by Karen Chance
One of the stars dropped from the sky, transforming into a pleasant-looking man in a dark business suit. He was blond, like Rosier, but the similarities ended there. His hair was thin and sleeked back, his face was round and not particularly memorable, except for a noticeable cleft in an otherwise unremarkable chin. He looked young, maybe my age, maybe a few years older, and his voice was mild, almost sweet.
I frowned at him.
He had no business being a demon.
“What we do not know is why you come before us,” he added, stopping a few feet away from the glow Mother was shedding on—yes, there was a floor down there, I guess for the use of us corporeal types. I could see it when he walked, in the shadows shed by his body. Because Mother’s light did throw them.
And it was amazing how much better I felt, just seeing those few square feet of normality. I picked my feet up, one at a time, and put them back down again, deliberately scraping them over the floor I could actually feel now. And the weird loop-de-loop my brain had been do
ing quieted down somewhat.
Too bad it didn’t do anything about the power drain.
Mother glanced at me. “Communication using Seidr is difficult for humans, and my daughter must carry the burden alone. I will therefore be blunt, for my time here is brief. She has come to ask you for the life of one man. I . . . have not.”
That did get a reaction, in the form of a dull blink, from me. And a mental replay of some of Pritkin’s history lesson. Please tell me I haven’t fucked this up, I thought blankly. Please, please, please . .
“Then why are you here?” the man asked, frowning slightly. As if he wasn’t any happier with her answer than I was.
“To grant you a boon, Adra. Or should I say, another?”
“When has the World Destroyer ever done us anything but harm?” It was a harsher voice this time, but I couldn’t tell where it came from.
Until a shorter, stouter figure stomped onto the bit of floor Mother’s light was illuminating.
And, okay, that was better. The first guy might have lulled me into a false sense of security, had I met him anywhere else, but that wasn’t an issue with this one. Not that that meant a damn—for all I knew, the new guy was a pushover. I’d learned from dealing with vamps that it didn’t do to judge on looks.
But that was kind of hard when the looks in question were so bizarre.
He—and I was guessing that solely based on voice— was pasty-pale and lumpy under a dark robe. And as far as I could tell, he had no facial features a human would recognize. He did have a head; at least I was assuming that was what the bulge on what I was also assuming were shoulders could be called, although it was a toss-up. But in place of eyes, nose, and mouth, he had a bunch of feelers or tentacles or, hell, I don’t know, white waving things emerging from pustules on the lump like the strands on an anemone. They were surrounding a hole lined with what had to be at least a couple of hundred tiny, pointy teeth.
And okay, maybe that was the mouth. I didn’t know, because I didn’t want to get close enough to find out. And yeah, that was me being species-ist and bigoted and whatever, but . .
I still didn’t.
But Mother didn’t look bothered. She lifted a single eyebrow, the way I’d never been able to do. Every time I tried it, both of mine went up, leaving me looking surprised instead of elegantly amused. But she nailed it.
“When, Asag? When I killed Ninurta, and set your people free from ten thousand years of bondage. When I slayed Pazuzu along with half his legions, and thus put an end to the war you could not. When the great Kamish fled from me, bleeding from a thousand wounds, and weak enough to allow you to hunt and exile him—”
“You did none of that for us! You were not trying to save us!” The voice was furious.
“Of course not. But the result of my actions was helpful, was it not? Or have you forgotten how they scourged you, the ones you now term ‘Ancient Horrors,’ but whom once you called lords and served humbly along with all your kin? Have you so quickly forgotten how they gloried in blood and war, while your people suffered in want and endless fear, waiting to be called up again and again, for no victory was ever enough, and no defeat deemed final . . . ?”
Mom kept talking, but I was having real trouble concentrating on her.
I was experiencing something like the electric frisson I’d felt with Mircea, only that was like saying a raindrop felt like a deluge. And okay, yeah, this might explain a few things. Like how I kept popping into other people’s heads, or them into mine . . . or it might have if I knew what the crap was going on. But I didn’t, and I couldn’t focus with what felt like a few thousand volts running along every vein.
Help, I thought vaguely.
“They left you bleeding on the battlefield,” Mother was saying. “Fodder for the carrion eaters. Or cowering behind your wards, alone on your little worlds, unable to grow or interact or explore, for fear of what prowled in the night—”
“You chief of all!” The demon sounded like he was choking.
“Oh, not chief, Asag, surely. Not for you. I only preyed on the powerful.”
The room laughed, if slightly uncomfortably. It didn’t do much to break the tension. I had a feeling nothing would.
“Whatever you may think of me,” Mother continued, “the fact remains that the killing of the great ones allowed saner voices to prevail at many courts, helped to bring about the end of the ancient wars, and did much to usher in the current era of, if not peace, at least of more stability than you have ever known.”
“And we should thank you for this?” the one she’d called Adra asked mildly.
“No, but you should, perhaps, thank me for thousands of years of freedom from my people’s depredations. When I barred them from earth, it cut them off from your worlds as well. You may think I took a heavy toll on your numbers, but how many would they have taken? In more than four millennia, how many?”
