Prince of Tricks

by Jane Kindred

  “We’ll be there in a moment.” Belphagor sighed when the door was closed. It seemed the fun was over. Time to find out what had been going on in Heaven.

  Odinnadtsataya

  The news wasn’t what Belphagor had been expecting.

  Dmitri sat across from him while Lev served them blinchiki. “I got a call last night that someone was looking for you.”

  “Seraphim don’t generally make phone calls,” Belphagor noted, spooning jam onto his little pancakes.

  “Not a Seraph, a girl.”

  Belphagor paused with a fork full of pancake in the air. “A girl?”

  “She told my contact her name was Anzhela.” Dmitri smirked. “I suppose that’s her clever idea of a code name.”

  “Anzhela.” Belphagor set his fork down. “There was an Anzhela at The Cat.”

  “The Cat?”

  “It’s a whorehouse in Raqia. One of our female colleagues was murdered by Duke Elyon’s hired Cherub while Vasily was being framed for the principality’s assassination.”

  Dmitri shook his head. “Hired Cherub? What an odd place Heaven is. I don’t know how you can stand all the intrigue.”

  “Because there’s none at all in the world of Man.” Belphagor laughed and ate his neglected bite of blinchiki. “So your contact is saying this Anzhela is here? She’s fallen?”

  “It appears so. I don’t know how she even found the underground, but she knew enough to ask the right people about you that it got to me. She was in St. Petersburg, and I told my contact he could send her to Moscow to meet with you. She’ll be arriving at Yaroslavsky Station this morning.”

  St. Petersburg. So they’d renamed Leningrad again. It had been Petrograd when he’d first fallen.

  Belphagor advised Vasily to stay at the apartment. There was no telling whether Anzhela had been followed, or whether the Seraphim themselves might have arranged this meeting as a trap. Vasily was extremely unhappy following these orders.

  Anzhela was easy enough to find. Dressed in a celestial style that amounted to early twentieth century Earth, she was particularly conspicuous, and the male attention she was getting from fellow passengers as she made her way from the train didn’t help.

  Belphagor approached her as if he were a relative, angrily rebuking the young men harassing her, and Anzhela gave him a grateful smile as he took her arm.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked in angelic. “What’s going on?”

  “Masha sent me. The Ophanim have arrested Tabris.”

  “They what?” Belphagor came to a sudden halt on the platform. “What for?”

  “They found Ouestucati’s body in your room at The Brimstone while they were looking for your boy. They think he was involved in a conspiracy with her against the principality and killed her over it. Tabris showed up while they were there. She’d snuck out of The Cat to see her sister. The Ophanim accused her of being an accomplice and arrested her, and now the entire District is under suspicion. Masha fears they’ll clean out all the brothels and round up the street whores. The principality wants to make a public example of anyone involved in the attempt on his life.”

  “Attempt? So he’s not dead.” That was one good thing at least.

  Anzhela shook her head. “Only wounded. The new Supernal Lord Chancellor is the acting principality while he recovers.”

  “And who would that be?” Belphagor asked the question despite being certain of the answer.

  Anzhela told him exactly what he expected to hear. “Duke Elyon of the House of Arcadia.”

  Belphagor walked swiftly with the young demoness as they began to draw attention once more. He had to get her some less conspicuous clothes. “Do you have someone to stay with? Do you know anyone here?”

  Anzhela shook her head. “Masha used to live in Leningrad—St. Petersburg. She knew some demons there, but they’ve gone. I found a safe house and asked about you.”

  “And why in Heaven’s name would she send you alone to the world of Man? Have you fallen before?”

  “I haven’t. But she didn’t trust anyone else.”

  “But she trusted you.”

  Anzhela nodded. “I’m her granddaughter.”

  Belphagor appraised her. At least that explained why such a young girl was working in a cathouse. “How old are you, Anzhela?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “Humor me.”

  “I’m fifteen.”

