by Louisa Lo
The moment Guillermo got hold of Esme’s left hand, I did the same with her right hand. With Esme in the middle, acting as a conduit, we girls started pushing our combined power into Guillermo, fraying his nerves, then ended the connection right before anything could backfire into us. Thanks to our connection, Esme and I had been able to coordinate our attack with precise timing.
Screaming, Guillermo landed hard on the ground, his body twitching in spasms. But I dared not celebrate, because I could tell that strong as he was, he’d recover from this little sensory overload in no time.
“Come on,” Esme urged. “Make sure he stays down or he’ll finish us.”
I did a double take and turned to look at Esme. Really look at her. Was this actually my kind, rule-following, ladylike sister, who wouldn’t hurt a fly as long as it wasn’t on her work assignment list? “Whatever happened to Article 10.5, section C about using minimum force?”
“Screw that,” Esme spat. Wow, looked like captivity had unleashed my half-sister’s inner bitch, and she was just a little scary.
Better stay on her good side, then. I took a leaf out of Grandma’s book and whacked his highness over the head with the solid oak chess box conveniently located right on the table. He grunted then stilled. I checked his breathing.
“He’ll live,” I announced. Making myself visible again, I unchained Esme’s ankle from the leg of her chair.
“Megan!” Esme hugged me as soon as I straightened up. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did.” I tried my best to play it cool. “Who’s going to be my alibi when I prank Cousin Freddy at the next Annual Under-Thirty Demonic Picnic?”
Maybe we got cheery a little bit too early, because as soon as the words left my mouth I could no longer feel my tongue.
Nor could I move the rest of my body, for that matter. And was that a sting in my butt?
Oh.
***
The only thing worse than being hit in the butt with a tranquilizer like a dumb hippo in the zoo was to do so and then be transported like low-fare cargo while staying conscious the entire time.
“It’s not a tranquilizer, in case you’re wondering,” Dan Pillar helpfully supplied as he supervised his henchmen moving Esme and me. “It’s an anesthesia for human cosmetic surgeries. For demons, the drugs have the unexpected result of loss of mobility, but not consciousness.”
Great, just like a Nip/Tuck episode from hell.
As soon as Esme and I lost our ability to move, Dan and his henchmen had swooped into the library like vultures converging on dying men in a desert. The henchmen wore black suits like in any B-rated human movie, and Dan was in a tailored Italian number that belonged more in an estate home than the hellhole we were travelling through.
I had no idea where they were taking us. All I knew was that we were in some underground tunnels with poor lighting, even worse ventilation, and lots of steps. On top of being transported as low-fare cargo, Esme and I were also packaged as such. We were each stuffed inside an oversized cardboard box, like the ones humans used to deliver fridges. A small balloon-sized cutout was made for us to breathe through and to see out of. The boxes were rather awkward shapes to be carrying, especially up and down narrow stairways. Judging from the faces of Dan’s henchmen—mere humans from the looks of them—they weren’t very happy about the situation, either. I just hoped they wouldn’t drop us.
Now I knew what it felt like to be one of those adopted kittens at the animal shelter, ready to go to an uncertain future in a hand-basket, hoping it wouldn’t be hell. Well, in my case, if only I was so lucky. My dad’s best friend’s cousin’s girlfriend was in charge of security at the gates of hell. She’d cut me some slack if I ever landed there.
Since I couldn’t have the blessing of oblivion during the trip to wherever, I might as well start a little conversation here with Dan Pillar.
“August the second, nineteen ninety-six,” I said in a stage whisper.
Dan did a double take and turned to look at me. “What?”
“You heard me. That’s your grandson’s birthday, isn’t it? I believe his name is Will.”
“Is that a threat?” Dan tightened his fist.
“I’m not exactly in the position to threaten anyone at the moment.” I swallowed. The guy cared about his grandchild. I was sure of it. He’d stopped scamming women in Will’s honor, after all. Considering that he’d simply moved onto more serious crimes, that wasn’t saying much. But I had nothing else on Dan, so I did what anyone who was running out of options would do. I grasped at straws. “I’m just trying to point out that what you’re doing here, it affects him too.”
