by A. H. Lee
“I have been dealing with demons since before you were born,” continued Jacob patiently. “I have come to think of them as a type of magical animal—a wild animal. They are inhuman, but no more evil than a tiger that has been taught to walk on a leash. You can teach a tiger to perform tricks, attack on command, accept food from your fingertips…but it’s still a wild animal, and if you keep a lot of pet tigers, you’re likely to be killed by one. If you parade them around in public, you’re likely to get other people killed by them as well. Wild animals belong in their native habitat, Lord Azrael.”
Azrael said nothing. He was using magic to probe the edges of Jacob’s wards. They were frustratingly good.
“I suppose you’ll tell me that you think he’s human,” said Jacob after a heartbeat’s pause.
“Why should I? Clearly you disagree.” Should I bind Mal right here to protect him? How betrayed would he feel by that? And would it really stop this man?
Jacob sighed. “You’re not listening to me. In spite of my promise not to banish him this evening, you’re not listening.”
Azrael turned the full weight of his icy glare on the other sorcerer.
“I know you haven’t made a big mistake with him yet,” continued Jacob. “I can tell by your aura. But here’s what I want you to understand, Lord Azrael: demons have a degree of patience that human beings could only dream of. They wait and wait and wait for their chance.
“In the beginning, they only want to go home. They’ll kill you if you get in their way, but they just want to go back to the wild. If you keep them too long, however, they change. Those changes make it hard for them to function in their natural habitat. Demons in this condition often resist returning to the astral plane. They yearn to do so, but they resist. Those demons want something more than escape. They want revenge for what has been done to them. They want to work their human masters like puppets. They want to try pulling the strings. Who can blame them?”
Jacob’s aristocratic face twisted into a scowl as he looked over the crowd. “We are the monsters, Azrael. They are innocent animals, exploited for the resources they can give. Unfortunately, the monsters are my people, and it is my life’s work to protect the majority of humanity from the stupid mistakes of those like myself. You would be a very dangerous puppet.”
Azrael took a deep breath. “Have you actually spoken to Mal?”
Jacob shook his head. “I’m sure he would say that he adores you and means you no ill will.”
“You think he’s lying?”
Jacob pursed his lips. “Azrael, think of everything we do to them—everything you’ve done to him. And then ask yourself honestly whether you could forgive that?”
Chapter 56
Jessica
Jessica enjoyed the ball for all the reasons she had expected to. The palace was strange and beautiful. All the clothes were old-fashioned and magnificent. The magic was showy and ostentatious.
Jessica also disliked the ball for all the reasons she had expected. Mal was on edge from the moment they stepped into the foyer. Azrael was preoccupied, and he left the room shortly after they started dancing. Twice, someone attempted to cut into their dance, but Mal and Jessica ignored these people. Jessica wasn’t accustomed to being in a sexually charged environment where she wasn’t supposed to feed. She hoped she wasn’t doing it by accident.
Jessica could taste unfamiliar magic in the air. She’d grown so accustomed to the taste of Mal, Azrael, and Lucy’s magic that the magic of strangers made her uneasy. She wished she’d been properly introduced to these people. Then perhaps the taste of their magic would not feel so much like a threat.
Jessica and Mal stopped for drinks, and a smooth-spoken gentleman in a green waistcoat began talking to them almost at once. How long had they been attending Lord Azrael? Were they enjoying Kotos? Were their rooms in the palace acceptable? (They were staying in the palace, surely?) Did Lord Azrael often travel with so few attendants? Had he perhaps left part of his retinue elsewhere? Did he require any assistance? Anything at all to make his stay more pleasant? What were their names, again?
After trying to end the conversation politely, Mal ended it rudely and they returned to the dance floor. “Was he a wizard?” whispered Jessica.
Mal nodded.
“He made me feel strange.”
“He was looking at your aura.”
“Let’s just dance until Ren comes back.”
It seemed like they danced for an age, although it could not have been more than thirty minutes. Then Azrael surprised them by whisking through the crowd rather fast. Jessica barely saw him before he was tapping on her shoulder as though to cut in. Instead, he leaned between them and murmured, “That man behind me near the wall—tall, lean, graying hair—he’s a sorcerer, demon hunter. He knows Mal’s name.”
