by May Dawson
Even though it had all happened in the past, even though there was nothing I could do to help the eight-year-old version of Jacob, when he started screaming, I found myself screaming too.
20
When Nimshi had gone and it was just Jacob and me, he stared at the wall. I knew he didn’t want to meet my eyes. He took slow, steady breaths, as if he was trying to ground himself in the moment.
I couldn’t ask him if he was okay. There was no way he could be.
He said flatly, “We’re in a different location than the one where I was as a kid. Nimshi must be new—he gives a lot away when he’s chattering. He has to fill the silence when we’re not screaming.”
I was a beat behind him. “He said there was no infirmary here.”
He nodded.
I still felt sick from watching what they had done to Jacob. There was a deep pit of nausea in my stomach, a slimy feeling at the back of my throat, despite the dryness of my mouth.
“I wish I knew what time it was,” I said softly, although it had been a long time since we last ate or drank water, any way you counted it.
The door swung open again. It was Nimshi who came in, carrying a bucket in one hand. He threw it between us and it rolled against the wall. Then he was gone again, slamming the door behind him.
I hesitated, afraid there was something awful in the bucket, but Jacob was already kneeling. He set it upright, pulling out two bottles of water and two protein bars.
“So it’s a dice roll,” he said, “These might be poisoned. But we need to risk the water, at a bare minimum.”
“Did they do that to you too?” I asked. “How long were you here?”
“A week or so. I lost track of time, and my mom never wanted to talk about it.” He pushed the bucket towards me. “I’ll turn my back.”
“You mean…” I trailed off.
“Honeymoon’s over,” he said. “This is where things get real.”
He turned his broad back on me, as much as he could when he was chained to the wall. I dragged the bucket towards me. Ugh. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Your turn,” I said, trying to turn my back on Jacob. “And can I just say, I want to know what misogynistic bull shit it is that you got to keep your shirt. But for some reason, I’m imprisoned in my bra.”
“I wish I could give you my shirt. Nimshi looking at you….” He shook his head. “But I can’t get it off with the shackles.”
“I don’t want your shirt. I want my shirt.”
“If we’re making a list of wants,” he said, “I’d still like to beat Ryker and Levi home.”
“When do you think they’ll realize we’re missing?”
“It was probably going to be a two night trip. And, well, I have no freaking idea how long we’ve been here, Ellis.”
“Do you think it’s night now and that’s why Nimshi left us the bucket and all? He’s going to get a good night’s rest somewhere?”
“I hope he has nightmares,” Jacob said fervently. He pushed the bucket as far away as he could from us, the bucket scraping over the cool tile, and sat down with his back against the wall.
“I hope he dreams his belly-button lint comes to carnivorous life and starts to eat its way through to his internal organs,” I said. “I hope he dreams of me dining on his eyeballs for that matter.”
“You’re being a little weird, Princess.”
“Come on,” I said.
Reluctantly, he said, “I hope he dreams all his teeth fall out.”
“I hope he dreams about his father porking his mother,” I said. “No, better yet. His mother taking his father with a strap-on. Wait, if he’s a demon in a human body, would he remember having parents? How does it work?’
“That’s something that’s got me curious in all this,” Jacob said.
“What’s that?”
“Our little junior torturer. He hasn’t actually hurt us yet.”
“I don’t know if you checked out during the last few hours, Jacob, but…”
“But they’re just memories. Or fake ones, for you. Things that already happened.” He ducked his head. “I’m not really happy about replaying them all so vividly. A lot of that stuff had started, finally, to fade for me. Now I’m going to have to start all over.”
“Can I heal you?” I asked. I reached out my hand to rest on his leg, wanting to comfort him, and then hesitated.
He took my hand firmly in his, and I expected him to put it back on my own knee. Instead, he squeezed my hand in his and brought it to his lap.
“Not from this, I don’t think,” he said. “I’d like to kiss you, Ellis. For real. Not because of the curse, or because I know the fire between us will light up the battlefield. I want to just kiss you. And I can’t do that here.”
I stared back into his warm golden eyes. “Are you sure my magic won’t work here? What do you think would happen if we burned this place down?”
“You have a particular skill set and you really want to use it, huh?”
I was still thinking about what he said. “Do you think Nimshi doesn’t want to hurt us like that? Or just doesn’t want to hurt us like that yet?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
I thought back to how Nimshi had run the bolt cutter over my skin. “He did touch me. Barely.”
“And I’m going to kill him for that when I get the chance,” he said. “It’s just all strange. Something else is going on here.”
“Do you think he knows who we are?” I asked softly.
He shook his head slightly. His voice was a whisper when he said, “So from my understanding, a demon with a human body tries to torture humans until they give up. Then another demon can enter the body. It’s bad enough to have more demons wandering around in our plane. If they can get inside you, with your power…”
He trailed off.
“If they knew who I was,” I said, “They’d definitely have a plan to resuscitate us, wouldn’t they? So I couldn’t just kill myself.”
