Devil's Paw

by Debra Dunbar

  “Come on,” he told the sorcerer. “I’ll condescend to heal you this time as I need you to have full use of your hands. We’ll return afterward, and you can finish draining her.”

  “Then you’ll kill her?” Pash asked, his voice hopeful as he held his hands out in front of him.

  The angel shot me a quick look, his eyes meeting mine for the briefest of seconds. “No. She’s the last one left. It will take me some time to make arrangements with another demon for an adequate supply. I might as well use her. Who knows, maybe her offspring will actually live. She certainly seems hard enough to kill. I can see her endowing her progeny with a similar will to survive.”

  The pair of them left and I grinned. I was starved, weak, and in pain, but I’d managed to grab a good chunk of raw energy and hide it safely away. And I’d seen the look in the angel’s eyes when he’d met mine. In spite of his bravado, he was afraid. Very afraid.

  ~34~

  I was glad they weren’t gone long because I was badly dehydrated, weak from hunger, with one operational lung. My gunshot wounds, dislocated shoulder, concussion, impaled limbs — they all signaled my impending death. I thought about using the energy I’d hidden to fix my physical body, but I didn’t want the angel and the sorcerer to return and find me good as new. Plus, I had a rather dramatic plan, and I wanted to surprise them. I especially wanted to see that look of fear in the angel’s eyes.

  Pash wheeled another empty container next to me with perfectly healed hands. This time I held still as he jabbed me with the tube and raw energy poured out in a silver stream.

  “She filled another container,” he commented in astonishment. “Two! I’ve never had a demon even come close to filling one, and she filled two.”

  The angel frowned as Pash removed the tube and began to wheel the glass jar away. “Are you sure she’s empty?”

  He was right to worry. When a demon died, the raw energy we held burst forth, usually with violent force. Any residual amount could explode the lab, or more.

  “That’s all. The tube had completed the siphon, so there’s no more left to draw.”

  No more there. The amount I’d hidden away could have filled another of those containers, perhaps more.

  “Hand me the box. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can go back to Hel with your bottles.”

  The angel took the metal box from the sorcerer’s hands and, as before, removed the crimson rod. It flashed bright red, reminding me of one of those hazard sticks placed around auto accidents. I felt the cold metal of the amulet on my forehead and heard soft chanting in Elvish. A line of dark red began to extend from the amulet through my body and into my spirit self, burning a channel as it went. It felt oddly familiar, and I realized this was a similar process to what Gregory had done to bind me, only he’d used his mouth on the inside of my arm and extended a part of himself into me. Obviously this angel didn’t want to get that personal, but the process gave me an idea, and I held back on my plan of attack.

  The red seared into my spirit, and I shifted, blocking its progress with the red–purple of my angel that networked throughout me. Pash abruptly ceased chanting then began again, a tremor in his voice.

  “What’s wrong?” the angel demanded. He tapped the glowing rod and frowned at my forehead and the amulet. “Why isn’t she coming out?”

  “Stuck. Something’s stuck.” The sorcerer said, his voice breathless. Again he began to chant.

  The red inched forward, trying to burn through the blockage. I held firm, pushing the angel essence further, driving it into the channel the amulet had created in my spirit self and my physical body. I heard the sorcerer scream, felt the amulet turn to dust against my forehead, saw the pulsing rod shatter into fragments.

  Everything slowed. Crimson shards rang out as they hit the floor, sandy dust slid off my forehead onto the table. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw the sorcerer writhing on the floor, clutching his head. The angel stared at his empty hands then turned to meet my eyes.

  “What are you?”

  “The angel of death.” I let the raw energy I’d hidden away burst from my being. There was a split second when I saw the terror in the angel’s eyes before everything exploded. The facility, the island — everything within a half–mile radius vanished. Nothing living: no matter, no flesh survived.

  Including me.

