by Jane Kindred
Vasily’s “mystique” resulted in a fairly lucrative evening as several patrons paid just to watch him stroke himself off after hearing from a happy patron who’d paid for a private show. It was a skill he’d never expected to be rewarded for, even in this business, and with a fairly short refractory period, he managed to impress his audience with more than one performance. His warning not to get too close because of the heat of his emissions proved extraordinarily popular.
It was during this second performance, while patrons pressed in against each other around the edges of the room to get a look, that he saw Kezef. The disarmingly handsome demon smiled at him across the room and tossed a small pouch of facets over the heads of the patrons in front of him to land at Vasily’s feet. The blood nearly abandoned Vasily’s cock, but he channeled the heat from his anger into his groin.
“Take off your clothes,” Kezef called. “I’m sure we’d all like to get a better look.”
An eager chorus took up the chant of “take it off!” and Vasily felt obliged to comply if he didn’t want to make a scene. Steeling himself to ignore Kezef, he pulled off his top one-handed and tossed it down without missing a stroke, to great applause. He was less eager to get completely naked, but the chanting continued, and Kezef put him on the spot by calling out, “Earn your facets, boy!” With his cock poised furiously in front of him, Vasily stripped out of the jeans, yanking them over his boots so he wouldn’t have to take those off. Oddly enough, keeping them on gave him a sense of power that with complete nakedness would have been absent.
Just as he brought himself to a crowd-pleasing finish and ejaculated with a feral roar, Kezef appeared at the front of the crowd, having pushed his way forward. “Very impressive, firespirit. How much to do it again while you service me orally?”
Vasily scowled at him, his hand still dripping with the last of his spunk. “Not if you were the last demon in Heaven.”
Kezef gave him his signature unnerving smile. “Still afraid to find out what you’re willing to swallow?”
“Fuck you, Kezef.” Vasily gathered his clothes, using his shirt to clean up as the crowd began to dissipate.
Kezef stepped too close to him. “Like your Silk did last night? I don’t mean fucked you, of course. I mean swallowed. Me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“About your demon, Silk,” said Kezef patiently. “With my prick in his mouth, swallowing obediently, proving what he is, what he’s good for. After he told me everything about Belphagor’s plan.”
Vasily’s heart was pounding as he pulled on his pants. “What plan? You’re full of shit.”
“The plan to entrap the agencies involved in demon trafficking. Belphagor paid me handsomely to keep quiet, and so I will. Although…I may have mentioned it to one or two demons before I made that arrangement with him.”
“You son of a succubus.”
“Is that the best you can do?” Kezef reached behind him before Vasily could react and dug his fingers into the hair at his nape. “I’d love to find out what else I can make you say. Before, during and after I use you. After is always the most illuminating. Once a demon knows what he truly is and can be made to do, having him tell me aloud is tremendously arousing.”
Vasily jerked his head to the side and shoved Kezef away. “Keep your fucking hands off me. And mine.”
Kezef laughed. “I’ll bet you good crystal you’ll come to me on your own eventually to find out just what a filthy whore you really are. And I’ll be waiting to show you.”
Vasily walked away from him, refusing to give him the pleasure of any further reaction. He paused on his way out to find one of the rent boys he trusted to let him know the Horse was in his hands for the rest of the evening. He had to be sure Kezef was lying.
After slipping next door for a clean shirt, Vasily hurried to The Cat. Silk and the others had been gone for just over an hour by his count. Their plan had been to have everything in place well before the patrons arrived. If Kezef did speak the truth, whatever his treachery had yielded, perhaps there was still time to stop it.
The front door of The Cat was locked. He was pretty sure that was a first for a whorehouse. Vasily lifted the unused knocker and rapped it against the wood. A long pause followed before the door opened a crack and one of the girls peered out—the tall redhead with the tail tattoo, who called herself Pussy Familiar. “Most of the girls have the night off,” she murmured. “Private party.” And then her eyes lit with recognition. “Oh! Vasily. Are you supposed to…?”
