by Debra Dunbar
He frowned, considering my words. “Too convoluted. If someone wanted you dead, it would be easier just to kill you.”
“But what if another angel wanted me dead? I’d like to think you’d have a bit of a problem with that, but if I were convicted of murdering an angel, there would be nothing you could do to protect me.”
Gregory shook his head. “Angels don’t have the ability to devour. If you didn’t do it, there has to be another devouring spirit on the loose.”
“It wasn’t me. Please believe me. It wasn’t me.”
We remained motionless for what seemed an eternity, his fingers tight on my arms, his eyes boring into mine. Suddenly he yanked me to his chest, crushing me tight.
“We’ll find this other demon. But you can tell no one. You must never again devour, and do not tell anyone that you ever have.”
There was a noise behind us. We broke apart and whirled around to see Nyalla halfway down the stairs, her hair wet from the shower, her body hidden under my too–large clothing. She had that terrified look on her face again — the one Wyatt and I had worked for the last two days to try to erase.
“I didn’t mean to listen. I don’t understand much of your language. I won’t repeat anything, I swear by the Goddess.” Nyalla’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes huge as they darted back and forth between me and the angel.
“Who are you?” Gregory thundered.
Elvish. She’d spoken in Elvish. I doubted Gregory had heard that language in over two million years. Regardless, I wasn’t going to let him frighten Wyatt’s sister to death, especially with all the progress we’d made.
“Stop it!” I smacked him as hard as I could across the arm, making sure I spoke in Elvish. I’m sure he barely felt it, but I didn’t want to further scare Nyalla by throwing demon energy around my living room. “You’re going to give the girl a heart attack. Calm the fuck down and be nice for once in your life.”
Nyalla’s mouth dropped open at my words, shock erasing some of her fear. “It’s all right. He’s an angel. He won’t hurt you.”
“Who are you?” Gregory asked again, in a well–modulated tone. “And how do you know Elvish? Your accent is perfect.”
Nyalla stayed rooted on the stairs, her eyes anxious as she stared at the angel. “I’ve lived with the elves my whole life. They took me from my crib when I was a baby, kidnapped me.”
The angel frowned, causing Nyalla to cringe. “Elves don’t cross through the gates and they don’t kidnap humans.”
I blew out an exasperated breath. “How the fuck do you think they get humans to train in magic? You know about the sorcerers, know where they get their magical knowledge. Do you think the elves send audio courses over or something? They fucking kidnap humans.”
Gregory turned his scowl toward me. “The humans have had the ability to open communication portals for millennia. Many humans skilled in magic gain their knowledge from the elves that way, and also by summoning demons.”
I threw up my hands. “You think she’s lying? She’s spent her life with the elves. She can tell you what a bunch of douchebags they are.”
“Perhaps demons have been kidnapping humans and taking them through the gates — either angel gates or the ones they create themselves, but elves are not doing this.”
He was an idiot. “Elves are doing this! If a demon had kidnapped her, she wouldn’t have lived long enough to make it through a gate. She’s been raised with elves, lived her life with elves — not demons!”
The angel turned his back to me. “Well then, I guess we owe the elves a debt of gratitude for rescuing this child from the clutches of the demons.”
Elves didn’t rescue Nyalla, I did. Me. An imp, a demon. Me.
Gregory walked over to Nyalla as she stood rooted to the stairs. Her face paled at his approach. “I promise. I promise I won’t say anything. You can remove my tongue if you want, wipe the last few hours of my mind, anything. Just please don’t kill me. Please, please don’t kill me.”
Gregory stopped, his eyes widening. “Child, I have no intention of killing you. I’m an angel.”
I snorted. Ah yes, the good guys. Riding in on a white horse to save the day.
Nyalla winced as his hand came toward her. “Don’t you dare hurt her,” I ordered.
Instead, the angel caressed her cheek and spoke a soft word. A glow lit the right side of her face before fading away. Again he spoke to her in whispered words too quiet for me to hear. She nodded then flashed me a quick smile before dashing back up the stairs.
