Devil's Gambit

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  Battered and broken? It also seemed the demon detected Treth. Well, would deal with that later.

  “If you win…” I began again. “I will serve you on Earth.”

  “What?” Treth asked, aghast. He didn’t expect that. Neither did I. But what else was I supposed to offer? I thought demons loved souls but apparently mine is too cheap even for them.

  “Are you sure, Kat?” Trudie whispered, almost a whimper. She wasn’t as confident in her plan now. I looked at her in the dark. She looked like a vampire in this light. I smiled, weakly.

  “Serve me? Interesting…”

  The demon rubbed his chin.

  “I accept the wager.”

  I stopped myself from sighing in relief. The tricky part was done.

  I walked towards the demon. Trudie, reluctantly, followed. I took my backpack off and took out six boxes of cigarettes. Trudie’s brand. Don’t ask me what made them special. She insisted they were the most hardcore brand, though. Only real punks like her smoked them (apparently).

  I divided the pile into three for the demon and three for Trudie. Trudie took a seat on Van Hunks’ rock and I stood in the centre, over the middle rock. The demon leaned over casually and picked up all three of his boxes. I noted that he smelled like Old Spice and fynbos. I offered him a gas station lighter. He declined. A flame emitted from his finger.

  “I hid my nature from Van Hunks. No need to do so with you.”

  He leaned back and looked at my friend. She hadn’t picked up the cigarette boxes yet. She clasped her lighter in her hand. Under her white makeup, I knew she was white as a sheet. Poor Trudie! I’d need to buy her something to make up for this. That is, if what we did worked.

  “Are you going to start?” the demon asked, already smoking his cigarette.

  I took a deep breath. Trudie leaned forward.

  “Now!”

  Gasoline poured from the now open front pocket of my bag. In a flash, Trudie lit her disposable lighter and tossed it onto the three cigarette boxes in the centre. The cigarettes were immolated instantly, not even leaving the stubs. As was the case with such powerful flames, it died quickly, leaving the smoking, stinking carcasses of charred tobacco, cardboard and plastic sleeves.

  We both looked at the demon, his first cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He looked as shocked as I’d ever think an otherworldly immortal could look.

  “Trudie finished first,” I said.

  Silence.

  Was he offended? Did he consider this cheating? Would he not accept the win?

  “We won. Disappear.”

  But he didn’t disappear. Instead, he frowned. A deeply mournful frown. He looked…ashamed.

  “Congratulations, girls. You win.”

  “Good. Then go.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

  I instinctively moved to the side, putting myself in front of Trudie. She backed away as far as she could on her rock.

  “The wager would have stood…” he said, a hint of disgust in his voice. “If I was my own demon. But, alas, my dear girls, another holds my reins.”

  In an instant, I saw purple-black tendrils reach out towards us. I felt their intense evil. They meant to curse, if not outright destroy me. And, after I was dead, Trudie would be next. I could not let that happen. But how could I stop it?

  I was no purification mage. I wasn’t some demon hunter. I was a student playing part-time monster hunter. This was way above my pay-grade, and my friend was going to suffer for it. But I stood my ground. I held my breath, and I didn’t close my eyes.

  The tendrils stopped a centimetre from my face, then dispersed. The demon looked just as shocked as I. He looked at his hands, and then at me. His smirk returned to his face, and he laughed.

  “Interesting, Ms Drummond. Very interesting.”

  He disappeared.

  All went quiet. My flashlight went off. I had the feeling Trudie would need to fix our phones again or wait for them to start working.

  “That was amazing!”

  Trudie’s shout shook me out of my reverie.

  “How did you do that? I didn’t know you were a wizard. Did Pranish teach you?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely.

  “What do you mean? One second, he was pointing menacingly at us, and then you started glowing while chanting some spell. Then he disappeared like he was supposed to. I didn’t take Pranish seriously before, but now I know. You really are cool! I want to come on another hunt. Do you ever hunt unicorns? Horse wannabe bastards.”

  I almost lost my balance as she hugged me tight.