  I’d used it all to ensure I actually killed that fucking angel. I had no energy left to form myself into anything, and I was dying — a being of spirit with no corporeal form. This had been a far too quick and easy death for both the angel and the sorcerer, but I had to take satisfaction with what I had. Dead was dead, and that was better than having these assholes outlive me. Facing my own death was worth seeing that look of fear, that recognition of his own demise, in the angel’s face. But even though I was resigned to my own death, I had one last hope, one slim chance to survive this.

  Feeling the agony, the painful tearing, I began to come apart at the edges and separate. Without a corporeal form to house myself, my spirit self was slowly unraveling. Soon, I’d be nothing, dissolving into the universe around me. Frantically, I pulled on the red–purple within myself and called Gregory. Could he hear my panic, my desperation? Maybe what happened with the amulet and rod broke our tie. I couldn’t feel him like I’d been able to before. I was dying. I was dying and he’d never know.

  The pain grew intense as I felt myself ripping apart. I thought of Wyatt, how much I loved him, how much he’d grieve for me. I’d never made it home, never called him to let him know what plane I was on. Did he still have that vodka in the freezer? Was he trying to track me down and find me? He’d feel the sorrow of losing me, but at least he had his sisters. Gregory — he’d be all alone, just as he’d been for so long. Would he mourn me over millions of years, like he did his brother? The thought of him lonely once again, the remembrance of his voice when he said he couldn’t lose me, couldn’t bring himself to kill me even if it meant saving the world, brought me more pain than the tearing of my spirit being.

  My thoughts were fading. Numbness spread inside me, dulling the terrible pain. I’d just begun to feel a sense of peace when, with a jerk and a stab of pain, I returned.

  I’ve got you.

  He didn’t sound very happy about it. I wasn’t sure I was happy about it. Everything had begun to blur out, but now the agony had increased tenfold. Even his gentle embrace, the feel of him carefully touching my wounds was torture.

  Oh, Cockroach.

  He didn’t have to spell it out. I was in bad shape, huge sections of my spirit self missing or damaged. Some of it would knit back together, but nothing would replace what I’d lost. And I’d lost a lot.

  More pretty scars? I teased.

  They’ll be beautiful, he lied. You’re safe now, in Aaru. I’ll heal you, and in time you’ll recover some lost abilities. You’ll be good as new.

  More lies. Crap, he was just as bad at lying as I was. I examined my damage, starting with the considerable cosmetic stuff. The surface of my being had come apart first. It would smooth over, but the scarring would be horrific. I’d be really ugly, but Gregory was the only one who saw me without a physical form, and I got the feeling he didn’t really care what I looked like. Other sections were bad, but those abilities would shift to other parts of my being with time. The most disturbing was the damage to the part of me that converted energy into matter. Without that, I’d not be able to form a physical shell to house myself. There was only one place I could exist solely as a spirit being — Aaru.

  You can be here with me always, little Cockroach. By my side, as an angel.

  Ugh. I loved this angel, but being stuck here for the rest of my life wasn’t appealing. I pulled the thin, crisp energy of Aaru into myself and tried to manifest a corporeal form. Nothing. I tried again, and again, feeling something like a lump in my middle. I wanted to cry, but I had no tears, no eyes.

  It will be a different life, but it will be a good one. Beloved Cockr
oach, everything will be fine. I promise everything will be fine.

  I tried again, one last desperate attempt, and felt a spark. It was something, and thanks to the angel, I’d learned that I could exist in just about anything. A chair, a rock, bacteria, even a flame.

  I think I can convert energy into matter, I told him. I just can’t seem to pull enough energy from my surroundings to hold a form.

  Give yourself time to recover; a few centuries maybe, and then you can try again.

  Fuck that. There’s no way I’d recover in Aaru. Already the place was sending me into a near panic attack. Gregory couldn’t hold me in his arms forever — although at the moment that seemed a rather appealing prospect. Sooner or later he’d have to go off and do something, and I’d go crazy.

  I’d be a cripple, an invalid dependent on him for everything. I’d rather be dead.

