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No, Abra was the Spider, and her web covered the city. What she sold was information.
Jace had introduced me to Abra, a long time ago. Since then we'd been friends—of a sort. I did her a good turn or two when I could, she didn't sell too much information about my private life, and we edged along in a sort of mutual detente. I'll also admit that she puzzled me. She was obviously nonhuman, but she wasn't registered with any of the Paranormal voting classes—Nichtvren, Kine, swanhilds, you name it—that had come out when the Parapsychic Act was signed into law, giving them Hegemony citizenship. Then again, I knew a clutch of nonhumans that weren't registered but managed to make their voices heard the old-fashioned way, by bribe or by hook.
The bell over the door jingled as I stepped in, wooden floor creaking. The demon crowded right behind me.
"Hey, Abra," I began, and heard a whining click.
The demon's hand bit my shoulder. A complicated flurry of motion ended up with me staring at the demon's back as he held two silvery guns on Abra, who pointed a plasrifle at him.
Well, this is exotic, I thought.
"Put the gun down, s'darok," the demon rumbled. "Or your webweaving days are over."
"What the hell did you bring in here, Da
"Japh—" I stopped myself from saying more of his name. "What are you doing?"
"She has a weapon pointed at you, Dante," he said, and the entire shop rattled. "I will burn your nest, s'darok. Put the gun down."
"Fuck…" Abra slowly, slowly, laid the plasrifle down and raised her hands. "Psychic women and their goddamn pets. More trouble than anything else in this town—"
"I need information, Abra," I said, pitching my voice low and calm. "Jaf, she's not going to hurt you—"
"Oh, I know that." His voice had dropped to its lowest registers. "It's you she'll harm, if she can."
"Isn't that sweet." Abra's face crinkled, her dark eyes lighting with scarlet pinpricks. The shop's glass windows bowed slightly under the pressure of her voice. Dust stirred, settled into complicated angular patterns, stirred again. The warding on Abra's shop was complex and unique; I'd never seen anything like it. "Dante, make him go away or no dice."
"Oh, for the love of—" I was about to lose my temper. "Japhrimel, she's put the gun down. Put yours away."
There was an eye-popping moment of tension that ended with Japhrimel slowly lowering his guns. His hands flicked, and they disappeared. "As you like," he said harshly, the smell of amber musk and burning ci
"I think I'm capable of having a conversation with Abra that doesn't lead to anyone killing anyone else," I said dryly. "We've been doing it for years now." My skin burned with the tension and Power in the air. The smell of beef and chilis reminded me I hadn't eaten yet.
"Why does she have a gun out, then?" he asked.
"You're not exactly kind and cuddly," I pointed out, digging my heels into the floor as the weight of Power threatened to make me sway. "Everyone just calm down, okay? Can we do that?"
"Make him wait outside," Abra suggested helpfully.
"Absolutely not—" Japhrimel began.
"Will you both stop it?" I hissed. I'd be lucky to get anything out of Abra now. "The longer you two do this, the longer we stay here, and the more uncomfortable it'll be for all concerned. So both of you just shut up!"
Silence returned to the shop. The smell of beef stew, desperation, and dust warred with the musky powerful fragrance of demon. Japhrimel's eyes didn't leave Abra's face, but he slowly moved aside so I could see Abra without having to peek around him.
I dug the paper scored with Santino's name out of my bag. "I need information on this demon," I said quietly. "And I need to know about Dacon Whitaker. And I'm sure we'll find other things to talk about."
"What you paying?" Abra asked, her dark eyes losing a little bit of their crimson sparks.
"That's not how things stand right now. You owe me, Abra. And if you satisfy me, I'll owe you a favor." She more than owed me—I had brought her choice gossip last year after that Chery Family fiasco. The information of just who was stealing from the Family had been worth a pretty pe
Her dark eyes traveled over Japhrimel. "You aren't a Magi, Da
So she recognizes him as a demon, and what kind of demon, too. That's interesting. "Just call me socially mobile," I said. "Look, they came and contacted me, not the other way around. I didn't ask for this, but I'm in it up to my eyebrows and sinking fast, and in order to collect on all my balloon payments I need to be breathing, okay? And I need information to keep breathing, Abra." My voice was pitched deliberately low, deliberately soothing. "We've been colleagues for a long time now, and I made you some cash during that Chery Family thing last year, and I'd really like to get some usable information. Okay?"
She measured me for a long moment. The demon didn't even twitch, but I felt him tense and ready beside me. My left shoulder was steadily throbbing, the mark pressed into my flesh responding to his attention.
"Okay," she said. "But you'd better not ever bring that thing here again."
He's not a thing. I didn't say it, didn't even wonder why I'd thought it. I had all I could handle right in front of me. "If I had a choice, I wouldn't have brought him in the first place," I snapped, my temper wearing thin. "Come on, Abra."
She made a quick movement, slipping the plasrifle off the counter. The demon didn't move—but my shoulder gave a livid flare. It had been close. Very close. "Okay," Abra said. "Give me whatever you've got."
I laid the paper down on the counter, face-down. I gave her everything I had—Santino/Vardimal, the Egg, being dragged into Hell, Dacon's addiction to Chill, and the job I'd just been on. That was an extra, for her—she could sell the information that Douglas Shantern had been murdered by his son. I laid the pattern out for her, and Japhrimel drew closer during the recital until his hand was on my shoulder and his long black coat brushed my jeans. Oddly enough, I didn't mind as much as I might have.
Abra took it all in, one dusky finger tapping her thin lips. Then she was silent for a long moment, and put her hand down, fingers stretched, over the paper I'd laid on the counter. "Okay," she said. "So you have a tracker, and Spocarelli'll give you a waiver and a DOC and an omni… and you need a direction, and not only that, you need contacts and gossip."
I nodded. "You got it."
"And your tame demon there is supposed to keep you alive until you kill this Santino. Then all bets are off."
Japhrimel tensed again.
"That's my personal estimation of the situation," I said cautiously.
Abra chuffed out a breath between her pearly teeth. It was her version of a sarcastic laugh. "Girl, you are fucked for sure."
"Don't I know it? Give me what you got, Abracadabra, I've got work to do tonight."
She nodded, dark hair sliding forward over her shoulders. The gold hoops in her ears shivered. Then she flipped the paper over, regarded the twisting silvery glyph. "Ah…" she breathed, sounding surprised. "This… oh, Dante. Oh, no."