by Debra Dunbar
Gregory frowned. “No angel would take it upon himself to randomly hunt demons as a vigilante. Perhaps it was another demon? Someone you’ve angered back in Hel that managed to assume a somewhat convincing angelic form?”
My shoulders slumped. It wasn’t a demon: it was an angel. Feathery wings, white destructive energy, the ability to inhibit my own energy use with just a touch — an angel. I could see an angel coming after me as the Iblis, trying to take me out and cut the demons out of all Ruling Council decision–making. Maybe he had known I was the Iblis and just didn’t care. Maybe one of Gregory’s team decided to take matters into their own hands and end the life of a despised demon. Looking at the angel before me, over six feet tall with a powerful build and a forbidding countenance, I doubted it. He radiated vast power, and his age backed it up with knowledge and skill that few angels would challenge.
“One of the Ruling Council’s households perhaps?” I suggested. “That Dopey guy hates me, maybe he sent one of his household to take me out?”
I knew as soon as I said it that I was wrong. As much as that angel hated me, I got the impression he wouldn’t sully his hands to be involved in my murder. Plus, I really had a strong feeling this guy hadn’t known I was the Iblis, hadn’t known who I was beyond an Imp on the wrong side of the gates to Hel.
“Choir, not household,” Gregory corrected. “And who is Dopey?”
“Gabriel. The one I hit in the face with a pastry at the last meeting.”
Gregory’s eyes lit with amusement, his lip twitching up. “I very much doubt that, little cockroach.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, then. I swear, though, an angel was after me. He shot a trench down Market Street and blew up a few cars.”
The angel considered my words then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go see.”
I led the way back to Market Street and up the three blocks to where I’d been flying for my life. Nothing. The roads were smooth, the cars intact and all in place. We continued down Patrick Street, past the library and the office building to the alley. Drug dealer guy still sprawled on the pavement, blood everywhere.
“This would be the human you killed?”
Of course it was. He knew; he could tell. I blew out a breath in exasperation. “I know this looks bad. You don’t believe me, do you?”
I turned to face him, and once again his eyes searched mine. “A story of how an angel and a mage were after you? I’m sorry, cockroach, but I just can’t fathom how that could be.”
I looked around at the dank alleyway, the body, the fire door off its hinges. I hadn’t imagined it, hadn’t been hallucinating. An angel had tried to kill me. But he’d quickly backed off and covered his tracks once Gregory had appeared. He probably assumed I was dead by Gregory’s hands. Regardless of why he’d been after me, what he’d intended to do with me, I could rest easy at this point. I was safe. This whole thing had to have been a fluke. That angel wouldn’t be after me again.
~3~
Mal, it’s about time you got home.”
Dar stood in my living room. My foster brother was in his favored form, a middle–aged man, stocky build with black hair, silvered at the temples. At his side stood a young, thin, blond woman with her eyes downcast. She trembled, her hands white–knuckled and fisted at her waist.
“You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow,” I replied. Yes, I’d been delayed getting back from my rent collection, but Dar’s early arrival was unexpected. He was bringing Wyatt’s birthday present, and the party wasn’t until tomorrow night.
“Yes, well, smuggling a human through a gate wasn’t exactly easy. I took my best shot and went for it. How about a little gratitude here?”
Dar always came through, and he did deserve some appreciation. “Fuck off, asshole. Please tell me you didn’t molest her on the way over.”
He grinned, puffing out his chest. “I restrained myself. Wasn’t easy keeping the others from her, though.”
Yeah, I could imagine. Demons loved playing with humans. Unfortunately, playthings didn’t last long when subjected to our enthusiastic attentions. I looked at the blond woman, checking her visually for any damage. Beyond her obvious terror, she seemed to be in good physical shape. Of course, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been subjected to mental or emotional abuse.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” I asked her softly. “Can I get you a drink, or something to eat?”
Her head jerked up, and I found myself staring into vivid blue eyes in a pale, drawn face. Her gaze registered a shock of recognition before a sort of wary fear edged back in.
