The Devil's Right Hand dv-3

by Lilith Saintcrow

  I felt cold at the thought of demons slipping out of Hell and causing havoc in my world. Like it or not, Lucifer was relatively well-disposed toward humanity, and I suspected it might be hard to contact demons mostly because he wanted it that way. The thought of a change in that status quo was enough to give anyone nightmares.

  I thought of the temple and Lucifer’s eyes on me, his mischievous expression and the cold razor-mouthed beauty of his voice sending another shiver up my spine. I felt goosebumps trying to break through my sleek golden skin but not succeeding, a sensation like a phantom limb’s pain. He had neatly outmaneuvered me, as a matter of fact. I hadn’t even managed to stick up for Eve’s freedom.

  Eve. A little girl, her pale hair a shining sleek cap, her indigo eyes too wide and too calm with awful, chilling maturity. Doreen’s daughter, birthed from Lucifer’s genetic material and the marrow and blood Santino had murdered Doreen for. One of my biggest failures, one of a long string.

  Why do I keep going from one subject I don’t like to another? I shifted uncomfortably, rubbed my head against the chill tile wall. Since I was so much warmer than human now, it was nice to feel the coolness seeping into my skin.

  Sometimes.

  Of course Japhrimel will turn you back into a human, a little voice of self-loathing spoke up inside my head. I shifted restlessly again, tried to shut it up. You’re too cold, too hard, too damaged. You’ve locked yourself up with your books—he’s said so himself—and you used Jace to taunt him, didn’t you? No wonder he went back to Hell, it was probably more fucking fun than hanging around with you.

  The thought that perhaps Lucifer could be behind the blowing-up of my house or the imp attack wasn’t comfortable either. But Japhrimel had made such a big deal of asking for my protection, and he’d told me not to doubt him. No matter what.

  Stop it, Danny. Stop it. If you can’t trust Japhrimel you’re dead in the water. Don’t start doubting him now. He’s never let you down before; he’ll come through. Whatever happens, he’ll do all he can to help you.

  After a few hours of fruitless brooding, I opened my eyes and sighed again. I was just about to shift so I could lie down on the floor when my demon-sharp ears heard the sound of stealthy movement out in the tunnel leading to Lucas’s door. I hadn’t even realized I was listening so intently, straining my ears for any whisper of motion.

  I froze, my left hand palm-up, clasping my sword. My eyes dropped to the almost-forgotten wristcuff. Its etched lines were moving again, and even under the full-spectrum lights they glinted eerie bright green.

  I didn’t need a demon-language dictionary to know that meant nothing good for me.

  I let out a long soft breath through my open mouth, pushed up to my feet, and started hunting on the wall for the small depression.

  Chapter 17

  Night had fallen when I reached the end of the long slick tunnel, the wristcuff held up to provide me with a little light. Demon-acute sight is a blessing in the dark, but even demon eyes need a few photons to work with; they’re not like Nichtvren with their uncanny ability to see in absolute blackness. It was a long, slippery, stumbling walk. Even my preternaturally quick reflexes and sense of balance had difficulty. Imagining Lucas struggling up for the surface through this dark, slimy, slanting passage wasn’t comfortable either. I heard squeaks, and once or twice saw beady little animal eyes.

  I suppose it was silly to be worried about rats—or any other urban critter—when I was possibly being chased by homicidal demons, but I was getting sillier by the moment.

  The wristcuff’s glow was steady and green. I was beginning to wonder about this bracelet. Twice now it had warned me of danger. The shifting green lines came together, flowing like water over the smooth surface. I still couldn’t feel anything when I probed it for magick; it was oddly invisible.

  Was it a gift from Japhrimel? I’d assumed so. He’d told me to accept nothing from Lucifer, especially not food or drink but most importantly, to accept nothing from the Devil. Had I done something stupid by putting it on? But it had warned me. A backhanded gift from the Devil wouldn’t stir itself to keep me alive, would it?

  The thought that if I was hit it would mean trouble for Lucifer’s prestige was comforting. Unless, of course, Hell wouldn’t care about a human Necromance.

  Then why would they look to kill me?

