Queen of the Damned (Imp Series Book 9)

by Debra Dunbar

  “That’s a battle I’m going to lose.” That’s what I was really afraid of. I’d been lucky, really lucky, and there had been a time in my life when I didn’t care whether I won or lost. But that time was past. I cared. I cared a lot. I couldn’t lose, and the scared young imp in me somehow thought if I didn’t fight, I wouldn’t run the risk of losing at all.

  I knew that was a lie. Inaction was a choice. Halting, half-assed action was a choice. And if I was going to lose, I wanted to do it with every bit of my effort and crazy-self in play. Harkel was right. Nyalla was right. I glanced over at Boomer and he gave me a toothy grin, his ears flat against his head. Damn. Even Boomer wanted me to go for it.

  “You won’t lose, Sam.” Nyalla reached out and ran her hand over my hellhound’s head. “I know in my heart that you won’t lose. The world needs your chaos and your crazy far too much for you to lose.”

  Chapter 4

  I wasn’t ready to go storming into Hel with my pool noodle sword raised before me, so I took a baby step in my “I’m the Iblis, hear me roar” campaign. Step one would be to let the Ruling Council know to expect an influx of demon visitors across the gates. Step two would be to figure out what the Ancients were really up to, and if this whole “take over Aaru” thing was a viable threat or not.

  Snip had been my go-to Low for quite a while now, so I dragged him out of the guest house where he was throwing darts at a Taylor Swift poster and sent him to Hel with an errand. Then I got to work.

  Beatrix had called while I was talking with Snip and let me know a demon had gotten past her at the Columbia Mall gate. Normally she’d call in an enforcer to chase the dude down, but that would make her look weak, like she couldn’t manage to do her job. Beatrix had been on a leave-of-absence for months following the battle with a souped-up demon that had destroyed the mall, killed two enforcers, and left her with her wings pinned to the ground. Gregory had put her back on the job, telling me that she’d never gain the respect of the other angels if she let this horrible experience keep her from her duties. Still, the angels looked at her funny, like she was a weakling.

  Beatrix didn’t want to reinforce that opinion, so when a demon snuck through she called me. Sometimes I told her to get bent, because I was busy with a gazillion other things. Sometimes I actually chased down the demon, and if I found them, I dragged them back to apologize to Beatrix before I tossed them through the gate to Hel. Technically the demons fell under my purview, and those that were violating the treaty by crossing into the human area were mine to punish and return to Hel.

  Baby steps.

  Beatrix usually couldn’t leave the gate unattended, so other than giving me a description and a general direction, there wasn’t much she could do in helping me locate these demons. I wasn’t a Bloodhound, and Boomer didn’t take to teleporting, so if I couldn’t find them in the first fifteen minutes, I usually gave up.

  Luckily this time I didn’t have to look far before finding my target. It helped that Beatrix had told me exactly where to find him, and that she was standing outside the Bobby’s Burger Palace at the Arundel Mills Mall, staring at the demon with her lips twisted into a snarl.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded. “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the gate? What if a dozen warmongers come through while you’re tailing this guy?”

  “I have a helper,” she told me, her gaze never straying from her target.

  A helper? It actually was a good idea to have a team on the gates for this very reason, but I didn’t think Gregory had the resources to double up like this. “An enforcer? Why isn’t the enforcer taking out this guy and saving me the effort while you stay at the gate?”

  She shot me a scathing glance. “No, I don’t want to call in an enforcer. That would make me look weak, like I couldn’t handle trespassers on my own. I’ve got unofficial backup. It’s none of your business who he is.”

  Unofficial? “Is this helper able to handle demon trespassers?”

  A hint of a smile quivered at the corner of her mouth. “Yes. He’s very handy with a backhoe. And I bought him a rifle. He can only stay for a few hours, because he’s got something he needs to do, so we need to hustle up here.”

  Okaaaay. I’d never known an angel who was handy with a backhoe and knew how to fire human weaponry, but there was always a first.

