Devil's Punch cs-4 Read online

  Spurred by that unlikely possibility, I prodded Chance, who still looked dazed. “Can you work?”

  The chill effect just about froze your brain, so maybe he couldn’t.

  He closed his eyes and turned, but eventually he sighed and shook his head. “I’m not getting much of anything now.”

  “Because of the shade? Or because what was here isn’t anymore?”

  “Not sure. The feeling is fuzzy now and…far. Like it’s moving.”

  “You mean they moved Shannon while we fought the shades?” My heart dropped all the way to the pit of my stomach.

  If they knew to watch out for us now, it would be ten times harder to find her next time. They could ward off Chance’s abilities, maybe. They’d move her and set monsters on us every time we got close. I saw the week going by in a flash of heartbreaking near misses, and I curled my hand into an impotent fist.

  “Oh, Shan, I’m so sorry.” The whisper slipped out before I could stop it, and I hung my head.

  “Even without his gift, I believe we may find something useful here,” Greydusk said. “Let’s check.”

  It had a good point. Our enemies might have overlooked some clue that would lead us to them, directly or otherwise. So I cast the spell that turned my athame into a serviceable flashlight, and held it ready. It wasn’t a weapon, but it would hurt if I shoved the blade in a monster—and I had no clue how the magickal glow would affect a demon if it was burning inside its chest. Maybe before the end of the day I’d find out.

  With my light on, I could see that we were in the foyer of what might have been a magnificent structure long ago, albeit in definite creepy diabolic style. If demons had built their version of White’s in the nineteenth century and then abandoned it to the roaches and rats for a hundred years, this would be the end result. I led the way toward a bigger room, passing through a tall archway into a shadowy chamber. But these were harmless shadows, created by my light and our movement. The familiar chill was absent. Some of the furniture remained: a chewed-up chair, a decrepit table.

  “There were private rooms upstairs,” Greydusk said. “If there’s anything of note, we’ll find it there.”

  “Have you been here before?” Chance asked.

  “Yes.”

  Interesting. But I didn’t ask why. I figured I probably didn’t want to know, if the meetings had been as gruesome and depraved as I imagined. I crossed the debris-littered floor to the stairs, which were partially blocked with fallen stones. A dust-and-copper smell deluged me, making me wonder again about these bricks.

  There was enough room for me to slip past if I turned sideways and took care with my footing. My companions were likewise slim enough to get by. Kel would’ve been too broad in the chest, I thought, even turned. My time with him felt like something I’d made up, a story or a wistful fancy. It was probably better if I let it keep slipping, though the loss felt sharp as icicles and just as chilling.

  From above came the sounds of small creeping things. No threat to us, just pests or scavengers, but I couldn’t wait to meet the wildlife that filled those niches in Sheol. Actually, not so much.

  “Is the feeling coming back?” I asked Chance over my shoulder.

  “Yeah.”

  Relieved, I paused to take stock. The second-floor hallway stretched before us, with six doors on either side. Meeting rooms, my ass. This had been a brothel, I was pretty damn sure. The open room below would’ve served as the lounge, where demon dudes picked up demon hookers, and then took them upstairs for a good time. Whatever the hell that entailed.

  “Left or right?” I asked.

  “Left.” Chance sounded so sure that I just turned and opened the door closest to us.

  And a wee angry thing tried to eat my face.

  Fortunately, since it was small, I knocked it aside and then crushed it under my boot. A wet squelch greeted my stomp, and then I shone the light to see what I’d killed. The animal was too squished for me to tell anything about it, but Greydusk just shrugged.

  “It’s a tuali. They’re territorial.”

  Stepping over the tiny corpse, I moved into the room, where the wrecked furniture confirmed my earlier guess. There was a bed, sunken in the middle. It smelled like something had been nesting in it, probably the tuali. Hmm. Unlikely we’d find anything there, except stuff the tuali thought was cool.

