“I have heard that story,” he answered slowly. His eyelids lowered over his glowing eyes as he glanced down. “Human gods do not trouble us overmuch. It is only that humans were frightened of us, and mistook us for gods. There was a rebellion—the Fallen defied Lucifer’s will, and died on earth because of the love they bore for the brides… but that is not something we speak of.”
I absorbed this. If I was a Magi I’d be peppering him with questions, trying to get him to say more, but I was too tired.
Silence thundered through the dark bedroom. The mark on my shoulder ached, pounding. I was finally beginning to believe that I was awake. The scars went back to sleep until the next nightmare; maybe I could sleep, too. Maybe.
“If he manages to destroy this Egg,” I thought out loud, “does that mean you’ll be free?”
“Of course not.” He dropped his eyes, studied the bed. Little green shadows danced on my blanket, showing me his gaze moving in an aimless pattern from my knee to my hand to the edge of the bed, back to my knee. “Should Vardimal’s rebellion fail, I will be left as your familiar, perhaps. Then after your death—which might be swift, since the Prince is not one for slow punishment—I will be punished, for as long as the Prince’s reign is secure. If by some stroke of chance Vardimal succeeds, I will be executed—after your death as well. If the Prince wins, I wait another eternity for a chance at my freedom—if another chance is granted me at all.”
“You just can’t win, can you.” I didn’t want to sound snide. I swallowed dryly. It seemed like I couldn’t win either, since both scenarios involved my sudden demise, too.
“No,” he said. “I can’t.”
“So you really have a lot invested in this.”
“It would appear so.”
Another long, uncomfortable silence. The world was hushed outside, in the deepest part of night before the flush of false dawn. I didn’t feel sleepy, though I knew I should be trying to catch some shut-eye before the morning transport. Once I left the house tomorrow, I’d be on the hunt. I didn’t sleep much while hunting.
“You must be pretty hungry,” I said finally. “This mark hurts like a bitch.”
“My apologies.”
It took more courage than I thought I had to extend my hand, flipping my palm up and making a fist. My wrist was exposed, pale in the dimness of my bedroom. The nightlight in the hall shone in through the door, a cool blue glow. “Here,” I said. “Blood, right? You need me to cut myself, or…”
He shrugged. “Many thanks for the offer, Dante, but… no.”
“You’re hungry. I don’t want a weak demon. I want a kickass demon who can help me deal with Santino.”
“I fight better when I’m a little hungry.”
“Fine.” I dropped my hand, feeling foolish. “I’m okay now. You can go back downstairs. Get yourself something in the kitchen. If you want.”
“As you like.” But he didn’t move.
“Go ahead,” I finally said. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you.”
“You will have no trouble sleeping?” he asked, still looking at the bed. The burning intensity in his eyes seemed to have lessened a bit. He ran his hand back absently through his hair—the first sign of nervousness I’d ever noticed in him. Was he nervous? Was it just me, or was he seeming a little more… human… with every passing hour?
I managed to dredge up an uneasy laugh. “I always have trouble sleeping. It’s not a big deal. Go on and catch some shut-eye yourself. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”
He unfolded himself from the bed and stood up, hands behind his back. Why does he stand like that? I wondered. And why doesn’t he take that coat off? “Thanks.” I scooted back down, pulled the covers up, rested my hand on my sword, still lying faithfully next to me. “For checking on me, I mean.”
He nodded, then turned on his heel and stalked for the door. There was a moment of shadow, his bulk filling the doorway, his coat like a shadow of dark wings. I heard his even tread going down the hall, then down the stairs. He went into the living room, and silence pervaded my house again, broken only by the faint hum of traffic and the subliminal song of the fridge downstairs.
I snuggled back into bed and closed my eyes. I expected to be lying awake for a long time, shaking and sweating in the aftermath of the dream, but strangely enough I fell into sleep with no trouble at all.
CHAPTER 20
Eddie dug his fingers into the armrests. He was as pale as I’d ever seen him, his cheeks chalk-white under his blond sideburns.
