Working for the Devil

by Lilith Saintcrow

  “Around and about. You still do knife-work?” His hair streamed with water, dark and plastered against his forehead.

  “When the occasion calls for it.” I stepped through the shattered window. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. It’s just a window.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Goddamn, you’re good.”

  “I train with Jado almost every day when I’m not on a job.”

  “That old dragon? Chango love you, girl, no wonder you’re good.” He stepped through, shaking the water off his hair and hands, stamping his feet. That’ll foul the mats, I thought, and wondered if broken glass ground into tatami was a bad idea. Of course it is. But maybe he can afford it. “I couldn’t even get time with him. Some say he only trains women.”

  “No, there’s men too. But he says women are better. Quicker reaction time. More evil.” I found myself smiling. Adrenaline laid its thin copper taste against my palate. Now I wanted a hot bath, and I wanted sex.

  Too bad. Nobody here but unavailable men. And I don’t want to trust the local escorts.

  Jace’s hand closed around my wrist. His skin was warm, almost too warm, his shields rubbing against mine. His thumb drifted over my skin, an intimate touch. “Danny.”

  I tore my hand away again. He tried to keep it. Again. “Danny—” Again.

  “No, Jace. Forget it. That’s all you’re going to get from me.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a shame. I remember how good it used to be after a sparring session.” His eyebrow quirked a little. Even with blood running down his face—head wounds are messy—he was still beautiful. I’d always liked blonds. Maybe because I had to dye my hair to fit in with Necromance codes.

  “Well, if you hadn’t dumped me three years ago you might be a little luckier now,” I said, and turned away.

  Gabe and Eddie were watching us. Gabe’s eyes were round. Eddie’s were narrowed, and he looked about ten seconds away from a growl. He had his arm over Gabe’s shoulders; she leaned into his body as if she belonged there.

  Japhrimel stood bolt-upright, his hands behind him. His eyes were half-lidded and the smell of demon filled the entire practice room, warring with the tide of rain-washed air pouring in through the broken window. His coat smoked and fumed with darkness, a psychic stain spreading out from him.

  I don’t know if that’s really a coat, I thought, and stopped short, staring at him. What else could it be? Wings? An exoskeleton?

  Jace went utterly still beside me. “Is that it?” he asked. “You’re dating a demon?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped, and stalked away from him. “Your dick always gets the better of you, Jace, maybe you should try thinking with your brain next time. Thanks for the sparring, I needed it. Next time I’ll spar with Japhrimel—he’s a real challenge.” I was so happy with myself I used more of Jaf’s name, and sounded as if I was talking about someone else. The name fit smoothly against my tongue. Japhrimel. I wondered what it meant, and if I called him by his full name, what would happen?

  “Fucking hell—” Jace began, his voice hitting a pitch I recognized.

  He’d lost his temper.

  “That’s enough,” Gabe snapped, even though Eddie pulled back on her shoulders. The emerald in her cheek flashed, sending a spear of green light through the heavy air. “Hades, haven’t you two finished flirting? Get over it already so we can find the fucking demon and get rid of our Happy Little Pet here!”

  “Japhrimel,” I said, over the last half of her sentence, “come on. The rest of you, we’re going recon in two hours when the rain stops and it gets darker. I’ll expect you all to be ready.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s—” Gabe began. Eddie shushed at her.

  “Danny?” Jace’s voice.

  I stopped. Didn’t turn around. Japhrimel hovered near my shoulder. I hadn’t seen him blink across the intervening space, and that made me vaguely nervous.

  “Thanks for the sparring,” Jace said. “I love working with you.”

  “Sorry, Jace,” I answered. “It’s too late. I work alone.”

  Then I strode out of the practice room, my anger crackling on the air, hearing Jace’s awful silence behind me. I’d won both battles.

  Good for me.

  CHAPTER 27

  Japhrimel didn’t say anything until we reached the blue suite. He closed the door behind us, precisely, locking it, the defenses he’d set in the walls humming as soon as I entered the room. “That was not wise,” he said quietly. “A jealous man does not work well.”

  “Jace works better when he’s under pressure,” I said, unwinding my wet hair from its braid. “And he deserved it.” My rings lay dark and silent against my fingers now. I felt better, the headache eased out by pulling on Power from the well of the city now that my body had acclimatized, my back stopping its low-level cramping. I’d stretch out after a hot bath, and be ready for recon.