“I am fine, thank you.” The words came out dry and hoarse, as though she hadn’t had a drink in days. I glared at Dar.
“I swear, Mal, no one harmed her in any way. I know how weird you are about humans and their feelings. I ensured everyone kept their distance.”
I rubbed my forehead, thinking how I should handle this early arrival. I’d planned to have her here for Wyatt’s party. Maybe have her jump out of a cake or something with a big “Happy Birthday! Love, Sam” sign glued to her chest. I had no idea where I could hide her. Decades ago I would have just stuck her in the basement, bound and gagged so she wouldn’t make any noise. I knew better now. Humans don’t particularly like that sort of thing, and this girl was already terrified. I doubted being hog–tied in a basement would do her mental state any good, and it would really suck if Wyatt’s gift was in the middle of a panic attack when I presented her.
“Take her to the kitchen,” I told Dar. I’d run over, get Wyatt and bring him over for his gift right now.
To Dar’s credit, he was very gentle as he steered the woman around the bar area and to the back section of the kitchen, where a wall would hide them from view. Still, the girl jerked away from his touch, a small whimper escaping her. I wasn’t sure what was causing her fear, but hopefully the presence of another human would help. She’d see that we hadn’t killed or mutilated Wyatt and perhaps relax a bit.
I ran to the wine fridge and pulled out the champagne I’d been chilling for tomorrow’s party. We’d just have it early. Wyatt would get his gift, then we could continue with our dinner plans and the movie I’d picked up. The girl might put a slight cramp in our romantic evening, but that was all right. We had our whole life ahead for romance. Well, Wyatt’s whole life, which would be a great deal shorter than mine. Either way, romance would have to take a back seat to other things. That was okay. Wyatt’s happiness filled me with a joy of my own. It was weird how contagious feelings were when two people loved each other.
Wyatt’s house was just down the road, visible from my front door. It was a bit of an eyesore — a Cape Cod crumbling to ruin from neglect. He still had plywood over the windows that were broken during demon attacks this past winter. At least he’d replaced his destroyed mattress, otherwise we would have been forced to sleep on the couch or only in my house.
I walked through the door, grateful that we’d finally had his protective barrier removed and I could walk through the door. Wyatt was sprawled on his sofa, happily shooting the dastardly zombies rushing him from the TV. He glanced up, relaxing his instinctive grip on the pistol beside him when he realized it was me.
“Sam, can you give me a shout or something and not sneak up on me like that? I was two seconds from putting a bullet through you.”
I’d been shot by Wyatt before. It wasn’t something I wanted to repeat.
“I’m not sneaking,” I protested. “A frost giant could stomp his way through here and you wouldn’t hear him with your damned video game up so loud.”
Wyatt glared and paused the game. This isn’t how I wanted our evening to go.
“I’m sorry.” I plopped down next to him on the couch, folding my body against him as his arm came around my shoulders. “I had a lousy day. You have a right to be jumpy after what happened this winter, and I shouldn’t have been snippy.”
“It’s okay.” His lips brushed the top of my head and his arm tight
ened in a quick hug. “Did rents not go well? Did you have to get rough with someone?”
There was tightness in his voice as he said the last bit. Wyatt had been increasingly stern about my collection methods. He’d been increasingly stern about a lot of things lately.
“No. Rents went fine. I stayed a bit late and played with Angelo.”
The hand resting on my shoulder caressed my arm. Wyatt approved of playing with Angelo. He also approved of me dragging poor Boomer to the local nursing home for “pet day”, and slapping soup in a bowl for dirty, ungrateful humans to eat.
“A pack of humans accosted me in an alley, I assumed to rob me, but then one of them turned out to be a mage, and an angel showed up. They chased me through an office building and onto the roof. I jumped off and tried to fly away, but the fucking angel chased me all over downtown. He was damned close to killing me, so I called Gregory.”
I deliberately left out the part about me killing one of the humans. That was not on Wyatt’s “approved activity” list.
