Hell Hath No Vengeance (Vengeance Demons Book 5)

by Louisa Lo

  I was familiar with Rosemary’s personality, and that knowledge had aided me in ejecting the shade. But I knew nothing about Sophia, so this was Gregory’s turn to pick whichever of her memory threads should we dive into first.

  I didn’t envy his task.

  “Hard to choose, isn’t it?” It was the same menacing voice that I’d heard before, except it wasn’t coming from inside my own head anymore.

  I quickly opened my eyes.

  Sitting on top of the tall dresser with her feet dangling was a lithe female figure, which at first glance seemed to be naked. Closer observation showed that she was dressed in a nude bodysuit of the same material that figure skaters used. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, with a pixie build and a doll-like face, reminding me of those chubby clown toys. She was pouting, but on her face it came across as more bratty than dangerous.

  Then the girl’s features and outfit changed. The nude bodysuit became a black polyester one, her body became elongated, and the breast cup size doubled. Her chin became more sculpted, her face gained a decade of maturity.

  She basically went from cute to smoking hot before our very eyes.

  Her neck, which wasn’t hidden by the bodysuit, was now covered in tattoos of blood-red roses and thorns. Her nails had grown long and become covered in red polish, and a long tail with a pitchfork end snapped playfully at her feet.

  Gregory protectively placed himself in front of his unconscious mother, and I joined him. The stance was only for show, of course. The shade had already been to Sophia’s mind, done the damage, and left.

  My first instinct was to launch an immediate attack against the cursed woman, but Gregory gave me a look that begged me not to. The shade held a lot of cards, and we had to tread carefully if we were to get Sophia’s mind back intact.

  “Is this more of what you expect from a dangerous entity who’s holding your mother’s fate in her hands?” The shade teased Gregory. “I personally prefer this biker-chick look. What do you think?”

  “You’re quite the chameleon, I’ll give you that,” I snapped. “So what?”

  “So I want my boyfriend back.” The shade examined her nails casually. “If that’s not too much trouble.”

  Gregory and I looked at each other. Should we pretend to negotiate, or tell her outright how getting Boyce out of Hell would be impossible? Well, not impossible, since Boyce had somehow managed to do just that on his own, but Gregory and I really couldn’t afford to piss off Lucifer when we already made so many enemies.

  The shade hardened her jaw. “I went into the store for like, five seconds, and you assholes grabbed him and sent him back.”

  That explained why we’d found our former target being close to a grocery store—he was “helping” his girlfriend with the shopping by robbing little old ladies of their purchases.

  “I know what you’re both thinking, but you got it all wrong. My Boyce is just a big, old teddy bear with a soft heart. You two jerks ganged up on him and arrested him for something he didn’t do,” the shade complained.

  Right, the dwarf-giant thug with the long rap sheet and facial scars was a big teddy bear who’d done no wrong. And I was the queen of the fairies.

  Seeing the disbelief on our faces, the shade hissed. “I’m telling the truth. He’s been a good boy ever since he got out of Don after serving time for that last B and E. We started writing each other while he was still in there, and he told me that being with me changed him into a better man.”

  Urgh. Better man. Yeah, right.

  Boyce Armstrong’s record came straight from Hell’s Book of Life and Death. As certain as the sun would rise from the east on the human plane, the Book had never been wrong for supernaturals. If it said Boyce Armstrong had to do time, then he most certainly had done the crime.

  The Don Prison was a supernatural jail on the vengeance plane, mainly for generic petty crimes that the Council deemed too mundane for a customized vengeance job. So the shade was like one of those women who were into dating inmates, and she harbored him after his escape from Hell. Great. She really wasn’t helping his case here.

  This was a time I wished for direct telepathy between Gregory and me. I needed to talk to him about how to proceed. It was, after all, his mother who was at risk here and he had the most to lose. And things with the lovesick shade could get messy. Fast.