  My hands shook. I’d just faced Jace over a sword again. Three years. Three years—and he hadn’t even tried to explain yet. Just acted as if—

  I took a deep breath. I could feel the weight of Japhrimel’s green gaze on my back. Jace didn’t matter. I’d said he didn’t matter, that I didn’t care anymore. I’d sworn many times, out loud and silently, that I was over Jason Monroe. Period. End of story, end of spell, so mote it be, amen, finis.

  “Nevertheless,” Japhrimel persisted. “You should not have used me to prick his jealousy.”

  I shrugged. “It’s his problem. Not mine. My problem is finding Santino and getting that Egg back to Lucifer. Besides, he’s only human. It’s not like he can hurt you if he decides to do something stupid.”

  “Perhaps,” he replied. “But even demons understand jealousy, Dante.”

  I started to unbutton my shirt, tossing my sword on the bed. Safe enough, I thought. At least for now. “Next time I’ll spar with you. At least you’ll give me a workout.”

  If my voice had been any more brittle, it would have snapped. If I was over Jace, I was over him. Right?

  Right?

  “You were not sparring with him,” the demon pointed out. He leaned on the door, his arms folded on his chest, his eyes half-lidded. There was a faint red stain on his caramel cheeks. Dear gods, was he blushing? “You were trying to kill him.”

  “I don’t see any other way to play,” I tossed over my shoulder as I headed for the bathroom. “I’m going to clean up.”

  “As you like.” He didn’t sound too pleased.

  I stopped and looked back at him, my shaking fingers pausing on the fourth button. I didn’t do anything wrong, I repeated to myself. I simply sparred with Jace and made it clear he doesn’t affect me anymore. Now everyone knows what’s going on, it’s official, it’s all aboveboard and time-stamped. I didn’t do anything wrong. “What? Go ahead and say it.”

  Japhrimel didn’t move. He might as well have been a statue, leaning against the door. Warm electric light caressed the planes of his face, sparked in his eyes. The faint reddish stain had drained from his cheeks. “You are . . . trifling with his affections, and using me to do so. The game is exceedingly dangerous.”

  I examined him. “What are you really trying to tell me, Tierce Japhrimel? That Jace has some sort of feeling for me? Why did he leave, then? Huh? You answer me that.”

  “If you like, I will find out.”

  I clutched my shirt together. “I don’t want to know. If it was important, he would have sent me a message or something. I’m not interested in his excuses now.”

  “Then stop needling him. Treat him as an equal.”

  “Hey, demon, I didn’t know if you noticed, but everybody gets the short end of the stick from me.”

  “Do not use me to make a human jealous, Dante. It is very unwise of you.”

  “Sekhmet sa’es,” I hissed. “I didn’t. Don’t get your girdle in a twist.”

  “You did, Dante. I would advise you not to trifle with him, and not to trifle with me either.” He didn’t move, but the air
swirled uneasily. Thunder boomed outside, muted by the bulk of the house but still enough to raise the hairs on my nape. The demon’s stain on my aura moved, drawing closer to my skin, a gentle brush against the edges of my awareness.

  “Like you care,” I said, and turned on my heel, stalking for the bathroom. “Leave it alone, hellspawn. This is a human thing.”

  He said nothing. I stamped into the bathroom and slammed the door, then started peeling off my wet clothes. “Gods damn it, “ I hissed, yanking my jeans down, kicking them into the corner. I could really hate them both, couldn’t I? I sure could. Especially the gods-be-damned demon. Because?

  I found myself staring in the mirror, wet lank dead-black seaweed hair, indeterminate dark eyes, pale face, dark rings under my eyes, my mouth pulled tight in a bitter grimace, my fingernails skritching against the counter as my hands tensed. My tattoo shifted uneasily, serpents writhing against winged staff, the emerald turning dark and glittering angrily.

  Because he’s right. I want Jace to suffer. I want him to lose his temper. I want to win, goddammit. Even if it’s a hollow victory. I want him to hurt.

  “Fuck,” I breathed, looking at my eyes. Dark circles, mouth drawn tight, Power trembling at the outer edge of my control. Deep breath, Danny. Take a deep breath and get cool with the program, okay? Chill down. Chill down.

  I’m going to die.