I felt him pull away. He lifted my chin with his thumb to meet my eyes with his.
“What are you talking about? A mob attacked you? Headed by an angel with a mage for back–up?”
It did sound pretty farfetched. “It’s okay. I think they were some kind of rogue vigilante group. As soon as Gregory showed up, they vanished, leaving no trace. I’m sure they think he killed me.”
Wyatt shook his head, confused. “Okay …what does Gregory think about all this?”
“He doesn’t believe me.” Not that I blamed him. I’d been summoning him all spring, and demons weren’t particularly truthful. I should have just put the whole thing out of my mind, but something bothered me about the incident. An angel and a mage? It was too bizarre. It reminded me of the beginning of a bad joke — an angel, a mage, and a rabbi walk into a bar…
“Never mind,” I told Wyatt, giving him a quick kiss. “I want you to come over to my house so I can show you something.”
He grinned, and I knew right away where his mind had detoured. “Are we still grabbing dinner out later, or eating in?”
I had a vision of us naked in bed feeding sushi to each other. That fun would probably need to be on hold for another day, though. I led him to my house, pouring the champagne as soon as we walked through the door.
Wyatt gave me a quizzical look as I handed him a full glass of bubbly and wished him a happy early birthday.
“Party isn’t until tomorrow I thought,” he commented, taking an obligatory sip.
“I’ve got a special gift for you, but it arrived early. It’s in the kitchen.”
He grinned, and I followed him into the kitchen, nearly plowing into him as he came to an abrupt stop.
“Ta da!” I announced, pushing past so I could better see his reaction.
I wish I hadn’t. He stared at the girl, his eyes darting back and forth between Dar and her terrified face. I’d hoped she would calm down a bit when she saw Wyatt, but if anything, she appeared even more confused and afraid.
“Ta da!” I repeated, gesturing in my best Vanna White impression.
“It’s a girl,” Wyatt said slowly. “A girl and your brother, standing in your kitchen.”
“Yes, exactly. Although Dar isn’t part of the present. Or my kitchen, either.”
“You’re giving me a girl for my birthday?” Wyatt’s voice rose in anger.
“Well, yes. I know she’s really scared now. It’s got to be a bit of a shock for her, seeing you for the first time like this, but she’ll come around. Dar promised me that no one harmed her. She’s just a little nervous.”
“A girl. You’re giving me a human being as a slave?”
Wyatt was furious, his voice thunderous. The girl’s eyes flickered between him and the floor, her trembling increasing. How could this have gone so wrong?
“No, no. Don’t you recognize her? It’s your sister, Wyatt. The human changeling. The one Amber replaced. I got her back from the elves and brought her home.”
I’d thought this would make Wyatt ecstatic. I’d rescued his sister from a life of slavery and reunited them. Could it be he didn’t recognize his own sibling? I thought humans would instinctively know their family, that their eyes would meet across my kitchen and they’d race to embrace each other in happy reunion.
He had no idea how difficult this had been. It had taken me months and considerable amounts of money and favors. In spite of his desire to get rid of Nyalla, it had been nearly impossible to broker a purchase from Aelswith. Demons tended to buy humans for only one purpose, and the elves were usually reluctant to turn over all but the worst of them to that kind of fate.
It wasn’t just the rape, torture, and eventual Own that Nyalla’s owner had objected to. It was me. No one in Cyelle was allowed to deal with me, speak to me, or any of my household, unless it was to drag me in and throw me in a dungeon. I’d needed to go through five households to broker the deal. And I’d needed to bribe heavy so the demons handling the transaction along the way didn’t molest or terrorize the girl. I didn’t think Wyatt would be as appreciative of my gift if she’d shown up broken and hysterical. Not that my precautions seemed to have helped. She was one step away from broken and hysterical as it was.
“Seriously? She’s my sister? The one the elves stole and kept in slavery?”
“She’s your sister, Wyatt. Her name is Nyalla. I brought her back to you.”
Finally I saw what I’d hoped for in his face. With a sharp intake of breath, he turned to me, eyes shining with joy and grabbed me in a hug.