“I don’t know if that would work, Ellis. If you get desperate enough to kill yourself, that might give them the opening they need anyway.”
“I don’t think I could do it anyway,” I said. Nimshi’s words echoed in my brain. You’ll want to die by the end. “Do you think Ryker and Levi will find us?”
Jacob hesitated, and then his lips parted as if he had something important to tell me. His eyes flickered up towards the door, and he stopped with whatever he was going to say on his lips.
“I’m taking you with me,” Nimshi said, gesturing me away from the wall. “Walk towards me, as far as the chains allow.”
I took a step forward and then stopped. Go ahead. Come close enough for Jacob to get his hands on you.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“This isn’t a negotiation,” Nimshi said. “You’re coming with me.”
“It’s all right, Ellis,” Jacob said. “Go see what he wants. It can’t be any worse than here.”
Nimshi smiled to himself. That was not an entirely encouraging sign.
“I’m not leaving Jacob,” I said. “Not unless you’ll let him get some rest. He needs a blanket.”
“This isn’t a Holiday Inn Express,” he said. “This isn’t even a Ramada. There are no blankets.”
“I want you to find something to make him comfortable,” I said.
“How about I find something to make him dead?”
“Do you want me to go with you willingly?” I asked tartly.
“I don’t really care,” he said.
He snapped his fingers.
I felt my legs going out from underneath me even as my brain plummeted into sleep. I could hear Jacob jump forward behind me, yanking at his chains, trying to catch me.
I blacked out before the hard tile could rush up at me.
21
I woke up face-down on a fine white linen tablecloth.
Well, that was better than usual.
I sat up slowly, my
head foggy and aching, as if I’d been jolted awake out of a deep sleep. A soft, warm breeze brushed over my hair. I smelled fresh bread and chocolate.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
Nimshi sat across from me, his face propped up on one hand. He wore a suit jacket and tie.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you just magic-roofie me to take me on a date?”
I blinked hard, trying to chase away the last of the brain fog. We seemed to be on a rooftop. The glittering lights of DC spread around us.
If we could get in touch with Ryker and Levi, now I could narrow the search. I felt suddenly frantic to be back in the demon’s case, where I could plan with Jacob. Or… maybe I could get a minute’s privacy here to contact Ryker and Levi.
“Don’t get excited,” Nimshi told me. “There are demon wards everywhere here. You don’t know where to begin.”
He nodded at the plate in front of me. “I was worried you were going to put your hair in your ravioli. I hope you don’t mind—I pulled your hair back into a ponytail. Go ahead and eat.”
I reached up and touched my hair. It was indeed pulled back. A chill rushed up my spine. That was creepy.
“You don’t need to touch me when I’m unconscious, weirdo,” I said.
“I don’t think you recognize the gravity of your situation.”
“No, I do,” I said. “I’m probably going to die, yadda yadda, torture torture, you’ll want to die by the time we’re done with you. I get it. You’re scary.”
“Eat your dinner,” he said, gesturing down to my plate.
In front of me was a plateful of ravioli and a crystal glass of iced water. I picked up the water and took a long sip; it was the best thing I’d ever tasted, cold and clear flowing down my throat. I drained the glass and then set it down carefully on the table.
“Is it poisoned?” I asked.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Ellis.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s not poisoned.”
Well, even when I had an answer, it wasn’t like it was one that I believed, anyway. My stomach rumbled. I guessed I had to take a gamble at some point; I was going to become too faint to make an escape attempt otherwise. I took a bite of ravioli.
“How is it?”
Like heaven melting on my tongue. I swallowed and said, “Nothing tastes quite right when you’re trying to identify any odd taste that might leave you writhing in pain later.”
He picked up his fork and reached over, scooping up one of my ravioli. He raised his fork in a little salute and then popped the ravioli into his mouth.
“See?” he said. “Delicious.”
“What do you guys eat in hell?” I asked.
There was a flicker of hesitation on his part. Then he said, “Mostly we feast on crispy human flesh. It’s always a mite overdone. Pasta’s a nice change.”
“I bet,” I said. “That must get old.”
“It’s not a lot of variety.”
“What have you tried since you’ve been earth-side?” I asked. I wanted to get him talking. Jacob had made a good point that he chattered, that he gave too much away, and in the cracks of his chatter were his secrets. Any subject might get us somewhere. “Have you tried Coke? The cola, not the drug. Although, I guess, have you tried either? Fruit loops? Toaster strudel? Macaroni and cheese? Crab cakes.”
“Why are you naming a bunch of random things that humans eat?”
“I’m just curious,” I said. “I mean, based on cuisine alone, you must really want to stay top-side.”
“It’s what I prefer,” he said guardedly. “Do you want desert?”
“I don’t know I can eat cake when my friend’s back there in the case.”
“Well, then neither of you get cake.” He turned to a silver cart next to the table and took off a plate of tall chocolate cake. He took a slow bite, chewing thoughtfully. “You’re missing out.”
“Have you always had a sweet tooth?” I asked. “Even though you didn’t get to eat anything but human flesh?”