  I leaned past her to look for my target. I’ll admit it was kind of weird that he’d left the rubble of a mall to head up Route 100 to one still standing. I actually kind of dug this mall. It was right next to a casino, had some cool shops and restaurants, and the police were here several times a week breaking up a massive fight in the parking lot. This place was totally cool.

  “I’ve been meaning to come and eat here,” I told Beatrix, scanning the crowd for the demon and noticing the food.

  “Me too.” She eyed the menu posted next to the entrance.

  “I doubt Bobby Flay has a burger with sweet and sour sauce,” I teased.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, but beer battered onion rings are on my top ten list of foods.”

  Mine too. I suddenly spotted the demon, at a table by himself with a huge milkshake in front of him. I’d pretty much recognized this demon as Mestal from the gate guardian’s description. I’d known him for over four hundred years, and he tended to use the exact same human form every time he crossed the gates. The greed demon was predictable. And the past three decades he’d proven himself to be very tech-savvy. A few decades back we’d partnered on a pyramid scheme that had added considerably to my bank account. Then there’d been those short sales he’d tipped me off on three years ago. Mestal was a useful demon to know. Well, he used to be a useful demon to know. All he was now was more work. Every time he showed up, I ended up with Gabriel breathing down my neck about the rapid nosedive in human FICO scores. Greed demons tended to wreak havoc on human finances.

  I’d already booted Mestal’s ass back across the gate last month with a stern warning, but here he was again. And in the exact same sort of place he’d been last time—a restaurant with free Wi-Fi. He was bent over a stolen laptop, the huge milkshake in one hand as he one-finger typed with lightning speed on the keyboard. I motioned to Beatrix to stay back then tip-toed over behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, I moved to sit down across from him and reached out a hand to shut the lid of his laptop.

  “You don’t belong here, Mestal.”

  He yelped and jumped to his feet, smashing me in the face with his laptop. The force of it knocked me backward in my chair and I crashed to the ground in a heap. I heard Beatrix shout, a rush of footsteps, and a bunch of angry humans yelling. By the time I’d gotten up off the floor, Mestal was halfway to the exit, trying to shove his way by a burly man who was winding up to punch him in the face. A burger sailed across the room, bouncing off the back of the greed demon’s head. He spun with a curse, and shot a bolt of lightning toward Beatrix just as she launched a plate of fries.

  No way was I going to let this guy set a gourmet burger joint on fire. I reached out and pulled, yanking the bolt toward me where I absorbed it as best as I could. Unfortunately, there was still enough live electricity cause a painful jolt to my heart and frizzle my hair into a smoking, twisted afro.

  Beatrix took the opportunity to launch six more plates at the demon at the same time the burly guy punched Mestal in the face. The plates missed their mark, and Mestal slid across the floor into a table full of bearded hipsters. They shouted. One picked Mestal up and slugged him. Two seconds later, the whole lot of them were beating him to a pulp while the manager screamed and two security guards ran through the door.

  I grabbed Beatrix by the shoulder and yanked her backward. I’d been arrested more times than I could count and knew exactly what was going to go down here. Sure enough, one of the guards yanked a box from his utility belt and fired. Two darts, still connected to the box with wires, shot out and sank into Mestal’s shoulder. He danced around a bit then fell facedown onto the ground as the hipsters jumped out of
the way.

  “She was throwing plates and food.” The manager pointed at Beatrix.

  “If they tase me, someone’s getting more than a plate thrown at them,” she growled.

  “She was attempting a citizen’s arrest,” I told the manager. “The guy hit me with a laptop and was trying to run out on his check. You should be thanking her.”

  “He had an eight-dollar milkshake, while she broke about fifty dollar’s worth of plates,” the manager protested.

  The security guard not holding the Taser dragged Mestal to his feet. “You want us to call the police and file charges or take him back with us for a little discussion?”

  Whoa. These mall cops were hard-core.

  The manager scowled at Mestal. “You gonna pay for all this? Broken plates too?”

  The demon shot me a quick glance. I knew if he was here solo, he would have flipped the manager the finger and taken off, but between the Taser, Beatrix, and me, he knew he wasn’t going to get far.

