King of Thieves: Demons of Elysium, Book 2

by Jane Kindred

  Belphagor’s gut tightened at the truth of Khai’s insight. “Something like that. But mainly, I need to dispel the rumors Armen has been spreading about me. If Vasily’s gone and I’m at the tables alone, there’ll be no stopping them. And I can’t accomplish what I need to accomplish if I’m being shunned by even the most disreputable of demons for being perceived as a pedophile.”

  “And what you need to accomplish is…?”

  He couldn’t help the little lift of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d never hatched quite such an ambitious endeavor. “I have a number of things to accomplish. But the first is to reestablish my reputation as a perfectly despicable cad.”

  Khai crossed one ankle over the other and grinned. “As long as I get to dress well, I’m in.”

  Chetyrnadtsataya

  As promised, a messenger awaited them at Baikal, a young demon Vasily had seen once or twice at the gaming tables fetching drinks for players for a facet a table. He led them through the Hell Staircase with Anzhela beside him, the boys two at a time behind him, and Silk and Vasily taking up the rear—to Silk’s intense amusement, and inspiring a series of puns Vasily was sure he’d never hear the end of. Which prompted another when he said so.

  “You’re sure they brought me this way on the trip down?” Silk asked after he’d exhausted his vocabulary of innuendos having to do with posteriors. “I don’t remember a bit of it.”

  “Belphagor said you were unconscious when he saw you in the Market. They probably kept you that way for the trip.”

  “The Market?” Silk paused on the landing they’d just reached, reeling from the staircase’s infamous disorienting magic. Vasily grabbed his lapels to keep him from falling. “When did Belphagor see me in the Market?”

  Vasily wet his lips. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. “He started there, looking for the others from the Fletchery. Apparently, a broker had you in the back of one of the tents.”

  Silk’s expression darkened. “Unconscious? He was selling me…unconscious?”

  “I-I don’t think he was selling you like that. He was offering you to permanent buyers.” Vasily was intensely uncomfortable talking about this. “Belphagor was going to redeem you then, but the broker double-crossed him and disappeared before we came back with the crystal.”

  Silk’s eyes were piercing. “We.”

  “When I found out what he needed the facets for, that he’d found you, I went with him to bring you home.” Vasily felt his eyes flickering with heat. “If that piece of shit broker had been there, I’d have killed him.”

  “Whoa.” Silk put his hand on Vasily’s chest. “You just got really scary.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s kind of hot.”

  “We’d better keep up, or the stairs will separate us from the others.” Vasily started up once more, and Silk took his hand, stepping up with him.

  “I bet there are all kinds of puns people make about you being hot.”

  Vasily groaned. “Please don’t.”

  Silk didn’t, and kept his thoughts to himself until they’d reached the portal and stood waiting for the last of the boys to climb through. “Thank you,” he said quietly beside Vasily.

  “For what?”

  “For coming to the Market to get me. For wanting to kill that ‘broker’. For not giving up on me.”

  “Silk…” Vasily turned to him, uncomfortable. “This is all because of me. Everything that’s happened to you is my fault. Because I was stupid enough to let Kezef trick me. Because I ran and left you to him. Because I was even there in the first place, playing Belphagor’s game. Don’t thank me.”

  Silk rolled his eyes and climbed up to the open grate of the storm drain, looking back before he crawled through into Heaven. “Shut up, Ruby, and get your ass up here. That ‘please punish me, I’m such a naughty boy’ act might have worked with your poncy prince, but it’ll get you nowhere with me.”

  The portal came up in a quiet suburban area of Raqia Vasily wasn’t familiar with, the sort of place where the respectable denizens of the district—the nursemaids and seamstresses to the angels, the hansom cab drivers, the cobblers—lived in narrow row houses, and where demons like Vasily were suspect. Following Belphagor’s messenger through the neighborhood, Vasily was afraid Belphagor had rented one of the sensible-looking shacks, but they were past it soon enough and found themselves in a block that was part industrial, part entertainment. Not quite the Devil’s Doorstep, but nothing so classy as the Demon Market either.

