Kingdom of Lies

by Debra Dunbar

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Then find someone who can. You owe me over a dozen favors, and you owe Kirby more than just this one. We both have your vow.”

  Damn it all. I squirmed, knowing full well that I was completely fucked. “Imp, Gareth. I’m an imp. You need an elf, and I’ve managed to alienate every one of them by freeing these humans. It’s not a matter of calling in a favor from one of them; it’s that they won’t deal with me at all.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine. I told you Kirby’s favor. He said if you do this; he’ll consider your entire debt to him satisfied.”

  I bit my lip. I owed Kirby at least two favors. Maybe more. I wasn’t sure anymore. It was so hard keeping track of all this shit that I’d started putting together a spreadsheet. But whether I owed Kirby two or four favors, having a clean slate with at least one of these two magic users would be a weight off my back.

  But crops and weather? I needed an elf. Leethu was the only demon I knew who still counted elves as friends. I didn’t know how good the Kllee elves were at weather and crop manipulation—that tended to be more of a Cyelle and Wythyn thing. Shit, I just didn’t know any elves who didn’t want to kill me on sight.

  But I did know a half-elf. And she’d brought my sorry boxwoods back to life after Boomer fried them to a crisp with his hellhound piss.

  “This is a significant favor Kirby is requesting,” I told him, playing the game we all played. “Clearly such a service is worth six favors. Perhaps you can throw a couple of yours into the mix. It’s got to be in your interest to ensure the survival of Libertytown.”

  Gareth shot me a sour look. “No, Az. All of Kirby’s favors for this one. Although, there is a service I would like to ask of you that would help reduce your debt to me. Nothing too time-consuming. Just a small task.”

  Uh-oh. Anything worded so innocuously had to be simply horrible. “I’m always grateful for any opportunity to reduce my debt to you. What did you have in mind?”

  He gestured to the rings of wards visible outside his front door. “An item has been stolen from me. I would like it returned.”

  Maybe this was an easy one, a bone Gareth was throwing me because of our long, mutually beneficial association. I’d retrieved a ton of stolen items for elves and high-level demons over the centuries. Magical items were tricky, but not nearly as tricky as hauling in runaway sorcerers or tracking down half-elf hybrids. Besides, I was an imp. I was reckless and crazy and I never learned from my past mistakes. Ever.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Gareth smiled, his shoulders relaxing as tension left his face. “Excellent. Meet me at your home tomorrow noon, and I’ll give you all the details.”

  Home? Oh yeah, Ahriman’s home, which was now my home. I couldn’t get used to the thought of that house of horrors actually being mine. Ahriman owned a small dwelling in Dis with a nifty portal that transported residents lickety-split to the monstrous house in Patchine—the one with bone and dried-flesh furniture and blood-spatter wall coverings.

  It was now my house. And tomorrow would actually work for me. I had a few prior commitments for later today, and I’d need to find time to convince Amber to work her elven magic on Libertytown. According to Gregory, I should be able to accomplish ten times that many things in less than a twenty-four-hour period. I wasn’t an angel, but I could manage this.

  “Deal. I’ll see you tomorrow noon,” I told the sorcerer. Then I waited forever while he slowly let me out of his shop so I could start my teleportation to twenty random places before I finally reached my intended destination. All I needed to do was take care of a few things, get Amber on board, then come back to find some stolen item. Easy peasy, and I’d owe a whole lot less favors.

  ****

  My house was full of demons and angels, but this time no one was trying to kill each other—yet.

  Raphael smiled encouragingly at the angel beside him, Pasta or Porkchop or something. Her face was the picture of serenity, but the hands knotting the hem of her T-shirt gave her away. Girlfriend was nervous, unlike the three demons behind the decorative screen. They were insanely excited, already betting on who she’d choose this first round.

  “No more than six questions. You need to ask each demon at least one question, but the rest are up to you.”

  Prosciutto took a deep breath, releasing her clothing to run a hand over her golden curls. “Demon Number One, what is the most important characteristic to you in the formation of offspring?”