Jessica felt her stomach drop. She remembered Lucy’s words: “They’ll banish you—deliver you gift-wrapped to your entity. There’ll be no coming back from the astral plane after that.”
Mal froze. For an instant, Jessica thought he might panic—might transform into a panther and flee on four legs. Then Azrael gripped his arm and whispered fiercely, “He’s not going to attack you right here. We just need to leave. At once.”
Somehow, Mal refrained from knocking people out of their way as he moved towards the exit. Somehow, they reached the foyer without making a scene. Somehow, they waited for their coats.
Mal kept glancing back down the hall as though he expected the demon hunter to come strolling after them, laughing and saying, “You didn’t really think you’d get away, did you?”
But their coats arrived and the demon hunter did not. Then they were walking through the chilly night, climbing into a coach. Azrael told the driver where to go. The door shut. The coach jerked into motion.
Mal took off his hat and laid it in his lap. He leaned his head against the coach box and shut his eyes. Jessica was sitting beside him, Azrael across from them.
Jessica laid her hand on Mal’s knee. He was trembling. After a moment, he said, “Boss?”
Azrael was staring out the window at a patch of stars through the clouds. “Hmm?”
“How—?” began Mal.
“I don’t know,” said Azrael.
Mal seemed to expect him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Finally, Mal asked, “Did we get Kotos?”
Azrael nodded, still looking out the window. “No faery magic.” He didn’t sound like he cared anymore.
They rode the rest of the way in silence. Jessica had expected more flirtation on this ride. Surely it wouldn’t matter if Mal embarrassed Azrael now. But Mal was shaken, and Azrael was miles away. He stared out the window, even when the view was pitch-black. The reflection of his face looked like a marble mask.
It’ll be alright, Jessica told herself. This is why he made the gate—so that we wouldn’t have to actually sleep anywhere near Kotos. As soon as we’re back in the Provinces, we’ll leave this strange evening behind.
Chapter 57
Azrael
“Not for free. You took my magic for years. You don’t get it for free ever again.” Mal had snarled those words when Azrael first showed up at the cottage. He’d sounded so angry—like a stranger. Azrael had forgotten.
“Demons have a degree of patience that human beings could only dream of.”
“You. No wards. Anything I want.”
“In the beginning, they only want to go home. But if you keep them too long, they change. Those demons want something more than escape. They want revenge for what has been done to them.”
“Wallace was right. I do think you’re my friend.”
“Azrael, think of everything we do to them—everything you’ve done to him. And then ask yourself honestly whether you could forgive that?”
Chapter 58
Jessica
It wasn’t late when they stepped into the garden—a little after nine. They’d left a light on in the kitchen, and it glowed cheerfully through a window—a reassuringly non-magical ele
ctric bulb. Jessica shed her heavy coat. She was tempted to sit down on a garden bench and begin unlacing her uncomfortable shoes, but she supposed the dress deserved better treatment. “That was the longest three hours of my life. Let’s never go to Kotos again.”
No banter greeted this remark. Jessica didn’t think Azrael even heard her. He walked straight into the cottage, the kitchen door swinging behind him. Mal stared after him.
“What’s wrong?” whispered Jessica.
“I thought he was worried for me,” said Mal. “Now I’m not so sure.”
“Do you think the prince or the demon hunter said something upsetting to him?”
“Well, if it was about me, I would hope he’d share it!” Mal was growing increasingly animated. “And I hope he’s not about to take back tonight because he promised!”
“Mal, calm down.” Getting excited and angry won’t help.
But Mal didn’t handle confusion well. He knew how to be excited and angry. He started towards the door, tugging off his tie and unbuttoning his collar and cuffs. “Oh, Booooss! You may have forgotten, but I don’t work for free anymore!”
Jessica followed him with a sense of dread. The evening—so perfectly balanced a few hours ago—seemed to be spinning out of control.