“I love you, Sam. Thank you.”
“I love you too, Wyatt,” I murmured. We’d had our challenges the past few months, all over his half–breed sister and my tendency to kill people first and ask questions later. I’d hoped this gesture on my part would finally make things right between us.
Wyatt pulled away and walked toward Nyalla, taking her hand.
“I’m your brother, Wyatt. I’m so happy to meet you, and I’ll do everything I can to make this difficult transition work. I hope you enjoy life here as a free human.”
Nyalla’s blue eyes were huge, her face pale. She glanced at Dar and me, tugging her hand from Wyatt’s grasp.
“Does she speak?” Wyatt asked in concern. “Did the elves make her a mute or something?”
I frowned at the girl. She’d spoken the last time I’d met her, or had she? I remember that Aelswith had answered all the questions on her behalf. Crap, maybe she couldn’t speak, although I thought I remembered her replying to me earlier. Maybe she’d just shaken her head?
Wyatt crouched slightly to look into her downturned face. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you.”
She lifted her head, searching Wyatt’s face with anxious eyes.
“What did he say?”
She spoke in Elvish, and suddenly her muteness made sense.
“He said that you’re safe, and he’s going to help you make a new life here with the other humans.”
Her face turned to mine, a faint light of hope in the back of her eyes. “Am I not going back? Am I not going to be raped, tortured and killed by a group of demons?”
Hadn’t Dar told her? I glared at him, and he shrugged.
“No! I brought you over here as a present for Wyatt.”
“Am I his? Will he expect me to have sex with him, or just clean and do other tasks?” she asked, eyeing Wyatt with some apprehension.
I was pretty sure humans in general didn’t have sex with their siblings, and I really didn’t want Wyatt to be intimate with anyone but me. I began to tell her this, when Wyatt elbowed me, clearly wanting in on our conversation.
“You don’t speak English? Do you know any human languages?” I asked her, although I was pretty sure of the answer.
Nyalla shook her head. “I was taken as an infant, and we are not allowed to associate with other humans until the age of puberty, when we are rendered infertile.”<
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The elves neutered their humans? I glanced at Wyatt, thankful that he couldn’t follow our conversation. “But after? Surely you had human friends? A boyfriend?”
“My low status prohibited me from social or sexual contact with other humans. Only those high in their households, or in the mage program, are allowed that privilege.”
“She doesn’t speak English,” I told Wyatt. “She doesn’t speak any human languages, only Elvish and possibly some Demon.”
I didn’t tell him the rest. That his sister, stolen from her crib and placed into slavery, had been rendered infertile and denied the company of her own race. That she’d been verbally abused, given solitary meaningless jobs. Was she a virgin, or had some elf had his way with her? It was unlikely, since they weren’t attracted to humans, but after seeing an elf/demon hybrid, I didn’t rule it out. I doubted she had been told to entertain a demon. She wouldn’t have survived that.
I didn’t have a chance to ask her, though, as Wyatt once again grabbed her hand.
“It will work out. You’re smart; you’ll learn quickly. Immersion is the best way to learn a language, I’ve been told. I’ll pick up some software for you, too.”
She looked at Wyatt in confusion, and, with some hesitation, took his hand and placed it on her breast. “I will do my best to please you, Master. I hope that you will allow me to prove my worth in your service.”
Wyatt snatched his hand away in horror and looked at me. “What was that about? What did she say?”
Crap.
“He’s not your master,” I hastily told Nyalla. “He’s your brother. Didn’t Dar tell you? You’re home. I’ve brought you home.”
“My brother?” Nyalla reached out a tentative hand to touch Wyatt’s. “Do I have other family? Parents?”
“Your mother still lives. And you have a step–sister, Amber. She is the changeling that took your place.”
Nyalla looked confused. “But the elf changelings are dead. How did this happen that one lived? The elves would never have made such a mistake.”
“Your sister is not all elf. Amber is an elf/demon hybrid.”