, was twisted into a knot at my nape. I looked down at my wrist, having just scanned the man in.

  The plug-in, clear plasilica smoothed over my dat-band, lit up with a string of code. "He's got a warrant, Jace," I said quietly. "Do we haul him in?"