Azrael did not answer. He wasn’t in the kitchen. Mal tossed his hat on the table with an expression of disgust. He followed it with his tie, which hit the hat and sent them both to the floor. Mal left them lying there and stalked into the sitting room. “Azrael!”
“Mal, it’s not a big house,” hissed Jessica. “Please stop shouting.”
Azrael’s coat, tie, and hat lay on the couch and his trunk stood open as though he’d been rummaging in it.
Mal kicked off his shoes, grumbling under his breath, and prowled into the bedroom.
Azrael was sitting on the edge of the bed near one of the side tables in the glow of a lamp. His shoes, belt, and cummerbund had been discarded by the bathroom door. He was sitting there in his shirtsleeves, cradling something in his hands, murmuring words that curled like silver smoke in the air.
Mal stared at him for a long beat. Then he growled, sounding exactly like a panther. “That’s a memory charm! You’re going to make me forget! Make me forget what you promised!” His voice broke on the last sentence. He was so upset, he’d started shaking again. Jessica didn’t know what to do—whether she should take Mal’s hand or get between them or start talking or...
Azrael raised his head. He looked smaller without his coat and hat, younger. His eyes looked huge and dark in his narrow face. “It’s not for you,” he whispered.
Mal went still. “What?”
Azrael swallowed. He reached out and patted the bed beside him. “Come here, Mal. Please.”
Mal came forward, looking a little ashamed of himself and profoundly confused. “It’s not for me?”
Azrael shook his head. Mal sat down beside him with a cautious two feet between them. Azrael looked over his head. “Jessica, you, too.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Jessica said, “I’d like my shoes off for this conversation. Is that alright?” Azrael nodded and went back to whispering to the thing in his hands. Jessica struggled out of her shoes. Then, she decided she really couldn’t be in a corset right now either and said, “Mal, please unlace me.”
Mal got up and came to help her out of the dress. She could tell he was uncoiling a little. Jessica stripped and changed into her pajamas. Mal took off everything but his shirt and trousers. After a moment’s hesitation, he took his collar off, too, and laid it on top of his coat.
Azrael didn’t even look up. Finally, they came back to the bed. Mal sat down again, and Jessica crawled into the middle of the bed. She sat cross-legged, breathing freely and enjoying her lack of corset.
“Now tell me why you’re acting so strange,” demanded Mal. “Why are you creating a memory charm? If it’s not for me, who? Are we going to have to fight that demon hunter tonight? Is he coming after us?”
Azrael shook his head. He opened his hands to reveal a shot glass with a thimble-full of clear fluid at the bottom. He examined it critically. “It’s not for you,” he repeated. “It’s for me.” He raised his eyes and gave Mal the saddest smile Jessica had ever seen. “Me. No wards. Anything you want.”
Mal blinked. “But—”
“If you hurt me, you can heal me. We both know you can do that. If you don’t actually kill me…I’ll never know the difference.”
Mal opened his mouth again, but no sound came out.
Azrael shut his eyes. “Say whatever you want, do whatever you want. And if…if you decide you still want to be friends in the morning…”
Jessica was beginning to understand. It was like watching a train-wreck in slow motion.
Mal finally managed to speak. “You won’t remember? We’ll have sex, and you won’t remember?!”
Azrael leaned back a little in the face of Mal’s ferocity. “I’ll be myself,” he said in a small voice. “I’ll…feel everything.”
Jessica shut her eyes. She could see that Azrael thought he was giving Mal the ultimate gift: a consequence-free evening of doing absolutely anything he liked to his old master. Azrael was leaving himself wide-open. If Mal wanted to kill him, Azrael wasn’t doing much to stop him. If Mal fed on him, Azrael wouldn’t remember. The one thing Mal could not do, at least tonight, was destroy their friendship. If he said or did things too cruel to be forgiven, they would be erased, at least this once. Mal could have his revenge and his friend…if that’s what he wanted.
But Mal doesn’t want the chance to say cruel things to you, thought Jessica. He doesn’t want the chance to injure you. He wants you to trust him. And this is the opposite.
“You are afraid,” hissed Mal, his posture rigid with hurt and anger.
It was Azrael’s turn to look confused.
