King of Thieves

by Jane Kindred

  As they reached the front of the Brimstone, a low mutter stopped Belphagor short. “Does the firespirit take your seconds?”

  He turned slowly and leveled his gaze on the demon drinking ale near the door with his grinning friends slapping him on the back. When Vasily turned also, the grins faded. “Care to repeat that, my friend? I’m not sure the firespirit heard you.”

  “Didn’t mean anything by it,” the demon mumbled into his ale. “I’m not the one fletching boys.”

  Vasily had started to turn away, but this brought him back around, and Belphagor took a knowing step out of his way. Vasily’s fist struck the demon so swiftly that the smaller man didn’t have time to brace himself, and he flew backward off the chair into the demons seated at the table behind him. No one moved to help him, going back to their games and drinks with their heads down.

  Belphagor took Vasily by the arm and tugged him up the stairs. “I think he’s learned his lesson, Vasya,” he said as he prodded him out into the street. “And I know it doesn’t speak very highly of my character,” he murmured when the door shut behind them, “but I have to tell you, I don’t recall these leather pants being this snug when we left the room.”

  As mad as he was, Vasily couldn’t hold back a rough snort of laughter. “Maybe you’re right,” he said reluctantly after a moment. “Maybe my carrying Silk unconscious through Raqia isn’t the greatest idea.”

  The point turned out to be moot. When they arrived at the Demon Market, Balam’s tent was gone.

  Belphagor kicked at the metal framework where the tent had been tethered. “Yebat! I should have just carried him out myself, then and there.”

  “Or you should have let me go with you the first time,” Vasily said bitterly, staring at the empty plot.

  “I’m sorry, Vasya.” Belphagor scrubbed his hand across his mouth. “We’ll just have to find out who’s been buying and track them down.”

  “And how the fuck do you propose we do that?”

  Belphagor slumped against the tent frame, hating the tone of anger and despair in Vasily’s voice, hating that he’d let him down. And let Silk down. And Anzhela—he’d promised Koshka. Not to mention the younger children. He had to win this one.

  Anzhela. She’d been sold to the Fletchery by the angelic owner of The Cat.

  He pushed himself away from the pole. “Beatrix.”

  Vasily stared at him. “Beatrix? You’re not going to take that glamour again?”

  Belphagor shuddered slightly. He didn’t relish the idea of using magic to change the entire genetic makeup of his body, no matter how temporary. “No, not the glamour. But Beatrix had friends at The Cat. And who’s better at gleaning information than a working girl?”

  While the girls at The Cat might not remember Belphagor, Vasily wasn’t exactly forgettable. The fact that his first experience with a woman had been there in The Cat could be used to their advantage. By all accounts, there had been quite an audience.

  When they entered the parlor, several of the girls flocked to Vasily immediately, cooing over him. Belphagor’s guess had been right.

  “It’s that toasty-warm demon,” one of them purred, clinging to his arm with her exposed breasts pressing against him.

  A petite brunette practically fell on him so that he embraced her reflexively. “My, it’s awfully chilly in here today, don’t you think?” She blinked up at him, stroking her hands up his chest.

  Belphagor stood back with his arms folded and watched with amusement for a moment as Vasily stammered and went a delicate shade of pink.

  “This isn’t exactly your sort of place.” The voice from behind him sounded equally amused.

  He turned and smiled at Natalya, an elegant, statuesque and raven-haired beauty he recalled being smart as a whip. “No,” he agreed. “But it was my cousin Beatrix’s kind of place. She recommended it highly, and I’ve been wanting to give the boy a treat.” He nodded toward Vasily, who, despite awkwardly trying to fend off the more aggressive groping, clearly heard the word “boy”, judging by the piercing glare he sent Belphagor’s way.

  “Your boy’s been here before,” said Natalya.

  “So I gathered. He’s been a little tongue-tied about the experience, but I’ve heard from reliable sources that he quite enjoyed himself.”

  Natalya nodded, tucking her diaphanous wrap about her arms in a comfortable gesture. “From Sefi and Tabris. I know who you are.”