“What did you do?” I demanded as Gregory turned around. “I swear on every being I Own that if you hurt her in any way, wiped her mind or rendered her mute, or anything, I’ll fucking kill you.”
The angel’s lips twitched up in a wry smile as he took my arm and led me into the kitchen. “I did no harm to your new human, little Cockroach.”
I watched him with suspicion as he positioned me by the stove and set about putting on a pot of coffee. He’d gotten quite good at this.
“Now,” he said, once the smell of warm coffee filled the air, “we need to find this devouring spirit as quickly as possible. Your life depends on it.”
I nodded. “Can you bring me the body of the angel? Maybe I can find something, some kind of clue if I scan it.”
He shook his head, pulling a mug out of the cabinet and setting it before me. It said “World’s Best Dad” on the side in faded red letters. Angelo had given it to me filled with jellybeans as an Easter gift, and I treasured it.
“It will raise suspicion. I’ll try to bring you any other demon corpses that we find, but there’s no way you’ll be able to see the angel’s body without putting your own life in jeopardy.”
“Where was the angel’s body found?” I wondered if it was the angel who’d been chasing me. I didn’t think there were many of them flitting around the Frederick County area.
“Northern Mexico. Parral.”
That wasn’t exactly a stone’s throw away. “Was he one of yours? An enforcer? A Grigori?”
“No.” The angel slid the coffee pot from the burner and filled my cup. “He had no business being down here that I’m aware of. We’re questioning his choir to find out what the purpose of his trip was, who he intended to meet, and why he didn’t follow proper protocol in leaving Aaru.”
I wasn’t sure his reasons for walking the earth had any relationship with his death. Mexico. Demons aren’t much for cleaning up their messes, so if his body was found in Mexico, that’s where he was killed.
“Were the drained demons found in Mexico also?” I asked, sipping my coffee. It was always better when he made it.
“No. One in Damascus, one in Burlington, and one in New York City.”
“Damascus? All the way in Syria?” Damn, that was a big geographic area. Demon’s tended to stay on the continent where they came into from Hel. We didn’t remain long enough for extended travel. If this devouring demon was jet–setting across the world, we’d have an even more difficult time tracking him down.
“Damascus, Maryland. Not Syria.”
Ah, that made more sense. I could envision the line in my head. Vermont, New York, Maryland. Wait. Fuck. Damascus, Maryland? That was practically in my back yard.
“Was the first one Burlington?” The angel nodded. “Then he’d be close. The next should be down as far south as Danville or Raleigh.” I calculated the distances, just to be sure.
Gregory lifted the coffee pot in an offer to top–up my cup. “So, we should begin looking for a swath of destruction, some evidence of erratic demon activity in a two–hundred–and–fifty to three–hundred mile radius south of here?”
“Yes.” I held my cup out for a refill. “I’ll ask Wyatt if he’ll help. He may not, though.”
Wyatt was refusing my requests lately unless I could show some positive charitable intent. I doubted dead demons and a dead angel would tug on his heartstrings enough to convince him to help. He might be swayed if I told him I would be
blamed for the murders. Or not. And he was pretty busy with Amber and Nyalla right now.
“How much time elapsed between the demon deaths?” I wondered if he’d been making these kills all in one trip, or darting back and forth across a gate. Multiple trips would be risky, especially if he was using the same portal, but then again, so was any extended time here. I should know.
“I brought you the first in January. The second was found in May, and the latest, three days ago.”
Could be multiple trips, but that close together led me to believe he’d been here the whole time.
“Why didn’t you bring me the one you found in May? I only saw two.”
His face settled into that bland, inscrutable expression. “I don’t trust the one who found that body. I didn’t want him to know that I was taking them to you, or that I suspected there was foul play.”