  Belphagor drew up sharply without realizing he’d done it until Anzhela looked at him oddly. He’d been fifteen the first time he’d fallen to the world of Man. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said sternly. “This is no place for a demoness your age.” He turned her about toward Dmitri’s place. He couldn’t leave her defenseless on the street.

  “She could have Seraphim on her tail,” Dmitri argued with him later in private after he’d brought her back to the apartment and explained the situation.

  “She’s just a kid. What was I supposed to do?”

  Dmitri sighed. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. But this is getting dangerous for everyone involved.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to bring any of this to your door.” From the foyer where they’d gone to talk, Belphagor glanced at the kitchen table, where the others were having tea. “I’m going to take her back to Raqia and try to clear Vasily’s name.”

  “And just how do you intend to do that?”

  “With the help of an officer of the Supernal Army whom I may or may not have sodomized.”

  “Jesus, Bel.” Dmitri laughed despite himself. “Have you ever left a single ass unfucked?”

  Belphagor grinned. “Not if I can help it.”

  Dmitri’s expression grew serious again. “You know Vasily’s in love with you.”

  “Of course I know that.”

  “And that you’re in love with him.”

  Belphagor folded his arms without answering.

  The Grigori smiled and shook his head. “Don’t look so miserable, my friend. It’s not the end of the worlds.” He glanced at Lev and smiled. “I can’t say I entirely get the two of you. He seems a bit…volatile. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s deeply jealous of the attention you’ve been giving Lev.”

  Belphagor laughed. “No, it had totally escaped me. And what about you?”

  “Me? I’ve been over you for a while.” He grinned when Belphagor punched his arm. “I won’t say it doesn’t give me a twinge to see how well Lev gets along with you, but I’m quite secure in the knowledge that he loves me. I have no fear of him leaving me—even after you nearly fucked his mind out.” Dmitri grinned. “I just don’t know if your Vasily has that sense of security.”

  “It’s part of what he needs from me,” Belphagor said defensively. “Security would send him running in the opposite direction.”

  “You just keep telling yourself that. No projection going on there.”

  “Dmitri—”

  “All right. I won’t say another word. Just tell me what you need from me to get your plan rolling. Do you need an escort back to the portal?”

  “I just need to get Anzhela some earthly clothes, and I think we can travel unnoticed.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “And I need Vasily to stay here.”

  Dmitri stared at him. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “He’s wanted for treason. The minute I take him back there, he’ll be executed in the public square. I can’t protect him from that until I get to the bottom of things with this Elyon and expose him for the real traitor.”

  “So you expect me to babysit your half-feral firespirit.”

  “I’m sure you and Lev can find some way to keep him entertained.”

  “Belphagor. Do you really see that happening without you here? After last night, it was clear that you were right—he wasn’t do anything against his will and he was very much enjoying himself. But he was enjoying the fact that he was fucking someone at your orders, just as
he enjoyed being fucked by me because you wanted to watch him get fucked.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short.”

  “Belphagor. Seriously.”

  Belphagor sighed. “I know, Dmitri. But you never know. He’s certainly had fun without me. The Cat being a perfect case in point.”

  “The Cat? Isn’t that a brothel full of women?” Dmitri’s eyes widened at the significant lift of Belphagor’s pierced eyebrow. “Wow.” He glanced at Vasily, who was looking uncomfortable between the young demoness and Lev, chatting across him. “He’s blushing.”

  “Probably because Anzhela was there when he lost his girl-virginity to the whore who was murdered.”

  “Bozhe moi.”

  “Apparently, it was quite the show. There was a sibling tag-team thing going on between the two prostitutes. They even tried to do each other on top of me when I went in to question them.”

  Dmitri shook his head at him. “You lead the most interesting life.”

  Belphagor shrugged. Telling Vasily he was leaving him here was going to be the interesting part.

  “What the hell do you mean, you’re leaving me here?” Vasily didn’t care who heard him in the other room. Everyone else obviously already knew what Belphagor had in mind for him but himself.