  He pondered whether that meant she knew precisely who he was. “I wonder if you wouldn’t mind providing me with some company while Vasily is being entertained.”

  “Time is money.” She held out her hand.

  “Naturally.” He smiled and handed over his facets. “Vasya, have you picked one yet?”

  Vasily glared at him from within his circle of admirers. The petite brunette was dwarfed by him, but he looked so sweetly awkward holding her that Belphagor decided he should definitely have that one.

  Belphagor touched her arm lightly. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Alina,” she said, not letting go of her prize.

  “You can’t say no to lovely Alina, Vasya. Why don’t you pick one more? I feel like splurging.”

  Vasily opened his mouth and closed it again tightly. The low glow in his eyes said Belphagor was going to pay for this later.

  Well, in for a facet, in for a crown. “Come on, don’t be shy. How about another ginger for a ginger?” He nodded toward a buxom girl whose fiery curls rivaled Vasily’s color.

  “Fine,” said Vasily tightly.

  Belphagor paid the girls and took Natalya’s arm to lead the four of them to one of the larger private rooms in the back that he remembered from his stint here as Beatrix while trying to entrap the Duke of Arcadia. Alina and the redhead steered Vasily happily between them into the room, and Belphagor closed the door.

  “Natalya and I are going to have a little chat.” Belphagor helped Natalya onto a pile of cushions in the corner and sat beside her. “But you three have fun.”

  Vasily’s face turned crimson, whether from embarrassment or fury, Belphagor wasn’t sure. Probably both. “You think you’re going to watch?”

  Belphagor lifted his eyebrow. “I admit to a certain prurient curiosity. Just pretend we’re not here.”

  Alina was already unbuttoning Vasily’s fly, but he grabbed her hands and moved her aside—somewhat more forcefully than he’d obviously intended, from the look on his face—and buttoned himself back up.

  “The hell I will,” Vasily growled. “I’m not going to have sex with a woman in front of you.”

  “You’ve had sex with a man in front of me. Several, in fact. How is this different?”

  Vasily crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Tell you what, Belphagor. Why don’t you tell me what the red crown on your ass means, and then I’ll let you watch.”

  Belphagor’s lip twitched with controlled anger as he stared him down. He’d never told Vasily why that particular tattoo was off limits, so of course he couldn’t know what a bastard he was being right now.

  He climbed to his feet and helped Natalya up. “We’ll cede the room to you, then.”

  Vasily clearly hadn’t expected that answer. He watched with surprise as Belphagor led Natalya out, realization no doubt sinking in that he was now committed to the services for which Belphagor had paid.

  Natalya found a cozy alcove for them and drew the curtain on it. “So.” She pulled him down with her so that they were both on their knees. “What sort of a chat did you have in mind, my dear B?”

  Belphagor studied her expression, trying to determine whether she’d said the letter “B” or the name “Bea”. She gave away nothing, so he figured he’d best do the same. “I’m wondering if you recall the specifics of when Anzhela was sold.”

  Natalya pulled her wrap over her shoulders. “Masha wasn’t herself.”

  “So I understand.”

  “The investor arrived to take possession of The Cat the same day she died, a
nd he showed us the deed, which included Anzhela. She didn’t seem surprised, but she said nothing, just went where she was told.”

  Belphagor nodded. Anzhela had always been very pragmatic. It was a trait the smartest demons had. “And who took her, do you know? Was it a demon named Balam?”

  Natalya shook her head. “No, it was angels. Soldiers in the Supernal Army, it looked like. We all thought maybe she was being arrested instead.”

  “Angels?” If they were part of the trafficking ring, it was wider than he’d thought.

  “They interrogated her first, saying they knew she’d fallen before. They wanted to know where the portal was.”

  Belphagor frowned. Angels trying to find out how to get to the world of Man? Or were they trying to seal the portal off? “And did she tell them?”

  “Of course not. She feigned slow-wittedness.” Natalya shifted onto one side, her expression hard. “I understand her master sold her.”

  “He did,” said Belphagor. “To the Fletchery. And now she’s gone, and I’m trying to figure out where.”