  I didn’t smile. And I didn’t feel relieved. I didn’t know what had happened, but what I did know was that I hadn’t seen the last of the demon.

  Chapter 12.

  Dating

  I had a gut feeling that this wasn’t over, and if I had learned anything in this line of work, it was to trust my gut.

  “The demon is gone, Kat! Let’s get paid,” Conrad pleaded.

  “Not gone. He didn’t fulfil the wager. Just disappeared.”

  “No murders for a week. Citadel is ready to pay us out.”

  “He’s biding his time,” I said, distracted by a stir fry I was cooking, my one hand on the wok-handle and my other on my cell phone. I was eating well of late. A lot of money to burn. I didn’t even feel bad about spending it.

  “You’re overthinking,” Conrad whined. What was he spending his money on anyway? His living expenses seemed pretty cheap.

  “Give it another week. If the Citadel still wants to pay us then, then go right ahead.”

  “I didn’t think I’d need to argue with someone about them getting paid,” Conrad sighed. “Fine. A week.”

  He hung up.

  It was mid-semester holidays and I was cooking myself a stir fry for lunch. Had a head of cabbage, bell pepper, onion, some cut up chicken and a lot of chilli. Would top it off with rice.

  “Never thought you’d be one to turn down money,” Treth said.

  “If money was my prime motivator, I wouldn’t be a hunter. I’d become a plumber or deep-sea welder.”

  “And have to contend with ratmen and merfolk? Those jobs are more dangerous than hunting!”

  “But get paid a lot more on average. So, no. I don’t just do this for the money, as hard as that may be for you to believe. That demon is still out there. He said so himself. I didn’t finish my job. Can’t in good conscience get paid.”

  “Very virtuous, miss knight. But while you’re chasing a poofed demon, there are undead crawling out of their holes.”

  I frowned while tossing my stir fry. Treth was right. My primary enemy was still out there, while I hunted otherworldly immortals.

  “Something’s just not right. That demon isn’t like anything we’ve hunted before,” I pondered aloud.

  “And that’s why I’d rather take the money and get back to what we’re used to fighting. Undead are safer.”

  “Heh. We’re an odd bunch, aren’t we?”

  “I don’t know about me,” Duer interjected, flying down to investigate the stir fry. “But I know you’re pretty odd. You putting honey on that?”

  “You think I should?” I raised my eyebrow. I seldom cooked stir fry. When I did, I rarely experimented.

  “I’d do it.” Duer shrugged.

  Well, couldn’t hurt. It’s just lunch. Duer brought me the honey squeeze bottle and I lathered the top layer of stir fry with honey, stirring it in and continuing to toss the pile. A savoury and sweet aroma rose from the conglomeration of meats and veggies, making my mouth water. I used my seax to skewer a piece of chicken and checked it for pinkness.

  “I think it’s done!”

  I dished up into my single, overused food bowl and mixed it with my already cooked rice. Duer stared longingly enough at a piece of honey lathered red bell pepper that I poked it with my fork and put it on his saucer. He licked his lips and dug in.

  “I thought you were vegetarian,
” I asked, between mouthfuls.

  “Yeah. This is a vegetable.”

  “Mixed with meat.”

  Duer shrugged. “We aren’t allergic to meat.”

  “Thought it was an ethical thing. Being a part of all nature and stuff like that.”

  I took another mouthful. Needed more chillies.

  “Nothing like that,” Duer took another bite. The piece was the size of his torso and he’d already eaten a portion as big as his head. He seemed to be enjoying it. “We just didn’t get meat a lot. Try never eating something ever, and then eating it. It’s gross. And less chilli next time.”

  “Heresy! More chilli.”

  Duer rolled his eyes. This was a fundamental dispute in values. There’d be no compromise.

  My phone rang, playing some dark-wave goth stuff with heavy bass that Trudie put on when I wasn’t looking. Duer jumped off his saucer and shot my cell a glare before returning to the bell pepper slice.

  I wondered how much his petite frame could healthily put away before picking up the cell. The caller ID said “Colin”.