  So I turned to the bureau while Greydusk went over to the closet. Chance stood watch in the doorway to make sure nothing tried to whack us from behind. In each drawer, I found scraps of paper that might’ve been receipts at some point but now were just shreds, dry pellets that looked like droppings, and a few stray articles of clothing.

  From the last one, I pulled out a whip. I knew it didn’t belong to Shannon, but something like that could come in handy. Okay, so maybe I just wanted to tease Chance with it later. The situation was all kinds of fucked up, but if I didn’t keep my sense of humor, I’d fall into a black hole of despair and never save Shan.

  Greydusk turned from the closet, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

  The rest of the rooms went likewise, until we came to the last room on the left. Chance had been quiet up until this point, massaging his arm and maintaining a brooding silence. Greydusk opened the door and a host of spiders poured out. Only they weren’t normal, household spiders. Which would’ve been bad enough.

  No, these were the size of small dogs, like, say, the one cowering in my handbag, and they had long, excessively hairy legs, and the purple wizened faces of human babies that had been dead for four or five days. They chattered as they rushed us. I sprang back with a stifled scream and slashed at the ones surging at my feet.

  Chance growled the command word and ice crackled around the dark leather of his gloves. He pounded them with lightning strikes and the guts spattered all over my boots. When Greydusk attacked, it was cleaner, as these animals could be drained.

  I impaled one with my athame, and the light burned it up from within. It was horrifying yet fascinating to watch; the flesh cooked and shriveled. I danced away from the fangs as the dark, dried flesh dropped off my obsidian blade. The demon fighting beside me was slow in his absorption, and after taking one that way, it lifted its large foot and went with a more direct approach. I slid back to get out of the way.

  As I moved, I stumbled over something. Shit. That one sank its fangs deep into my boot, far enough to pierce the leather, and the tooth grazed my ankle. It stung more than the slight wound merited, which told me I was in trouble. How much so remained to be seen.

  In short order, Chance and Greydusk eradicated the infestation. Meanwhile, my ankle swelled and felt like it was on fire.

  “Hey,” I said. “How bad is it if you get bitten?”

  Greydusk and Chance must not have heard me, as they’d started searching. Since the room was clear, I limped inside to see if there was anything noteworthy. My expectations weren’t high by that point, but there was nothing lost by being thorough. Pain lanced through my left calf with every step. The boot felt like it might be cutting off my circulation.

  Hang in there. For Shannon. How dangerous can those things be?

  My eyesight sparkled. Dark streaks, as if I were peering through a filthy window. Worried, I leaned up against the wall and left the rummaging to Chance and Greydusk. They were fast but careful, leaving no inch of the room unexplored, as we’d done eleven times before. I had little hope it would be different this time.

  Until Greydusk opened the closet door—and what I saw took my focus off the bite. Through wavering vision, I recognized it at once: a black backpack with colorful, feminine skulls. Shannon had been here. They’d held her in this room. Oh, gods and goddesses, with those spiders? Was she even alive any longer? The way I felt, she might not be, if they’d bitten her. Even worse, maybe she’d been kept in the closet, in the dark, listening to those hideous things scuttle with the endless and permanent threat that someone could come—for no reason at all—and open the door.

  “It’s he
rs,” I said. “Grab it.”

  I tried to take a step toward the pack, toward that link to Shannon, because I could read something in there, maybe get a clue. Find her. Save her.

  But the stupid words the Noit had babbled echoed in my head instead: Binder, binder, never find ’er. She’s gone, gone, for a song, into the heart of where it’s dark, and nevermore, forevermore.

  My leg buckled. I hit the dirty floor with it twisted beneath me, and I couldn’t see. I heard Chance’s voice cast in worried tones, and Greydusk’s calmer reply, and then it all went away, as if through the water gate, and I became a thing spun in so many directions that I lost all cohesion, and went sailing into nothing at all.

  I’m Not Quite Dead Yet

  Pain.

  Darkness.

  Someone’s hurting me.