  Stop it. You’ll be fine. As soon as you’re recovered, I’ll work with you to see if you can create a physical form. Stop this talk about dying. I can’t lose you. I won’t let you go.

  I tried to convert again. Yes, a spark! The energy here was just too thin for me to pull enough together to sustain matter. Aaru wasn’t like back home, where the energy flowed thick and heavy all around us, blanketing us in warm plenty.

  Home.

  Send me home. You need to send me home.

  I felt his hurt through our bond. Home to Wyatt? He wouldn’t have time to see you before you dissolved away to nothing. Even if I brought you right to him, he wouldn’t be able to see or hear you.

  Not that home. Home to Hel. I need to go back to Hel. The energy there is different, easier to collect and manipulate. I can form there, then I can begin to fix what I can and adapt to live with what I’ve lost.

  Frustration filled his thoughts. I can’t take you there. I can’t go to Hel, even for you, my Cockroach. And I fear for you — what if you’re wrong? I may not be able to summon you back in time.

  All sorts of improbable scenarios ran through my head. Gregory holding me within his form, then tossing me through the gate at Columbia, releasing me at the last moment. Gregory creating a gate from Aaru straight to Hel and tossing me through it. Gregory….

  Banish me.

  I felt him shift in confusion. Banish you?

  You’ve bound me. If you banish me, I’ll return to Hel.

  But that will dissolve our bond. I won’t know if you’re alive or dead. You won’t be able to summon me if you need me, and I will no longer be able to summon you.

  Yes, and that prospect was more painful than my damaged, shredded being. I felt him, knew if he was near, how he was feeling. Sometimes I read his thoughts, and I knew he could read mine. I didn’t want to lose that, but I couldn’t stay in Aaru. This was the only way he could send me to Hel.

  I felt him sigh, move against me in a caress, careful to avoid the raw sections. I love you, little Cockroach, and if you die, I will never be the same.

  If I live, you’ll never be the same, I teased.

  That drew a smile from him — well, what passed for a smile in a being without a mouth.

  Niyaz, Az, Jahi, Ereshkigal, Malebranche.

  He began to recite my names. It was a short list. I wasn’t very old. I curled against him, pushing in slightly so we merged in a line of white. I’d miss this. I’d miss him.

  Mal Cogita, Samantha Martin.

  One more, I prompted.

  Cockroach.

  I love you, too, I blurted out. He knew, but I didn’t want to leave without saying the words.

  I break the bonds between us and release you from service. Banished from my presence, return from whence you came, to be summoned no more.

  I was ripped from his embrace, and, with a jolt, felt familiar, thick warmth. Instinctively, I pulled from my surroundings, like taking a deep breath when surfacing from water.

  Now. Everything exploded in a flash of light then coalesced back into matter. I lay, exhausted, on a carpet of moss–green grass dotted with yellow flowers. The smell of the forest filled every pore — life, sunshine, growth, and decay. I was alive. I’d done it. I’d somehow managed to manifest a physical form to house myself. It wasn’t ideal, and it sure as hell wasn’t attractive, but it would do. I just needed to recover, to fine–tune whatever conversion skills remained. I’d grow stronger, repair what I could. Make it to my household and contact Wyatt through my mirror, to let him know I was alive and okay. Then I was going back. Going back to my family. Going back to my angel.

  About the Author

  Debra Dunbar primarily writes urban fantasy, but has been known to put her pen to paranormal romance, young adult fiction, and dark fantasy on occasion. She lives on a farm in the northeast section of the United States with her husband, three boys, and a Noah’s ark of four legged family members. When she can sneak out, she likes to jog and ride her horse, Treasure. Treasure, on the other hand, would prefer Debra stay on the ground and feed him apples.

  Connect with Debra Dunbar on Facebook, on Twitter , or at her website.

  Thank you for your purchase of this book. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review on Goodreads, or at the e–retailer site from which you purchased it. Readers and authors both rely on fair and honest reviews.