  “Shut up,” I whispered. “If I die, I’m taking Santino with me. I owe Doreen. And I’ve lived long enough.”

  It sounded good, but the woman in the mirror didn’t believe it. I had a mortgage. I had a life I was just beginning to piece together and go on with. I didn’t want to die.

  “How much longer would you live anyway going up against Santino, Danny?” I asked myself. “Huh?”

  Not very much longer, some deep voice replied. Just long enough to make him regret it.

  “Good,” I said. “So stop fooling around.”

  I don’t want to die.

  “I don’t have a choice. If the god takes me, He takes me.”

  I still don’t want to die.

  “Too bad,” I whispered, turning away from the mirror. I couldn’t take looking at myself any longer.

  CHAPTER 28

  El diablo Santino,” Jace said, the knife pressed against the thin Hispanic’s throat. “Okay?”

  Gabe and Eddie had the mouth of the alley and the demon stood behind me. I watched the man’s eyes flicker, white rolling around their edges. He was sweating, great drops of water sliding down his face. The reek of fear warred with the smell of demon. The alley was piled with garbage, hot and rank and wet from the afternoon’s rain. It was only slightly cooler. My hair, trapped in a braid, was twisted into a knot at my nape. I looked down at my wrist, having just scanned the man in.

  The plug-in, clear plasilica smoothed over my datband, lit up with a string of code. “He’s got a warrant, Jace,” I said quietly. “Do we haul him in?”

  The omni and the first H-DOC, slim squares of plasilica with clear Hegemony military-tech flexcircuits, I’d already plastered over my datband. I’d smoothed the second H-DOC over Japhrimel’s wrist. We were officially on a hunt now, plugged into the Hegemony police nets and immune to a few laws having to do with general murder and chaos—as long as the murder and chaos served the purpose of bringing our bounty in. The night sky was choked with clouds though the downpour had stopped, and steaming heat closed us in a bubble of damp discomfort. Now I knew what the inside of a rice cooker felt like.

  The man babbled in Portogueso, sweating, his eyes rolling. He wore a loose white cotton shirt and frayed khakis, his huaraches digging into the pavement as he tried to back through the rough earth-brick wall behind him. One of his hands hit the dumpster Jace had trapped him beside, and a hollow boom punched the air.

  Jace was shaking down his contacts, and none of them looked happy to see him. Considering he was walking around with two Necromances, I didn’t blame them. Still, Jace was savage. He was in his element here. The first contact had tried to dive out a fourth-story window onto bare concrete to get away from him.

  I was beginning to think that he had a reputation.

  Jace said something very low. The man’s eyes flicked past his shoulder, fastened on me, and he gibbered something.

  Jace went very still. He asked a couple more questions, both answered in a high whine.

  Jace laid the knifeblade against the man’s cheek. He said something very low and quick, and I caught my name—Dante Valentino—and his own name, accented strangely. Then he let the man go, tossed him onto the floor of the alley, the knife disappearing.

  As soon as he turned around, his eyes thoughtful, I knew there was trouble. “What was that?” I asked incuriously, looking down at the man moaning on the pavement. He seemed to be in an ecstasy of fear. “And are we hauling him in?”

  “No, let him go, he’s wetting his pants anyway. Come on, Danny.” Jace straightened his shoulders. “We’ve got to pow-wow.”

  Gabe and Eddie drifted in from the mouth of the alley. We left Jace’s contact scrambling against the cracking pavement and moaning to himself. “Good news,” Gabe whispered. “There’s a set of heavies coming through the neighborhood, Jace. Not sure if they’re looking for you or—”

  “They aren’t,” he said grimly. “Word is the Corvin Family’s looking to capture Danny. Alive and unharmed. Someone is putting the squeeze on the Mob down here.” Jace’s eyes didn’t move from mine. He wore dark blue, shirt and jeans, blending into the night. He dropped his hand to his swordhilt, tapped blunt fingers in a pattern I recognized. “Wonder who that could be.”

  “Santino?” I asked. Why would the Mob get involved, expecially a Mob Family I hadn’t ever tangled with? Then again, the Mob didn’t want us to go after Santino last time, because they were in the same corporate bed with him when it came to illegal augments. The memory made my lip curl. Gods above and below, how I hated the Mob.