  I wasn’t all human either, was I? Not anymore. Hedaira. For how much longer?

  Dammit, Danny, will you quit it? You’re even starting to annoy yourself.

  I found myself coming out under another heavily patched concrete and plasteel bridge, with a thin trickle of water sliding from the bottom of the pipe I had been bent almost double traversing. The pipe mouth widened until I could almost stand upright. I heard thunder rumble far away over New Prague, smelled incipient rain heavy and wet and chemical-laden against my palate. A staircase led up to the street, and I picked my way up the crumbling narrow stone steps cautiously, scanning the street above. It was deserted.

  This part of New Prague looked bombed-out and deserted, but several ruined buildings had thin columns of cooking smoke rising into the night air. I scanned in a circle with eyes and other senses, my attention moving over the buildings. Nothing dangerous, no shimmer of bloodthirsty intent.

  Now that I was aboveground I started to feel a little vulnerable. Who could find Lucas’s lair? He was a professional, he wouldn’t have led anybody back down to me. Would he? Certainly not willingly, unless he was a double agent. But that seemed paranoid. Maybe a demon could follow Lucas without his knowing?

  Either way, the bracelet had warned me of the imp on the hovertrain, I wasn’t foolish enough to disregard it now.

  What if Lucas was really working for someone who wanted me dead?

  Dammit, if that was it he would have leapt on me when my back was turned. I’m starting to get paranoid. Starting? No, I’m a full-blown flower of paranoia. A fucking garden full.

  I heard the tooth-grating whine of hovercells, and my nape tingled.

  Instinct took over. I ducked back down the stairs, my body moving with preternatural speed, and slid under the cover of the bridge just as a sleek black hover swept into sight from around the shattered hulk of what looked like an apartment building. Light stabbed down from its underside. I caught the bristle of relays on the bottom, like spines on a poisonous fish.

  A search hover? I bit my lip as I watched, drawing back in the shadows and hoping they didn’t have infrared. I’d show up like a Putchkin Yule Tree with my demon’s metabolism radiating heat against the cool night air.

  The hover swept the area again in a standard quartering pattern. I was tempted to scan it—but if I tried that, any psion aboard would feel my attention and tell I was close. Despite the interference from the deep well of New Prague’s ambient Power and the fact that I was pressing myself into stone and willing it to hide me, they still might be able to tell my general location. It was good to have a share of a demon’s Power—but it was not the most circumspect way to get around.

  And let’s face it, Dante, who knows how long it will last?

  I told that voice to shut up and leave me alone. When the hover drifted out of sight I waited, then went slowly up the stairs again, and looked around. Underground. I had to either find a way to get underground again or find a way to contact Lucas.

  What the hell am I thinking? I’ve got a big target painted on my back. If I stay alive long enough, Lucas will find me. Gods know there’s only a limited number of places I can hide.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to think, and opened them to find another faint green glow coming from the wristcuff.

  What’s the one thing they would never expect? Just like that, the answer came.

  You must decide to fight or flee, Jado’s voice whispered in my head. When attacked, sometimes your enemy’s force could be turned back upon itself, and I was rapidly running out of options. I needed to know exactly how the battlefield was arranged against me.r />
  I planted my feet, my left hand curled around the scabbard, and centered myself. I inhaled, smooth and deep—and threw up a very huge, very loud burst of Power.

  I didn’t expect it to flame into the visible spectrum. It did, a sparkling crackling bolt of blue-green lanced up from my outflung right hand and arrowed for the clouds above. It would disperse over the city, but not before it was remarked. If Lucas was near, he’d come find out what the fuss was.

  With that done, I ran for the abandoned apartment building. No smoke drifted from its broken windows, and it stood in the middle of a tumbled wilderness of concrete blocks next to an impressive crater hosting a few twisted scrub trees that had managed to grow amid the wreck.

  In other words, a good defensible position. If I had to retreat from it, I’d have plenty of cover. Of course, anyone sneaking up on the building would have plenty of cover, too, but life couldn’t be perfect.

  I’d settle for just living through the night, really.

