Dante Valentine

by Lilith Saintcrow

  I’m trying to be nice to you! Guilt twisted my heart as if a hand had reached into my chest and squeezed. Why won’t you tell me these things? “Good for you.” My hands were back to shaking. “Do you want a cookie or a pat on your widdle demon head?”

  He shook his head, as if beyond words. I recognized the gesture—Jace used to make one like it when he’d reached the point of speechless rage during an argument with me. Then he took a deep breath, the crackle of Power dyeing the air around him with black flame.

  “Punish me with sharp words if you like.” He opened his eyes and regarded me. “Your time would be better spent laying plans. There is a demon to this city, one who thinks it would be tactically sound to kill Lucifer’s new Right Hand before she can capture him.”

  “Great. Another thing that’s my fault.” Come on. Lose your temper, Japh. I know you want to. I could hardly breathe, both from the weight of Power in the air and my own self-loathing. Why did I have to taunt him?

  Well, at least I know I have an effect on him. The thought made me wince. I did feel strangely satisfied, as if by pushing him into losing his temper I could regain a little control over the situation. Gods above, I needed a little control.

  “Not your fault. Mine. I was frantic, and too conspicuous in my search for you.”

  The admission took any remaining anger and drowned it. I slumped against the wall, my hand dropping away from my swordhilt. The wristcuff on my left arm warmed abruptly. “Lovely. More people who want to kill me.” I’m sorry, Japh. I know I’m not a nice person.

  “Is it any consolation that they are not ‘people’?” Familiar dry irony. I sagged against the wall, my legs refusing to quite hold me up. I knew that tone in his voice, knew it all the way through my veins. It was the voice he used while we lay tangled against each other, his skin against mine, the most human of his voices. The most gentle.

  “Why were you so frantic?” I tried not to sound as if it mattered. Tried not to sound like I wanted, needed to hear him admit to it.

  He shook his head. Rain murmured and hissed behind him, I saw more jolts of lightning stabbing between heaven and earth. “You are not stupid, Dante. Why do you ask?”

  Didn’t he know? It took courage I didn’t think I had to tell him why. “Because I need to hear you say it.”

  Long pause, moments ticked off in silence. The window was starting to look pretty good, rain or no rain. If I did decide to throw myself through it—just hypothetically, of course—how would I break the glass? And the fall, would it kill me? Could I lay the odds on that? I’d give myself three-to-one chances; I was pretty tough these days. I’d fought off an imp, hadn’t I?

  One lousy little Low Flight imp.

  “I was afraid for you.” Japhrimel turned on his heel. Stalked away from me, toward the wall of plasglass, trailing a streak of bright crimson across the air. He stopped, staring down at the lights of New Prague’s Novo Meste underfoot, at the clouds crackling with stormlight. “You will not leave me to wander the earth alone, my curious little Necromance. I thought that was clear enough even for your stubborn head.”

  Oh, gods. He’d said that before, after Santino had shot me and Gabe dragged me back from Death. “You were afraid?”

  “Yes.” Just the one simple affirmation, no embroidery.

  “Sekhmet sa’es,” I hissed, and watched his shoulders tighten. “I can’t believe I… Japhrimel? Look, I’m sorry. I’m just… this just….”

  He shook his head. “Not necessary, hedaira.”

  “It is. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do, and I’m scared. You should have told me something! You should have—”

  “Stop.” He rounded on me, his fists clenched. Against the backdrop of the sky’s theatrics, his eyes blazed and his black coat rustled. “Do you seek to drive me into a rage? You are safe, you are whole; well and good. You are angry that I used the Prince to gain a measure of safety for you, you are angry at me because I Fell, you hate me more than you can admit because I cannot be human, well and good. But do not taunt me.”

  He thinks I hate him? How could he think I hate him? Where the hell did that come from? “I don’t hate you. That’s been the motherfucking problem ever since I met you, hasn’t it? I can’t hate you. I keep treating you like you’re human.”