A muscle on Dan’s cheek twitched. “He’ll never need to be part of this world.”
“But oh, he is. You’re playing with some nasty dark forces here. And who’s to say it won’t spill over? Now me, I was being fair. Believe me, if I’d wanted to punish you through him, it’d be done already. Remember that.”
“She’s right, you know,” Esme added. “According to the vengeance rulebook, it’s considered perfectly acceptable to hurt a target through someone they love.”
Like the daughter of a man who made unsafe toys could get lead poisoning from the dolls herself. I could have conned Will Pillar out of his rent money like his grandfather had conned others. I hadn’t done it, though. Being a victim of guilt by association all my life, I wasn’t keen to do the same to another. But Dan didn’t have to know that.
The elder Pillar didn’t seem terribly impressed by my show of mercy. He ignored us and smoothed his cufflinks as if we were going to have an audience with the Queen of England.
“You really think serving Damarion will end well for you? Hate to break it to you, but he’s serving Absolute Good. Good, get it? Not evil. And he didn’t even bother telling you that. You know, you’re not exactly pure of heart.” I snorted.
This remark did get a response from him. Dan adjusted his tie with steady, confident hands as he replied. “Even the pure need somebody to do their dirty work.”
“Or somebody expendable to kick-start their devious plans,” I countered.
“What do you mean?” Dan frowned.
“Think about it. This whole kidnapping mess was set in motion by me targeting you. I got my assignment through Enid, who was working with Damarion at the time. Your boss armed you, but sicced me on you. Whatever his end game, he risked your life. Remember that.”
It seemed almost too wild a conspiracy theory, that everything from my failed assignment to Esme meeting Guillermo at the ball to me being suspended was all part of some big plan. But maybe not so wild if we were talking about a society shrouded in a millennia worth of secrecy.
I heard a gasp from Esme and could sense her horrified embarrassment rushing through my mind. It must’ve been hard for her, knowing that the months of mooning she’d suffered through made her nothing but a pawn in this sick, sick game.
Dan went back to ignoring me, walking ahead of the gang, and disappeared around a curve ahead. Well, I’d done the best I could at finding a crack in that armor and to be honest, I hadn’t expected any success anyway.
After much lifting and grunting from the laboring henchmen, we arrived at what I could only describe as an underground throne room made of stones and enough lit candles to make the set designer from The Phantom of the Opera proud. And a throne room wouldn’t be complete without thrones. There were three at the back of the long room, a large one covered in red velvet cushions flanked by two smaller ones. Damarion and his buddies looked mighty pleased with themselves sitting on them.
The henchmen left the boxes containing Esme and me on the thrones’ left side. Dan and his men retreated respectfully to the right. To my frustration, I couldn’t see Esme from my angle.
Damarion gave a hand signal, and over three dozen hooded monks in brown cloaks poured in from the doors at the back, filling the high-ceilinged chamber. Murmuring low, they were so clichéd I started wondering if they’d gotten their costumes
from some theatric supplies shop. But close up, I could see that these were no rentals. The fabric was made of expensive cashmere, hand-woven and probably super soft. The monks came from money. Every single one of them. That made me wonder if there were any of Grandma’s associates here. Perhaps some I’d already come across at the ball? Maybe even a few members of the Council.
That thought filled my stomach with dread. I was used to the in-your-face kind of bullying. But this time, the enemy was tangible yet faceless. It could be one of my professors, someone on the faculty who’d been kind to me, like Enid had been. Maybe even one of my dad’s drinking buddies. It gave me chills, realizing just how clueless I was about what was really in people’s hearts and minds.
“Glad you could join us, Megan.” Damarion smiled that nasty smile of his. “This is a glorious day for Absolute Good.”
“What about Absolute Evil?” I retorted. “Doesn’t the story go that the two were trapped together? If you let one out, the other will follow.”
