Working for the Devil

It was a relief to have something else to think about. So even the Devil was scrambling to keep up with current events, so to speak. Maybe he'd gone to use this Egg or look at it, and found out it was gone. Hell was a big place; you couldn't keep track of every artifact and demon.

Which means Santino probably has Lucifer by the balls. And how does this Japhrimel fit in? He's Lucifer's agent. Why wouldn't Lucifer come out on this job himself?

It would do me no good to fret over it. I was well and truly caught.

I closed my grainy, burning eyes, consigning the question to my unconscious mind. With any luck, the bubbling stew of my subconscious would strike me with the answer—right between the eyes—soon enough.

Even Japhrimel has no idea what's going on, I thought. Even Lucifer. They're playing blind. Which is why they need me.

They need me. I'm calling the shots here.

The thought was enough to press a smile to my face as I kept breathing, deeper and deeper, waiting for dawn. When I finally fell asleep, the sky was turning gray with morning.

The house was full of the smell of demon, amber musk and burning ci

He handed me a cup of coffee. He looked just the same as he had last night, except a little of the robotic blankness was gone from his face. Now he looked thoughtful, his green eyes a shade darker and not quite meeting mine.

I blew across the steaming mug and yawned, contemplating the kitchen. Late-afternoon sunlight slanted in through the window. The rain must have fled, because golden sunlight edged the wandering Jew hanging over the sink. "Morning," I finally said, slipping past him to stalk to the toaster. "How are you?"

"Well enough," he replied. "Did you sleep well?" He actually sounded interested.

"No. I hardly ever do. Thanks for the coffee." I dropped two slices of wheat bread into the toaster and pressed the button for "just short of charcoal."

"Where is your sword?"

I shrugged. "I don't think I need it in a demon-protected house, do I?" I yawned again. "When we go out to hunt I'll be taking my sword. I won't put it away again until I've brought Santino down. I haven't started yet—this is just saddling my horse." My rings sparked again. This time the shower of sparks was pure gold.

I smell like a demon now, I thought with a sort of grim amusement. That should make things fun.

"I see." He still sounded thoughtful. He hadn't moved from the kitchen door.

"Before we go," I continued, "I need you to tell me exactly what having a demon familiar means. I was going to ask Dake, but we didn't have time last night. So I'm forced to ask you."

"I'll do my best not to disappoint you," he said sardonically.

I swung around to look at him, the coffee sloshing in my cup. I fished a butterknife out of the drying rack next to the sink. "You're starting to develop a sense of humor," I said. "Good for you."

"We will get exactly nowhere if we ca

"Mmh." My toast popped up as I was getting the peanut butter down. "Guess it's bad luck all over you, huh?" I set the coffee cup down after a quick, mouth-burning gulp. It was, at least, decent coffee.

"On the contrary," he said. "It is very good luck. It appears you need a familiar and I need my freedom. You appear tolerable, at least, despite your foul mouth. And you are occasionally thoughtless, but not stupid."

I looked over my shoulder. He had his hands behind his back again, standing military-straight, his long black coat buttoned up to his chin. "Thanks," I replied, as dryly as I could. "Have you had breakfast?"

He shrugged. "Human food is pleasant, but I don't need it."

I was just about to say something snide when the phone rang. I hooked up the kitchen phone and snarled into it. "What?"

That was my hello-good-morning voice.

"And a good bloody morning to you too, Da

"What, another job?" I looked down at my toast, picked up my coffee. "How much?"

"Fifty thousand. Standard."

That would take care of another few mortgage payments. "What kind?" I swirled the coffee in the cup, the steam rising and twisting into angular shapes.

"A probate thing. Shouldn't take more than a coupla hours. Old coot named Douglas Shantern, died and the will's contested. Total estate's fifteen mil, the estate itself is paying your fee."

I yawned. "Okay, I'll take it. Where's the body? How fresh?"

"Lawyer's office on Dantol Street has his cremains. Died two weeks ago."

I made a face. "I hate that."

"I know," Trina replied, sympathetic. "But you're the only one on the continent who can deal with the burned ones, since you're so talented. I'll schedule you for midnight, then?"

"Sounds good. Give me the address?"

She did. I knew the building; it was downtown in the legal-financial district. The holovid image of a Necromance is all graveyards and chanting and blood, but most of our work is done in lawyers' offices and hospital rooms. It's very rare to find a Necromance in a graveyard or cemetery.

We don't like them.

"Okay," I said. "Tell them I'm bringing an assistant."

"I didn't know you had an apprentice." She actually sounded shocked. I have never met Trina face-to-face, but I always imagine her as a stolid, motherly woman who lived on coffee and Danishes.

"I don't," I said. "Thanks, Trina. I'll hear from you again, I'm sure."

"You're welcome," she said, barely missing a beat. "Bye."

"Bye." I hung up. "Well, that's nice. Another little job."

The demon made a restless movement. "Time is of the essence, Necromance."

I waved a hand over my shoulder at him. "I've got bills to pay. Santino won't get anywhere quickly. He escaped fifty years ago; you guys didn't jump right on the bandwagon to bring him down. So why should I? Besides, we're going to visit Abra too, and after I do this job Gabe will have all the things I need and we can start hunting. Unless you're going to pay my power bill this month."

"You are infuriating," he informed me coldly. The smell of demon was begi