Gabe, leafing through a magazine, didn’t appear to notice, but Japhrimel was studying Eddie intently, his green eyes glittering. The demon lounged in his seat next to me, occasionally shifting his weight when the transport rattled. I tapped my fingers on my swordhilt and looked out the window. Seeing the earth drift away underneath the hover transport was no comparison to a slicboard, but it was nice to sit and watch city and water drift away, replaced by pleated folds of land, the coastal mountains rising and falling.
“I can’t believe I made a ten o’clock transport.” I rested my head against the seat-back. Gabe had actually scored first-class tickets. We had a whole compartment to ourselves—Gabe’s tattoo and mine took care of that. “I haven’t even had coffee yet, goddammit.”
“Someone’s a little cranky.” Gabe hooked her leg over her seat-arm and rubbed her ankle against Eddie’s knee. “Bitch, bitch, bitch. I had to drag this big shaggy guy out of bed and onto a transport before noon. I should be the one whining.”
“You’re always trying to one-up me,” I mumbled. The demon glanced at me, then leaned forward to look out the window. I caught a wave of his scent and sighed, my eyes half-closing. Once you started to get used to it, being around a demon was kind of absurdly comforting. At least the most dangerous thing in the vicinity was right where I could see it.
“Fucking transports,” Eddie said, closing his eyes. “Gabe?”
“I’m here, sweetie.” Gabe rubbed her ankle against his knee. “Just keep breathing.”
I looked away. So there was something Eddie was afraid of.
“What’s he doing in Rio?” I asked the air, thinking out loud. “Not a particularly good place to hide…”
“No, not with all the santeros down there,” Gabe answered dryly, flipping another page. A holster peered out from under her left shoulder, a smooth dark metal butt. Plasgun, I thought, and looked over at the demon again. He had disappeared as we navigated the security checkpoints and rejoined us just before boarding, his hands clasped behind his back and his face expressionless. “Hey, you know their Necromances kill chickens to get Power like the vaudun? Then everyone eats the chicken.”
I’d studied vaudun at the Academy, so I wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with it. “That’s weird,” I agreed, my eyes snagging on the demon’s face. He was looking at me now, studying intently. “What?”
“Why does he reek of fear?” Japhrimel asked, jerking his chin at Eddie.
“He doesn’t like high places,” Gabe said, “and he doesn’t like enclosed spaces. Most Skinlin don’t.” Her dark eyes came up, moved over the demon from head to foot. “What are you afraid of, demon?”
He shrugged, his coat moving against the seat. “Failure,” he said crisply. “Dissolution. Emptiness.” His mouth twisted briefly, as if he tasted something bitter.
Silence fell for about thirty seconds before the first in-flight service came along—a blonde stewardess in a tight magenta flightsuit, paper-pale and trembling. Her eyes were the size of old credit discs, and she shook while she poured coffee, probably thinking that we were all going to read her mind and expose her most intimate secrets, or take over her mind and make her do something embarrassing—or that Gabe and I would suddenly start to make ghosts appear to torment her. Instead, I selected a cream-cheese Danish, Gabe got a roast-turkey sandwich, Eddie asked for the chicken soup in its heatseal pack. Oddly enough, Eddie seemed to scare her the most in his camel coat and long shaggy hair, his Skinlin staff braced
against Gabe’s sword. She looked like she expected him to go berserk at any moment. Japhrimel accepted a cup of coffee from her with a nod, and it was strange to see her give him an almost-relieved smile. Being normal, she couldn’t see the dangerous black diamond flaming of his aura.
Sometimes I wished I’d been born that oblivious.
We waited until she was gone. I dumped a packet of creamer into my coffee. “So do you have contacts in Rio, other than a plug-in? Abra couldn’t give me any.” I settled back, wrinkling my nose at the reheated black brew.
“A few,” she said, tearing into her sandwich. “Guess who else is down Rio way? Jace Monroe.”
I made a face. “Yeah, Abra told me. Go figure.”
“He’s good backup.”
“Too bad we’re not going to use him.”
“Aw, come on,” Eddie piped up. “You two are so cute together.”
I shrugged. “I don’t go near the Mob. I thought you knew that.”