  “Yeah. I’ll pay.”

  The security guard disengaged the Taserdarts while the demon dug in his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He carefully peeled off sixty dollars and handed it to the manager. Then muttering a few choice words under his breath, he picked his laptop up off the floor and reluctantly followed me out into the mall. Beatrix stayed behind the pair of us, just in case Mestal decided to try to make a break for it.

  He didn’t. And because he was being subdued and cooperative, I bought him one of those giant twisty lollypops and sat him down on a bench in the middle of the mall.

  “You don’t belong here,” I told him once more.

  The greed demon gave the sucker a few licks as he narrowed his eyes at me. “Neither do you. None of us belong here according to that stupid treaty that none of us signed.”

  He had a point. “Look, if you were just here playing the slots for a few days or trying to pick up hookers, I’d be fine. You’re a pain in the ass, Mestal. You’re a pain in my ass.”

  “Wasn’t always a pain in your ass, Az,” he countered. “As I recall, I made you quite a lot of money over the years. Don’t go getting all holy on me now after you raked it in on that vacation property scam I put together.”

  Yeah, he had a point there too. Most demons reveling in the sin of avarice tended toward the acquisition of gems, or museum-quality art, or Beanie Babies, but Mestal liked playing the market—particularly the junk bond market, and fleecing people to fund his acquisitions. If he’d slipped through my fingers, I would have noticed the sudden influx of humans in the area with shitty FICO scores. I knew his game, because I’d once happily played that game with him. He spun his magic, and the humans raided their retirement plans, took out second mortgages, and borrowed from every subprime lender who would write them a loan to invest in this demon’s incomprehensible get-rich-quick investment plans. He was good—really good. And I felt kinda guilty busting him when years ago I’d gleefully profited from his schemes.

  Sadly, humans who defaulted on their loans were mine, so tossing Mestal back into Hel wasn’t just a favor for Beatrix, it was self-preservation. Everyone thought the Ha-Satan would be in charge of punishing the murderers and the rapists, but angels had their own view of sin, and somehow FICO scores had, in their eyes, become an indicator of low vibration patterns. Being a credit risk was now one of the seven deadly sins.

  Yeah, that was sort of my fault. I might have had something to do with that whole mess. And now it was my mess.

  “I know, I know. Personally I don’t think the treaty applies to us, and you should be able to come over here and do as you wish, but that isn’t possible. If I don’t take care of you, the angels will, and their idea of ‘take care of’ isn’t sending you back to Hel. I belong here as the Iblis. You don’t. Hope you enjoyed your five minutes of freedom, because it’s back to Hel with you, buddy.”

  He pulled the laptop closer and opened the lid, wedging the lollipop between the slats of the bench. “Fuck off, Az. You might have wings and a sword, but you’re still a demon inside, aren’t you?”

  Was I? There were days when I wondered if I was more angel than demon anymore.

  “Yes, and I’m a lazy demon. Your being here is causing me grief, Mestal. You sneak through. I get a phone call. And if I ignore the phone call, then I have to deal with all the mess you leave in your wake. It’s in my best interests if you go back to Hel, so back you go. Please.”

  He typed something on the laptop, watching the screen intently for a moment. “I’ll go if you finish this mutual fund scam for me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Who is it targeting? Because if people are gonna be losing their houses and defaulting on their credit cards over it, then the answer is no.”

  He held up a hand, his face solemn. “Half a dozen billionaires. I swear on all the souls I Own, Az, it’s get in and get out. Two weeks and then you can shut it down.”

  I sighed. “Okay. But if I find out so much as one investor ends up on a skip trace list, I’m going to wrap you in duct tape and stick you in the swamp for the bitey fish to eat. Got it?”

  He grinned. “Got it. Can I stay if I promise not to do anything beyond this one mutual fund scheme? And maybe rig a blackjack game and score with some hookers?”

  “No.” I liked this demon, but I really couldn’t trust him.

  “Oh, come on! Do you have any idea how many demons are sneaking through from Hel every day? None of the gate guardians want to admit it so they’re covering it up.”