  As usual when an uncomfortable truth is spoken, it hung reverberating in the air, unwilling to die. I looked down at my boot-toes, grimy from slogging through New Prague; the stains on my jeans from the puddle of slag I’d landed in after fighting off the imp. “I shouldn’t have said that,” I finished lamely, my left hand loosening so the scabbard slid through, lowering the sword. I wasn’t going to use it.

  Not on him.

  “I should not have said that either,” he said, from very close. His breath brushed my cheek. The velvet wash of his aura slid down mine, enfolded me. Then, slowly, he reached up, his fingers wrapping around mine where they rested against the swordhilt.

  I didn’t look up. I closed my eyes, the last few ounces of resistance leaving me. The touch of his skin on mine sent heat down my spine, wrapped me in comfort. I was acutely aware I hadn’t really slept, that my body trembled on the edge of deep shock.

  Please, Japhrimel. Help me. I can’t do this on my own.

  I let out a long trembling breath, the shaking in my bones intensifying until the scabbard of my sword tapped the wall behind me, a tiny embarrassing sound. No control left.

  “You will do yourself damage if you do not cease your struggling.” His breath ruffled my hair. “That will be uncomfortable for both of us.”

  How much more do you want from me? Why don’t you understand? “Japh?” I leaned into him, and his free hand slid up my right arm and around my shoulders. I rested my forehead on his chest, the terrible aching under my ribs easing. The shakes came in waves, passing through me and draining away as my nervous system struggled to deal with ramping up to such a high pitch and having nowhere to spend the energy.

  “What, my curious?” Was that relief that made him shake, or was I shaking so hard I was jostling him?

  Did I care?

  “What demon was it? Back there? Which one?” My voice cracked again, husky with invitation. I couldn’t help myself, I always sounded like a seduction, like rough honey and damp skin. Why couldn’t I sound cold and ruthless, like a demon?

  He shook his head, a movement I could feel even through my trembling. “Later.” He kissed my cheek, then my mouth; I melted into him. Relief cascaded through me. He would make it stop— the jittering in my hands, the helpless rabbit-pounding of my heart, the sour taste of terror.

  When he led me into the bedroom, I didn’t even protest.

  CHAPTER 20

  I wish I could say I made him work for it, but I was too relieved. He took his time with me, as usual; sex was the only language we truly shared despite all our time together. Even when he was talking Merican we had precious little common vocabulary. I can’t ever remember being frustrated to the point of tears by my inability to explain, before he came along.

  I had a sneaking suspicion he felt the same way.

  He didn’t let me tell him what had happened until we lay tangled against each other in a hotel bed, my leg over his hip, his fingers in my hair, his mouth against my forehead. I told him the entire story, pausing occasionally while he lifted sweat-damp strands of my hair and combed them with his fingers, his shoulder tensing under my cheek as I yawned. Softness draped against my hip, my back, his wing closed protectively over me.

  I finally felt as if I’d survived.

  Japhrimel turned slowly to stone as I explained about the reaction fire and the cracking of the house shields, and I could feel a fine humming tension in him when I told him about the hovertrain. He listened thoughtfully to the story about the reactive and the imp. His wing tightened, lying along my skin like a sheath around a knife.

  He in turn told me of descending into Hell and of Lucifer’s granting of his request only in the briefe
st of terms. He had come back to collect me and explain, found the house burning and the hoverlimo that had carried me part of the wreckage, an imp’s trail mixed with mine. He had traced me to the hovertrain, taken one himself, lost my trail and caught it again, and arrived in New Prague shortly after the other hovertrain—the one with the huge hole torn in its back—had been remarked but before I rode into town. Hellesvront had been alerted, the two agents sent and set to finding a Magi worth the trouble of recruiting. Japhrimel started combing the city for me—and when Lucas Villalobos had started making inquiries, Japhrimel had gone to meet him personally, heard of the bargain I’d made, and had come to bring me in.

  They found the door to Lucas’s sanctum hacked open but no sign of a demon; the hidden escape-hatch hadn’t been found. It looked like an imp just came in, found I wasn’t there, and left to go topside to track me. From there it was a race to get to the end of the tunnel I’d slipped and slithered through. Then my flare of Power had brought all sorts of fun to the table.