“Do you hear?” Asag demanded. “She is our benefactor now!”
“It is difficult to hear anything,” another voice interjected. “Over your chatter. Some of us would prefer to hear the Queen of Heaven.”
“Heaven is where she should have stayed. Along with the rest of her kind!”
“But we did not stay. We will not stay,” Mother said sharply. “You asked me why I came; it was to tell you this. My people have become desperate. They feasted in the good years, and grew strong. But also far more numerous. And unlike you, they did not restrict their population. They come now because they must; our world cannot support so many, even at a basic level. And when they come, whatever the price, they will come for you. And they will not take merely the ancient ones and be done with it, as I did. They will take you all.”
“Suddenly, they can return, after being barred for so long?” the one she called Adra asked. “Suddenly, your great protection fails?”
He sounded less crazed than the other guy, but I wasn’t sure he was any less skeptical. I guess I couldn’t blame him; it sounded like she’d played them pretty well in the past. But if she was going to bring them around now, she’d better hurry.
I’d passed tingly, traveled through fiery, said good-bye to scorching. And was starting to approach whatever it was called when one of those cartoon characters pushed a finger in a light socket and it lit him up, showing the skeleton through the skin. Even my hair felt crunchy. A human wasn’t meant to channel this much raw power.
And this one wasn’t going to be doing it for much longer.
“No, but as their hunger grows, so does their desperation,” Mother said, more quickly. “They will now risk things they once would have scorned. And I am no longer here, to be a bulwark for the twin worlds, or for you.”
“That sort of bulwark we can do without!” Asag said. “Do you not see what she is doing?” he asked his fellow demons. “Even from the grave she strikes at us! She uses her human child to speak to us, just as she would use her and the incubus’ spawn to finish what she began. And destroy us all!”
>
“My son has nothing to do with this!” Rosier’s voice rang out from somewhere. “I told you, it’s that girl—”
“Be silent! If you had not opposed his execution years ago, we would not be facing this peril now!”
“The peril you face is not of their making, Asag,” Mother said mildly. “Your paranoia is as strong as ever, and as ever it is misplaced.”
The demon started to respond, but was cut off by the demon Mom had called Adra. “You may voice your concerns afterward, my lord. For now, let her speak.”
“It is not Asag’s ramblings that you need to fear,” she said. “Or others like him. It is those too timid to speak now, but who, when I am gone, will cloak their fear in the voice of reason. We will do as we did before, they will say. We will take refuge behind our walls, behind our locked and barred gates, and wait. It saved us once; why not again? And from enemies who may never return, or who if they do will not have the same skill as She Who Controls the Paths. They did not dare to hunt us before, in our own lands. They will not dare now. We are safe. . . ”
She trailed off, gentle mocking in her tone, and the room became deadly quiet.
“I come to tell you that you are not safe. You were only so before if you did not interest me. I could have taken any of you, anytime I pleased, and there are those now as powerful as I once was. They do not have my gift, no. But they have others. And they will use them.”
“Lies!” Asag exploded. “Lies! Who is the only one who hunted us, who used us, for whom we swore eternal hatred? Have you so quickly forgotten?”
“We have forgotten nothing,” Adra said. “And I have warned you once.”
At least, I thought that’s what he said. I could barely hear over my heartbeat anymore, I couldn’t feel my legs, and my whole body was trembling like I had a fever. I felt someone’s hand on my arm, clenching tight, but I couldn’t tell whose. Someone who was trying to keep me upright, but I was past caring. I didn’t need to be on my feet; I just needed this to be over. I just needed . .
To give her time to finish.
Mother’s eyes swept the room, and there was no amusement in her voice now, no banter, no teasing. It was flat and uncompromising, the voice of an oracle in full control of her power. In spite of everything, it sent a wash of gooseflesh over my arms.
I wondered if anyone else realized; she wasn’t just talking anymore.
She was prophesying.
“You are poised on a razor’s edge. Join my daughter. Fight with her. Give her the incubus and whatever other help you can. For if you do not, there will come a time, very soon, when you will wish you had.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Five minutes later, I was on a couch in the lobby, slightly steaming. If I was a cartoon, I’d have had a blackened face, hair standing straight on end, and wisps of steam floating out of my ears. And I wasn’t the only one.
“Well, that could have gone better.”
That was Caleb, mopping his face with an oversized handkerchief he’d pulled out of all that leather. His hair wasn’t standing on end because he didn’t have any, but his usually rich skin tone had an ashen cast, and his eyes were a little more open than technically necessary. If it had been anyone else, I’d have said he was flirting with a panic attack, only war mages didn’t.
Of course, they didn’t usually stand in front of a full session of the demon high council, either.
Not that we were anymore. I’d lost the connection, whatever it was, to Mom shortly after the room erupted in chaos. And not the good kind. The weird-vibrationsthat-made-my-skin-feel-like-it-was-about-to-come-offthe-bone kind, like we were in a giant drum and somebody had suddenly decided to beat the hell out of it. And then there had been the noise, which probably hadn’t been metallic shrieks and high-pitched squeals and elephant-like trumpets, but my brain had given up trying to make sense of this crap and had just started tossing random junk in there.
