Devil's Paw (Imp Book 4)

by Debra Dunbar

  After rooting through the kitchen and helping myself to a cold beer from a fridge full of spoiled food, I sat at a desk and began to go through Baphomet’s paperwork. Demons don’t like the human bill–paying song and dance, but most of us have learned to play enough by the rules so we don’t get our electricity cut off. Hundreds of years ago, it was easy to steal, or threaten the locals into supplying the basic necessities for free. Giant corporations don’t take well to threats of evisceration, though. Extortion letters wind up in the “loony” pile, ignored. If a demon shows up in person, they just call the cops to haul him off. Escalating only results in more force from the humans, which leads to either a prison stay or a mad dash to the gate to avoid the angels who sense the slew of law enforcement deaths by demonic energy and come running. I’d learned all this the hard way, and had grown to enjoy the fun things an imp could do in the human penal system.

  Baphomet reluctantly paid his bills. There were some past–due notices for a variety of cell phone accounts under different names, and it seemed he was running a few credit card scams. Pushing the piles aside, I picked up a notebook and leafed through it. It was a log with groups of numbers, each noted with a date of arrival, shortly followed by another date of transfer. The batches had between three and five numbers, each unique. I flipped the page and saw that the following batch was marked “Low”, and the one after “Level 2”.

  I frowned, a chill running through me. Here were the batches of demons that Baphomet’s steward said he was sending over. No names, just numbers, as if their identities didn’t matter, as if they were just cattle in a feedlot. The steward had said Baphomet had been requesting higher–level demons, so I assumed that was when he began to note their level designation on the log. They arrived as a batch, and were transferred as a batch — but transferred to whom?

  I looked back, carefully going through each entry. It was standard paperwork, just as I would have done for transfer of property back in Hel. We’re not the most organized creatures in the universe, but it pays to keep track of your stuff, especially if you tend to gamble or trade items back and forth. This log was the same format I would have used. It even showed the sigils of the demons enacting the exchange. Many transactions were strictly verbal with our vow as a binding contract, but in deals with multiple shipments and/or many items exchanging hands, it was best to put it all in writing and have appropriate sign–offs. I recognized Baphomet’s mark. I didn’t recognize the one next to his. Could it be Raim? It worked with our original theory — the one where Baphomet provided Raim with a supply of demons to devour. Maybe the whole thing was over and there was no mystery to solve. Maybe there wasn’t a third partner. Maybe Baphomet had been gathering demons to feed to Raim, but he’d snapped and killed them all before running off to Alaska.

  Paging through the entries, I saw that the receiving signature was always the same, but occasionally Baphomet’s was replaced with another. So there was a third partner! Had this guy been one of the bodies Gregory had found, or was he still out there?

  I continued to flip through the notebook, although everything was blank beyond the first few pages. About to toss it aside, I noticed a bit of loose paper stuck between two sheets. Tugging it out, I unfolded a piece of parchment, similar to what we used for contracts back in Hel. It was a contract — one outlining a partnership between Baphomet and Raim for a period of seven years. The terms were rather vague. Raim was to assist in an unnamed project and provide “protection using special skills and any means necessary.” Baphomet was more than capable of defending himself, so I wasn’t quite sure why he thought having Raim as a bodyguard would afford him any advantage. In return for his services, Raim was to receive some monetary compensation, and a few magical items. Baphomet also had offered three of his household for a period of two centuries to serve Raim. It was a typical contract, nothing unusual in either content or terms.

  I folded the contract to return it to the notebook and happened to glance at the signatures. There was Baphomet’s familiar sigil, and one that must have been Raim’s. I caught my breath and quickly flipped to the front pages of the log, to compare what I now knew to be Raim’s sigil with the ones there. Sure enough, Raim had occasionally signed to transfer the demons in place of Baphomet. The sigil for the one receiving the demons was always the same, and the identity of that demon was a mystery. I’d never seen his sigil before; it could be anyone.

  I sat back and pondered it all. Batches of Low and minimally skilled demons. Baphomet and Raim would have had to coordinate the shipment with their households, ensure the group got past the gate guardian then somehow manage to contain them until their transfer. So the demons weren’t for Raim after all. They had all gone to someone else.

  Who? And what the fuck did he want with a bunch of lower–level demons? How did any of this tie in with the dead angel, Baphomet, and the other demons, all devoured? Who had torn up Raim so badly? I had a feeling all my answers lay with this third partner. My finger traced over the sigil, and I felt the faint echo of his energy signature, just as unknown to me as the mark on the page.

  I glanced at my phone for the time and realized I really needed to make a move if I wanted to make my flight home. All this would have to wait for later. I’d mull it over on the plane and run it by Wyatt in the morning over coffee. Sticking the log and contract in my bag, I headed for the door and nearly collided with a human as I threw it open. He had a piece of paper in one hand, suspended by a nail, and a hammer in the other.

  “Is that an eviction notice?” I asked. I’d done this many times, but the ruled notebook paper he held in his hands didn’t look like an official notice to vacate.