  “Do you know who it was?” I asked. “Which demon, I mean? Either of them?”

  He shrugged. The movement tightened his wing against me. “I am not sure; he fled as soon as I arrived. I was too busy weeding through the human shields to find you.”

  “Human shields?”

  “And a few imps. They may have been mercenaries to buy him time to escape—or to overwhelm a tired hedaira. I do not know, I left none alive.” Japhrimel’s voice chilled. “Enough of that. We have other matters to attend to.”

  “Why not let Lucifer drown in his own stew? I know, I know. We’ve made a bargain.” I yawned again, rubbed my cheek against his shoulder. My body sparked pleasantly, languidly, comfort wrapped around me.

  “Sleep, my curious.” His voice was soft, he pressed a soft kiss onto my forehead. “You attract far too much trouble for my comfort.”

  “Hm. Would have been more trouble if not for the bracelet.” It felt good to be still, to not lay there cataloguing every sound and feeling my skin twitch with alertness.

  “The bracelet.” He didn’t sound particularly happy about that, I wondered if I’d violated another arcane demonic protocol.

  I forced one eye open to see him examining my face, his eyes two chips of light in the darkness of the hotel room. It didn’t smell like home; but Japhrimel’s scent and mine dyed the air, a soft psychic static. “It was in the hover. I thought it was from you.” I wriggled a little to free my left arm from under me, bent my elbow, and lifted the wristcuff to his examination.

  Japhrimel touched it with one golden finger, his eyes luminous in the dimness. “Ah,” he said. “I see…. So.”

  “So what?” I yawned again. He touched my left hand, curled his fingers around it, lifted it to his mouth. Pressed his lips against my fingers, one at a time, each touch a star in the darkness. Thunder shook the sky, but it was warm and quiet under his wing.

  “Tomorrow is soon enough to begin. Sleep.”

  “But what is this thing, if you didn’t give it to me?” The darkness was closing in, I was about to fall. He was the only truly safe haven I had ever known.

  “I suspect it is Lucifer’s comment on you, Dante. Sleep.”

  I slept.

  CHAPTER 21

  When I woke, the bed was empty. Weak rainy sunlight fell in through the windows, outlining Japhrimel as he stood, hands clasped behind his back, looking out onto the Freetown. The light ran over his long black coat and the darkness of his hair—slightly longer now, falling softly over onto his forehead instead of a flat military cut. I liked his hair longer, it made him look a little less severe.

  I pushed myself up on my elbows, the back of my neck naked without the heavy weight of long hair. I gathered the sheet, held it to my chest. Saw the glitter of the wristcuff, my rings sparking as another rushing wave of Power slid over me. It was nice, I decided. Maybe a side effect of him being… whatever he was, now.

  Demon. Again. But still Japhrimel.

  Still my Fallen.

  I scrubbed at my face, my rings scraping. Ran my fingers back through my hair, wincing a little as chopped strands rasped against my skin. It was so silky the tangles would come out fairly easily, but so thick that combing promised to be a frustrating process. I looked at Japhrimel’s back, and the rest of the night crashed back onto me.

  As if he felt my gaze, he turned away from the window. I felt the humming in the walls—he’d shielded this room so well it was almost invisible. His eyes scorched green in the gray light, his face was just the same otherwise. Except for the faint line between his charcoal eyebrows, the way one corner of his mouth pulled down slightly, and the odd shadow over his cheeks.

  “ ’Morning,” I yawned.

  He nodded. “More like afternoon. How do you feel?”

  I took stock. Hungry, still a little shaky from the adrenaline surge of last night, and still not sanguine about getting through Lucifer’s newest game in one piece. “Not too bad,” I lied. “You?”

  He shrugged, an evocative movement.

  We both studied each other. Finally, I patted the bed next to me. “Come on, sit down.”

  He approached the bed soundlessly, dropped down. I touched his shoulder through the coat, rubbed my palm over the velvet-over-iron, trailed my fingers up the back of his neck, slid them through his hair. Touched his face—he closed his eyes, leaned into my fingers with a silent sigh. I brushed his shadowed cheek, smoothing away the wetness.