“He’s not Mob no more.” Eddie slurped at his steaming soup, wiggling his blond eyebrows at me. He seemed to have forgotten he was on a transport.
“I fell for that line the first time. Once Mob, always Mob.” I nibbled at my Danish, finding it bearable. “You remember that when you’re dealing with him, Eddie, ’cause I sure as hell won’t ever be messing around with him. Once was enough for me.”
“I’ll bet,” Gabe muttered snidely, and I threw her a look that could have cut glass.
My rings swirled with lazy energy. We settled down to a long flight, Gabe flipping through her magazine again while she sipped at her coffee, Eddie finishing his soup in a series of loud smacking slurps, crunching on the crackers. I fished a book out of my bag—a paperback version of the Nine Canons, the glyphs and runes that made up the most reliable branch of magick. You can’t ever study too much. I was secondarily talented as a runewitch, and I firmly believed that memorizing the Canons trained the mind and opened up the Power meridians, and why waste power creating a spell when you could use a Canon glyph as a shortcut?
The demon settled himself in his seat, alternating between watching me and studying his cup as if the secrets of the universe were held inside the nasty liquid passing for coffee. At least it was hot, and it had enough caffeine.
It was going to be a long, long flight.
CHAPTER 21
We touched down in Nuevo Rio not a moment too soon. “Eddie, if you don’t quit it, I’m going to fucking kill you,” I snarled, standing and scooping my sword up.
“You’re the one tapping your fingernails all the time,” Gabe retorted. “Don’t get all up on him.”
“Stay out of this, Spocarelli,” I warned her.
The demon rose like a dark wave. “Perhaps it’s best to have this conversation outside,” he said mildly. “You seem tense.”
That gave us both something to focus on. “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask you for it,” I snapped.
“Oh, for the love of Hades, leave the damn demon alone!” Gabe almost yelled. “Off. Get me off this damn thing—”
“You’re like a pair of spitting cats,” Eddie mumbled. “Worse than a motherfucking cockfight.”
“Now I know why I don’t travel,” I muttered, making sure my bag fell right. The airlocks whooshed, and we would have to wait our turn to get out.
Fuck that, I thought, and jammed the door to our compartment open. There are some good things about being a Necromance. One is that people get out of your way in a hell of a hurry when you come striding down a transport corridor with a sword in your hand and your emerald spitting sparks. Being accredited meant being able to carry edged metal in transports, and I had never been so glad.
Japhrimel followed me. By the time I stalked through another pair of airlocks and onto the dock, I was beginning to feel a little better. Eddie was next off, with Gabe right behind him, dragging her hand back through her long dark hair. “Fuck,” she said, turning to look at the bulk of the transport through the dock windows. Hovercells were switching off, a subliminal hum loosening from my back teeth. “We’re in Nuevo Rio. Gods have mercy on us.”
“Amen to that,” I answered. “Hey, what hotel are we staying at?”
“No hotel,” she said, still trying to push her hair back, “I got us one better. We’re going to stay with a friend. Cheap, effective, and safe.”
“Who?” I was beginning to suspect something wasn’t quite right by the way Eddie was grinning, showing all his teeth.
“Who else?” A familiar voice echoed along the dock. People began to pile out of the transport, casting nervous glances at us—two Necromances and a Skinlin, armed to the teeth, and a man in a long black coat. I closed my eyes, searching for control. Found it, and turned on my heel.
Jason Monroe leaned against a support post, his blue eyes glowing under a thatch of wheat-gold hair. He wore black, even in Rio, a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, a Mob assassin’s rig over the T-shirt, two guns, a collection of knives, his sword sheathed at his side. I prefer to carry my blade; he wore his thrust through his belt like an old-time samurai.
He was taller than me, and broad-shouldered, and wore the same kind of boots Gabe and I did. The thorny-twisted tattoo on his cheek marked him as an accredited Shaman just as the leather spirit bag on a thong around his neck marked him as a vaudun. Small bones hung from raffia twine clicked together as he moved slightly, twirling his long staff. I caught a glimpse of red in his spiky aura—he must have just offered to his patron loa. “Hey, Danny. Give an old boyfriend a kiss?”