  “How do you know she was at the Fletchery?”

  Belphagor sat back against the wall of the little alcove and drew up his knees, hooking his arms around them. “I pretended to be a patron to help out a fool with a blackmail scheme. And, no, before you ask, I am not interested in young boys.”

  Unexpectedly, Natalya laughed. “With that marvelous hulk of a demon you’re so obviously mad about in the other room, who could possibly think the Prince of Tricks was attracted to boys? He’s about as far from a boy as you could get without fucking a woman.”

  He inclined his head. “An odd analogy, but I see your point. And I think he’d be glad to hear you say it. He’s rather sensitive about being called a boy just now. I seem to have put my foot in it and hurt him one time too many.”

  Natalya placed a hand on his knee. “I’m sure he’s having a wonderful time, but not so wonderful he won’t be happy to go back to your bed when he’s done. Don’t fret over him.”

  Belphagor smiled. “To be honest, he looked a bit frightened of Alina and the lovely ginger. I have to confess, I’m mad with curiosity to see how he gets on with a woman. Nothing personal, but I just…don’t get it, myself.”

  Natalya gave him a sly look. “There’s a peephole in the room behind his.”

  “Oh Heavens, no.” He laughed and shook his head. “The last thing I want to do is violate his privacy. He has a right to it. And I’ve violated him enough just recently.”

  “What did you do, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Heat climbed his face. “I sold him to the Fletchery—temporarily, of course—glamoured as his younger self. It was the price of entry.”

  “Are you mad?” Natalya’s voice was harsh with disapproval. “No wonder he’s angry with you. Do you have any idea what it’s like for a boy in a place like that?”

  “I think we’ve established he’s not actually a boy, but yes, I do know. Intimately. Which is all the more reason I shouldn’t have done it. I hoped he’d see it as a game, play everyone like I would, but he’s remarkably guileless for a demon who grew up on the streets.”

  “Well, let me assure you that no one comes out of the Fletchery guileless. Half the brothels are filled with former ‘fledglings’. And those that don’t end up in the brothels—generally end up in the Acheron.” Natalya sighed. “At least they used to do. Now they just disappear.”

  “I do know,” he acknowledged. “I know too well. That’s why I’m trying to figure out where they’re going. I want to find Anzhela as well as the others who’ve been sold. And I’m going to do my damnedest to see to it that the Fletchery stays permanently closed.” He ran his fingers over the stiff points of his hair. “If I could just find someone who knew the buyers and sellers in this damned network…”

  “Would it help if you could interview a former fledgling?” Natalya’s expression was sober. “Because you’re already acquainted with one.”

  Belphagor dropped his hand to his side. “You?”

  “No. Tabris.”

  “Tabris? I thought she came to work at The Cat because her mother had died and Ouestucati was all she had.”

  “Ouestucati.” Natalya observed him. “Sefira told you her real name.”

  “Tabris did, actually. After she died.”

  Natalya nodded. “Well, you’re half right about why she came here, but that’s only part of the story. When their mother died, Tabris was sold to the Fletchery to pay her debts. Ouestucati had to wait until she was up for sale—after—and she bought her and brought her here.”

  Belphagor shook his head. “She had to buy her own sister?”

  “That’s why they worked as a team. Ouestucati wouldn’t let anyone touch Tabris unless she was there to see they treated her fairly. Anyway, if anybody knows who does the buying and selling, Tabris would.”

  “But I’m not sure where she is now.”

  “She’s still here.”

  “Not still working?”

  “No. She was never the same after the Ophanim. But she has your money, doesn’t she, B? She doesn’t have to work. And this is her home.”

  “It wasn’t my money,” he said automatically. “It was—”

  “Beatrix’s.” Natalya smiled.

  Belphagor’s cheeks reddened at the thought of some of the compromising positions Natalya had seen Beatrix in. “So you do know who I am.”

  “Most of us who were working here at the time know. But don’t worry. No one here would ever tarnish the reputation of the Prince of Tricks. A working girl never betrays the true name of another girl. That’s why I was surprised you knew Ouesti’s name.” She took his hand and pulled him to his feet as she stood. “Come on, B. Let’s go talk to Tabi.”