  There was a movement out of the corner of my eye. I dared not turned toward it, but I was pretty certain that it was Sassy—I’d known her long enough to identify her even with just my peripheral vision. She was quietly stalking toward our enemy. Good girl. I forced my eyes to fixate on the shade, and proceeded to keep talking.

  I had no idea how to beat a shade, so Sassy was our best hope.

  “So you’re saying that your boyfriend didn’t kill all those people. But why take it up with us? We’re just freelance contractors. Can’t you like, submit an appeal to Hell or something?” I asked.

  “I did.” The shade banged her fist on the dresser door. “I got stonewalled by Lucifer’s damn bureaucrats. And they’re all ‘we’re just following the Book.’ Bullshit. You took him to Hell. You get him out of there for me. Or else this one’s mother gets it.” The shade pointed at Gregory.

  She was going to say something else, but then her eyes were caught by the vase of flowers next to her on the dresser.

  The plants from Hell.

  The shade plucked the single blood-red rose out of the center of the floral creation and sniffed at it. Then she narrowed her eyes at me, “Lucifer is courting you?”

  “What is she talking about?” Gregory asked me sharply. Was that jealousy, or professional concern on his behalf, that the big bad of Hell had shown some sort of unspecified interest in me? I found myself secretly hoping for a dash of jealousy.

  “Er, I was going to tell you, but with everything that was going on tonight…” I trailed off. I expected to see anger and annoyance, but—was that hurt in his eyes, or was it wounded pride?

  “You have that kind of pull with Hell.” The shade threw the rose on the ground in disgust. “And you wouldn’t even look into this matter for me?”

  At that moment—to save me from answering the question or to take advantage of the shade’s distraction—Sassy jumped seven feet onto the shade’s back.

  Except she couldn’t exactly land on her target. She got to the shade’s back all right, but she managed to reach nothing but thin air, which she sailed through. It was as if the shade wasn’t actually solid at all—well, a shade wasn’t solid to begin with, but I thought when a shade went against a shade, something had to make impact, right?

  My poor kitty expected to be jumping onto something and ended up hanging off the front of the dresser by her claws.

  The shade looked down and sneered at where a dangling Sassy protruded from her stomach. “Little sister. Do you really think it’ll be that easy? You’ve been domesticated for far too long and you’ve lost your wild side. You can’t hurt me.”

  Sassy gave the shade an extremely dirty look. Domesticated was probably the most insulting word one could use to describe an independent soul like Sassy.

  The shade turned back to Gregory, her eyes cold. “Fine, if you and your devil’s whore won’t help me, then go ahead and try to rescue your mother and see if you’ll have the same luck as with Rosemary. My name is Vera, and I’m your worst nightmare.”

  Devil’s whore? Whoa, that was a bit harsh. I received the flowers from the guy and I turned him down. That didn’t make me a whore of anything. And even if I had an in with Hell, which I didn’t, that still didn’t mean I was obligated to help Vera’s unreasonable cause.

  Vera laughed mirthlessly and faded away. The iciness of her laughter slithered down my spine in continuous waves even after she was gone. And was she really gone, or was she still in this room? Or did she return to Sophia’s mind to meet us there?

  I glanced at Gregory and his expression was closed. Was he mad that Sassy had escalated the situation with her
attack on Vera? Or was he still processing the sight of Lucifer’s flowers in my bedroom?

  “Sorry about cutting the bargaining process short,” I began.

  He shrugged. “There’s nothing we could have promised her anyway.”

  “And, er, just in case you’re wondering. This is the first time I’ve ever gotten flowers from Lucifer, and I already turned him down.” It was really a personal issue, and it wasn’t like I owed Gregory an explanation, but if Vera thought I could’ve help and didn’t, then it became a business matter.

  I wasn’t going to dwell on the fact that I felt compelled to clarify because I wanted him to know nothing was going on with me and Lucifer. Well, at least not from my end.

  Gregory gave me a curt nod, but I noticed his shoulders relax noticeably. “We’ll talk more about it. After.”