“No, I’m not,” he murmured back. “But I need to speak with Silk. It’s urgent.”
The door opened wider, pulled by someone behind her. Pussy moved out of the way, revealing one of the Dominions Vasily had entertained the night of the Stone Horse opening. “What’s the meaning of this?” The scowling Dominion turned toward the parlor. “Why is your firespirit here?”
He’d have to act quickly to take suspicion off Silk. Vasily pushed the Dominion aside and barged in, and after taking in the room full of boys paired off in flirtation with angelic patrons, he turned his kindling eyes on Silk where he reclined with another angel. “Damn you, Silk! How could you do this? After everything Belphagor did for you, you sell the boys anyway?”
Silk stared up at him, outrage warring with confusion. He excused himself and came to the entrance of the room, pushing Vasily back despite his much smaller stature. “Outside,” he snapped. “Everyone, please excuse the interruption. It’s just a dispute with my boy that should have been kept at home.” He dragged Vasily with him out the door and slammed it. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Kezef,” said Vasily.
Silk’s cheeks seemed to color just a bit in the dim light. “What about him?”
“He showed up at the Horse and said he found out about tonight. From you. And that he’s spread the word. Did you—did you really—?”
Silk put his hands on his hips. “Yes, Ruby. I really. It was part of the plan. Belphagor didn’t want to worry you. And now you’ve spooked everyone here.”
“I don’t understand how you could let him touch you—how you could touch him after what he did to you. He almost killed you.”
“It was a business transaction. And I don’t have time for this. The raid is supposed to happen any minute. We all thought you were it, actually. So either come inside and shut up about the plan, or get out of here.”
“But if Kezef knows about the raid—”
“He doesn’t. He thinks the plan was for the arrests to happen once they leave The Cat. What they all think is that they’ll have their way with the boys here and leave without them, and they’ll be untouchable. The drovers are supposed to smuggle the ‘merchandise’ out through the back and take them straight to the portal. That’s the deal I claimed to make with him. But if I don’t get back in there right now, the boys are in actual danger. So good-bye.” Silk turned and rapped on the door, and when Pussy opened it to let him in, Vasily followed. Silk glared at him, silently ordering him to keep quiet.
The count who’d pretended to buy Vasily at the Fletchery rose with his arm around little Ruslan. “I think we’ve all made our selections.” Ruslan’s eyes had gone wide with fear.
“Relax, Count Salmay.” Silk was smooth. “The evening’s just getting started. That’s why Ruby’s here. He’s going to perform for us.”
Vasily couldn’t hide his look of astonishment. “I…what?”
“Your fire tricks, sweetie.” Silk curled up next to his angelic friend once more on the cushions. The large fireplaces on either end of the room were already blazing as usual. It wasn’t as if he could light one for them.
Vasily glanced around the room. “Does anyone have a cigar or a smoke?” He was met with blank stares. The room was mostly angels, and angels considered smoking a demon’s vice.
Entertaining the drovers on the other side of the room, Belphagor’s friend Natalya rose and came forward. “I have one on me.” She reached into her co
rseted cleavage and withdrew a single slim cigarette. The demoness had the coloring of an airspirit, and Vasily suspected that like Belphagor, she was fond of performing little tricks of her own.
“Put it in your mouth,” said Silk.
She held it gracefully to her lips and waited. Vasily had never lit such a tiny cigarette. He stuck out his tongue, narrowed to a point, and leaned toward her, concentrating his element in the tip until it glowed red.
“Imagine that up your bum,” said Silk just as Vasily touched his tongue to the cigarette. Vasily’s cheeks went as warm as his tongue at the laughter filling the room. The demoness took a puff on her lit cigarette and blew out gracefully, and several patrons clapped.
When Vasily straightened, he looked into the eyes of Tabris, holding apart the thick beaded curtain that separated the parlor from the corridor leading to the private rooms.
Natalya caught his gaze and turned. “Tabi?”