  Natalya led him through the parlor and into the private quarters, receiving a few curious glances along the way. The girls at The Cat generally kept their entertaining to the more public areas, and only very special patrons were admitted into this part of the house.

  She knocked on one of the doors, and Tabris’s soft voice came from inside, bidding them to enter. Tabris didn’t look up from where she knelt on the floor moving beads about in a large silver tray.

  “Tabris does beadwork for our specialty garments,” said Natalya. She lifted the end of her wrap, displaying the intricate design in glass “crystals” and sequins. “Tabi,” she said more loudly. “You remember Belphagor.”

  Tabris glanced up, her expression fuzzy. “I don’t take patrons.”

  Natalya crouched down in front of her. “Not a patron, Tabi. Belphagor, the demon who brought you home to us.”

  A slight shudder rippled through Tabris that she didn’t seem to notice outwardly, like a tic. “You’re the fire demon’s master.”

  “Not his master,” Belphagor corrected. “But yes, he’s mine.” At least Belphagor hoped to Heaven he was.

  Natalya tried to help Tabris up, but Tabris shrank from her touch, as she had after her release by the Ophanim.

  “No need to get up.” Belphagor sat beside her, crossing his legs. “Those are lovely beads. Especially the pale watery ones. What are you making with them?”

  Tabris relaxed and began separating her treasures again. “One of the girls wants her name spelled out on her thong. It’s a long name, though, so I have to use the smallest seed beads.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Pussy Familiar,” said Tabris, and Belphagor nearly choked on his spit, breathing in too sharply. “She says Men believe there are people on the terrestrial plane who keep something called ‘familiar spirits’, supposed to be demons in cat form, to do their bidding. Pussy thought it was hilarious, so that’s the name she took.”

  “Indeed,” said Belphagor. “It is a rather amusing tale. No pun intended.”

  Tabris nodded. “She’s got one of those too, tattooed on her nether cheek as if it’s coming right out of her bum.”

  “Tattooed. She has actually fallen, then.”
/>
  “Oh yes. Lots of the girls have. Masha’s portal.”

  Natalya put a hand on Tabris’s knee. “Not for mention, love, remember?”

  Tabris cringed and blinked at Belphagor as if just seeing him for the first time. “Sorry. I forget myself.”

  “It’s all right. I already know about it.” He’d traveled through it, with Anzhela, when Masha had sent her to the world of Man to find him and let him know Tabris had been arrested. “You can count on my discretion.”

  Tabris studied him with an odd look. “You’re Beatrix,” she said after a moment. “How’d you do that? Change your face? And the rest.” She nodded to his flat chest. Tabris had seen him with breasts that were obviously authentic, thanks to the glamour.

  “It was a one-time-only performance, courtesy of a potent glamour from the Market.”

  “He did it for you, Tabi. You remember?”

  Belphagor shook his head at Natalya, not wanting her to encourage Tabris to think about that time. He certainly didn’t need her to feel beholden to him. But it was too late. Cat was already out of the bag. So to speak.

  Tabris sat back on her heels. “For me?”

  “For you and Ouesti. To catch her murderer. And now he’s trying to help Anzhi. To bring her home like he brought you home.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tabris whispered, and a tear trailed down her cheek. “I’m sorry I forgot.”

  “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” Belphagor wiped the tear with his thumb, forgetting she was shy of touch after the electrified hands of the Ophanim had held her down during her interrogation, but this time she didn’t shudder. “Sometimes we need to forget things. But I’m afraid I need to ask you to remember some other things you might not want to.”

  She nodded, solemn.

  “Natalya says you spent some time at the…” He hated to say this to her, and he glanced at Natalya, but she didn’t stop him. “At the Fletchery.”

  “The Fletchery.” Tabris looked blank.

  “When you were a girl, after your mother died and before you came to The Cat.”

  Tabris swallowed. “Oh. Yes. They call it that there, don’t they? Fletching. As if taking something from you could give you wings.”