  “Okay, let’s go then.” I settled Sassy back on the bed and leaned toward Sophia, but Gregory was rooted to the ground. “What’s the problem?”

  His eyes were trained on his unconscious mother, his voice tight. “Megan, can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Pick a thread for us to go into. I don’t trust myself enough to do it. In my current state of mind, I’ll probably crash land into a memory and destroy it once and for all.”

  I couldn’t help but feel touched that despite everything that still needed to be said between us, he was trusting me in this matter.

  I reached over and took Gregory’s hand in mine, then I touched Sophia with my other hand. That way I bore the direct responsibility of selecting which thread to go into, and Gregory was simply tagging along. I sure hoped that I would make the right choice. Talk about pressure. This was worse than doing the same thing with Rosemary earlier, given Sophia’s relatively weaker state, Vera’s open challenge, and the fact that Gregory was counting on me.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Sophia’s mind was even more messy and infected than the last time I checked. There were now many more corrupted memories, making the healthy ones nothing but a tiny minority. The ugly red lines of the corrupted memories tangled with each other, with many broken paths that had turned grey. Ironically, in some places certain damaged memories were held together by other damaged ones, sharing characters and settings for similar scenes in the mental equivalent of duct tape.

  Looked like Vera had done a heck of a lot more damage out of spite for Sassy’s sneak attack.

  Should I go for a memory that was the most corrupted, or the least so? More recent, or deeper into the past?

  I couldn’t afford to become paralyzed with fear. Gregory was already too close to it. I had to make a choice. At this point, any choice was better than inaction.

  In the end, I made the call using the very scientific and clinical method of eeny, meeny, miney, moe.

  Chapter Eight

  Soul Mates

  We arrived in a little boy’s bedroom, painted in royal blue. There was a night lamp casting a silvery glow over the ceiling, and the walls were covered in stickers brushed with fairy dust, which allowed them to change shape and color on command. The stickers were set to a series of trains, at the moment. The train cars raced around the room producing puffs of steam and making choo-choo sounds.

  A fair bit of money had gone into decorating the room. It was there in the night lamp projecting the illusion of dancing fairies chasing each other across the room. It was there in the magically-enhanced wall stickers. It was there in the small bed by the window, which was made of imported dark wood from the Grimmian Forest that was supposed to accelerate early childhood development. It was probably all just a marketing gimmick, but there was no denying the ridiculous price tag.

  A boy of about four or five lay on the bed under a blanket that matched the wall’s color, an oversize children's book over his chest, with a woman leaning over him from the chair beside the bed.

  I recognized the kid as a younger Gregory because he was a miniature version of the man that I’d come to know: the same rich brown hair, the same dark brows, though his cheekbones were rounded by chubbiness typical of children his age. His eyes were unguarded and sparkling with hope, and there were dimples on his cheeks as he beamed at the woman.

  That must be his mother, though she was far less recognizable when compared to her modern-day counterpart. It wasn’t so much due to her physical appearance, because the present-day Sophia was still a very handsome woman. No, the difference was in the very essence of her spirit, which I could feel even through the filter of memories. The younger Sophia’s power signature felt fresh, confident, and vibrant, like strawberries in early July—sweetly half-ripe but with a good amount of crispness.

  The adult Gregory was keeping his eyes anywhere except on the mother and child, his jaw locked and his expression grim. This must be hard for him to watch, the innocence on his younger self’s face before the world turned cruel. He’d tensed up ever since we got here, and I bet that if he could escape anywhere, he would. But since I’d already picked this memory, we would have to see it through. I remembered well what he said about how exiting a damaged memory might also cause it harm.

  And I couldn’t do this alone. He was the one who’d experienced the actual event, so he knew better than me what had been tampered with and what hadn’t.

  “Well, time to sleep, young man. We’ll finish the story tomorrow night.” Sophia took the book away from the younger Gregory, kissed his forehead, and got up.