  Their accommodations were on the second floor above a bakery, and the scents of fresh bread and caramelizing sugar filled the stairwell as they climbed. The youngest of the boys, Ruslan, was begging to go down and check out the enticing smells, but the others seemed to have a quiet sense of dread at what might await them at the top.

  The messenger unlocked the door when they reached the landing, gave the key to Vasily and bowed out. To Vasily’s surprise, it opened onto the cozy parlor of a sunny, furnished apartment. There was even a staircase down the back hall to the attic floor of the building that was apparently all theirs as well. The boys pounded up the stairs to investigate the little nooks under the sloped roof.

  Vasily stayed on the main floor, looking around in amazement. This had apparently been the apartment of the baker’s family at one time, with bedrooms enough for a large family, a well-appointed kitchen and a sitting room besides. From the size of it, the baker must have been employed by the supernal family.

  While he glanced around the kitchen, Silk appeared beside him and hooked his arm, leaning into him playfully. “Look, honey, we’re home.” He picked up a frilly red chiffon apron from a hook on the wall and held it to his waist. “Oh, this will look divine on me. Can you imagine my cock standing up stiff behind this little number while I’m bent over the stove making your breakfast?”

  Vasily shushed him, glancing about nervously to make sure none of the boys had heard him. “We’re not playing house,” he growled and snatched the apron, replacing it on the hook.

  “What else do you think we’re here for? Your prince has an unexpected flair for the domestic fantasy I wouldn’t have guessed at. Do you think he wants to watch?”

  “Stop calling him my prince.”

  “I notice you didn’t answer the question.”

  Vasily didn’t want to think about the question, because he could perfectly imagine Belphagor sitting in a chair by the window stroking himself while he watched Vasily drive his cock up Silk’s ass. And he didn’t want to imagine that. And now he had. And goddamn Belphagor.

  Silk flicked his eyebrows knowingly. “Well, we’ll soon find out what the price is for this delightful home-sweet-home.”

  When he walked toward the door, Vasily followed and grabbed his arm, turning him about. “What are you talking about? What price?”

  “I have an appointment with your—with His Highness to discuss his terms. I’m not supposed to tell you.” Silk shrugged. “Fuck him. I just did.”

  Idly watching the cheap sidewalk wingcasting tables under an awning at the Demon Market, Belphagor kept an eye out for Silk. He relaxed when he saw the demon arrive alone. He’d been afraid Vasily would find out about their meeting and come with him.

  “So I take it you found the place,” he said as Silk approached. “Was everything satisfactory?”

  “Marvelous.” Silk glanced around. “How good of you to set up this meeting here, where I was last on display naked and unconscious.”

  Belphagor raised an eyebrow. “How did you know you were naked if you were unconscious?”

  “I guessed,” Silk snapped. “Apparently, I was the special of the day.”

  The implication made him cringe. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. I did try to get you out of here before they smuggled you off-sphere.”

  “So I understand. Tell me, Prince of Tricks. Did you sample the wares before you decided to buy?”

  Belphagor folded his arms to keep from slappin
g the boy. “Don’t be vile. You know perfectly well I didn’t. I don’t deserve that.” Silk shrugged but slid his gaze away, looking a bit abashed. “I think we should talk somewhere else. The tavern at the west end. Try to act like a grownup, and I’ll buy you some ale.”

  Silk nodded stiffly and followed him as he wove through the crowd to the less-populated end of the market. Unlike the Brimstone, where its regulars, mostly locals, could be found any time of day, the more tourist-oriented gambling and drinking establishments bordering the Demon Market didn’t get hopping until after dark—when angels weren’t quite so cautious about being seen.

  He tipped the proprietor for a quiet booth in the back and ordered them each a pint of ale.

  Silk sipped his cautiously. Clearly, it wasn’t his drink. “So what’s your game?” he asked when he’d set it down. “I suppose I’m to keep Ruby happy to ease your conscience, and you’ll pay the bills. And how long does that last?”