  I heard the whine of antigrav before long, and the sleek black hover came back just as I shinnied through a space between two boards nailed to the broken windows. The hem of Jace’s coat tore a little on ancient broken glass, real silica glass instead of plasglass, and I managed to bolt toward the side of the building that would give me a view of the hover.

  Trash littered the bottom floor of the building, and a gigantic hole had been blasted through several floors. I could glimpse the sky as I gathered myself to leap, claws sinking solidly into crumbling concrete, every nerve alive, twist and throw the body upward again, landing cat-soft in my boots. Then I ducked and ran, blurring through the debris littering the third floor. I finally reached the side where I could see the hover and peered out through a broken window, sheltering myself behind a crumbling wall.

  The hover yawed, strings tangling down from its underbelly. Had people bailed out on jumpcords? I’d missed something. The sleek black shape slid to the side as if something was terribly wrong, but there was no hint of what. It was oddly, eerily silent except for the whine of its hovercells and the stabilizers giving out a ratcheting overloaded squeal.

  I looked below and saw dark humanoid shapes flitting through the broken cover. Some moved like humans.

  Others did not.

  They had to have been in the neighborhood, or came down the jumpcords from that hover. Did they see me coming in here? I thought this over, biting at my lower lip. The hover heeled alarmingly again, and a puff of bright green light showed from inside its tinted windows; quickly seen and just as quickly snuffed.

  What the hell is going on here?

  I decided a bit more altitude would be a good thing and retreated to the hole blown in the building, trying not to feel like I’d trapped myself. At least now I knew they were after me, and I was fairly sure I could fight my way out if I had enough cover to hide behind while I got close enough to conduct a little guerilla action. A few more leaps and I was on the sixth floor, levering myself in and rolling away just as I heard a shuddering boom.

  I made it to the window just in time to see the hover grounding itself, throwing up chunks of dirt and stone, its plasteel sides ripped open as it smashed into the bridge I’d hidden under. The ground shook, the building swaying under my feet. I wished for a slicboard—I could get out of here fast with one. Instead, I skirted the gaping hole on owl-soft feet, fleeing for the more broken-down area of the building. It was dangerous since I was denser and heavier than a human, but I could also handle a higher fall.

  So a hover had been downed, but not with a plasbolt. A reaction fire would bring this whole damn building down and burn a scar into the city to boot. It had been downed quietly, all things considered, which probably meant some kind of EMP pulse, probably fairly unremarked since we were out of the main hover lanes. That meant, possibly, two groups of enemies tangling with each other.

  Good for me.

  Fight or flee? I heard Jado’s voice yet again, calm and considering.

  I found a blind corner and waited. I’d be able to see anything that moved on my floor, I’d be able to shoot anything that came up through the hole. It looked as if this place had been bombed, maybe even in the aftermath of the Seventy Days War or a local brushfire action. If I had to, I could drop out of the building and tear my way through a search ring or two, make enough time to lose myself in New Prague. I’d have the benefit of knowing who was after me and what resources they could scramble on short notice.

  The air pressure changed, heaviness sliding against my skin. The cuff tightened, squeezing. I bit back a gasp and folded up inside myself, trying to stay as small and still as possible. The air turned hard and hot, and my throat stopped as I held my breath, unconsciously.

  Below, I felt the arrival of something with an aura full of twisting diamond flame. The smell of heavy oranges and bloody musk filled the air.

  Another demon. I trembled like a rabbit.

  I hadn’t felt this since the first time Japhrimel showed up at my door. The black, twisting diamond flames of demon Power warped through the building’s physical space. I gauged the distance between me and the window.

  Fight, or flee? There was no way I could take on a demon. But if it managed to trap me, I would have to see what I could come up with.

  The soft, chilling voice echoed up from below. “Right Hand,” it said in Merican, the words making the building quiver like a plucked string. “Kinslayer. I wish to speak to you. Come and face me.”

  What the hell? That answered a question—he wasn’t babbling in Czechi, whoever he was. Speaking Merican meant he was probably after me.

  The answer to a question like that is almost worse than having to ask that question in the first place. I had to swallow a wild braying laugh. Why did I always feel the urge to laugh at times like this? I had to breathe; took in a shallow, soft sip of air. Smelled the oranges and musk again, a heady scent.