He’d been covering it up for some reason. At that time he hadn’t known the killer was a devouring spirit, hadn’t known I was a devouring spirit. He couldn’t have been protecting me — there was some other reason he’d not wanted anyone to know his suspicions, or that he was using my special expertise.
“One of your Grigori found it?” I asked. “You don’t trust one of your own people? Aren’t all the Grigori in your household?”
“Choir,” he corrected. “No. Grigori are made up of selected angels across all choirs. They serve for a limited time then another takes their place. I’m the only constant.”
“You don’t trust one of your own Grigori?” I repeated.
His expression darkened. “No.”
I sucked down the rest of my coffee with a long gulp. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”
His eyes, full of worry, met mine, and warmth spread through my chest. “That’s a matter internal to Aaru. A matter very personal to me. It’s best that you not know anything about it, that you not be involved in any way — for your own safety, little Cockroach.”
He was worried about me, worried about my safety. He was protecting me.
“I protect you far more than you know, little Cockroach.” His words were a caress. Our eyes met for a long moment until I broke our gaze to take a drink of my coffee. The cup was empty.
“Good?” he asked, indicating the mug.
“Always.” I smiled, feeling rather unsettled at the intimacy of the moment and wanting to return to a lighter, more casual exchange. “If this Grigori thing doesn’t work out, you could have a great career as a barista. I’ll pick up some applications at Starbucks next time I’m there.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you have such a high estimation of my abilities as head Grigori. It’s nice to be appreciated.”
He vanished, and I sat my empty mug in the sink. What was going on? Gregory not trusting some of his own staff? My imagination ran wild, and, for a brief moment, I felt a pang of worry. Then I laughed and shook my head. That angel was billions of years old. Nothing would ever happen to him. Nothing. And it sent something surging deep inside my core to think he worried about me, protected me. Dead demons, a dead angel, and me as the most likely suspect, yet he still protected me. Dead angel. A dead angel in Mexico.
I frowned. The dead angel was an outlier, far outside the line of the other killings. How had a devouring spirit made it to Mexico from Maryland in such a short time, and why had he changed directions? What happened that he encountered and killed an angel? A non–Grigori angel? Should I also be looking in a radius around Parral Mexico? The events couldn’t possibly be unrelated. Two devouring spirits was improbable, three was approaching an impossible coincidence. Impossible.
~8~
Nyalla was oddly silent during dinner that night. I realized her English was still limited, and I’d been trying to translate for her as we showed her the culinary joys of Maryland seafood.
“Nyalla has been teaching me Elvish,” Amber announced with a fond look at her sister. “She’s drawn maps with the different kingdoms on them, and I’m learning all sorts of cultural stuff.”
Side by side, there was scant resemblance between the two. Nyalla’s hair was darker, more of an ash color, although her recent exposure to the sun was bringing out streaks of near white to frame a still–pale face. She looked like a slight, female version of Wyatt — attractive in a very human way. Amber, by contrast, eclipsed everyone in the room. It wasn’t just her exotic elven looks. Amber had a presence about her, an odd combination of elf aloofness and succubi sex appeal.
“She’s supposed to be learning from you,” I scolded the hybrid. “You’ll have millennia to learn about your mother’s culture. Just concentrate right now on getting Nyalla up to speed so she’s able to begin some sort of normal human life.”
Amber looked up from her oysters in surprise. “Millennia? I thought…. I just assumed I’d have a normal human life expectancy.” The girl frowned, a crease marring her perfect forehead. “I don’t want to outlive my friends, my family. I don’t want to watch them grow old while I remain young.”
Yeah, I worried about that every day too. “Millennia. Concentrate on helping your sister, and you can bemoan your terrible fate later.”
Amber nodded as she casually scooped a dollop of horseradish on her oyster and squeezed fresh lemon over it. I watched her for a moment, thinking that her acceptance of her extended lifespan, and the fact that she’d outlive all her family, was far too easy. Amber was good at hiding her emotions. She seemed fine, but I suspected this news had rocked her to the core. Vowing to spend some one–on–one time with the half–elf, I turned to Nyalla. The girl was wrestling with a crab claw, trying unsuccessfully to extract the meat from the shell.