  “You think I’m hiring you as his companion?” Belphagor glowered over his ale. “I’m not quite sure what I did to give you such a low opinion of me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Sold the sweetest boy in Raqia to a pedo whorehouse to make a few facets? Tossed off a sexy demon in the next room from him while you thought he was sleeping? Take your pick.”

  “I see your point.” Belphagor sighed, wishing everything hadn’t gotten so complicated and knowing damned well he’d complicated them. “The reason I asked you to meet me has nothing to do with Vasily. Or very little. I won’t deny that I’m worried about him and hope you’ll keep an eye on him, but I’m not going to pay you to pretend to care about him. My assumption is that you already do.”

  “Go on.” He was clearly waiting to hear what Belphagor was going to pay him to do.

  “There are a couple of matters in which I’d like to enlist your aid. The first condition is that you allow me to dress you as I see fit—”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’d like you to cultivate a more age-appropriate image if you plan to be seen with Vasily. I have an excellent tailor who can see you today and has a few commissioned garments close to your size, never collected by the customer. I think the style will look very smart with your hair if you apply a bit of pomade and smooth it flat, similar to a look that was popular in the world of Man nearly a century ago. Here, you’ll be a trendsetter.”

  Silk opened his mouth to protest, but Belphagor went on before he could interrupt.

  “In exchange, I will finance your private enterprise. Feel free to tell me to go to hell if it isn’t what you have in mind. I’m making assumptions. But if you intend to continue in your accustomed trade, I would like it to be adult entertainment only. Your clientele is not to be under the impression that you are underage. And under no circumstances will I permit you to exploit the ‘Lost Boys’. They are to be kept out of your business entirely. I have something else in mind for them. But if you’re amenable, I think you’re well positioned to become the proprietor of Raqia’s first male-for-male brothel.”

  Silk’s mouth hung open as if he’d forgotten how his jaw worked.

  “The young men who work the Demon Market and the Devil’s Doorstep have few options for a permanent roof over their heads and are on their own when it comes to angels who decide to abuse them for their entertainment. In a brothel, they would be free to choose their own clients, and they would have the protection of the house from those who would otherwise prey upon them, as well as permanent room and board. And in return, they would pay you a portion of their earnings.” He drank the rest of his ale and gave Silk a questioning look as he continued to gape. “Is any of this amenable to you?”

  Silk managed to close his mouth and sat back on the bench, a look of suspicion overtaking his frank surprise. “You want me to be a…a madam. For manwhores.”

  “Well, not strictly a madam. A procurer, yes, but I imagine your services would be highly sought after as well. Again, stop me if I’m making erroneous assumptions. But I’m thinking of something very high caliber. On the up and up like The Cat, with the refined atmosphere of the Fletchery—had its workers been consenting adults. A gentlemen’s club.”

  “And I suppose you get eighty percent of the take.”

  Belphagor blinked at him. “What? No, why would I get any of the take? I don’t intend to work there.”

  “I’m confused. What would you get out of all this?”

  “The satisfaction of knowing demons like the Lost Boys will have somewhere to go instead of the streets—when they’re of age. I’m not fool enough to think they have any other options, though I will try to give them some. But I insist that they remain out of the business until such time as they are able to choose that life for themselves.”

  “That’s all you want.”

  “And rent for the establishment I plan to purchase as a silent investor. But don’t worry, it will be a nominal amount. Nothing like a percentage of your earnings.”

  Silk ran his hand over his shorn hair, looking bemused. “You said there were a couple of things.”

  “Right.” For someone who’d just been gobsmacked by the best player in Raqia, Silk was sharp to have remembered that. “The other thing I’d like you to do is help me destroy every demon and angel who’s had anything to do with selling demons into terrestrial slavery. I’m going to shut the whole thing down.”

  Silk laughed nervously. “Oh, just that? I thought it would be something difficult.”

  “So are you in on the first proposal?”

  “I…” The demon shook his head. “I’m going to have to give it some thought.”