  I stayed where I was, waiting.

  “I know you are here,” the voice continued. Too deep to be female, full of an awful welter of bone-chilling, nerve-twisting Power. Japhrimel’s voice had never been this uncomfortable. He had occasionally sounded furiously cold or threatening but never so… inhuman. “I can smell you.”

  Good for you. I’d give you a prize but I don’t think you’d like it.

  My right hand tensed around my swordhilt. If a demon comes for me, I want it to be on my terms. I was pretty sanguine about my chances against humans or even werecain, but I didn’t know enough about this terrain to be comfortable facing something bigger. Now I knew there was at least one demon in New Prague, and that he was most likely looking for me.

  And that he could smell me, mistaking me for Japh.

  My mouth gaped, my breathing soundless. I gathered myself, centimeter by centimeter. Like a coiled spring. Japhrimel had taught me how to do it, conserve my body’s need for motion, then explode into demon-swift action.

  Don’t think about him—think about getting out of here. Quickly. Now that you know what you’re facing, get the fuck out of here.

  Movement below. If it was easy for me to haul my carcass up here, it would be even easier for a demon. Especially one of the Greater Flight.

  Stillness, a killing silence like radiation-burn. Demon down there, and what else? What else is waiting to make my life miserable?

  The cuff tightened on my wrist again. Its glow had dampened, as if it didn’t want to give away my location. I went so still I could imagine my molecules slowing down their frenetic dance. I could imagine the flashes between my nerves slowing down too. I could imagine too goddamn much, as a matter of fact.

  “Show yourself.” The voice mouthed along the dark well of the hole slicing through the building. “I come to speak of—”

  The unthinkable happened.

  Pressure crackled in the air. Another arrival. Just like a damn transport dock. Gods above, this just keeps getting better.

  Chaos exploded underneath me. The noise was so instant and so huge I tore my sword out
of its sheath, blue flame exploding along the blade.

  I heard a howling snarl, then another chilling scream cut the air. This one froze all the blood in my veins and rather rapidly altered the entire situation. One demon who didn’t know where I was I could handle. Two demons in a melee I could most definitely not handle, but it would give me enough cover to get the fuck out of here.

  I barely thought, all the compressed energy in my body tearing loose at once. I bolted for the window and hit it with Power and flesh both. Wood exploded out, the momentum carrying me far, I braced for impact, tumbling through the air.

  Plasgun fire streaked past, and the coughing roars of projectile weapons. I slammed down, my boots cracking concrete, the shock jolting all the way up to the crown of my head, and took the first two opponents with a clash. All things considered it was actually a comfort to have a clear-cut problem in front of me.

  Mercenaries, human, each with guns and blades. It barely slowed me down, I didn’t even kill the second one, just knocked him aside and streaked over smoking rubble, bowling over another two mercenaries. Plasgun bolts crisscrossed my path, I heard a rising scream I didn’t recognize, a sound of lung-tearing female effort. Something brushed my cheek like a whip, a line of fire against my face. The screaming sound was mine, a howl pushed past all endurance and smashing aside crackling yellow plasbolts. They were firing at me because I was moving too fast to engage now.

  I burst out into a street, deserted but lit with streetlights, flashes of buildings as I ran using demon speed, hearing the footsteps behind me, pounding. They sounded even swifter than mine—I had to do something quick, gaining on me, gaining on me.

  Time to think of something else, Danny.

  There comes a point past which running is useless. I saw an intersection ahead of me and could have jagged to try to throw off pursuit, but my body decided otherwise, streaking instead for the shelter of an alley. I burst into noisome darkness, no Power left to make a shield to ward off the smells of human death and decay. Iron burned against my palm as I leapt over a dumpster, shoving it back in the same motion. The end of the alley was what I’d hoped for, a blank brick wall, and I twisted in midair, boots thudding against it, and completed the motion by leaping lightly down facing back the way I’d come, ready now, my sword singing as it clove the air. My lips peeled back from my teeth. If I was going to die, I was going to die in combat, face-on, with my back to the wall.