“They’ve hurt the pretty angel.”
Natalya went to her and tried to take her arm. “Come on, Tabi. Back to bed.”
But Tabris shrugged away from her. “He’s bleeding! Does no one care?”
“Bleeding?” Natalya dropped her cigarette and crushed it under her slipper. “What are you talking about, Tabi? Who’s bleeding?”
“The pretty angel!” Tabris’s shrill outburst made the mirrored walls rattle, coinciding with a sudden, forceful banging on the outer door.
“Open in the name of the law of the Princedom of the Firmament of Shehaqim!” Even as the words were delivered, the doorframe splintered and a dozen uniformed Powers burst into The Cat, blocking any egress, while the angelic patrons jumped to their feet and away from their chosen boys.
The drovers were gone, having slipped into the back during Vasily’s stupid trick.
While a pair of supernal soldiers shoved Vasily to his knees, Silk rose amid the chaos, staring through the soldiers as if they weren’t there and fixing his eyes on Tabris. “Phaleg.”
“He’s bleeding,” she wailed. “And Anzhela’s gone.”
“On your knees, demon!” One of the angels backhanded Silk and caught him off guard, sending him sprawling across the cushions.
“Not me.” He struggled as the angel grabbed him about the neck to pull him up onto his knees. “I’m with Phaleg! And he needs help.”
The officer in command pushed the other angel out of the way. “Leave him be. We were told to check for cutpurses.”
One by one, the boys raised their prizes in front of them: the purses they’d expertly cut while their patrons were unaware. Trained by the master thief; Belphagor had been busy. There was no mistaking to whom each purse belonged. Angels were arrogant enough that they had their house emblems emblazoned upon them. To an angel, the patrons grasped at their sides in disbelief to find their purse strings hanging empty.
While the angelic patrons were rounded up, protesting loudly about their own importance, the soldiers verified the full purse still tied to Vasily’s belt and let him go. How fortunate for him that he had one tonight. Silk was already headed for the back of the house, and Vasily followed. Inside the corridor, Tabris stood with her back to the wall, frozen with fear at the sight of angelic soldiers in The Cat.
Inside the room where Phaleg had gone with Anzhela to give the appearance of being engaged in their transaction, the angel sat dazed against the open door, blood running down the side of his head.
Silk ran to him and dropped to his knees, examining his head. “Phaleg, what happened? Are you all right?”
“Damned drovers.” He winced at Silk’s touch. “Must’ve gotten wind something was up. Burst in here and grabbed Anzhela. Going to fall.”
“You’re already sitting down,” Silk assured him.
Phaleg shook his head and winced again at the movement. “Not me. Drovers. With Anzhela.” He met Silk’s eyes, a light blush rising in his cheeks in response to Silk’s genuine concern that conveyed more than words. “I’m okay. Really.”
The drovers were headed for the portal—where Belphagor was currently working his glamour. And it was Vasily’s fault they’d been spooked. “We have to stop them.”
He turned to head out, but the way was blocked by one of the soldiers. “How do we know you’re not one of these ‘drovers’? They’re the ones supposed to have the facets, and you’ve got plenty.”
“He’s not,” said Phaleg. “He’s with us.”
Though he appreciated being vouched for, Vasily wasn’t quite sure he was with them. Phaleg and Silk seemed to be making a rather definite “us” at the moment, of which he was most decidedly not a member. But that was good. That was as it should be. Even if Phaleg was a precious little prig who didn’t deserve Silk. “Follow me, or get out of my way,” he growled as he pushed through the angels.
Natalya stepped away from trying to calm Tabris and matched his stride. “I’m going with you.”
Vasily shook his head. “Too dangerous.”
“It’s my glamour.”
Vasily paused. “It’s what?” He eyed Natalya with suspicion, looking for some sign of Belphagor.
“The glamour B’s working. It’s mine, and he’s going to need help maintaining the fabric of the spell with demons trying to get through it. And Anzhela is one of ours. I can’t leave this up to you and B just because you have cocks.”