  My throat was too tight and dry to scream, but I heard it in my head. Echoes of voices chattered above me. Noise, not words. One of them was familiar. I wanted to reach for him. I couldn’t. A fire blazed in my leg, eating into my muscles and bones. It stretched up from ankle to thigh, nibbling toward my hip, and my face felt parched and swollen. My eyes wouldn’t open.

  “Will she be all right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  More nothing.

  The pain lessened after the poking and jabbing. I sighed in relief as cool hands stroked my cheeks. Whimpering, I turned.

  “Does she know I’m here?”

  “Hard to say. I’d guess yes, though.”

  I know, I tried to say, through lips as solid as wax. I know you, demon prince with the tiger’s eyes.

  Slow fade.

  The next time I came back to my head, I could move it. A few seconds later, I unsealed my eyelids and blinked against the low light. Chance was asleep beside me, and I had no idea where we were. My dirty clothes were piled on the floor beside us, along with my wrecked boots. The room was small but neat, serviceable rather than ostentatious. Our bed had been built into the wall—or rather, it was a stone ledge with a mattress on it. Cunning design, I thought, and cozy with Chance spooned up against me. I touched his arm where it rested across my waist and his eyes snapped open instantly. He’d always been a light sleeper.

  “Corine,” he rasped.

  I turned into his arms, and even that small motion made me dizzy. “What happened?” It was all a blur, and then before he could answer, it came rushing back. The former demon brothel, the spiders with dead baby faces, Shannon’s backpack. “How long was I out?”

  “After Greydusk administered the antidote, almost a full day.”

  “And how long did it take him to find it?”

  “Eight hours.”

  So it had been over twenty-four hours, in demon time, since we found her pack. Damn it. My injury had cost us a day we might not have to spare. Angry with myself, I strangled a curse.

  Gathering my resolve, I tried to sit up and failed. Still too weak. “How long will it take me to recover?”

  “Do you not understand you almost died?” His features were tight with exhaustion and worry.

  “I get it,” I said. “I also know that Shannon may not have much time left.”

  If she has any at all.

  “Corine,” he said. “I know you love her. But I don’t. You’re the one I care about, and it kills me to see you go down this road.” He stroked a hand through my tangled hair. “You’re ready to sacrifice anything for her.”

  “Yeah. But I’d do it for you too.” That shut him up, as I’d known it would. “Where are we?”

  “Greydusk’s place.”

  “Wow, he took us home with him?” Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty. Suddenly, it didn’t feel right to think of the Imaron as “it” as if he wasn’t a person. “Sybella must be furious.”

  Chance shrugged. “I haven’t been out of this room.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” I said quietly.

  “It wasn’t the first time. I doubt it’ll be the last.” A ghost of a smile chased across his face.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose.” In fact, just the opposite. I had been trying to get out of the way, but in the confusion of combat, shit happened. Chance knew it as well as I did. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Soon,” Greydusk answered from the doorway.

  “Seriously—” Chance began, but the demon didn’t give him an opportunity to complete the objection.

  “I can give you a tisane to hasten your recovery if you wish.”

  “If? Why would you even ask? Let me guess—there’s some hideous side effect, like I grow horns or bark like a dog for the rest of my life.” Butch raised his head from the pillow on a nearby chair and gave me a look. “Sorry, bud. No offense.”

  He heaved a particularly eloquent sigh.

  “There are consequences for every action,” the demon said. “As you well know, Binder.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  “The cost for a swift recovery of your strength is a year of your life, should you ingest this potion.” The demon held a slim vial in one long-fingered hand. When he held it to the light, it swirled in shades of red.

  Chance tensed. “How long will it take her to heal naturally?”

  “Nine of your months.”

  I pushed out a slow breath, thinking. It made sense. If I used sufficient energy in one pass to heal that much damage, there had to be a cost. Nine months’ time couldn’t just magickally disappear; it had to come from somewhere. Whatever. In the end, I could make only one choice. The same one I’d been making all along, no matter how shitty the path before me. But…

  “What’s the catch?” I asked. “What you said doesn’t guarantee I knock a year off my life span. It could also mean that I lose a year of my past—when something important happens—or I might wind up in indentured servitude.”