  Books in the Imp Series:

  A DEMON BOUND (Imp Series, Book 1)

  Samantha Martin is an imp, enjoying an extended vacation from Hel. All she wants to do is drink beer by the pool, play mischievous pranks on the humans, and get her hot neighbor in the sack. It’s a relaxing break from her infernal home, as long as she manages to avoid the angels, who won’t hesitate to execute her on sight.

  But when her naughty hellhound lands her in trouble with the local werewolf pack, Sam is blackmailed into helping track and catch a killer. The steps she must take to appease the werewolves will put her right in the crosshairs of the angels. And with angels, there is no second chance.

  SATAN'S SWORD (Imp Series, Book 2)

  Samantha Martin is an imp, bound by an angel who allows her to live among the humans… as long as she follows his rules. It’s not easy for an imp to follow the rules, especially when Sam’s brother, Dar, finds himself in hot water. He needs her help to retrieve an artifact from the vampires, or the powerful demon he owes a favor to will enslave and torture him for centuries. It should be a simple courier job, but with demons nothing is simple. Sam reluctantly attempts to help her brother, trying not antagonize the vampires or the demon gunning for him, all while chafing to comply with the restrictions her angel has placed on her as a bound demon.

  ELVEN BLOOD (Imp Series, Book 3)

  Sam may be the Iblis, but she is also an imp with a price on her head. The powerful demon, Haagenti, won’t rest until she’s dragged back to Hel for &dlquo;punishment”. Sam knows she can’t face Haagenti and win, so when an Elf Lord offers to eliminate the demon in return for her help, Sam jumps at the chance. It’s a simple job – find and retrieve a half–breed monster dead or alive. But finding this demon/elf hybrid isn’t proving easy and time is running out.

  DEVIL’S PAW (Imp Series, Book 4)

  For once no one wants to kill Samantha Martin. She’s free to do all the things a mischievous imp loves to do– like remove all the county speed limit signs, and wrap City Hall in crime scene tape. Her only worry beyond organizing the delivery of her boyfriend’s birthday present, is writing those pesky four nine five reports for the Ruling Council of Angels. But imps can never stay out of trouble for long.

  Demon corpses have been found drained of all energy, their spirit selves ripped clean from their bodies. Sam’s angel, Gregory, considers her a prime suspect, so when an angel is discovered dead in the same manner, he drags her to Seattle and Juneau to try to clear her name. The race is on to find the murderer before Sam’s secret is exposed and she’s blamed for the deaths. But is a devouring spirit really the killer, or is there more to the deaths than either Sam or Gregory suspect?

  IMP FORSAKEN (Imp Series, Book 5) Release date: November 2013)


  Sam is banished to Hel, the bond with her angel, Gregory, broken. Six Elven kingdoms are battling for supremacy, and she’s broken and injured in the middle of the most hostile one. Shooting the top off a royal throne, committing fraud in the completion of a contract, and threatening a high lord hasn’t endeared her to the elves, either. If she wants to free the enslaved humans they hold, she’ll need to find a way to help unite their kingdoms.

  But elves aren’t the only problem facing Sam. The ancient demon, Ahriman is holding her to the terms and conditions of the breeding contract she signed – and one thousand years under his claw is looking to be the most terrifying thing in all of Hel.

  IMP (Imp Series, prequel novella)

  Demon young are cruel, especially to little imps like Az. No matter where she hides, even deep in the swamplands, her siblings eventually find her and hurt her, ripping off her scales and slicing her wings. Many demons don’t live to adulthood. Only the strong survive. And the clever.

  Survival isn’t looking probable for Az, with eldest brother, Paquit, determined to rip her to shreds at every opportunity. When her other brother, Dar, proposes a trip through the angelic gates into the land of the humans, she jumps at the chance. Finally, a fun adventure safe from Paquit’s cruelty and attacks. Or maybe not.

  Table of Contents

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