Working for the Devil

I absorbed this. If I was a Magi I'd be peppering him with questions, trying to get him to say more, but I was too tired.

Silence thundered through the dark bedroom. The mark on my shoulder ached, pounding. I was finally begi

"If he manages to destroy this Egg," I thought out loud, "does that mean you'll be free?"

"Of course not." He dropped his eyes, studied the bed. Little green shadows danced on my blanket, showing me his gaze moving in an aimless pattern from my knee to my hand to the edge of the bed, back to my knee. "Should Vardimal's rebellion fail, I will be left as your familiar, perhaps. Then after your death—which might be swift, since the Prince is not one for slow punishment—I will be punished, for as long as the Prince's reign is secure. If by some stroke of chance Vardimal succeeds, I will be executed—after your death as well. If the Prince wins, I wait another eternity for a chance at my freedom—if another chance is granted me at all."

"You just can't win, can you." I didn't want to sound snide. I swallowed dryly. It seemed like I couldn't win either, since both scenarios involved my sudden demise, too.

"No," he said. "I can't."

"So you really have a lot invested in this."

"It would appear so."

Another long, uncomfortable silence. The world was hushed outside, in the deepest part of night before the flush of false dawn. I didn't feel sleepy, though I knew I should be trying to catch some shut-eye before the morning transport. Once I left the house tomorrow, I'd be on the hunt. I didn't sleep much while hunting.

"You must be pretty hungry," I said finally. "This mark hurts like a bitch."

"My apologies."

It took more courage than I thought I had to extend my hand, flipping my palm up and making a fist. My wrist was exposed, pale in the dimness of my bedroom. The nightlight in the hall shone in through the door, a cool blue glow. "Here," I said. "Blood, right? You need me to cut myself, or…"

He shrugged. "Many thanks for the offer, Dante, but… no."

"You're hungry. I don't want a weak demon. I want a kickass demon who can help me deal with Santino."

"I fight better when I'm a little hungry."

"Fine." I dropped my hand, feeling foolish. "I'm okay now. You can go back downstairs. Get yourself something in the kitchen. If you want."

"As you like." But he didn't move.

"Go ahead," I finally said. "I'm fine. Really. Thank you."

"You will have no trouble sleeping?" he asked, still looking at the bed. The burning intensity in his eyes seemed to have lessened a bit. He ran his hand back absently through his hair—the first sign of nervousness I'd ever noticed in him. Was he nervous? Was it just me, or was he seeming a little more… human,.. with every passing hour?

I managed to dredge up an uneasy laugh. "I always have trouble sleeping. It's not a big deal. Go on and catch some shut-eye yourself. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

He unfolded himself from the bed and stood up, hands behind his back. Why does he stand like that? I wondered.

And why doesn't he take that coat off? "Thanks." I scooted back down, pulled the covers up, rested my hand on my sword, still lying faithfully next to me. "For checking on me, I mean."

He nodded, then turned on his heel and stalked for the door. There was a moment of shadow, his bulk filling the doorway, his coat like a shadow of dark wings. I heard his even tread going down the hall, then down the stairs. He went into the living room, and silence pervaded my house again, broken only by the faint hum of traffic and the subliminal song of the fridge downstairs.

I snuggled back into bed and closed my eyes. I expected to be lying awake for a long time, shaking and sweating in the aftermath of the dream, but strangely enough I fell into sleep with no trouble at all.

CHAPTER 20

Eddie dug his fingers into the armrests. He was as pale as I'd ever seen him, his cheeks chalk-white under his blond sideburns.

Gabe, leafing through a magazine, didn't appear to notice, but Japhrimel was studying Eddie intently, his green eyes glittering. The demon lounged in his seat next to me, occasionally shifting his weight when the transport rattled. I tapped my fingers on my swordhilt and looked out the window. Seeing the earth drift away underneath the hover transport was no comparison to a slicboard, but it was nice to sit and watch city and water drift away, replaced by pleated folds of land, the coastal mountains rising and falling.

"I can't believe I made a ten o'clock transport." I rested my head against the seat-back. Gabe had actually scored first-class tickets. We had a whole compartment to ourselves—Gabe's tattoo and mine took care of that. "I haven't even had coffee yet, goddammit."

"Someone's a little cranky." Gabe hooked her leg over her seat-arm and rubbed her ankle against Eddie's knee. "Bitch, bitch, bitch. I had to drag this big shaggy guy out of bed and onto a transport before noon. I should be the one whining."

"You're always trying to one-up me," I mumbled. The demon glanced at me, then leaned forward to look out the window. I caught a wave of his scent and sighed, my eyes half-closing. Once you started to get used to it, being around a demon was kind of absurdly comforting. At least the most dangerous thing in the vicinity was right where I could see it.

"Fucking transports," Eddie said, closing his eyes. "Gabe?"

"I'm here, sweetie." Gabe rubbed her ankle against his knee. "Just keep breathing."

I looked away. So there was something Eddie was afraid of.

"What's he doing in Rio?" I asked the air, thinking out loud. "Not a particularly good place to hide…"

"No, not with all the santeros down there," Gabe answered dryly, flipping another page. A holster peered out from under her left shoulder, a smooth dark metal butt. Plasgun, I thought, and looked over at the demon again. He had disappeared as we navigated the security checkpoints and rejoined us just before boarding, his hands clasped behind his back and his face expressionless. "Hey, you know their Necromances kill chickens to get Power like the vaudun? Then everyone eats the chicken."

I'd studied vaudun at the Academy, so I wasn't entirely unfamiliar with it. "That's weird," I agreed, my eyes snagging on the demon's face. He was looking at me now, studying intently. "What?"

"Why does he reek of fear?" Japhrimel asked, jerking his chin at Eddie.

"He doesn't like high places," Gabe said, "and he doesn't like enclosed spaces. Most Skinlin don't." Her dark eyes came up, moved over the demon from head to foot. "What are you afraid of, demon?"

He shrugged, his coat moving against the seat. "Failure," he said crisply. "Dissolution. Emptiness." His mouth twisted briefly, as if he tasted something bitter.

Silence fell for about thirty seconds before the first inflight service came along—a blonde stewardess in a tight magenta flightsuit, paper-pale and trembling. Her eyes were the size of old credit discs, and she shook while she poured coffee, probably thinking that we were all going to read her mind and expose her most intimate secrets, or take over her mind and make her do something embarrassing—or that Gabe and I would suddenly start to make ghosts appear to torment her. Instead, I selected a cream-cheese Danish, Gabe got a roast-turkey sandwich, Eddie asked for the chicken soup in its heatseal pack. Oddly enough, Eddie seemed to scare her the most in his camel coat and long shaggy hair, his Skinlin staff braced against Gabe's sword. She looked like she expected him to go berserk at any moment. Japhrimel accepted a cup of coffee from her with a nod, and it was strange to see her give him an almost-relieved smile. Being normal, she couldn't see the dangerous black diamond flaming of his aura.