  Behind me, Jace’s contact monkeyed up a splitting, rotten wooden fence and dropped down on the other side.

  “Don’t think so. I’ve got enemies too, and you came in on a public transport as Saint City police irregulars. Fun. About as stealthy as a Skinlin berserker.” He grinned, lips stretching back from his teeth in a grimace I remembered. Jace was furious.

  Why? Why would that make him furious?

  “So what do we do now?” Eddie asked. “They’re gettin’ kind of close, Monroe.”

  “Do?” Jace shrugged. “I just told Jose to spread the word that Danny Valentine’s under my personal protection. As for those clumsy fuckers moving in, we either run, or we send a message that she ain’t going to come cheap. My vote goes for the latter. It will make it easier to get information, scare some people. What do you say?”

  Eddie shrugged. “I’m up for a fight.”

  “Me, too,” Gabe chimed in. “Lucky you, Danny, you’ve got an admirer or two. Or a hundred.”

  “I can’t think of why,” I grumbled. “Look at this, I just blew into town and already people want to kill me.”

  “Not kill,” Jace corrected. “Capture. Alive and unharmed.”

  “For how much?” the demon asked suddenly.

  “Five million standard credits,” Jace replied easily.

  Silence. I looked at Gabe. Her jaw dropped. She had her hair in two braids like a demented schoolgirl. One hung forward over her slim shoulder, the other dangled in back. Her emerald glittered in the darkness. Even in a police rig and synthwool coat in the boiling heat, she looked cool, calm, and precise.

  Eddie let out a low whistle.

  “Take her back to the house,” Jace said to the demon. “Watch her. Don’t even send her to the bathroom alone.”

  “Now just wait one goddamn second,” I objected, relieved that Japhrimel made no move to obey Jace. “This is my hunt, I’m not going to be hauled around like a piece of baggage.”

  “Give us some time to clear the street and do some recon, Danny,” Jace said reasonably. But
a tic in his cheek was jumping. That meant trouble. Heavy trouble. There was something Jace wasn’t telling. “It’s best. You know it’s best.”

  “This is my hunt,” I repeated in a fierce whisper. “You are not taking over. Is that clear?”

  “This serves no purpose,” the demon said. “Dante?”

  “Let’s go kick some ass,” I answered. “Don’t fuck with me on my hunt, Jace.”

  “Danny, you should get under cover until we can sort out who’s looking for you.” Jace sounded calm and reasonable, but his hand curled around his swordhilt. He was two steps away from rage, and I’d only seen Jason Monroe in a rage twice before.

  “I’m not backing down, Jace,” I hissed. “Come on.”

  “Fine,” he said. “But after that we’re going back and hashing this out.”

  “Good enough,” I gave in. I was hungry anyway, and I wanted a quiet place to think. “Let’s go rumble.”

  “Standard form?” Gabe asked.

  “Yeah. Watch out for Danny, everyone, they’ll look to net her.” Jace didn’t look away from me, even when my lip lifted and I snarled openly at him.

  “I can take care of myself,” I said, thumbing my blade free of the scabbard with a small sound. “Japhrimel, we’re going to mix. Kill the opposition, as long as they’re not innocent bystanders. Okay?”

  “As you like,” Japhrimel said quietly. “I will watch over you, Dante. They are coming quickly; we had best go now.”

  “Oh, Sekhmet sa’es,” I hissed. “Get moving, standard form. Jace, you take point; Gabe, keep Eddie from going berserk—”

  “Danny?” Gabe turned, her right hand sliding below her left armpit. “They’re here.”

  As if to underscore her words, a plasbolt crackled past. I looked up—they’d gotten onto the roofs. Stupid, sloppy, I’m going to smack Jace hard for this. “Out!” I yelled, shoving Jace. “Take it streetside! Go!”

  We ran.

  “Twelve of them,” Japhrimel said, his voice calm and clearly audible even though the rest of us were pounding down the pavement, Eddie gasping out something that might have been the beginnings of a chant. I snapped out two words of the Fourth Canon, throwing my right hand up. My second ring—amber cabochon—sparked and crackled, and a milky shimmer in the air separated around each of us. Juggling a spell while running was bad enough, but worth the effort because a plasbolt streaked the air and splashed against the shimmershield surrounding Gabe, who let out a short sharp falcon’s scream, probably expecting to be flung on the pavement.