The Fiddler's Dagger
Page 19
Quinn felt the threat of next time in the air between them.
"I thought you and yours were locked out from this world," Quinn said looking around him to see what else waited in the darkness.
"Hey, Uriel's here so, I figure…," Mammon said with a shrug. "Nice shot, there at the end, by the way. Uriel was always an insufferable ass. Being a cyclops might give him character. Walk with me." The Prince of Greed stepped forward and threw an arm around Quinn's shoulders. Once Quinn fell in line with him, Mammon gave him a squeeze and said, "You were always my favorite. Did you know that?"
Quinn didn't answer.
"Even when you were fighting in the Pits back home. I could see you had it in you. You had that," Mammon waved his hand out in front, gesturing at something off in the distance. "You had that It Factor, you know? I made a tremendous amount of money off your bouts. Now I could say you owe me for helping you get out of Hell." Mammon stopped and pulled Quinn around to face him. Mammon brushed off some debris clinging to Quinn's tweed jacket. "But we both know that's a lie, and I'm the Prince of Greed, not Lies."
Quinn still said nothing.
"But you fucked up. You fucked up bad," Mammon said. He tightened his hold on Quinn's jacket, bunching the tweed fabric in his fists and effortlessly lifting Quinn up on his toes. "You will fix this. I like this world. I don't want it destroyed."
Dealing with devils was walking a razor-thin line where one misstep would spell damnation. But why walk when you can dance?
"You're a devil," Quinn said with a smile. "We're in Georgia. Let's make a deal."
Mammon grinned with delight. "You were always my favorite."
"Give me access to whatever Del had with you. Same pass. Same access. Same command," Quinn said. "Same power."
When Mammon took in a breath to agree, Quinn held up a finger.
He said, "But I'm my own man. I do it my way. No questions. No direction. I'm the best there ever was. I don't need you getting in the way."
"The best that still got beat by a drop-out nun, a porn addict, a second-rate poker player, and a one-eyed angel with a pickle up his ass. Not that impressive, Quinn. But I'll take your offer. You're my new fox."
Quinn felt the bargain hit him. It burned into his chest and his left hand. He couldn't breathe from the pain. Gasping, Quinn fell to his knees and pulled open his shirt. The sigil of Mammon cut itself into his skin. The Hellish power mixed with his blood to seal the deal. Quinn watched as his left hand turned crimson red up past the wrist. It looked like he’d dipped it in blood with the splatter marks going halfway up his forearm.
"You belong to me now, Quinn the Red Handed." Mammon stepped next to Quinn and grabbed him by his hair. Mammon pulled Quinn's head up to look at him. “When I speak, it is with your mouth. When I move, it is with your hand.”
Quinn gritted his teeth to not scream at the pain burning its way into his soul through his chest.
"Only death will free you. When you die in my service, your soul comes to me for all eternity." Mammon leaned back and laughed into the night air. He looked at Quinn and said, "But we both know that would happen anyway."
Quinn pulled himself free of Mammon's grasp and staggered to his feet despite the agony etching itself on his chest. He cradled his crimson left hand against his scarred chest. Quinn said, "Super. Great. Now. What can you tell me about Uriel's plan?"
Mammon brushed his hands off as if he had been handling something covered in loose dirt. "God turned his face from this world some time ago. I think he's got a side one going on somewhere else, but frankly, I don't give a shit. Uriel is that ex that wants to get back together."
Quinn reached over and plucked the white pocket square out of Mammon's jacket to clean himself.
"Uriel plans on using the dagger, the lantern, and the skull to summon the Unnamed Things that God locked out with His Word at the start of the world. Those things were so gross," Mammon shuddered and suppressed an urge to vomit. "I don't know where or when, but it will be soon."
Quinn looked at the blood-soaked handkerchief. It wasn't absorbing blood anymore and was just smearing the mess around more. He looked around for a place to throw it away. When he saw nothing, Quinn settled on shoving it back in Mammon's front pocket.