  “I cannot offer any warranty,” Greydusk said. “All of the above are possible side effects. The ultimate payment results from the will of the potion’s creator.”

  Which I have to deal with later. I often took actions that would cost me down the line in order to survive present circumstances. So be it.

  “I understand.” I reached for the tisane.

  Chance caught my hand. “Are you crazy? Isn’t there any way to narrow down the potential costs?”

  “He’s right,” the demon said. “You should give this more consideration.”

  Implacably, I turned my arm so my palm faced up. Silently demanding. There was no merit in arguing with either of them. Words were no use after a certain point. I would not be gainsaid or advised by my men when I had not sought their counsel. Greydusk yielded to my stare without further objection, delivering the vial. Chance turned his face away as I broke the wax seal and downed it. It tasted of blood and heartbreak, burning all the way down my throat. My stomach roiled as the demon magick streamed into my veins, lacing my system with black wildfire.

  At first it hurt, and then it spun me around, almost as powerful as the Nephilim blood, only instead of colors I saw darkness. Shadows and layers and whispers of gray, marking the demon, and Chance’s hair, which had once only been raven black to my human eyes. Now I saw the hidden glimmer, like the sheen of oil in the sunlight, too subtle and deep for my formerly limited senses to discern.

  I felt strong and fast and damn near invincible. Laughing, giddy, I leapt from the bed and demanded, “Where the hell are my clothes?”

  Wordless, almost subservient, Greydusk fetched them for me. It was only afterward that I caught myself, a long way past the euphoria, and some part of me shook her head and worried and choked on words of caution. This isn’t you. You don’t think of people as your servants. You don’t give orders. You grew up poor, and you’re not the queen of anything. But that voice was small and boring, and I squashed it. Chance had a grave look about him, and I thought I might need a new consort if he couldn’t learn to be more obedient.

  That was a difficult and thorny issue, however, as I didn’t want to ally with any one
caste. I would raise no demon higher than another. That way led to unrest and eventual civil war. No, I would be better off with Chance beside me, even if his behavior became tiresome. He offered precisely the measure of presence and charisma I required in a mate. On my arm, he added consequence, as others would certainly know he was no mere human. I liked the fact that I had ensnared a godling; I dropped a careless kiss on his quiet mouth and dressed quickly.

  “Bring me her bag.”

  “She’s not herself,” Chance said sharply to Greydusk.

  “It was a risk of the tisane.”

  “What was?”

  Outrage built inside me. Were they talking about me like I wasn’t here? Do they not know who I am?

  “What’s happening to her?”

  In another minute, I was going to blast one of them. The power gathered, and it didn’t feel wrong anymore. It was dark and luscious in my bloodstream, like a black velvet throw, just the right weight to show I meant business. Magick flowed to my fingertips as my rage burned as bright as a falling star.

  “She’s starting to ascend.”

  Good. All this fucking around made no sense. Skulking? Hiding? I’d level this city, find Shannon, and then run the place properly. These demons knew nothing about fear as of yet, but so help me, I would teach them.

  “What does that mean?”

  I held the black fire, burning in the palm of my hand. Enough curiosity stirred that I wanted to hear the answer before I smote them for their impertinence. Greydusk turned to watch me, expression unreadable. And then he sank to his knees. Chance turned his head, his brow furrowed in disbelief. The demon used his unnatural strength to drag my consort down into a reluctant obeisance.

  “It means the demonic part of her soul is on the rise.”

  “Explain,” I demanded, letting the fire die. This seemed like something the Once and Future Queen should know. And since they’d abased themselves before me, my ire was appeased. After I heard the explanation, I would dispense an appropriate punishment for their defiance.

  “You have doubtless been told that the Old King’s power over demons came as a gift from the archangels,” Greydusk said softly.