  “I’m trying to save your life, malchik.”

  “Well, who asked you to?”

  “If you show up in Raqia, you’ll be hanged, no questions asked.”

  “And what the hell do you think you can do about it?”

  Belphagor was being infuriatingly calm. He’d made his mind up and was completely unfazed by Vasily’s objections. “I have a contact in the supernal army that I’m going to try to exploit to expose Elyon.”

  “What contact?”

  “The angel who helped us get out of the square that night.”

  Vasily pressed his lips together, trying not to think of the night they’d fled, trying not to think of Sefira’s lifeless body on the floor of the storeroom at the Conciliary. And then he remembered the handsome young angelic officer who had inexplicably helped Belphagor hustle him out of the crowd, and who’d gotten rid of the Cherub so they could make their escape.

  “You fucked him.”

  Belphagor said nothing. Which was everything. Vasily remembered the argument they’d been having right before he’d fallen ill—the clothes Belphagor had been wearing.

  “Was that the angel who gave you the uniform?”

  “No.” No problem answering that question.

  “Well, who the fuck was that, then?”

  Belphagor stared at him silently, wearing his “wingcasting” face, hiding everything he wished to hide, giving nothing to Vasily unless he chose to for his own purposes, as if Vasily were nothing but another opponent at the tables.

  “Who the fuck was that?” Vasily shouted. The chandelier actually rattled.

  Belphagor folded his arms. “I fucked another angel and took his clothes while he was passed out in postcoital bliss. Phaleg I fucked with a group of angels who picked me up at the market. They were novelty shopping; he was hungry for it. We found the situation mutually beneficial.”

  Vasily felt as if he’d been stabbed. He could feel the knife grinding and twisting in his gut without mercy. “When?” His voice was hoarse, and he cleared it angrily. “When did you fuck ‘Phaleg’ and all these other angels?”

  Belphagor took a breath as if Vasily were an annoying child pestering him with questions. “While you were sitting in Elyon’s cell.”

  The knife jerked to the side, disemboweling him. He even looked down to see if his intestines were spilling out onto the floor. “At Elyon’s villa?”

  “No, I told you. They picked me up in the market.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What the hell does that mean? Why would angels pick you up at the fucking market?”

  Belphagor did his annoying little eyebrow raise, like he thought he was cute. “Why do angels pick you up at the fucking market?”

  Vasily’s face went hot and his mouth dropped open and he thought he might burst into tears, and he wasn’t even sad. He was furious. And humiliated. “You were turning tricks? With angels? Why?”

  Belphagor’s eyes flashed with cruelty, only it wasn’t in the least bit like the cruelty he usually reserved for Vasily. There was nothing erotic about it. “Because you gave yourself to me, and then had a tantrum and went off and sold your ass to a group of angel bastards who wanted to watch you fuck pussy. And then you let me fuck you again, promising you were mine, without telling me you’d given yourself to a pair of demoness whores you’d never even met before, and gave that gift to the fucking angel bastard who’s used you to damn near start a celestial revolution. Who, I might add, is currently working to cement his own power in Elysium while the Ophanim Supernal Guard are out for your fucking head. And you know what, Vasya? That angel cock was some of the best cock I’ve ever sucked in my life.”

  Vasily’s head was throbbing and his eyes hurt, as if his element were boiling him alive from the inside. It was like the fever he’d had when they’d first arrived, only he wasn’t in a dreamy, peculiar fog, and Belphagor wasn’t holding him and telling him everything would be okay. Belphagor was throwing oil on him while he burned.

  “Go ahead and go to Raqia, Belphagor,” he managed. “And then go straight to hell.”

  The frozen Russian countryside that had been magical and fantastic as a backdrop to tormenting his sweet boy on the way to Moscow was a bleak, icy heap of ash. Belphagor tried to tell himself he’d done what was necessary. Vasily would never have stayed if he hadn’t kicked him to the ground like a proverbial dog. But his chest hurt as if he’d somehow kicked himself. Repeatedly. With cleats. He was finding it hard to breathe.