"Great. You’re a Prince of Hell yet somehow you know less than what I do," Quinn said. "I'm regretting this deal already, Mammon. You will have to work on that."
Mammon sneered and poked Quinn in the chest, right in the spot that hurt the most. Quinn winced but didn't show any other signs of pain.
"You're my fox now, Quinn. I like this world. It's a lot of fun. I don't want to see it go away. You were already damned, now it's just a question as to the quality and quantity of your suffering. Save the world, and I'll go easy on you."
And then Mammon was gone. Quinn staggered for a moment as if he had been leaning on the other man and the support had vanished. Quinn winced from the pain of his new red left hand and his fancy devil’s deal scar on his chest. Quinn inspected his hand. He flexed the fingers and moved the wrist around. It was sore as if he’d slept on it wrong. He licked a finger and tried to rub the red off. It was definitely on there permanently.
Quinn laughed as he remembered the conversation he’d had with Elly at the karaoke bar. Quinn had said that if he’d ever worked for Hell he’d want to be called the Red Handed. Apparently, Quinn’s new boss had a sense of humor. Quinn laughed again and shook his head. He took a few steps then stopped. His bones still ached from where they had been broken and forcibly healed.
Then he said out loud, "Wait, he lost money on his best ringer? That means they’re taking book on this in Vegas.”
For a moment, Quinn considered shorting the bet and putting money against him saving the world. But he shook his head. Betting against himself to save the world was a dumb idea. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t juice it and get a little action for himself. It would be worth a trip to Vegas to put something on the books for this.
It might also give him a few ideas on how to actually save the world.
“You know what? I’ve got this. Time to go save the world.” Quinn snapped his fingers, and his Circle of Cerddoriaeth, the magical circle that stored all of his music popped into existence. It played a snappy triumphant horn section riff. Then the circle switched from a snappy trumpet solo and blasted AC/DC’s Back in Black. Quinn played air-guitar, kicked-stepped down the sidewalk exactly like Angus Young and sang along. After the chorus, he stopped and said, “Wait a second. Who is the porn addict?"
What Happened in Cleveland?
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Acknowledgments
No book is produced in isolation. This book is no exception. It is the result of a team, of which I am a one member.
I especially want to thank my cover artist Christine at Bayou Cover Design and my editor Cathy at Cathy Edits.
URGENT MESSAGE
FROM THE FUTURE!
I am still writing this from the future (my now, not your now). I live in a future where the extinction of humanity was narrowly averted due to the heroic actions of Sarah Hamilton.
You see, very soon Sarah will read a review on Amazon for this series. That review will convince her to buy the Quinn Chronicles. (Your now, not my now)
Soon after she, along with her cat Tweek, will be sucked into an adventure where she will find true love, know real joy, and save humanity from a virus that turns Siri, Alexa, and every other digital assistant into snarky hate-filled murderous AI’s out to destroy humanity.
That review is your review.
Yes, your review.
Are you ready to help save the world from snarky murderous AI’s?
Amazon Review Link
About the Author
W. H. Lock is the author of the Jack Story series and the Quinn Caper trilogy. He was born in Chicago but somehow ended up in the Dallas/Fort Worth area with a wife and two sons. He makes his online home at www.whistlelock.
com. You can follow him on Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Goodreads, and Pinterest. (click the icons below)
What’s with all the whistlelocks? You might be able to guess, but if you buy him a couple of drinks, he’ll probably tell you the whole story.
Also by W.H. Lock
Check out W.H. Lock’s other exciting series The Jack Story series. Jack is a private detective in a city of super heroes. Available at all your favorite eBook retailers. You can read The Czar’s Egg for free!
The Czar’s Egg (read for free)
The First Story Box
(The Story Box includes The Czar’s Egg, The Trouble in Tights, and The Ivory Ring)
The Trouble in Tights
The Ivory Ring
The Concrete Goodbye
The Null Factor