  I looked over at Beatrix. She grimaced then nodded.

  “I’m the least of your worries”, Mestal continued. “Go hunt down the demons who are blowing up shopping malls, killing babies, and beheading kittens. I’m not harming anyone.”

  I sighed. “Yes, you are, Mestal. Two weeks after you arrive I’ll be seeing shit on the news about scams, and increased bankruptcy rates, and a sharp decline in the housing market. And FICO scores. Dude, you’re killing me. Go behead some kittens but don’t screw up people’s FICO scores, for fuck’s sake.”

  “I’m not doing anything wrong,” he protested. “I buy some stocks here and there, open up a company, do some marketing. What’s the harm in that? Humans do that shit all the time. I don’t see you throwing them through the gate into Hel.”

  I’d been sorely tempted to do just that. And I might in the future if there was a stock market crash or the dollar took a nosedive.

  “Yeah, that’s a problem too, but I’m not talking about humans running Ponzi schemes right now, I’m talking about you. If I let you stay, you’ll fuck up my humans, Mestal. Short sales, Ponzi schemes, internet scams? I can’t let you stay here. No pyramid marketing, no Nigerian princes, no ‘we’re in the neighborhood with steaks and/or extra blacktop’, no convincing humans to empty their retirement fund to buy a vacation timeshare in Antarctica.”

  Mestal snorted. “Why do you give a fuck about humans? A fool and his money…how does that go? A fool and his money are soon taken to the dry cleaners?”

  Yeah, something like that.

  “You’re making me work, Mestal. You wouldn’t like me when I’m working.” The Hulk reference slid right over him. “I’m the Iblis, the Ha-Satan. And I’m in charge of humans that default on their debts. It’s considered breaking a contract, a vow, and I need to rehabilitate them. I need to shepherd them toward the light. Or beat them until they see the light. Or some shit like that.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What’s the lowest FICO score before you have to get involved?”

  Mestal was clever. He was a pain, but I liked him, so I told him the magic number.

  “So if I cut people off before they reach that point, I’m good?”

  I hesitated. There was so fucking much that I had to do right now. I needed to let some stuff slide. “First off, you’re not part of my household so you don’t have immunity. Any angel that catches you, you’re dead. Secondly, this is no ‘three strikes’ thing. You fuck up once, and I mean once, and I won’t be tossing your sorry
ass back into Hel, I’ll be slicing and dicing with my sword. One human, and I mean one motherfucking human, drops below four-ninety because of you, and you’re toast.”

  I remembered I was suffering with an image problem, so I summoned my sword and jabbed it point down into the bench. Luckily this time it actually appeared as a sword and not as a pool noodle, or a banana.

  The humans in the mall screamed, diving into stores and racing toward the entrances. I figured I probably had ten minutes before the security dudes were back with their Taser, so I glared at Mestal, urging him to make a decision. At least we were in Maryland and not in Texas or I probably would have had four bearded guys shoving pistols in my face.

  Mestal eyed the sword. “I just want to explore all of my options here. What exactly are the benefits of joining your household?”

  I looked around to make sure the security guards weren’t racing toward me. “With certain restrictions, you are allowed to come and go from Hel as you please and live among the humans unharassed by angels. As in other household agreements, I’d protect you and yours and defend you as well as demand a blood-price on your behalf if any of your minions were killed. And as a special bonus, you’ll get moved up on the eligibility lists for Infernal Mates. Which means that you too can meet, date, and possibly present a breeding contract to an eligible and eager angel.”

  Mestal turned to the angel beside me.

  “Not me,” Beatrix announced. “I’m already in a relationship. Look elsewhere, buddy.”

  He looked horrified. “I’m not… Is what she said true? I can come and go as I please through the gates?”

  “Yes, that’s one of the benefits of being in the household of the Iblis,” Beatrix told him.

  The negatives were that he’d be surrounded by a bunch of annoying Lows, his activities here would be severely restricted, there was a good chance if I needed to call upon my household to battle he’d be killed, and, like the late Rodney Dangerfield, he’d suddenly find that he got no respect when it came to the other demons.