Pocket Full of Tinder

by Jill Archer

  Tenacity preceded us into the room with a series of cartwheels, handsprings, and flips, her blonde braids, shiny black boots, and spiked belt, cuffs, and collar glinting in the candlelight. She stuck her last landing in front of Ari and pulled a torch, a match, and a flask out of her sleeve. She lit the torch, took a swig from the flask, and blew a great big burst of fire into the air. Of course, to a room full of demons, her stunts were hardly impressive, but I was glad to see that Ari, at least, appreciated her gesture. He thanked her quietly, she motioned to us, and Fara stepped up.

  Introductions usually fell to Angels, and Fara had been working on this one for months. She’d refused to share it with me ahead of time, telling me that, if I trusted her with my life, I should darn well trust her with my introduction. Fair enough. She started with the usual litany of people, places, and things, announcing that I was “Nouiomo Onyx of Etincelle, second year Maegester-in-Training and Primoris of St. Lucifer’s school of demon law, daughter of Karanos Onyx, executive of the Demon Council, daughter of Aurelia Onyx nee Ferrum of the Hawthorn Tribe, and sister to Nocturo Onyx, a Mederi who goes by the name Nightshade.”

  But then she went off-script as only an Angel could, weaving a highly entertaining tale about my exploits over the last year or so. I would have accused her of embellishing except that everything she said was true. I really had discovered Luck’s long-lost tomb, fought alongside Grimasca, the Grim Mask of Death, drowned in Ebony’s Elbow, survived a suffoca ignem curse, killed Orcus, Patron Demon of the Verge, liberated the mortem animae, and brought back Album Cor Iustitiae’s scabbard, which I’d generously given to the Divinity to repay a debt but also to “seal the bond of peace between the Host and the Angels.” Fara stared defiantly at each of the demons then and I repressed the urge to grin and wink at her.

  Reactions to my intro were mixed. Yannu’s eyes had widened and then narrowed when he’d heard about Orcus, Runnos had looked positively avaricious over the scabbard, and Bastian had seemed bored. Ari’s reaction was the only one I couldn’t be sure of. He’d clamped down on his signature almost as soon as Fara had started. I’d told him when I accepted this job that I wasn’t the same person he used to date. And he’d told me it didn’t matter – but how could it not?

  Fara and Tenacity took their leave and I gave my full attention to everyone else’s introduction. None of them had Angels as heralds, but their deeds were almost, if not more, illustrious than mine. As I listened to Ari endlessly enumerate everyone’s coups and feats of derring-do, I was glad Fara had spared none of mine. There were a few titles that were missing from someone’s bio, though, namely bomber, murderer, seditionist, and traitor. But my emotions were thankfully in check so I doubted if any of my suspicions showed in my signature or on my face. Finally, it came time to symbolically disarm ourselves. Since Cliodna went first and Yannu second, I had a feeling we would lay down our arms in order of seniority.

  Cliodna, clothed in a robe of white feathers, fired up a wee piece of jewelry – specifically, a poison ring, which nearly made me choke with laughter. Poison was known as a woman’s weapon, after all, and Luck forbid anyone accuse Lady Cliodna of being anything but. Yannu predictably forged a sword. It was a beauty though, a long saber with a heavily sculpted gold pommel. He laid it beside Cliodna’s ring on the rota fortunae and the two weapons hissed and spit in the semi-darkness of the stone room. Malphia went next, shaping a wisp of black shadow. It snaked through the air, over to the center of the table, and twisted around Yannu’s sword and Cliodna’s ring. I had to give it to her; Malphia’s weapon was creepy.

  Runnos formed a wooden club. At first glance it appeared to be an uninspired choice, but then he smashed it down on the table, briefly shattering the fiery weapons and temporarily dispelling the shadowy one. Bastian shaped a quarterstaff and Eidya a dagger and then, suddenly, it was my turn to approach Ari.