“Afraid,” repeated Mal a little louder. “I can fix it, but you won’t let me.” His voice grew in volume with every sentence. “You took my magic for years! Took and took and took! But you won’t let me take even a little bit for one night! Just one fucking night, Azrael!”
Azrael flinched as though Mal had hit him.
“You want my magic?” snarled Mal. He grabbed Azrael, kissed him…and poured magic into him.
It happened so fast that even Jessica didn’t have time to react. The taste of Mal’s magic was suddenly overwhelming, and Jessica felt that sense of wind—a dangerous, frightening amount of magical transference. It was the opposite of feeding—the exact opposite.
Azrael gave a muffled, startled sound. After an instant’s shock, he began to struggle. He managed to shove Mal off him only when Mal began to weaken.
“Have you lost your mind?!” bellowed Azrael “That was too much! Far too much! What were you trying to do? What were you thinking?”
Mal leaned forward on his hands, panting, clearly having difficulty holding himself upright. “Now,” he said thickly, “you can either let me take back some of what I just gave you. Or Jessica can give me enough so that I don’t throw up…and then I’ll just go to sleep.” He raised his head enough to stare miserably at Azrael.
Jessica held her breath.
Azrael looked down at Mal, disbelieving. After a moment, Mal slid forward a little. He held out a hand blindly. “Jessica…”
Azrael caught his hand and spoke in a frantic whisper. “Do it.” He set the shot glass down, shaking so that it rattled against the side table. He folded Mal’s hand between both of his own and pulled it into his lap. “Mal, I am so afraid, but if…if you need me to remember…”
Mal raised his head. “I need you to remember,” he whispered.
“Take back what you just gave me,” said Azrael. He spoke quickly, as though he wouldn’t have the courage to say it if he waited.
“Wards…” murmured Mal.
Azrael caught his breath, shut his eyes in concentration…and lit up with wards. Swirling lines of blue light ran over his skin, his clothes, his
hair. They went out all at once. Azrael opened his eyes and looked at Mal—his expression somehow naked, even though he was still dressed.
Mal reached out with his free hand and touched Azrael’s face, his fingertips sliding over his forehead and around his jaw, along his throat, and back up to cup his cheek. Jessica could feel Mal’s magic in the air—subtle, though he must be very hungry after what he’d just done. He wasn’t pulling hard—just a thread of energy.
Azrael’s eyes fluttered shut. He exhaled—a long, shuddering breath—and his body sagged a little. He was still holding Mal’s other hand in both of his.
“So scared,” murmured Mal, his thumb making little circles on Azrael’s cheekbone.
“I thought you didn’t like the taste of fear,” whispered Azrael without opening his eyes.
“I don’t,” said Mal, “but I’ll eat it all up anyway.”
He pulled a little harder, and Azrael tipped forward as though Mal had physically drawn him. Mal caught him in his arms, dragged Azrael’s hips across the bed, folded him up against his chest.
Azrael wrapped his arms around Mal’s neck, tucked his face against his shoulder. “Mal, you can do anything you want to me, but if you tell me we were never friends, I don’t think I can bear it.”
“I won’t say that,” whispered Mal. “It’s not true.” He was feeding. Azrael’s quick breaths had deepened, and he was shivering with something other than fear.
Mal gave a low chuckle. He rubbed Azrael’s back, moving lazily now, sure of himself again. He untucked Azrael’s shirt, kissed the side of his neck. “Doesn’t feel so awful, does it?”
Azrael gave a jittery laugh. “It feels like ‘Anything you want, Mal.’ It feels like ‘Eat me up, Mal.’”
“Shhh.” Mal kissed his ear. “Don’t say that.” He nuzzled Azrael’s chin up and pressed a hard kiss against the pulse of his throat and then down into his collar. “Just for once, let me teach you something. Let me make you a little more human.”
Chapter 59
Jessica
Azrael tilted his head back, breathing hard, his skin growing pink. “You…are…delicious,” muttered Mal between kisses. He sat up straight and pressed his palm over Azrael’s groin. Azrael cried out, his hands fisting in Mal’s hair, his back arching. Mal gave a wicked laugh. “You want me.”