  “Mommy, can you tell me about Father again?” Young Gregory’s voice was full of eager anticipation. There was not a hint of the bitterness and contempt that Adult Gregory would associate with his biological father.

  The child’s question seemed to be their nightly ritual, as Sophia smiled and settled right back onto the chair.

  Her face took on a dreamy expression. “Your father and I met when I went to college. We knew right away that we are each other’s solus iungere.”

  “What’s that?” Young Gregory had a look that told me he already knew the answer to that question, but he simply wanted his mom to say it again night after night.

  “That means soul mates for our people.” Sophia ruffled her son’s hair with great affection. “Your daddy and I love each other, and we both love you very much. He can’t be here all the time, but he wants to. He’s a very powerful vengeance demon, and he does very important, grown-up stuff for the Council.”

  “What kind of stuff?” Young Gregory asked, his expression avid.

  “Stuff that helps a lot of people.”

  “Does he help kids, too?”

  “Especially kids.” Sophia winked.

  “Is that why he can’t come to read me bedtime stories? Because he has to help all those people and all those kids?” Young Gregory asked, surprisingly not out of bitter disappointment, but rather, fierce pride. It was there in the gleam in his eyes—the kid was so proud of his father. Hero-worshipping, even.

  I stole a furtive glance at the stony expression on Adult Gregory. They said parents existed to disappoint their children so the latter could surpass them, but this was quite the whopper. Ouch, the more we build up our heroes, the farther they fall. No wonder the Gregory I knew harbored such animosity toward the old man.

  “That’s right, pumpkin.” Sophia tucked a lock of hair behind her son’s ears with great affection. “So many people in the Cosmic Balance are relying on your father to deliver justice for them. He has to travel to a great many planes. A lot of worlds you’ve never even heard of before.”

  “Across the whole Cosmic Balance?” Young Gregory flung his blanket aside and spread his arms wide, clearly excited by the idea.

  “Yes, across the whole Cosmic Balance,” Sophia confirmed with a laugh as she tugged her son’s arms back into the blanket.

  Young Gregory flashed his mother such a brilliant smile, the nightlight paled in comparison. “When is he coming to see us again?”

  Sophia’s face dimmed, but she quickly hid it. “Very soon, dear. Very soon.
”

  “When?” Young Gregory persisted.

  “He has one more assignment to do. After that he should be free.”

  “But that’s what you said last week.”

  “It’ll be soon, dear. And you know that even when he’s away, he’s always thinking of you. Do you like the gift he sent you?”

  “Yeah.” Young Gregory looked excited at the mention of it.

  In a clear attempt to distract her son from further questioning along such a sensitive topic, Sophia got up and took a vengeance practice doll from a nearby shelf. It was a popular toy for both male and female vengeance younglings. The doll was enchanted to behave like a real target when vengeance was performed on it, with the appropriate screaming, cursing, and struggling. The perfect gift for a future punishment giver.

  Like everything else in this room, the doll was above the pay grade of an average vengeance demon. The skin texture appeared more realistic, the outfit better tailored, and there were three different volume settings to the screaming, giving the player a better idea of the degree of force to use when applying vengeance. The practice target would even go as far as struggling to get away. I knew all this because one of my richer classmates in kindergarten had gotten one and paraded it around class. The endless bragging had only come to an end when the doll successfully escaped up the water pipes, but got permanently lodged there.

  Young Gregory squeezed the ankle of the doll, and it cursed, “You rolled my ankle, you vengeance brat!”

  At least they kept the cursing PG.

  Delighted, the brat in question squeezed harder.

  “Ouch, now you gone and twisted it, you demon!”

  Young Gregory giggled, hugged the doll to himself, and started to drift to sleep.

  Sophia sang him a lullaby until his breathing became even, then tugged at his blanket one last time and started to leave the room.

  “Mommy?” Young Gregory’s drowsy voice came right before Sophia closed the door behind her.