  I hadn’t known demons could produce tears.

  I touched his cheekbone, the wonderful winged arch, teased at his lips with a fingertip until the bitter little grimace went away. Then I traced the line between his eyebrows until it eased out. Brushed my thumb over his eyebrow. His eyes half-closed, burning against their lids.

  “What does that feel like, to you?” I whispered, my heart in my throat.

  There it was, that slight tender half-smile he used just for me. “It’s quite pleasant.”

  “How pleasant?” I found myself smiling back.

  “Pleasant enough, hedaira.” He submitted to my touch, his face easing. His aura enfolded mine, stroked up my back as I soothed him.

  “Japhrimel.”

  “Dante.” His mouth shaped my name, softly. He leaned slightly into my fingers, a small movement that managed to make my heart, trapped in my throat, leap.

  “Why did you ask Lucifer to give you back a demon’s Power?”

  His expression didn’t alter. “It was too good an opportunity to miss. Why did you cut your hair?”

  “Camouflage. I don’t think I could use skinspray, and if I used a glamour psions would get curious.” I paused, acknowledging his wry expression. He appeared to find that extremely amusing. “I’m sorry. I was on a hair-trigger last night.” I offered it in the spirit of conciliation. I had to admit, a full-fledged demon on my side dramatically improved my chances of getting through this.

  “I am not some faithless human, Dante. I fell; I am Fallen, and my fate is bound to yours. It disturbs me, that you forget it.” His eyes were still closed. He tipped his chin up, exposing his throat, I ran my finger down the vulnerable curve under his chin and he shuddered.

  Oddly enough, it was that little shudder of reaction that convinced me. Did I need convincing when I’d slept next to him again? Shared my body with him again? “If you’d just talk to me about this, I wouldn’t get so tangled up. Is that so much to ask?” I think it’s reasonable, Japh. Far more reasonable than anyone who ever knew me might think I was capable of being. I’m not known for forgiving people.

  “You promised not to doubt me.” His voice was low, rough honey.

  That’s beside the goddamn point. It’s because I trust you that I’m asking you this. “If you’d tell me what’s happening when people are trying to kill me, I’d have an easier time,” I repeated, but without my usual fire. “You just spun a complete one-eighty on me in front of Lucifer—how was I supposed to feel?”

  “You had to appear shocked. It was
necessary.” He said it so kindly, so reasonably, that I felt like an idiot for still pressing the point. His eyes glowed green, a shade that reminded me of Lucifer’s eyes even though they lacked the inherent awfulness of the Devil’s gaze. I couldn’t say exactly how it was different, but he looked more… human. Even with the glowing force of his eyes and the strangeness of his face, harshly balanced between severity and beauty, he still looked more human than he ever had.

  “Necessary.” I didn’t like the way my hand shook. “Gods, Japhrimel. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  “Can you not simply trust in me?”

  I never thought I would live to hear a demon plead. A new experience to add to all the other new experiences. They were coming thick and fast these days. The oldest curse in the book: may you live in interesting times.

  “Listen.” I tried another tack. “You’ve got all this power, you can make me do whatever you want. Can you understand that I might feel a little uneasy? I don’t like being jerked around. Being forced. You know that, it’s been there since the beginning. You know everything about me, but you won’t tell me a single thing about what you’ve made me, or about this whole goddamn situation. I do trust you, I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone else in my whole life, but you’ve got to help me out here.”

  His mouth turned down at the corners, almost bitterly. If I had to guess at the expression on his face, I would have called it frustration. Why couldn’t he understand something so eminently reasonable?

  “Let’s bargain,” I said finally, when I could talk around the lump of ice in my throat. “I’ll do whatever you think’s best if you promise to talk to me. Don’t spring things like that on me. Deal?”

  “I cannot, Dante.” He sounded sad, now. Another first. His mouth actually trembled instead of being pulled into its habitual grim line. “There are things you must let me do. One of them is act for your safety.”