Desmond limps a few paces forward. “Here I go.” Cough, cough. “Into the hospital.” Cough, cough. “I wonder what the west wing is like? Maybe I’ll go there now.” He pauses by the front door and scans the area. All the blood drains from his scaly green face, giving him a decidedly pale appearance. He’s really taking this hard, which confirms my suspicions.
No question about it. Desmond was trying to lure us into the lair of a badass demon.
“Boy,” says Desmond in a full voice. “I sure hope the prince and great scala don’t come looking for me here.” He inspects a small sign by the door. “In Purgatory Hospital DH-27B. At the west wing.”
Desmond scans the area once more. Eventually, his thin shoulders slump in defeat as he limps into the hospital.
Once Desmond’s gone, I shake my head. “Poor guy. He did everything except shoot off a flare gun.”
“Probably would have if he’d brought one.” Lincoln rubs his square chin. “Purgatory Hospital DH-27B. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Nothing in particular. It’s a standard-issue building. Total cookie cutter.”
Purgatory used to be run by ghouls, a supernatural race obsessed with order and sameness. They’re also cheap bunch of bastards, so our hospitals not only look alike, but they also have all the same crap equipment.
“Anything dangerous?” asks Lincoln.
“This place wouldn’t have any special devices that could hurt us, if that’s what you’re wondering. Under the ghouls, hospitals only held the basics for patching up a broken arm, maybe stitching a wound or two. That’s about it.”
“Have you ever been inside one before?”
“Quasis mostly went to ghoul hospitals to get a form 87-J. It proves you’re sick so you can legitimately skip school.”
Lincoln gives me a sly look. “In other words, you’ve never been inside a place like this.”
“Yeah, you know me. Not a big fan of the rules. All I cared about was fighting in the Arena.” Hard to believe that just six months ago, my biggest worry was how to get out of high school and into more Arena battles.
Anticipation hangs heavily in the air. Lincoln pulls his baculum from his belt. These are two silver sticks that he can ignite with angelfire and transform into almost any kind of weapon. The fact that my guy is getting them ready now? It means he thinks the same thing that I do.
This is about to get ugly.
Sweet.
I tap my chin. “So, what do you think? Should we slip in through the roof?” Lincoln goes on demon patrols all the time, so he knows how to engage the enemy in the field. Approach isn’t as important when you’re fighting in the Arena. You walk out your respective entrance archways, and then—BOOM—the fighting starts.
“There’s good ground cover to reach the west wing,” answers Lincoln. “Let’s go that route. Desmond was kind enough to state it as his final destination.”
“And once we’re there?”
Lincoln pats his pocket. “I have a charm that should help.”
“Cool.” For the record, I’m not much of a magic girl, but I do admire the charms that thrax use on demon patrol. The House of Striga makes them. Each spell is camouflaged to look like some kind of junk you’d already have in your pocket.
“This way.” While staying low, Lincoln slips along a zigzag path of half-smashed walls and piles of rubble. I keep close behind. Soon, we reach the hospital’s western wall, which is a tall panel of cracked concrete lined with high windows. Lincoln kneels beneath the closest window frame. Our gazes meet. Energy zings through my limbs. Battle, here I come.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Hells yes.”
Lincoln reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like an old gum wrapper. That’s a revealment charm. Nice. I’ve seen those before—revealments enable you to see and hear through walls. Lincoln holds the small sheet of paper before his lips and whispers one word. “Ostendo.”
The wrapper disappears in puff of purple smoke, and the wall before us transforms. Cracks deepen until the concrete seems to crumble in on itself, revealing the room beyond the wall. I stifle the urge to applaud. That’s some cool stuff, right there.
The magic shows us an interior waiting room, and man, is it ever a mess. Overturned chairs and shredded magazines line the floor. The reception desk is a smashed-up wreck. Dust covers everything.
Desmond paces the floor, leaving a trail of three-toed footprints behind him. “They could still be following me, you know.”