  He shoved the paper at me, pocketing the nail and holding the hammer defensively. He’d not met my eyes; instead, he stared intently at my shoes. Shrugging, I read the paper and noted it was much the same as the ones I’d found on Baphomet’s table. This one was even more explicit about the grisly eternity the reader would face.

  “Do you live nearby?” It was a long shot, but I had an idea that this guy might have some information for me. Of course, getting a mentally ill person to voluntarily give information to a demon would be quite a feat.

  He looked up in surprise, careful not to meet my eyes directly. “You’re a different one. How many of you are there? This neighborhood is zoned single family, and you’re violating the law having all these different demons live here.”

  “The demon that lived here is dead, and so is his friend. I’m the Iblis.”

  “Will you be living here?” His shoulders tensed, his mouth a tight line.

  “No. I’ll be leaving as soon as I gather some information. If you can tell me all you know about the demons and other beings who came and went to this house, I’ll leave right now.”

  He hesitated, gripping the hammer with white knuckles.

  “I will promise you, swear on all the souls I Own that there will be no further demons in this house, but I need to know some information. Otherwise I can’t track down all the demons and others who’ve been here and ensure they keep away.”

  With his free hand, he opened a messenger bag draped across one shoulder and pointed to a stack of papers inside. “I have drawings and notes on all the nefarious goings–on in this house. You can’t keep them, but I will let you look at them.”

  I ushered him inside and was surprised when he pulled a shiny bowl from his bag and plopped it on his head. “I know better than to enter the house of Satan unprepared, so don’t even think of attacking me or stealing my soul. I have defenses that will melt you to a pool of liquid.”

  Okaaaay.

  Still avoiding my eyes and clutching his hammer, the man pulled out the stack of papers and handed them to me. I recognized Baphomet, identified as the primary resident, and Raim, who had been labeled his infernal lover. They were decent drawings. The man had some talent.

  “He’d been over nearly every night in the last six years, four months, and twenty six days,” the man said, point
ing at the drawing of Raim.

  Other drawings showed a variety of demons, indicating that they had only been here a day or two at the most. I knew they were demons because the artist had added a pair of horns to each one and labeled them in capital letters. Two of them looked similar to the heads Gregory had brought to my house.

  “They didn’t stay long before the angel took them.”

  Ice ran through my veins. An angel took the demons?

  “An angel? An angel came and took the other demons away?”

  The man looked irritated. “Yes. I’d hoped at first he was here to kill them all, cleanse this home of their presence, but more demons kept arriving. I don’t think he was a particularly righteous angel.”

  Demons weren’t the only ones who used sigils. Angels did too. We were all angels once, and things like our language, our naming conventions, and our signatures had remained virtually unaltered for the nearly three million years, since the split. I didn’t know every demon’s sigil, but the one on the page could just as easily have been an angel. Impossible as it sounded, I believed the third partner in Baphomet and Raim’s scheme had been an angel. He’d been the one who had received delivery of the demons. But was this angel still alive, or had he been the one found dead and drained in Mexico.

  Angels. There were too many unexplained angels running around in this scenario. I’d had one chase me with intent to kill, one helpfully watched the Seattle gate while the guardian ran off for dinner. Were they all one and the same? Was I dealing with two or three, or more of the things? Why would Baphomet have cooperated with an angel, and what in the world was an angel doing that he needed a steady stream of demons to kill?

  “Do you have a picture of the angel?”

  He nodded, paging through the papers to pull one out of the stack. “There were two angels. One I only saw about a week ago. The one who usually came to pick up the demons was by this past Monday. He left with the guy who lived here and his buddy. I haven’t seen any of them since.”

  Two angels. Well that answered a pressing question. One, perhaps, dead in Mexico, and another at large? I squinted at the pictures. They weren’t drawn as well as the demon ones, and I wasn’t able to determine if either of the angels was the one who’d attacked me.

  “Do you have any idea where they were taking the demons?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t care where they went as long as they didn’t come back.”

  “They went willingly with this angel?” The house didn’t appear to have seen any huge fights. Lows didn’t have much power, but there would have been at least some scorch marks on the walls.

  “Yes. With the glowing necklaces, they behave. Even the two main ones.”

  I caught my breath, remembering the silver collar around Raim’s bloody neck. “Baphomet and Raim were led away by an angel? With glowing necklaces on?”

  He nodded happily, the metal bowl sliding around on top of his head. “Yes. I was glad to see them go. I don’t like angels much, but at least he finally got all of the devils out of my neighborhood.”

  I felt a headache coming on. What the heck had Baphomet been doing? Whatever it was, it clearly hadn’t ended well for either him or Raim.

  “Thanks.” I handed the papers back to the man and watched him stuff them into his bag. “As promised, I swear to you that no other demons will be residing in or visiting this house.”

  “Not that wizard guy either,” he said over his shoulder as he made his way to the door. “He spelled me so I get horrible diarrhea if I eat dairy products. Then he threatened me. Told me he’d lock me up on Oak Island with the others if I didn’t stay away.”

  “Wait! What wizard?” I ran after the man who was halfway down the porch steps by the time I’d caught up.

  He paused and pulled a paper out of his messenger bag. “This one.”