“I have every faith my master will defeat Absolute Evil. Now, most of the human plane might get destroyed, but we vengeance demons always survive.”
“Bullshit. There’s a little bit of good and evil in every single one of us. No one will survive.”
Damarion turned his back to me, effectively cutting off our conversation. His voice rang out to address his followers. “Welcome to the time-honored tradition of hostage exchange.”
With the sound of a gong, the main door opened. Damarion’s followers parted in the middle like the Red Sea, revealing the lone figure coming to take part in the exchange.
Grandma Aequitas.
Chapter Seventeen
I FELT ESME’S SURPRISE and dismay beating at the wall of my mind, matching my own. Oh, crap. Grandma came here on her own. For us. She was powerful and all, but there were too many creepy monks around. I hoped she’d brought backup. Wait, that must be it. The backup was lying in wait somewhere, getting all the exits covered. Dad had to be among them and Mom too. He couldn’t have kept her away even if he’d tried.
The monks had better like a good case of itchy fire ants. It was one of Mom’s specialties.
Grandma walked up to Damarion, her steps regal. Her face was wiped of all emotions, betraying nothing. I held my breath and tried to act as natural as I could, given the circumstances, knowing that any time now, she could give the signal for all hell to break lose. I hated the fact that I couldn’t help, and that my own failings had forced Grandma to bring in the big guns, but a part of me was fascinated by the scuffling to come. It was going to be one heck of a thing to watch. A coordinated attack from a group of trained vengeance demons was a mighty sight. The extended wings, the expertly cast spells, the utterly professional focus and indomitable will…
Which didn’t appear.
After what felt like a lifetime, Grandma reached Damarion. But instead of bringing on a sneak attack, she simply held out her arms to him. They grasped the backs of each other’s elbows in the age-old greeting of two upper-class vengeance demons of equal power.
“My dear lady, you’ve found us,” Damarion said gallantly.
“You didn’t make it easy, my friend,” Grandma replied in kind. “You’re aware that you could have just sent me an invitation.”
“I was curious to see if you could figure us out.”
“I did, thanks to Megan.” Grandma nodded towards me with a thin smile.
It was a frosty smile she’d thrown my way many times in the past, and I couldn’t help but tighten my guts. Was this all an act to get Damarion to lower his guard? If so, it was damn convincing. A part of me was telling myself to be patient, that I should have more faith in Grandma. Yet the other part of me was wondering if I was the one who’d lowered my guard and got screwed over for my trouble. I mean, sure, that whole re-syncing her memories with mine thing had felt wonderful and right at the time, but who was to say it wasn’t a trick of the mind? After all, she’d been awful to me all these years, and history was a bitch. Also, it was someone she’d hired who’d come up with a reason why she should stay behind when I entered the bootleg plane. Rather convenient, come to think of it.
“Grandma, what are you doing?” Esme demanded.
“Hush, girl.” Grandma used a harsh tone she’d never directed toward Esme before.
“Now that you’re here, I trust you know what I seek?” Damarion seemed eager to get on with the negotiation.
“Indeed.” She gestured towards the main door, and Serafina came in, her movements robotic. One look into her glassed over eyes and I knew that nobody was home. She was in a deep trance if there ever was one. In her hands was a harp.
It was the sight of Serafina and the harp that finally convinced me, beyond a doubt, that I’d been played. If Grandma were on the up and up, she would never have risked handing such an important artifact over to a lunatic. If she cared about me at all, she would never have endangered my friend by bringing her here against her will.
The harp was made of hammered gold, with unfamiliar ancient symbols and elaborate silver leaves adorning the handle. Its surface, worn by age, had been polished recently. It had the look of a well-preserved antique.
Grandma took the harp from Serafina. She bowed in a jerky motion and stepped back to the left, opposite Dan and his men.
Damarion looked like a cat who’d just swallowed a canary. He addressed the room. “Brethren, we’re here today for an historical event, the gifting of the very instrument that will bring back our true master in all his righteous glory.”