At this point, I must say a word on the awesomeness of revealment charms. Right now, I can see and hear Desmond, but he can’t detect me. I mean, I could set off a firecracker, and he wouldn’t know. Cool, right?
A man and woman answer Desmond in unison. “Perhaps.”
Their low, sexy voices set my inner wrath demon on alert. These are enemies. At the same time, my other demonic side recognizes their particular brand of power. Lust demons.
I crane my neck, trying for a better view. Can’t see them at all. Whoever these demons are, they’re standing just outside the range of Lincoln’s charm.
I shift my weight. Still nothing.
Beside me, Lincoln checks the charms in his pockets.
“Do you have another revealment?” I ask.
“That was my last one. I have other magic, but none of it would address this particular problem.” Lincoln rubs his neck, his eyes lost in thought. “What do you think is in there?”
“Lust demons, pure and simple.”
Lincoln shakes his head. “I’m not so sure. Lust demons rarely fight in pairs, let alone speak in unison.” He focuses on the hospital interior so intensely, I think laser beams might shoot out of his eyes. “With one exception.”
A shiver twists up my neck. When it comes to demons, I’m a self-taught expert. I know the “exception” that Lincoln’s talking about, and it’s extremely rare. “Dyad demons.”
“Let’s hope I’m wrong.”
“Yeah. Let’s.”
Dyad demons are super-hard to kill. They always move as a mated pair, male and female. Both have lust powers, which can be tough in a fight. I don’t dabble in this kind of thing, but many lust demons give off an aura of compulsion that turns regular folks into compliant servants. I don’t fall for compulsions myself. Even so, all those waves of power coming at me? It can be mega distracting. So, lust demons are already tricky in a fight.
But dyad demons? They have even darker abilities.
Dyad men can summon a black mist that freezes everyone nearby, trapping you inside your own body so you’re awake yet unable to move. Fun times. Meanwhile, dyad women are shape shifters. I’m not talking about the kind that only turns into a wolf or whatever. Dyad women can become anything with a pulse, from bugs to dragons. Totally badass.
To make matters worse, dyads are linked by a power field called a tether. It’s a sort of black cloud that hovers about an inch above their skin. A dark cord of the same material then connects the demons to each other. To kill either demon, you first have to break the tether. The good news is that once the tether is cut, they’ll eventually die. But in the meantime? You have a couple of majorly pissed-off baddies on your hands. Some dyads fight for hours, even after their tether’s been cut.
A weight of foreboding settles into my bones. Dyad demons. Ugh.
From inside the ruined hospital, the man and woman speak in unison again. “You lost the prince and great scala. We must move on with our plans.”
“No,” says Desmond. “Give them a few more minutes. I know those two. They will come for the Rixa Codex.”
“We have a better idea,” they say. “Hand over the book. Aldred wishes it to be safe.”
My breath hitches. It’s one thing to suspect that the Earl of Acca is trying to ruin your life. Again. It’s another to hear some random demons confirm it.
But they did.
The facts swirl around in my head. Aldred, the Earl of Acca, definitely hired Desmond to steal our codex. Simu
ltaneously, he contracted two mystery demons to murder us in cold blood. For the millionth time, I wish I could deep-six that dude. Even so, Aldred has too many supporters among the thrax. We must dismantle the House of Acca, and to do that, we need the courts. We need the Rixa Codex.
Desmond sniffs. “You want to avoid a battle. Aldred’s orders were clear. You’re supposed to kill them before I do anything else. After they’re dead, I must take the codex to the Lady.”
My brows lift. The Lady? I look to Lincoln. “Any idea who that is?”
“Not a one.”
The paired voices speak again. “The Lady doesn’t want to travel to the Wheeler Institute again. Earth is such a long journey this time of year. Give us the codex. We’ll take care of everything.”
Desmond pulls the book from his pocket. It’s a small white volume that’s no larger than my palm. “I don’t know if I should.” He hides the codex away once more. “It’s not wise to trust demons.”
“We’re more than just demons,” they say. “We’re friends.”
“Call me Dusk,” adds the woman.
“And I’m Mourn,” says the man.