He stared at me as if I were the weird one.
“Like, did you always think to yourself, man, I’m munching on this pedophile and that’s cool and all, but what I could really go for is a chocolate chip cookie? Did you even know about the options on Earth?”
“Yes,” he said. “That’s why demons really come topside. Not for the power or anything. It’s the cookies.”
“How long of a run do you get?” I asked. I pointed my fork at him. “Looks like you got a nice young body. Cute, too. Is that body going to get old around you and then when you finally die, poof, that’s the end of it, you never get another cookie?”
“You are full of questions.”
“I’m a curious girl,” I said. “And it sounds like Hell is hellacious for everyone.”
“Some of the demons like it. Lucifer does.”
“Oh yeah, your uncle. Which one’s your father again?”
“Hedron.”
I wondered if he knew all the demons. If he knew Samael.
“So how was he as a dad?” I asked. “What’s it like growing up in Hell?”
“I brought you here so you could have a break,” he said. “I’m sorry for what I have to do to you in there.”
“You could always opt out.” I crinkled my nose at him. “You can say sorry, but it doesn’t really count.”
“I can’t,” he said. “It’s my job.”
“You’re just a slave to the dark side,” I said.
“I’m a demon, Ellis,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I serve the king.”
“Like I said. A slave to the dark side.”
“I wouldn’t say a slave. And are you quoting Star Wars at me?”
“You’ve seen Star Wars?”
He regarded me with an expression I couldn’t quite make sense of.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Long enough.”
“I just want to know more about the people who are going to kill me,” I said. “Nothing strange about that, is there? Can I have more water, please?”
He passed his own water glass over to me. “That’s it. I’m not going to go fetch.”
“I wouldn’t leave me alone either.” I winked at him.
He stared at me, perplexed.
“What is it?”
“You’re the first girl I’ve ever tortured,” he said.
“That’s really special.” I said. “I can’t believe I’m your first. Well, maybe I’m not surprised. It’s been a little clumsy.”
He stood from the table. “Do you want to walk with me?”
“I am down for pretty much anything that’s not going back in the case,” I said. “Let’s just be real here. I’ll wash dishes. I’ll clean toilets. I’ll listen to talk radio.”
“Just come,” he said.
I stood, grateful to be free of shackles for now, and the thought made me rub my wrist absently, feeling the grooves that were cut into my flesh. The shackles had been all right at first, but then my wrists and ankles had begun to swell and chafe. Now the skin that had been covered by the shackles was white and tender, and deeper, red rings encircled my wrists, on the edge of becoming bloody with time.
“When it’s time to go back,” I said, “Do you think you could refrain from the magic-roofie thing? It really puts me off.”
“Do you think you could refrain from being badly-behaved?”
“Well, I can try. But I’m told badly-behaved is part of my charm.”
We walked along the edge of the rooftop, looking out over the city lights. My bare feet were quiet on the cement underfoot, unlike the slight squeaking of his shoes. For once, at least, I wasn’t cold.
He stopped and leaned on the wall, looking out. “Just so you know. If you push me to my death, you’ll never find you way back to Jacob. You might escape, but he’ll die.”
“I’ve never liked him much anyway.”
His eyes flickered towards me. “Are
n’t you dating?”
“Really?” I asked. “The demon who just escaped the underworld is interested in the human mating scene?”
“Demons breed too,” he said. “They like to mate with humans.”
“Gross,” I said. I leaned my elbows on the cool concrete too. I wanted to keep him talking.
“It’s not gross,” he said. “Humans having sex is weird enough when you think about it. All that in-and-out and juices.”
“So you’re a virgin, Nimshi.”
“And you aren’t, slut.”
“That doesn’t make me a slut,” I said, humor in my voice. “Not that there’s anything wrong with adoring sex. But nice try.”
“How can you say you’re not a slut when you have sex with a Nephilim? He’s not even human.”
“Are you calling your mom a slut?” I had a sliver of an idea and I wanted to push it.
“Sure, she was,” he said. “But we’re not talking about my mom.”
“Hell sounds very testosterone-driven,” I said, wanting to cover my tracks, wanting him not to realize what he’d given away to me. “Like the frat house from, well, hell.”
“You have no idea,” he said. “Zero interest in soaking up the rays in the hellscape.”
Brightly and cheerfully, he turned to me and added, “And that’s why you have to die. Even though I hate to torture you into abject misery and the sweet-ish surrender of death.”
“Really?” I asked. “Why is that?”
“Pretty girl like you,” he said. “It seems like a waste to torture you.”
I cocked my head at him. There were many ways to take that. Some of them were terrifying. But not all.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I might be pretty, but you wouldn’t like my personality.”
He leaned with his back against the wall. He reached to me, the gesture quick and confident, and traced his thumb over the curve of my jaw. I felt a wave of disgust and then a tingling in my skin, like there was magic in his touch; energy coursed through me, making me feel heady and alive here at the edge of death.
“Spare me your magic,” I said. “It’s just tacky under the circumstances.”