Vasily raised his brow. “I hadn’t exactly planned on beating anyone over the head with mine.”
Natalya grinned. “Well, if you do, please promise me you’ll charge for the show.”
Laying the framework of the spell to glamour the portal was like crocheting with threads of silicone gel, and they were becoming increasingly sticky. This level of magical interference could only mean someone was actively seeking the portal.
Though the portal’s entrance didn’t move, its own magic gave the impression that it did, requiring a certain amount of elemental “casting” to keep from being thrown off its trail in the first place. It was this magical property of the portal he was exploiting with the concealment glamour, fortifying it and warping it at the same time to cause permanent confusion. His own portal in the Brimstone he’d done something of the opposite with, sealing it into one “mental” plane of existence to keep from being constantly confounded in his own room—he’d learned that lesson the hard way.
“Keep a weather eye on the horizon,” he murmured to Khai, who was holding the lantern for him as he worked. “Someone’s seeking the portal.”
“You’ve been at this awhile. You need to rest that arm.”
“I can’t stop in the middle of the spell.”
“Well, how many times do you have to circle the damned thing before it’s finished?”
“I’m not circling, I’m spiraling.”
“Because that’s hugely different.”
Belphagor glared up at him. “It is to the spell. I have to reinforce it at regular intervals in an increasing outward revolution. I’ll feel it when it’s done.”
Khai was glancing over the top of his head. “You know that weather eye you asked me to keep? Storm’s coming.” Belphagor turned. A group of demons he would have otherwise mistaken for angels was approaching on horseback like the four horsemen of the apocalypse. They had obviously stolen the mounts of supernal soldiers—a bold move in the middle of Raqia, and one that said they weren’t planning on staying in Heaven. On the back of one of the horses, Anzhela sat behind its rider. The drovers had somehow managed to escape the raid at The Cat.
Belphagor straightened, his shoulder aching as he drew his arm close. While there was no way he was going to be able to take these assholes in a fight, he could sense their uncertainty, despite being nearly upon the portal. The glamour was almost in place. If he just added enough of his own influence to hold it, they might be deterred.
The demons drew up their mounts in front of him. “This the spot?” one of them asked Anzhela.
The reply seemed unlike her. “I think so. Maybe.”
The
demon dismounted and pulled her from the back of her horse. “What do you mean, maybe? Either it is or it isn’t. You know damned well where it is. I’m tired of your games.”
“You knew where it was yourself an hour ago, yet you don’t seem to be able to find it on your own.”
With the demon poised to strike her, Belphagor stepped forward to grab his arm. “Don’t manhandle the young lady. I believe she answered your question.”
“Lady?” The demon shook him off. “She’s a whore. And she has a date in the world of Man.”
Belphagor folded his arms to cover his physical discomfort. It also served as a sort of visual complement to the verbal misdirection he was about to employ. Even a little would help reinforce the multiple layers of influence at work in driving seekers away from the portal. “Who are you to say a whore isn’t a lady? I, myself, have been both.”
The demon paused. “Both what?”
Belphagor lifted his eyebrow provocatively. “A lady and a whore. But at present, I am merely a whoremonger. And I happen to be the guardian of the young lady in your company, who is, incidentally, not a whore.”
“Huh?”
“I do have access to quite a variety, however, if you’d like me to procure one for you. Any preference for size, hue or endowments can be accommodated. Of course, I can’t guarantee that any of my whores will be willing to service all four of you together. That’s a recipe for disaster, if you ask me.” The other three demons had dismounted, looking equally confused.
“What the hell are you prattling on about?”
“I might be willing to do four for the right price,” said Khai, drawing their attention away from Belphagor for the moment. “I mean, not the four of you, just four in general.”
“You are very flexible,” Belphagor agreed.
“I don’t know what the hell you two are talking about,” the first demon interrupted. “But there’s a portal around here somewhere, and my friends and I don’t have time for this.”