  I immediately flushed. Colin. What was he doing calling me? Well, I gave him my number. Of course, he was going to phone me. That’s how it worked. Why did I give him my number though? I didn’t usually give out my number. Or did I? A lot of clients had my number. But Colin wouldn’t be calling about a job. Or would he?

  Oh, rifts. I’m rambling to myself!

  The phone kept ringing.

  Why did I give my number to Colin? Was it because…I liked him?

  It rang again. I had to make a choice.

  “Answer it!” Treth ordered. I pressed the receiver.

  “Hey,” both Colin and I said at the same time.

  I paused. He paused.

  “Howzit?” we both said, thinking the other was waiting for us.

  By the Cataclysm and all the stranded gods, not this awkwardness. Well, at least it wasn’t the silence I had with Andy.

  “Pause, give him the initiative,” Treth suggested.

  I took the advice. There was a long pause. But before it grew too awkward, Colin spoke.

  “Hey, Kat. Howzit?”

  I almost sighed in relief. I really thought the pause would last longer. “I’m good, Colin. What you been up to?”

  “Not much. Cases kinda dry at the moment. Just been doing office work.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. Gives me some time off. It’s mid-semester holidays, right?”

  I often forgot that Colin wasn’t a student like me. He was a few years my senior and had a law degree. But as was often the case with genuine lawyers and not the types who just became lawyers because they watched some overhyped TV show, Colin kept tabs on the academics of his discipline.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Hunts?”

  “None at the moment.”

  “Cool. I was, uh, wondering if you’d like to go out for coffee. You know? For a change of pace.”

  My face reddened. Go out for coffee? Like a date? I did not have a good track record with dating.

  “I’d love that!” I said unconsciously, and a little bit too eagerly. My inner voice scolded me. Why you being so easy, Kat? My inner voice then asked: Does this mean you like him?

  “Great. You busy today?”

  I paused, faking consideration. Even if it was my instincts making me act, I at least needed to be a bit charismatic. Couldn’t be too easy. When I couldn’t hold it much longer. “Nah. Let’s meet. Café Henna? It’s near my apartment.”

  “Sounds great. I can see you there in 45 minutes.”

  “Perfect!”

  We said goodbye.

  Silence. Duer stared up at me. Treth stared at me from his invisible ethereal chamber. Even Alex was considering me rather than my stir-fry.

  “Kat likes a boy…” Treth and Duer both chimed.

  Did I? My inability to argue with them suggested that that may very well be the case.

  ***

  I wore my denim jeans (with the least blood stains) and my black leather jacket (with only three noticeable ghoul claw marks on the back), with a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt underneath. My dark chestnut hair was loose, coming down just past my shoulders. Duer had mocked me while giving me bad advice the entire time. Treth was surprisingly encouraging. Advised which clothing I should wear and even suggested I wear my hair loose for once. Was very out of character for him. Last time I’d gotten close to any guy, Brett, Treth started whining like a steam train. Or at least what steam trains whined like in movies. No trains in Hope City anymore.

  What made this time different? I didn’t have long to think about it. I had a date. Or was it a date? I didn’t really know. Did I want it to be a date? I didn’t know that either.

  I walked to Café Henna. It was located on Rondebosch main road, between a fast-food outlet that made students fat and the Chinese place that was the source of Trudie and my favourite takeaways. I was early. Of course, I was! Was it because I didn’t spend enough time making myself look good? I didn’t know how to do that. If only I had Trudie here to help.

  Treth must have sensed my angst. “You’re early because you live a few minutes away. Relax. You look great.”

  I couldn’t help but blush. Treth seldom complimented me.

  I sat down at a table for two, shifting my hidden knife in my jacket so it wouldn’t poke into my ribs. This may be a friendly occasion, but I didn’t go anywhere without at least one weapon. The attack at UCT and my lack of weapons at the time continued to scar me just a bit to this day. I also had two sachets of demanzite. Didn’t know when you’d run into some uppity sorcerers.