The monks cheered and clapped, temporarily abandoning their stoic personas.
“No, no!” Esme cried, her voice almost lost in the jeering. She struggled within her box, nearly tipping it over. As a full-blooded vengeance demon, her metabolism was super-fast and it looked like the anesthesia had already worn off.
I wish I could say the same about me. I thought I could feel a slight tingle in my left baby toe, but that was it.
“It’s not a gift,” Grandma said. Though her voice was soft, its authoritative tone quieted the celebratory sounds from the lot.
“So let us negotiate.” Damarion swept his sleeve into a graceful arc.
“There’s nothing to negotiate.” Grandma tilted her head haughtily. “I’ve got the harp and you’ve got the girls. A simple exchange.”
“About that. How did you manage to get the harp when so many have failed through the ages? I have to be sure of its authenticity, you understand?”
“Of course. I took it from that disgraceful daughter-in-law of mine a long time ago. That dimwit thought I didn’t see through her lies when she claimed the harp was long lost. Once I figured out where she hid it, no amount of cheap tricks could keep me away from it.”
That old battle-ax. How dare she call my mama a dimwit?
“I’ll let one of them go,” Damarion offered, making it sound like a jewel of a deal. “The other I’m keeping as insurance. So which girl will it be?”
Grandma’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you make demands? I am Andromeda Philippa Aequitas, daughter of—”
“Now, my esteemed lady, you’re not in a position to bargain. I made this room slightly out of phase from reality and every entry is pre-approved. So let’s keep this civilized and allow me to ask again, which girl will it be? Don’t worry, I’ll return the other one as soon as my true master returns.”
Without hesitation, she answered, “Esme.”
“No, Grandma. I’m not going! Megan came here to save me. I’m not leaving without her.” Esme struggled more against her box.
I made a decision right there. Whatever happened to me, I wanted Esme to be safe. It wasn’t her fault our grandmother turned out to be a total shit. I also wanted Serafina to get out of here, out of harm’s way. None of that could happen if Esme continued to protest. “It’s alright, Esme.”
“Megan—”
I called on a trickster spell called the Believable Con, an enchantment that beguiled only if the vict
im was in a situation so helpless that deep down he or she wanted to be beguiled. I flooded Esme’s mind with images of an army of vengeance demons lying in wait just outside the door, ready to storm this party once Esme got out of here. If only she’d be a good girl and get out of their way, everything would be alright.
Esme’s box stopped moving. I could hear her breathing become even and deep as she fell into my mind trap. Her sense of relief and drowsiness was bittersweet to me.
“Esme it is.” Seeing what I’d done, Damarion gestured for Dan and his henchmen to release Esme from her fridge box prison, knowing she wouldn’t fight them now. Once free, Esme headed for the throne room’s exit, dragging Serafina along with her, believing in her mind that she was helping the fight by getting out of the line of fire. My heart squeezed painfully as I watched them go, wondering if I’d live to see them again. I just hoped that the entry to this room was indeed pre-approved, and that the girls wouldn’t be able to come back here once they realized what I’d done. Oh, they were going to be mad at me, but at least they’d be safe.
“Well played, my friend, well played.” Grandma handed the harp over to Damarion, a trace of grudging admiration in her words.
They shook hands, all cordial and well-mannered. There was even a lift to the corner of Grandma’s mouth in what could pass as a smile. Then she turned to leave.
That cold-hearted bitch.
“I heard that.” Grandma turned around at the door and glared at me. “You don’t get it, do you? You were useful when I needed you to track down Esme, but you can’t really expect me to love a half-breed, now can you? I only said I wanted both of you girls back for Esme’s benefit. Truth is, I couldn’t care less if they let you go.”
She waved her hand, and my necklace was yanked off my neck and flew into her open palm, effectively taking away my only means of defending myself. Then she left, and the heavy door closed with a note of finality. All the warmth in the room seemed to have vanished along with her, and I was cold to my very core, colder than I’d ever felt.