  “Damn, girl, thought we were going to fuck first, or at least throw down a bottle of whisky and set a few buildings on fire. Baby making isn’t on my agenda for a few centuries at least.”

  “Projectile vomiting!”

  “Six eyes! No, seven! Seven eyes!”

  The screen looked about to topple over with the scuffle apparently going on behind it. Peanut’s eyes widened, her hands balling up the hem of her shirt once again. Great. Just great.

  “Shut the fuck up!” I yelled. “You’re not supposed to answer until it’s your turn.”

  The three fell quickly silent, no doubt remembering my threats from earlier.

  “Demon Number Three, if you were to take me to your favorite place in Hel, where would that be?”

  “Hey, she skipped me! I’m number two; I’m supposed to go next.”

  The screen swayed. I gritted my teeth in frustration. “Stop! She’ll get to you. Just be patient.”

  Number Two mumbled something about how he wasn’t going to practice a virtue just to get into the sack with an angel.

  Three thought carefully then answered. “Probably the lava pits outside Dis. Right after the sun goes down, when the moons are still on the horizon, everything is tinted orange and pink. Dis is like a row of black sentries standing watch in the distance, and the lava swirls in lazy flows of red and black.”

  The angel made an “o” with her mouth, her hands fluttering against her chest. Huh. This might work after all.

  “We always bring anything we’ve managed to catch—Low demons, runaway humans, animals—and immerse them in the lava a tiny bit at a time. Their screams fill the air like the bestest music ever. If we’re careful and pull them out after a quick dip, we can manage to make them last for hours. After we’re done, we dare each other to jump across the pits. Winner gets to rip the toenails off the losers.”

  Or not.

  Peanut cleared her throat. “Demon Number Two.”

  “Finally! Yes. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

  “She hasn’t asked the question yet, asshole! Listen up.”

  “Demon Number Two, what do you do to increase your vibration pattern?”

  “Run really fast. Oh, and shake. I’m really good at shaking, although I tend to fall over afterward.”

  “I’ve made my decision.” Pistachio turned her big blue eyes to Raphael.

  “You’ve got three more questions,” he urged.

  “No need.” There was a hint of despair in the resolute set of her jaw. “I’m going with Demon Number Two.”

  The shaker? The one that kept interrupting and thought projectile vomiting was a trait worthy of passing to his offspring? Damn, these angels were more desperate than I’d thought.

  Her words set off a duo of grumbles and one excited shriek. “Okay, come out Fang and meet Pepperoni.”

  “Petunia,” she corrected, her stiff smile wavering as the demon leapt from behind the screen. Right. As if that were her real name. Angels were just as paranoid as demons when it came to letting their names and titles be known. Of course, the three candidates behind the curtain were so low in the hierarchy of Hel that they only had one name—and didn’t care who knew it. It wasn’t like anyone was going to be summoning them anytime in the next few millennia.

  Petunia’s date, Fang, was dressed for the occasion in a slightly bloodstained tuxedo complete with top hat. He’d managed a fairly respectable human form aside from the size-twenty feet and hands. And yes, his trouser snake was in dir
ect proportion to his feet. I know, I’d checked. Lucky angel.

  “So... what are we doing for our date?” Petunia shimmered a bit, probably not realizing her anxiety was turning Fang on and ruining the clean lines of his neatly pressed black pants.

  “Dinner and a movie.”

  Sounded innocent, but nothing ever was as it seemed when it came to demons. The angel smiled in relief. “Where?”

  “Food is always better if we catch it ourselves. We’ll hunt then find a nice spot to enjoy our meal.”

  Her smile faded. “Hunt? You’re going to kill something?”

  Fang laughed, revealing a mouth full of jagged, pointy teeth. “Fuck, no. Everything we’re going to eat is already dead. We’re doing our hunting in dumpsters. The ones at the truck stop always have the best food, and we can sit on the overpass and watch the traffic on I-70. The exhaust fumes truly set the perfect ambiance.”

  It was better than his original idea. And watching their movie through the Pattersons’ picture window was a better alternative than slaughtering the family and using their corpses as chairs while viewing pay-per-view.