So yeah.
Could have gone better.
On the other hand, the vibrate-y, noisy stuff had caused me to retch and flop over. And collapsing into nothing, not even a floor because I still couldn’t feel it properly, just nothing, was something I could live without ever experiencing again. But the good news was, it had gotten us kicked out on our collective asses.
The bad news was, Pritkin hadn’t come with us.
I stared at the big double doors leading back into hell’s inner sanctum and, despite everything, had a sudden urge to run back in there. And I guess more than an urge, because the next thing I knew, I was halfway to my feet and Caleb’s arm was holding me back. “Not a chance,” he grumbled.
“I just want to listen—”
“To what?” he demanded. “The shrieking?”
“They won’t let you in anyway,” Casanova reminded me. “They said no humans in the deliberations.”
“Pritkin’s in there—”
“He’s the accused. That’s different.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of!”
“Here.” Casanova handed over his precious bottle of hell juice.
I blinked at him.
“You’re white as a sheet,” he said gruffly.
I took the bottle, a little gingerly. And okay, if I’d needed confirmation that things were bad, I’d just gotten it. Casanova was being nice to me.
We were so fucked.
I drank. People, or things, or things pretending to be people came and went, paying no attention to the three bums sprawled in the corner. Caleb kept glancing around, but not like he was tensing to fight. More like the bland familiarity of the lobby was reassuring to him.
It wasn’t doing a lot for me.
Long minutes passed.
“Maybe it was intended as a negotiation tactic,” Caleb suddenly blurted out.
I glanced over at him. He looked a little less freaked-out, but no happier. I knew the feeling.
Having time to think was a bitch.
“What?”
“You know,” he told me. “All of that stuff about the gods . . ”
I passed over the bottle. “You think Mom was lying?”
Caleb took a swig, and made a face. “I’m not saying that. We’ve already had one god show up, and the punk-ass kids of another. But she could have been exaggerating. She was bargaining with them, and in a negotiation, you always ask for more than you hope to get. We want Pritkin, so your mother asks for—”
“An army?” Casanova said incredulously. “A demon army?”
Caleb scowled. “I thought you were the one who thought that was a good idea. You spent half the damned walk into Rosier’s capital bitching about—”
“The fact that we could use some help with the war we already have going,” Casanova said, snatching his bottle back. “Not being informed that there’s an army of ravenous gods preparing to lay waste to the hells, and planning to use earth as a staging ground!”
He belted back a couple shots’ worth, all at one go.
“Well, forgive me for hoping it’s not true,” Caleb retorted. “As someone who’ll have to fight it!”
Casanova leaned over me to stare at him. “And the rest of us won’t? You think the gods are going to wipe out the war mages and just leave everyone else—”
“The Corps is the obvious target, yes. We’re the only ones with enough magic to oppose them—”
“Oh, please!” Casanova said fiercely. “If those things—did you see those things?—in there are shaking in their boots, what chance do you think you have?”
“Better than you think, or they’re expecting. The Corps isn’t the ragtag little group they remember—”
“Yes, which is why the goddess who started your order just said we’re screwed without the demons! Face it—if the gods get past that damned spell, we’re dead, we’re all—”
“Stop it,” I said, but no one was listening.
“Thus speaks the great military mind of a casino manager!” Caleb snapped.
“Who has lived long enough to ha
ve seen a few wars in his time,” Casanova snapped back. “And it’s never just the combatants who suffer—”
“I didn’t say it was—”
“And we both know it’s easier to run a staging ground if you don’t have to worry about sabotage!”
“Stop it!” I told him. But he didn’t.
“If I were them, I wouldn’t want anyone anywhere near my only doorway to this universe, not after what happened last time. Easier to kill us, kill the fey, hell, kill the humans, too. It’s not like they need them anymore if they’re invading the hells anyway—”
“They’d need them to feed their precious herd,” Caleb growled. “There’s no way they would—”
“If they want to feed their cows, they can do it with creatures like we saw on Rosier’s world. If even the incubi can control them, the gods’ll never have to worry about rebellion. They’ll never have to worry about any—” He broke off as I got up. Because it was either that or start screaming.
“Where are you going?” Casanova demanded.
“Somewhere else!”
“Cassie—”
“No,” I told him as he grabbed for my wrist. And missed, because he was drunker than he’d been in the bar. “I can’t, all right? I just—I can’t.”
“It’s okay,” Caleb told me. And then grimaced, because it wasn’t and we both knew it. “Just . . . sit back down.”
“I don’t want to sit down!”
“It’s not like you have a choice,” Casanova pointed out. “Where else are you going to go?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t know. I just knew I couldn’t sit there and listen to them argue when there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about any of it. I was staggering with exhaustion, but I couldn’t sleep, either, not with Pritkin in there pleading for his life. And it didn’t look like there was enough left in that bottle to get me drunk.
I didn’t know what I wanted.
“I know how you feel,” Caleb said, and took my hand.
He didn’t grab it or yank on it or even trap it, which, in the state I was in, might have sent me over the edge. The fingers were slightly open, the hold loose. I could have pulled away at any time.