CHAPTER 22
I can’t believe you did this,” I hissed at Gabe. She looked supremely unconcerned.
“It’s safe,” she repeated for the fifth time. “And neither of us has endlessly deep pockets. Who’s going to mess with an ex-Mob vaudun Shaman in Nuevo Rio? He’s established, Danny. He’s letting us stay for free and feeding us as well as running interference with the locals. What more do you fucking want?”
“A little warning next time you decide to drop shit like this on me,” I said, glancing out the window. Jace had reserved us a cab, said he’d meet us back at his place, and hopped on a Chervoyg slicboard, rocketing away. Leaving us to pile into the cab with our luggage and get dumped at his house like a package delivery.
One thing hadn’t changed; the man certainly irritated me as much as he ever had.
Eddie was grinning broadly. “He’s still got it for you, you know.” He settled back, stretching his legs out, bumping my knee. I kicked him back. For a claustrophobe Skinlin, he seemed extremely comfortable in the close quarters. Maybe it was just big transports he didn’t like.
Nuevo Rio sprawled underneath us in a haze of smoke and noise. Here, the Power was more raw, not like Saint City’s cold radioactive glow. This was a different pool of energy, and I would have to spend a little time acclimating. As it was, I felt a little green, and when the cab swooped to avoid a flight of freight transports, I grabbed at the nearest steady thing—which just happened to be Japhrimel’s shoulder. I dug my fingers in.
He said nothing.
“I don’t care who he’s got jackshit for,” I snapped. “I told you I never wanted to see him again. And you—you—” I was actually spluttering.
Gabe regarded me coolly, her dark eyes level. “What’s the big deal, Danny? If you were so truly over him, it wouldn’t be a big deal, y’diggit?”
“One of these days,” I forced out between clenched teeth, “I will make you pay for this.”
She shrugged. “Guess we’ll be even when all’s said and done, won’t we?” She looked out the window at the sweltering smoghole that was Rio. “Gods. I hate the heat as much as I hate travel.”
I could kill her, I thought. No jury would ever convict me. I realized my fingers were still digging into Japhrimel’s shoulder and made them unloose with a physical effort. “Sorry,” I said, blankly, to the demon.
He shrugged. “He was once a lover?” he asked, politely enough. “He seemed very happy to see you.” r />
“We broke up,” I said through gritted teeth. “Long time ago.”
“She hasn’t dated since,” Eddie offered helpfully. “They were a hot team when they did work together—if they could finish a job without ripping each other’s clothes off.”
I gave him a look that could have drained a hovercell. “Will you quit it?”
He shrugged, settling back in the seat, bumping my knee again with his long legs. The smell of dirt and growing things filled the car, and the musky perfume of demon that I had only just become accustomed to. “Not my business,” he said finally. “Hey, I wonder what time’s dinner?”
“Soon,” Gabe said. “He told me he’d feed us. Since we’re on business.”
“What else did you tell him?” I was forced to ask.
“Not much. Said you’d brief him on the hunt. That was his condition, that he get a piece of the—”
“Oh, Sekhmet sa’es,” I hissed. “You didn’t.”
“What is your motherfucking problem?” Gabe snarled.
“Here we go again.” Eddie at least pulled his legs up out of the way.
“Strictly speaking,” the demon said, “the more cannon fodder, the better your chances, Dante.”
I looked at him, my jaw dropping.
Silence crackled in the cab for a good twenty seconds, during which the driver—a bespectacled Hispanic normal with an air-freshener of Nuestra Dama Erzulie de Guadalupe hanging from his farecounter—did his level best to commit suicide by taxi. I stared out the window until my stomach rose in revolt and then shut my eyes, breathing deeply and trying to get a handle on my rage. It would strike at anyone around me if I lost control, my anger taking physical form—and I didn’t want that.
Not yet.
“You invite yourself along on my hunt,” I said slowly and distinctly, “and you give me trouble about the tech I ask you to supply, and you finish up by inviting someone else into my hunt too, someone who may or may not be trustworthy. This is not looking good for future collaborations, Gabe.”