  “All right, you two love birds. Get out there and have your date. Remember, we want to hear all about it tomorrow morning.”

  The other two demons raided my fridge as Rafi and I ushered our lucky winners to the door.

  “Gah.” Rafi stuck a finger in his mouth as if he were trying to induce some projectile vomiting of his own. “That demon was seriously the best you could do?”

  I shrugged. “Like ‘Petunia’ is any better? Hey, at least she didn’t pick number three. He was going to take her on a joyride then infect a group of preschoolers with Ebola.”

  “Good times, good times.” Rafi followed me to the kitchen. “So, what’s up with your wing?”

  I still couldn’t hide the damned thing, and the numbness had vanished, replaced with a throbbing ache. “Long story.” I pushed the two demons out of the way and grabbed a couple of beers, handing Rafi one. He eyed the label then flicked the cap off with his index finger.

  “So, who’s next on our list?” I asked after draining half the beer. I wanted our angel-demon dating project, Infernal Mates, to be successful, but I was hedging my bets. If I matched up demons I trusted first and built some credibility, I’d be able to better sell the service to higher-level demons. I had goals—big goals. After two-and-a-half-million years of separation, it was time for angels and demons to get busy with each other. And hopefully, if things went as planned, I might not be the only Angel of Chaos for long. New creation ... it was a heady thought even for me, a devout non-breeder. Someday maybe we’d be back to where we had been—Angels of Order and Angels of Chaos coexisting, producing offspring when the stars aligned and finding a match in those who were our opposites. Plenty of demons and angels would continue to prefer their own, but for those of us who were different, who craved our reverse, there would be an alternative.

  Rafi grinned, taking a swig of beer. There were times I wondered how in the universe he’d ever been classified an Angel of Order. “I’ve got a good one, but you need to produce something better than vomit boy, lava dipper, and the player. What cha got for me, my black-winged hottie?”

  I loved when Rafi flirted with me. “Depends. Got a couple of winners in my household, but if you’ve got something real special, I can shop it around.”

  He raised an eyebrow, reminding me of his eldest brother. Warmth soared through me, rocketing to pulse between my thighs. Damn. It had been too long, way too long.

  “One of my choir. He served as a Grigori in the eleventh century and has gone on to specialize in penance and rehabilitation.”

  Damn. Maybe I wanted to meet this angel. I wracked my brains to think of a suitable match. Dar was already enthralled by some angel up in Chicago. That left me with Leethu and a household full of Lows. There were a few of my classmates I might be able to interest in an angel skilled in dominance activities. And possibly a few acquaintances who were higher in the hierarchy than me. Hmm.

  “No problem. Two weeks? I’ll have three suitable candidates ready to go. Does your angel prefer male or female forms, or a demonic mishmash of animal mineral and vegetable?”

  Raphael slouched back against my kitchen counter, one elbow braced against the doorway. “Male or female; he’s neutral in his energy balance and happy to accommodate either. He’s not a fan of mixed form, though.”

  Good to know. “I’ll have three candidates ready to go.”

  We drank our beers. Rafi eyed me with an intensity I found rather flattering. “When are you going to be the demon behind the curtain, my naughty Iblis? Or perhaps I should find three angels for you to question and pick your choice.”

  I’d already picked my choice, but I loved flirting with the bad-boy Raphael. One of these days, his eldest brother was going to fuck him up for this, or maybe fuck me up for flirting back, but either way, it was worth any future repercussions.

  “I need at least an archangel to satisfy me.” I looked up from under my lashes as I sipped my beer. “Maybe more than one. Two or three would be ideal.”

  “You already have one worshiping your wings, and I’d be thrilled to play second fiddle. Who would be your third, though?”

  Gabriel would die before he’d get within two centimeters of my spirit-self, and Uriel had vanished on some kind of spirit-quest nearly a year ago. That didn’t leave any other archangels, unless my beloved Gregory did his split-personality thing and appeared in another aspect. Three. Holy shit, what I could do with three angels making sweet love to me. What I could do with two angels making sweet love to me.