  I sent the waitress away twice to wait for my date (ignoring her pitying gaze) before Colin finally arrived.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting!” he said, repressing some panting. I could see a sheen of sweat on his brow and he was red from minor exertion.

  “No, my fault,” I said earnestly, resisting a blush that I didn’t understand. I tried to stand but knocked my knees into the table in front of me. He motioned that I didn’t need to stand up. I smiled, relieved. He was wearing a business suit, tie and all. He put his jacket on the back of his chair and then took a seat.

  “Work?” I asked.

  “Always, but I wear this most of the time. Habit, and I kinda like it. Half the reason I wanted to be a lawyer. An excuse to wear the suit.”

  I jokingly scowled. “I prefer casual myself.”

  “Well, I’d hate to get bloodstains on this. Dry cleaning is expensive.”

  “Tell me about it.” I chuckled. “Do you know the cost of getting necro-blood out of most fabric?”

  He caught the waitress’s eye and called her over, then shook his head at my question.

  “More than it costs to kill them,” I continued.

  “Sounds like excellent margins,” he said sarcastically, with a grin.

  “They are. Also, the reason I wear black.”

  “Thought that was cause of your goth friend dictating your shopping habits.”

  “Partly that.” I feigned exasperation but couldn’t help a subsequent smile.

  The waitress arrived. I ordered black coffee and Colin ordered coffee with a bit of milk.

  “So,” he started, as the waitress left to fulfil our order. “What got you into monster hunting? Not judging, but it isn’t the most traditional of part-time jobs.”

  “Well,” I hesitated. Wasn’t really a conversation for a date on my end. What do I tell him? That I lost my parents, went borderline insane, met a knight from another realm and then realised I liked stabbing things? Yeah, that’d go down well. “Let’s just say I really don’t like monsters.”

  “Good a reason as any.”

  “I must say…” I noticed that I was fidgeting with a paper sugar sachet. At least I wasn’t playing with my demanzite sachet. A lot of casters took exception to having those in the same room as them. Kinda like waving a loaded gun around. “You’ve really gotten bet
ter at speaking. No offence.”

  What the hell, Kat? I yelled at myself.

  Despite my immediate regret at the statement, his face lit up. Not the reaction I’d expect pointing out his old stutter.

  “You really think so?”

  “Yeah, definitely.” I smiled, relieved that he hadn’t taken offence. “Talking to you after the court case, it was like I was speaking to an entirely different person.”

  “Hopefully, a more appealing person…” He made a face that was a cross between a boyish grin and light flirtation. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “That flirting?”

  He blushed but laughed too.

  “I ironed out the stuttering pretty quickly. Public prosecutor got me a lot more cases after that and it was good speech practice. And, got to admit…that was my first case.”

  “Really?”

  He raised his hands, almost defensively. “I know, I know. I’m sorry for risking your neck on my inexperience.”

  “No, no,” I shook my head. “You were great.”

  “Really?” He sounded almost nervous. Like a dog desiring affirmation. Was cute. In a sheepish way.

  “Well, I got off, didn’t I?”

  “Hah. You did, didn’t you?”

  The coffee arrived. While we drank, we discussed some of his cases, some of my hunts and why he became a lawyer. Unlike me, he didn’t have some personal violent vendetta. Neither was it about the money. The law was a genuine and peaceful passion for him. So much so that while he spoke to me, I could see him looking past me. His eyes glazed over, and he spoke in detail about his relationship with his discipline and why it mattered.

  “Never thought that much about the law,” I said in response to his explanation of how the law kept the Council in check and on the straight and narrow. “I always considered the law to be the thing keeping me from doing my job properly.”

  “It does that, sure. But it does more than that. The law can be a tool for good and ill. And it can just be a tool. What it is at the end of the day is an essentially human creation that has ascended past humanity. First, with the rule of law, where we control ourselves with our own creation – enabling society – and then with the literal Spirit of the Law, which keeps Hope City from devolving into lawlessness or dictatorship. The law is a fine balance between control and freedom. It is walking that line that I love so much about my career.”