At last, the two demons step into view. Both are on the short side with pasty-white skin, black hair, and dark eyes. Their features are so smooth and perfect, they remind me of mannequins. Dusk wears a long evening gown made of crimson silk, while Mourn wears a matching red suit. Although they stand side by side, there’s no mistaking the field of dark energy that rests right above their skin. A cord of the same black stuff curls across the floor, connecting them both.
That’s definitely a tether.
My heart sinks. Dyad demons for sure.
And they stand between us and the Rixa Codex.
Crap.
My mind races through everything I know about this demon class. If A is the toughest, then dyads are A+++. The best way to kill dyads is with an ambush. Straight-on assaults rarely succeed. But how could I approach them without it being an obvious attack? I’m the most famous lust demon in all the after-realms. Unlike Dusk, I can’t easily change my appearance, either. I glance over to Lincoln. “You got any ideas?”
“Not yet.”
Inside the hospital, Dusk and Mourn step closer to Desmond. “Tell us how you began working for Aldred.” Waves of demonic power wash over me. Dusk and Mourn have started working their lust demon mojo.
Desmond puffs out his chest. “Oh, Aldred noticed how I follow around the President of Purgatory and the great scala.”
Dusk and Mourn speak in sync again. “So you made a deal with Aldred?”
“Yup. A good one too. ”
“Then you know how the man works. We also have an agreement with the Earl of Acca. We can’t hurt you.”
By the way, this is how Aldred controls people: crappy magical agreements. He also specializes in blackmail. For example, Lincoln has never stopped trying to put together an alliance of all the thrax Houses against Acca. Even so, the second someone is close to signing? They back out under sketchy circumstances citing their “good name” or the “safety of their family.” In other words, blackmail.
All of which is why Aldred and Acca need to go buh-bye.
“You can’t hurt me?” Desmond’s yellow eyes widen. I can clearly make out the vertical slits in them. “Truly?”
“Of course not. So why don’t you hand over the codex and go home?” Another pulse of power moves through the air. The lust demons are now pushing their mojo to eleven. “You want to do this, don’t you?”
Desmond’s features go slack. “If I gave you the codex, would Dusk give me a kiss?”
She blinks her heavy-lidded eyes. “Perhaps.”
“Then, sure. I’ll hand over the book.”
“Good.” Mourn raises his right hand, and a small cloud of black dust curls around his palm. “Because our deal with Aldred was very particular. We agreed not to harm you, with one exception. If you betray his orders, then you’re fair game.”
Desmond keeps up his goggle-eyed stare at Dusk. “So I get a kiss?”
“No, you just betrayed Aldred’s orders,” Dusk explains. “He instructed you—and only you—to deliver the codex to the Lady, didn’t he?”
“Sure.” Desmond keeps up his stare-fest with Dusk’s mouth. He has no idea what they’re saying at this point. I’m starting to feel a little sorry for him.
That said, they haven’t frozen him solid, which is what will happen to Lincoln and me the second we make our presences known.
Unless we can come up with a way to protect ourselves from the freezing magic of a dyad demon.
Which no one’s ever done before.
Yipes.
“You’ve disobeyed the terms of your deal with Aldred,” says Mourn. “Now, we can end your sad little life.” The black dust flies away from Mourn’s palm. Instantly the dark power envelops Desmond, freezing him in place.
My hand moves to my throat. I knew dyads could turn their opponents into statues. That said, I had no idea it would work so quickly.
Next it’s Dusk who raises her hand. A flurry of red particles whirl around her body, obscuring her from view. A moment later, the lovely woman is gone, replaced by a massive praying mantis with a red exoskeleton and long razor-sharp forearms. She tilts her tiny head, and a gleam of red demonic power flits through her overlarge eyes.
That’s one nasty sight, right there.
Swiping her arm, mantis-Dusk slices right through Desmond’s neck. I choke back a gasp. Desmond’s body is still frozen in place, but with a line of blood across his throat. Not good.
Dusk turns to Mourn. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“It never is.”