  “I’ll wait to make my choice on that one. And you do realize that you’re pretty much signing your death warrant, or, at the very least, a long painful beating, by offering to be my back-up paramour?”

  Rafi’s grin held, but I saw something deep in his eyes, something lonely and empty. “Wish I’d found you first, Sam. Even with all these pairings we’re doing, none of the demons I’ve seen are your equal. None have enough chaos to make me come to life.”

  I watched Raphael finish his beer and vanish with a salute. What demon could I find that would touch his heart? I hated that sorrowful look in his eyes, hated the way he remained cheerful as other angels tried to find their mates. I went through every demon I knew, and none of them were worthy of being paired with this angel that I’d grown to love much as my own brother. My heart ached thinking of how long Raphael had waited for a match that could make him whole. How much longer would he have to wait?

  Chapter 3

  Rafi was barely gone from my kitchen when Gregory popped in. I was thrilled to see him, my lover, my other half. I was less thrilled with his companion.

  “Gabe, baby. Can I offer you some pizza? A cold beer?” The angel gave me a frosty look, refusing to answer. “A hair shirt? The rack? I can scourge away your sins, or brillo-pad your backside. I hear it does wonders for your vibration levels.”

  “If you only paid as much attention to your own vibration patterns as you do to mine, you’d be a better angel.”

  A better angel. Right. “Well, I appreciate your visit. Enjoyed our little chat so much. I know you have a million pressing, oh-so-important things to do. Bye-bye. See you probably a lot sooner than I’d like.”

  “What happened to your wing?” Gregory reached out to touch the black feathers.

  “I was attempting to raise the credit score of a human when I was attacked. He killed the human I was with. And I’m not doing any damned report for someone I didn’t kill.” The last sentence was directed at Gabriel, who didn’t seem to care that I was one-winged today. “Did you hear me? No. Report.”

  Gabe ignored me and turned to Gregory. “Two months, brother. Just two months, that’s all I’m asking of you.”

  “Two months what?” I asked, snagging a piece of hand tossed with pineapple out of the fridge and eating it cold.

  Gregory turned from examining my wing and scowled at his brother. “
No. I’m busy down here. After handling both jobs for over ten-thousand years, I can’t imagine what would be so difficult that you’d need me to take over for two months.”

  Gabriel flinched then hid it all away behind a sneer. Guess it was hard having an older brother busting your balls for four-billion years. I kinda felt sorry for the angel. Dar had been harassing me for less than two-thousand years and that seemed like a hellish eternity. Older brothers were the worst.

  “Two months doing what?” I asked. And yes, I was talking with my mouth full.

  Gabriel continued to ignore me. “Something has come up, and I can’t be two places at once.”

  “Why not? I can.” That was completely unfair of Gregory. Yes, he could do the whole aspect thing, but his different manifestations were only a fraction of who he was. Splintering oneself seemed like the ultimate multi-tasking solution, but the aspect you sent to do floral arrangements was usually the one who fucked it all up. Still, I’d love to be able to have that skill.

  Gabriel ground his teeth. I didn’t think this conversation was doing much for his purity and vibration levels. Actually, I think pretty much any conversation that involved either me or his brother fucked up his vibration levels. Two of us in one room had to be torture.

  “Two months doing what? Punishing angels? Because I’d totally like to help you with that one, Gaby-baby.”

  “I’ve been single-handedly diffusing a revolution, trying to bring Aaru under some semblance of control. I already asked Raphael to go deal with the issue in Alaska. I just need you to make sure Aaru is stable while I go off and do this one thing. Two months. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Alaska?” Bits of pizza sprayed out of my mouth, so I quickly swallowed. “What’s going on in Alaska? I need Rafi here. He and I have important projects we’re in the middle of. You can’t just go sending him off to Alaska without consulting me.”

  Well, that got everyone’s attention.

  “An archangel, a member of the Ruling Council, is not yours to order about.” Gabriel jabbed a finger into my chest. “And what exactly are you doing with my little brother? It’s bad enough that this one is two steps from falling to Hel. Don’t go ruining Raphael, too.”