  By this time, everyone else was standing around the rota fortunae waiting for us. I turned toward Ari and gave him my undivided attention for the first time since last night. Sometimes, it amazed me that he’d been my boyfriend. I suppose, in hindsight, the fact that he was a demon seemed all too obvious. What’s that saying, “Love is blind?” No kidding, because Ari radiated power, magic, and gravitas. He had all the charisma a demon could possibly want to make his followers adore him. How could I have ever thought the person standing in front of me was just a man?

  He wore a knee-length black cloak over gray pants with black boots and an enigmatic smile that could pass for rueful or insolent. His chestnut-colored hair was as thick as a barghest’s but as smooth as a selkie’s, and his maple-colored eyes had just a shade too much cranberry in them for him to be human.

  Seriously, how dumb was I?

  But I knew, standing in front of him now, that I hadn’t been dumb as much as defenseless… helpless… powerless to resist my feelings for him. Because it hadn’t been Ari’s looks that made me fall in love with him. It had been his vulnerability, infrequently glimpsed during the briefest of moments – the time he’d been nervous about asking me out, the time I’d caught him reading sonnets penned by a hopeless romantic, and the time he’d told me there was nothing that he wouldn’t do for me, except for the one thing he should do – let me go.

  But he had. He’d let me go. And now I was back and I was expected to “disarm” in front of him.

  Could I? Would I?

  The last thing our relationship needed was more of my submission. I wanted to show the Lord of the Gorge that my body, magic, mind, and heart could be immune to him, but I also wanted to show Ari that I was there for him. That I’d help him “guard the guards.”

  In the end, it was Tenacity’s advice that helped me decide. She’d told me to “shape my best weapon.” Well, my best weapon was often my ability to commiserate and empathize. I wasn’t a natural-born killer like everyone else standing around Ari’s wheel of fortune.

  So I chose to give Ari something different – a miniature fiery drakon similar to the fiery rat I’d formed for Kalchoek. But this time, it was too big to sit in my palm. It perched on my hand as if I were a falconer and it was a goshawk. In honor of Tenacity’s earlier display, I let it breathe fire into the air and then I released it. But instead of sending it to sit on the pile of weapons Ari’s camarilla had formed, I sent it straight toward him. He held up his good arm and my small beast flew right onto it. Instead of bowing, I lowered my head for a moment and then raised it, meeting Ari’s gaze. Emotions so fast and fleeting they were indiscernible raced across Ari’s face. But then he settled on a smile that could only be described as cocksure and together we turned toward the rota fortunae.

  8

  HONESTY

  It looked like braised chicken.

  How bad could something that had been cooked in wine be? At least I hadn’t gotten the fried river scorpion.

  Once we were all standing around the table, Ari had made a perfunctory toast “to the grapes,” which was a reference to us – what was left of Luck’s legions – and sacrifice. Then we’d lifted our glasses and drank while Ari spun the table. The whole thing had felt a little surreal, as if I was playing a game in some sort of demon saloon. Considering that my assignments often felt like bets wagering my life and the lives of others, I’d been near giddy with the thought of participating in an activity where the stakes were merely gastronomical as opposed to astronomical. When the table stopped, I’d removed the lid from my just deserts plate pleased to find that, when it came to low-stakes gambling at least, Fortuna was willing to smile on me.

  I sliced into the tiny, stewed bird and took a bite, marking the official moment when I became a member of Ari’s camarilla. I hadn’t expected to feel different, but I was relieved nonetheless when the only sensation I experienced was the stinging heat of red pepper on the tip of my tongue. My eyes watered momentarily and I fought the urge to sneeze.

  The formal event was as brief as Tenacity had said it would be. Within a quarter hour we’d finished and exited
into the rotunda’s atrium. Tenacity was playing a harpsichord and Fara was waiting with Nova, Virtus, and a few people I didn’t recognize. Bastian made a beeline for Fara, spoke with her for a few minutes and then left, presumably to check in with whichever Mederi was on night shift at the hospital. But everyone else stayed, breaking off into smaller groups. Based on their behavior, I was betting the strangers were inamoratas.

  Oh, goody, I thought. More strange demons to meet.

  But then I reminded myself that I should use this uncomfortable après-event for its intended purpose – to get to know Ari’s camarilla.