“What do you think Aldred will give us for the codex?”
Mourn sets his hands in his pockets. “You won’t offer it to the Lady first?”
“She won’t want it.” Dusk shrugs her thin insect shoulders. “She only volunteered our help to find it because Aldred begged her.”
My forehead creases with thought. Whoever this Lady is, she and Aldred are in deep cahoots. Too bad that doesn’t narrow down her identity any.
“We did the right thing.” Mourn shoots a disgusted look at Desmond’s frozen body. It’s beyond weird that the klepto still stands upright, even though there remains a bloody line across his throat.
“Of course,” says Dusk. “We had to get rid of him. Desmond was certain to bungle things up. The Lady relies on us to ensure her missions succeed. That codex will go to the Wheeler Institute.”
Mourn snaps his fingers. The black dust that had surrounded the klepto demon vanishes. Desmond tumbles to the floor, his body and head rolling in different directions. Now I’ve seen my share of gore, but…Yuck.
My disgust quickly morphs into a rougher emotion. Bands of anger tighten up my torso. Sure, Desmond wasn’t a Boy Scout. He didn’t deserve to die that way, though.
I turn to Lincoln. “Killing Desmond pisses me off. Seriously.”
“Personally, I’m holding my rage for when they go after the book.”
My attention snaps back to the Rixa Codex. Desmond’s death aside, losing that thing will cause us a world of trouble. Like honeymoon-in-prison trouble.
“Can you get us in there?” I ask.
Lincoln sets his hand in his pocket. “I have a charm for that, but once we’re inside” —he frowns— “we’ll need some kind of force field, or we’ll end up as dead as Desmond.”
We share a long look, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. When we next speak, it’s the same word: “Igni.”
“It’s perfect,” I add. “Igni create a power field to move souls to Heaven and Hell. It should protect us.”
“But they don’t normally do this kind of thing, am I right?”
“Technically, no. But they’re pretty adventuresome. I’m sure they’ll give it a try.” In fact, my igni attempt all sorts of things. Most don’t work. For example, last month I said the Beelzebub Bus Terminal was going to Hell. They took that as an order
and tried moving it there, pronto. It took three days to put the fire out. At least, the old terminal was another deserted ruin, so no one got hurt.
“What if it doesn’t work?” asks Lincoln.
“You mean, what if we get frozen like statues?”
“Precisely.”
I bob my head, thinking. “In that case, the igni could zap us to Heaven.”
“You won’t be able to speak to them.”
“I mostly chat with them in my mind.”
“Right.” Lincoln lets out a slow breath. “Even so, we shouldn’t do this. A better time will come. At this point, it’s way too risky.”
My internal wrath demon roars to life. Risky? What about the codex, Aldred the asshole, and the headless Desmond?
“No way. My igni can definitely do this.” Maybe.
“They’ve never attempted anything like this before, have they?”
“True.” I raise my pointer finger. “But when have we ever let certain death stop us before?”
Lincoln shakes his head and smiles. “Plus, there is that bet between us.”
“Now, you’re thinking.” I love that I am such a bad influence on Lincoln. Two months ago, he never would have agreed to this. “I will win that bet.”
“I’m convinced,” says Lincoln. “Let’s give it a try.”
“On it.” Closing my eyes, I call out to my igni with my mind.
Come to me, my little ones.
First, laughter echoes inside my head. The voices are childlike, reminding me of little bells. These are the light igni—the power that moves souls to Heaven. A moment later, deep rasping tones fill my brain. These are the dark igni, the power that shifts spirits to Hell.
And they’re coming to help.
Suddenly, tiny white bolts of power appear around my palms, each one no more than in inch in length. They swirl and dive around my hands like a school of fish.
Only, you know, ones that are made of white lightning.
Did I mention that my life is weird?
Normally, I would address the igni in my mind, but for Lincoln’s benefit, I decide to talk out loud. “Welcome, my little ones. I need your help. Lincoln and I are about to fight a pair of dyad demons. We need you to form a shield of power around our bodies. Keep that male dyad from freezing us.”
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