“How are language lessons going?” I spoke in Elvish.
She smiled shyly. “Very well, thank you. And my most honored brother, Wyatt, has procured an identification card for me. He is going to teach me to navigate a human conveyance after sunrise tomorrow. I have already learned how to use the comp–pute–er, and how to spin a web on it. I can operate the cooking and personal hygiene systems, and now have a variety of suitable clothing. I am told I will be going to a spa bath with my elven sister after noon respite tomorrow.”
Okay. Computer, Internet, household appliances and clothing — check. Driving lessons and make–over/bonding time tomorrow. Progress.
“My name is Nina Lewis,” she announced in English with only the barest hint of accent.
“Very nice,” I told her. “Should I call you ‘Nina’ now?”
She shook her head and flashed a mischievous smile. “Friends and family call me Nyalla.” Once again, her accent was close to perfect. Her memory when it came to words and language structure was amazing, and she had a great ear for pronunciation.
“How did you learn my language?” She’d mentioned she knew a few words, and I was curious. It’s not like she could have spent a lot of time among demons.
The girl shrugged. “Demons make terrible messes at parties, usually involving bodily fluids that elves and other humans do not want to clean up. I would stand in the corner, ready to take care of any unpleasantness. I heard them talk among themselves, and, over the years, picked up some words and sentences.”
Wow. It was amazing that she could learn the basics of a language just by listening in at the occasional party. It was just as amazing that she would have bothered. Not many did.
My surprise must have shown on my face, because Nyalla gave me a quick grin. “I like to know what people are saying. Watching and listening to them helps me anticipate their wishes, and avoid punishment.”
That familiar anger toward the elves stirred in me. Assholes. How many humans there felt the same? Slaves. I clenched my jaw and struggled to put the anger back. It’s not like I could do anything about the situation, and I didn’t want the girl beside me to think my fury had anything to do with her.
Nyalla turned her attention back to the crab claw, twisting off the lower portion and peering with despair at the meat, still trapped within the exoskeleton.
> “Here, let me help,” Wyatt reached across the table and took the claw from her, twisting it sharply in his hands. With a resounding crack, the shell split, freeing the pink flesh. He handed it back to her with a smile. “Dip it in the butter first.”
I pointed to the butter and watched Nyalla as she tasted it.
“Oh, this is wonderful! So much better in taste than appearance.”
Yes, so many things were.
“So are the oysters,” I told her. “Better snag a few before Amber eats them all.”
“She plans to go through the gate. I thought you should know.”
Nyalla’s tone was casual, as if we were discussing the weather, or the merits of the seafood before us. I stared at her. What gate? She couldn’t possibly mean…
“She has been having me draw maps, especially of Wythyn and Cyelle and has been asking me about how demons and elves transverse the angel gates. I suspect she intends to have revenge for her mother’s death.”
Nyalla continued to separate the crabmeat while I gaped at her like an imbecile.
“I do not want her to hate me for revealing her plans, but I also do not want her to get herself killed on some fool’s quest.” Her eyes turned to me, pleading. “I like her. You were right. In spite of everything, she is a kind and giving person, although she is very impulsive and reckless. She will not live for those millennia if she continues with her planned course of action.”
I wiped my hands on a napkin and got to my feet. “Come on, Amber. Let’s run over to Wyatt’s and get his Xbox. We’ll show Nyalla how to decimate an undead army.”
Everyone looked at me like I was insane.
“You hate to play video games,” Wyatt said. “And we can just go to my place and play if you want to.”
I glared at him. “Nope. All the beer is here, and I’ve got four televisions. Come on, Amber.”
She shrugged and flashed Wyatt a quick smile as she pushed back her chair. “Sounds fun. We’ll be right back. Help Nyalla with the oysters, but save a few more for me.”