  “Are you all right?” Anzhela sat across from him with a look of concern on her face. A fifteen-year-old girl whose livelihood was now at stake was concerned for him.

  “Just a bit worried about things in Raqia. I’m going to need to get a message to an officer in the Supernal Army as soon as we arrive. Do you suppose your grandmother can spare you for another day?”

  “She’s not even expecting me back. She thought I might find my father’s people and stay in the world of Man. I don’t think she remembered how fast things change here. He was sixty when I was born. Nothing, of course, in terms of celestial years, but his family who’d fallen when he was a youth is long gone.”

  “And where is he? Still in Raqia?”

  “He was killed in a duel when I was a girl. He quarreled with another patron over my mother.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Anzhela shrugged. “I didn’t really know him.”

  “But your mother still works at The Cat?”

  “No. The other patron won her.”

  “Won her?”

  “My father owned her, though he’d let her go back to Masha when she had me. This other demon challenged him, and when he won the duel, he won my mother. He has her working at another brothel in the Devil’s Doorstep. That’s why Masha saved up to buy The Cat, so she could hire free girls and no one could sell them off.”

  Belphagor wasn’t quite sure what to say to this. “So…you’re an apprentice by choice?”

  “I’m not an apprentice. I’m Masha’s successor. She’s grooming me to be the madam of The Cat when she’s gone. Or she was, anyway.” Anzhela smiled at his confusion. “I keep an eye on the girls when Masha isn’t around, and the patrons ignore me, thinking I’m just a servant—or they try to buy my services if they’re drunk enough. And if I see any of them getting rough with a girl or taking liberties she hasn’t agreed to, I fetch the muscle to deal with them.”

  “So you were there when Duke Elyon and his boys patronized the place.”

  “Yes. They were mostly respectful. A bit sloppy with drink. Ouestucati and Tabris were entertaining them when Elyon said your boy was a virgin. Ouesti wanted to take him on for free.”

  Belphagor smiled at
the idea of Vasily as a virgin. “And he was respectful, I hope.”

  Anzhela laughed. “Oh, indeed. He was all ‘yes, ma’am’, and ‘no, ma’am’, and ‘thank you, ma’am’. I’d never seen the like. After she’d done him, she took him aside and said he was to ask for her whenever he wanted and she’d give him her special price.”

  “And what did he say to that?”

  “He thanked her and said he’d had a lovely time, but he was in love with a demon and he didn’t expect to be back.”

  Belphagor felt one of the cleats grinding against his sternum.

  Anzhela leaned across the little table and put her small hand on his knee. “He won’t stay mad at you, I promise. I’ve seen a lot of demons who’ve claimed to be in love with one of our girls, and only once or twice I’ve seen one with a look like your Vasily had when he said it. That look’ll forgive anything.”

  Belphagor smiled and squeezed her hand. “You’re a sweet girl, Anzhela.”

  The demoness shook her head without smiling. “I’m not a sweet girl. I’m a very smart one whose business it is to read men. And to listen and observe when men are at their most unguarded, with their pricks out of their pockets and their pants around their ankles. I can tell you what Duke Elyon aims to do.”

  Belphagor was startled by her frankness and astuteness. “And what would that be?”

  “He plans to make the principality afraid of his people so that he alone is trusted. And he plans to marry the little Grand Duchess Omeliea so Principality Helison will make him his heir.”

  “Omeliea?” Belphagor was amazed that she’d discerned this much. “But the child is barely five years old.”

  “She’s four and a half,” Anzhela confirmed. “He doesn’t care. His plan requires patience. It’s understood that as the oldest daughter, she’s unofficially been promised to the principality’s nephew, but both of them are children, so Duke Elyon need only bide his time and prove his loyalty to the House of Arkhangel’sk.”