  A human. Well, a human with an absurd pointy hat. From the picture, he looked to be about fifty with dark skin and a black, neatly trimmed, curly beard. He was bald around the edges of the hat, and his eyes looked fierce as they shot little flames across the page. Clearly the man had taken some artistic liberties with this one. Either way, I recognized a human depiction of a mage when I saw one. Demons making deals with angels. Angels and mages.

  A human, an angel and a mage walked into a bar….

  That last demon had been found practically in my back yard, and I’d been chased soon thereafter by a gang of humans, a mage and an angel, all working together. Suddenly major pieces began to click. I wondered if all the devoured demons had been offered the same “comfortable two–week–long death” that I had been. Either way, I had a feeling I might need to delay my flight yet again. Maybe there was more to be found in Raim’s house.

  “Do you know anything about a house in Fremont? This other demon, the ‘lover’ of the one who lived here, had a place in Fremont.”

  He gave me a wary look, fingering the metal bowl still on his head before putting the picture away and pulling out a scrap of paper. He wrote a name and an address on it and thrust it toward me.

  “Here. Wayne keeps track of all the evil in the Fremont area. This is where you can find him. If there’s a demon in Fremont, he’ll know about it. And he might talk to you if you promise to get rid of the thing for him.”

  I watched him walk down the sidewalk and across the street toward the floating houses, before I turned to lock the door. Outside of Baphomet’s log, there was nothing here that could help me further. With any luck this Wayne guy had seen who’d been coming and going at Raim’s house. I hoped his information would provide more clarity.

  ~28~

  Demons, mages, and angels working together? I mused over the concept as I drove my little rental car toward Fremont. It fit together, but I couldn’t see what an angel or a mage would get out of that scheme. Why would they want a bunch of demons?

  I pulled up to the crossroads in Freemont that had been written on my slip of paper and looked around for the kebab place. I was only two blocks from Raim’s house. If this Wayne guy was half the neighborhood watch the other guy had been, I’d be ecstatic. Of course, he’d have to actually agree to speak to me.

  I walked behind the kebab place and peered in the spot between the dumpster and a large cardboard box. “Are you Wayne?” I asked the man huddled there. He stared at me, his eyes huge, before spitting and pelting me with stale corn chips. I backed away, frantically swatting.

  “I banish you to whence you came, foul demon! Return to your infernal home.”

  “That would be Maryland,” I replied, shielding my face from further attack. “And I’d be happy to return there if you’d only answer a few questions I have about a nearby house and the demon who lived there.”

  “He’s gone!” Wayne shouted. I felt more chips bounce off my arm. They stung with their sharp points and salt–encrusted edges. “I hope he’s dead. I hope he never walks the earth again. You and your kind belong in hell.”

  “Yes. He’s dead. Would you stop with the fucking corn chips for a moment and let me talk. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to find out some information about who came and went in the demon’s house before he left.”

  I peeked over my arm and saw a young man, beard practically covering his entire face, glaring at me from beside the cardboard box. Brown eyes bored into mine from a tanned background. He fingered another chip menacingly.

  “I vow on all the souls I Own that the demon is dead. I promise you no other demons will be coming to that house as long as I get the information I need.”

  He hesitated, his beard bouncing as he chewed on a lip. “All right. But you stand over there, by the fence. Come any closer and I’m going to be forced to use my magic.”

  I tried to look properly intimidated as I backed up until my rear end hit the chain–link fence. He crawled out from his hidey–hole, watching me the entire time.

  “That demon wasn’t there all too much.” He waved a chip at me. “He’d come in every few days then leave again. Hav
en’t seen him for weeks. Another demon went there twice in the last year to see him, but never stayed long. They usually left together.”

  I nodded. “There was a dead demon found there a few days ago. Do you know what happened? Was there a fight?”

  He barked out a short laugh, showing a general lack of front teeth. “Nah. That was the visitor demon. Some angel dumped his body and took off.”

  I stared, my mouth hanging open. An angel dumped Baphomet’s body in Raim’s house? What the fuck was going on? Had the angel killed Baphomet? I’d originally thought Raim was lying or delusional when he’d claimed to think Baphomet was still alive, now I wondered if he wasn’t telling the truth. A sick feeling filled me — had I killed the wrong guy? Raim was an asshole, and he’d admitted to killing the one angel, and having a part in the death of the other demons, but I was beginning to think there was an angel behind this whole thing.

  We were betrayed.

  Raim and Baphomet were taken out by the angel or angels they’d worked with. Baphomet was killed, and Raim seriously wounded before he managed to kill the one angel and get away. I’d killed him. He’d be a victim — although a rather un–innocent one — and I’d killed him. Guilt washed over me. I needed to find a way to make this right. But how? I had no idea where to find this other angel, or even who the fuck he was. And I wasn’t sure I could involve Gregory at this point. Everything I had was too flimsy. He’d shit a brick to find out angels were running some kind of scheme in partnership with demons, but I needed to have more proof before I went to him.

  “Do you have any idea what this angel looked like?”

  He shook his head. “Blond, kinda shimmery. You, know — an angel.”