  Runnos, Eidya, and their mates cornered me early on to discuss all manner of things: immigration of residents from New Babylon, the state of education in Rockthorn Gorge, the Memento Mori viaduct and future dam, what it was like to work for my father, even inn and restaurant recommendations in Etincelle. Runnos had wanted to hear about the Laurel Crown Race and, in particular, my search for Album Cor Iustitiae, the famed White Heart of Justice. I stuck to the bare facts and then asked about Cliodna’s artisans and the armor they made, which was one of the gorge’s top exports. Despite the bureaucratic and, at times, pedantic nature of our discussion, it wasn’t unpleasant, just L-O-N-G.

  I talked with Yannu and Malphia next. I wish I could say that our discussion was short and sweet, but it was more like short and strained. Yannu critiqued my performance during the morning’s melee and then started quizzing me about the pepperbox. Could I shape other types of handguns? Had they ever worked? What happened when I fired them? His cross exam was so relentless I was forced to admit that this morning’s pepperbox had been my first. It was either that or lie, which I didn’t see much upside to. He would find out about the limits of my magic eventually. He reminded me of Rochester, my first magic instructor, who’d had no qualms about his teaching methods possibly killing me. Sure enough, Yannu ended the discussion by asking who I’d pick for my team tomorrow.

  “Sticking with your beasts and your Angel, Onyx?” he asked, motioning to Fara, who was talking to Ari a short distance away.

  “Always,” I said.

  “Anyone else?” Malphia asked. She cocked her eyebrow and gave me a meaningful look. I suppose choosing Malphia would have been a good idea. After all, she was the one who’d almost chopped my head off. If the melee had been a Gridiron ranking match, she would have beat me hands down. But the way she used waning magic was anathema to me and I wanted no part of it. So I said I’d pick Lord Aristos if his offer was still open.

  “Perfect,” Yannu said, grinning, reminding me of the way Nova looked just before she tore her prey limb from limb.

  Around midnight, Cliodna approached me. Remembering her earlier comment that I smelled like a barghest, I girded myself for another insult. But instead she said, “I can see now what he sees in you.”

  Playing dumb and answering with “Who?” or “What?” would just insult both of us. But saying “I can see now what everyone sees in you” seemed a tad too confrontational, no matter how true. And here I’d been worried that my dress was too clingy and low cut. At least I was wearing one.

  Sometime after the rota fortunae ceremony, the Patron Demon of Waves and Waterbirds had disrobed. She now stood in front of me clad in nothing but a jeweled bikini top and booty shorts, although, to be fair, she’d paired her swimsuit with knee-high gladiator boots and giant swan wings – real ones – which kind of looked like a cloak…

  When would I learn? There was a reason none of the demon languages had a word for modesty!

  Grumpily, I admitted to myself that Cliodna looked radiant. She was the “risqué” I’d worried about being.

  “I was sorry to hear about Lord Potomus,” I said truthfully. “I heard he was a fearless, stalwart, and devoted patron.”

  “He was also bullheaded, territorial, and inflexible.” She sighed and slipped her arm into mine before I even realized what she was doing. I tensed and she must have sensed it, but her body and her signature stayed loose and fluid. She led me from the outer edge of the atrium where all the sconces were toward the moonlit middle. Her stride was slow and easy and there was no trace of the odd volatility she’d exhibited the first time I’d met her. If anything, her signature pulsed with curiosity and attraction. But I wasn’t quite as naïve as I used to be, so I was glad when Nova got up and followed us as we strolled amongst the sculptures and statues.

  “I want to hear everything about you,” Cliodna said, patting my arm. “How you shape your magic into winged creatures; how long you’ve worked with that lovely girl, Fara, and her gorgeous sweeting; why on earth you chose a monster that looks and smells like that”—she turned around and pointed at Nova—“for yours.” I tried to extract my arm from hers, but she held tight. “I want to know when you’ll come see my sanctuary and meet my artisans. I want to know when we can start designing armor for you. Or jewelry. Or anything else.” She stopped walking and turned toward me, taking both of my hands in hers. She held them up at my sides and took a step back, almost as if we were dancing, and swept her gaze over me. After a moment’s assessment, she dropped my hands, slipped her arm through mine again, and resumed our walk.