  “Unfortunately, you’ll have to do it quickly. The second enterprise depends on the first. I’d like the Stone Horse to be up and running by the end of the week. Tell you what. Come with me to the tailor’s and we’ll get you set up. Then sleep on it. Discuss it with Vasily if you wish, only I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t tell him I’ve asked you to look out for him. He’s liable to go sleep in an alley in the Devil’s Doorstep if he thinks I’m influencing your interest in him.” Belphagor fiddled with his cuff where he imagined it had gotten damp in a spilled bit of ale. “And if he wants to work for you, that is, of course, his prerogative. But I have one absolute condition on that. No angels.”

  Silk folded his arms. “I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear you’ve placed conditions on him, given that you threw him out.”

  “I didn’t throw him out.”

  “Didn’t you? That’s not what he thinks. There was a sad little bag of clothes and a stack of snooty world-of-Man books waiting for him at the flat when we arrived, which, unless I miss my guess, are the whole of his possessions. Looks like throwing him out to me.”

  “I’ve given him what he asked for. Facets and a place for him to get settled with you, to do as he pleases. But make no mistake. Anyone who hurts him in any way is and will always be accountable to me.”

  “So you’re the only one who gets to hurt him, then. Good thing you’re so good at it.” Silk rose without waiting for his reaction to this well-warranted punch in the junk. “Well, let’s see this tailor of yours, then. As long as I get to keep the clothes regardless of my decision about your ‘enterprise’.”

  “Certainly.” He left some facets on the table and went ahead of Silk to the door.

  “What is it you have in mind for my boys, anyway?” asked Silk as he held it for him.

  “Schooling,” said Belphagor. “And a little bit of thieving.”

  A cooking class was going on in the kitchen. After taking a few of the older boys with her to the butcher’s and the greengrocer’s to buy ingredients for a traditional demon meal of vagabond’s pie, Anzhela had the boys engaged in an elaborate ritual of boiling and baking. Vasily hung back out of the way and watched. Kitchens were as foreign to him as angelic polo fields. The room wasn’t quite big enough for a dozen youths, so a game had started where one who was “it” dashed into the kitchen periodically and tagged another to race him up the sta
irs, while the winner of the previous race got to roll dough for the little pies. It left him feeling peculiarly left out.

  The resulting din was so loud that Vasily didn’t notice when Silk finally returned. A kiss on the back of his neck alerted him to Silk’s presence, and he turned, anxious to learn what Belphagor was up to. The sight that greeted him was jaw-dropping.

  He barely recognized Silk in an exquisite chocolate pinstripe suit, his hair parted on the side and combed slick against his head with some kind of oil. He was, in fact, insanely handsome and a bit intimidating, like a supernal grand duke or a movie star. “Where did you get those?”

  “His Highness took me shopping.”

  The casual delivery nearly knocked the air out of him. He hadn’t expected to feel jealousy from this direction. Silk, he’d thought, was the one person on his side—and now Belphagor was buying him fancy clothes, and Silk clearly wasn’t objecting. He had to work to keep his face from crumbling, and to keep his voice from being nothing more than the grinding and shifting of coals in a grate against a hot poker. “He what?”

  “It seems he wants to make me his gigolo.”

  “He wants…what?” Vasily’s vocabulary had suddenly dwindled to below simpleton.

  “Well, maybe ‘his’ isn’t the right word. I don’t know if he intends for me to put out for him specifically. I suppose it would be more accurate to say he’s offered to be my pimp.”

  The noise in the kitchen had gotten quiet. Vasily stood swiftly. “I’m going upstairs.” Without pausing to see if Silk would follow, he headed up to the attic, feeling like he couldn’t get a breath. The house itself seemed to be closing in on him. The two boys who’d been racing took one look at him and slunk past down the stairs. His eyes hurt.

  He waited with his back to the attic window until Silk appeared at the top of the little staircase. “How could you do that?”

  Silk paused. “Do what? What am I doing?”

  “Letting him buy you. I mean, I guess he did buy you, didn’t he? From your last owner.”