  Again, there was nothing in her signature to suggest that she was a threat. And yet…

  “Did you outfit Lord Potomus’ consigliere?”

  She made a disparaging noise and then spat out rather more forcefully than was required, “No! Scapolite was old and ugly. He wouldn’t have been any fun to…” Her voice trailed off as if she’d sensed she’d gone too far. Said too much. Suddenly, I had a feeling I knew what her last words would have been – dress up.

  Cliodna might look like she was twenty-five, but she was actually twenty times older – old enough to have seen well over a dozen generations of humans live and die. Maybe if I’d seen the number of deaths that she had, I might be reserved in my attachments as well. Still, it didn’t exactly sit right with me that she viewed me as a life-sized doll, more pet than person.

  I had a feeling the more I got to know Cliodna, the less I would like her. But I didn’t want to alienate her just yet. That would make keeping an eye on her doubly difficult. I had a sudden flash of inspiration.

  “It’s not armor or jewelry, but there is something your artisans might be able to help me with. It’s something that was very dear to someone back home. It was damaged. Perhaps they could repair it?”

  Cliodna’s expression soured. “My artisans design one-of-a-kind pieces. They do not repair junk.”

  “Oh. I see. Well, I haven’t much hope for it, it’s true. I just thought, since your artisans are known to be the best in Halja…”

  As we neared the atrium’s silvery core, its warm candlelit edges faded and Tenacity’s plucky harpsichord notes devolved into somber echoes. Cliodna’s expression became resigned.

  “Fine,” she sighed. “Bring whatever ruined piece of trash you like so long as you come. I meant what I said. I want to hear all about you. As I’m sure you do me. After all, it’s not every day that two of Lord Aristos’ exes get to swap stories.”

  I felt it then, that volatile flash that I’d felt when I first met her. Her signature flared like a match being struck and then, just as quickly, blew out. But I could hardly process the what of it because I was still reeling from the why.

  “You and…?” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. I had no idea what emotions were reflected in my signature. I’d known Ari had dated women before me, of course. I’d even met one of them and we had swapped stories. Nice ones, though. Because she’d been wonderful. Yes, I had been jealous of her at first, but I’d been unable to sustain it in light of Ari’s obvious feelings for me and the woman’s incontrovertible kindness. But Cliodna? I wasn’t jealous, I was appalled. How could Ari have…?

  She laughed. “I see he didn’t tell you. Well, that’s probably because he wants you back. He told me so, you know. We talked a lot about you. But there were so many questions he wouldn’t answer. That’s why you must come to my
sanctuary and tell me yourself. I will make you a promise, Nouiomo Onyx. No matter what role you assume here in the gorge, consigliere to the patron or more, I will give you the finest armor and the largest chest of jewels Halja has ever seen – in return for your promise that you will convince him to return to my bed upon your death.”

  Her eyes burned bright and my stomach somersaulted. I recognized demonic fervor when I saw it. I shook myself free of her and stepped back.

  There was so many things wrong with her offer. But first and foremost was, did she really think I would accept it? There were only about a million Haljan legends involving poisoned dresses, robes, crowns, and scepters given to poor, unsuspecting adversaries. And this was the demon who’d just shaped a poison ring as her best weapon!

  If Cliodna was truly trying to do away with me, she’d have to do better than this.

  I laughed. “I could never make such a promise, even if I wanted to. What the patron does with his life is his business – before or after my death. As for the latter, he likely won’t have to wait long, but my demise won’t come about because I was too greedy or too stupid to say no to a trunkful of poisoned baubles.”

  I expected Cliodna to be angry then, that her demonic fervor would reach a new terrifying peak. But to my surprise it evaporated immediately. She actually smiled, and all traces of animus were swept from her signature as if blown out by a mighty cathartic wind.

  “Yannu said you wouldn’t go for it,” she said matter-of-factly. “But I had to try. Melees aren’t my style, you know?”