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It made a twisted kind of sense. I approached the bed slowly, step by step. Needing to see.
"Demon genes don't lose their potency as human genes do," he whispered. "Witness the growth of human psychic powers, the fantastic blossoming of those powers during the Awakening—"
"Shut up." I sounded choked.
In the bed, under the smooth expensive sheet, was a pale-haired little girl about five years old sleeping the sleep of childhood i
She lay on her back, one chubby arm upflung. Her forehead was odd, because there was a mark that glittered softly green on the smooth skin. My cheek started to burn. An emerald. I wondered why Lucifer had one. I could tell this emerald wasn't implanted—it was too smoothly and sheerly a part of her skin. Almost like a jeweled growth. It made me deeply, unsteadily sick to think that maybe my own emerald was an echo.
"There are two branches of human psionics that are almost directly descended from the A'nankimel, with the necessary recessive genes for my purposes. One branch is the sedayeen, who hold the mystery of Life. The other…" He paused again as I stared at the child on the bed.
The child that wore Doreen's young face.
"The other," Santino said, "is the Necromance."
"This is—" My voice was a dry husk. "This is why you—"
"This is why I took samples," he said softly, persuasively. "Who do you think rules both worlds, Dante? Who do you think is the king of all you survey? It's him. We are all his slaves. And I have the Egg, and the child that can topple him from his throne."
I swallowed, heard the dry click of my throat. "You killed her for this?" I rasped, and my eyes tore away from her sleeping face to Santino's gri
"Yes," he said. "I made a mistake, though. I shouldn't have killed her. I needed a human incubator, once I harvested the marrow and discovered she had all the requisite characteristics. It took all the cash and illegal gene-splicing that the Corvin Family could supply me with to bring this little one to pass. The human governments are too slow. But I did it. I found the shining path of genes that even Lucifer couldn't find with all his bloody tinkering. Now that I know how, I don't have to kill. All I need are female sedayeen—and Necromances—of certain Power, to blend with the codex in the Egg. I can make as many Androgynes as I want, capable of reproducing—"
"You killed her for this?" My voice rose. The child on the bed didn't stir. I heard her even breathing, slightly whistling through the nose. She slept like a human child, with deep complete trust.
"Think of it, Dante," he said. Softly, persuasively as Lucifer himself. "You can be the mother of a new race that will topple Lucifer from his throne. You'll be the new Mado
I backed up, kicking a small stuffed toy. "You killed her for this." I could say nothing else.
"What is one small human life compared to freedom, Dante?" He stepped forward. I raised my sword yet again. The blue glow from the blade intensified, and Santino flinched. It was only a small twitch, but I saw it.
A blessed blade will hurt him, at least, I thought. I heard Japhrimel's voice—she believes. Of course I believed—I saw the gods, I saw the Lord of Death up close. I had no choice but to believe. And that belief itself could be a weapon.
Maybe a blessed blade can even kill him, I thought.
"You didn't just kill Doreen. You slaughtered her while you laughed," I said. "You're no more a scientist than any other lunatic. You're just a different species of psycho, that's all." There's a window behind me. Oh, gods. Oh dear gods.
He waved his long elegant fingers, as if I were bothering him with trifles. Just like a fucking demon. "They were the mothers of the future, they died for a reason. Don't you understand? Freedom, Dante. For demon and human alike. No more Prince of Lies behind the scenes, everyone bowing and scraping to his whim—"
I was about to break for the window when the air pressure changed. Thunder boomed. The mark on my shoulder gave another screaming twinge.
Japhrimel. My heart leapt.
Santino's face twisted into a mask of rage. He lunged for me so quickly I barely saw him move. My sword jerked, blurring down as I threw myself sideways and back, toward the open window. His claws clanged off the blade. There was another shuddering impact, and I heard the unmistakable sound of Japhrimel's roar. The sound tore the air and left it bleeding. Santino snarled, whirling with balletic grace. He bolted for the bed and I scrambled forward, thinking of his claws and the little girl. I was too slow. Shock and the recent loss of Power and the swimming weakness dragged me down.
He scooped up an armful of bedding and the child's slight form, and his clawed hand came up. Metal flashed. The impact caught me high in the chest, the coughing roar of a projectile weapon splitting the air, my boots dragging along the floor in slow motion, my katana clanging on hardwood. I fell, my head cracking against something unforgiving—maybe one of the blocks.
How strange, I thought. He shot me. Why did he shoot me? You'd think a demon would be more creative.
I lay there, stu
More footsteps. I tried to roll onto my side again. No dice. Just more pain. Bubbling on my lips—
— blood it's blood I'm dying, I'm dying—
"Oh, my God. Oh, God. He shot her, he shot her—" Jace's voice, high and breathless. "Goddammit, do something!"
A growled curse in a language I didn't know. But I knew the voice. A gigantic grinding shock against my chest.
"— leave me," Japhrimel snarled. "You will not leave me to wander the earth alone—breathe, damn you, breathe!"
Another shock, smashing through my bones. My left shoulder, torn from its socket, liquid fire in my veins. I gasped. Darkness tingled on the edges of my vision. I smelled flowers, and blood, and the musky smell of demon, drenching and absolute.
"You will not leave me," Japhrimel said. "You will not."
I tried to tell him to chase Santino, to kill him, to save the little girl—but before I could, Death chewed me with diamond teeth and swallowed me just as I hitched in breath to scream.
CHAPTER 37
A voice, reaching into the darkness.
I stood on the bridge, irresolute, my feet bare against cold stone. I felt the familiar chill creeping up my fingers, up my arms.
My emerald flashed as the souls fluttered past me, streaming over the bridge. The cocoon of light holding me safely on the bridge dimmed.
Why was I here? I wasn't pulling a soul back. Was I? I could not remember.
I looked at the other side of the bridge, the other side of the great Hall. The blue crystal walls rang softly, whispering a song I almost understood. I could feel it pressing in upon me, that great comprehension of Death's secret, the mother language from which all Necromance chants derived. The current of souls pushed at me, the emerald's light weakening, my cocoon of safety shrinking.
Yet that voice cajoled, pressed, demanded. I saw the god, His form shimmering between a slender Egyptian dog and some other form, a shape of darkness that seemed to run like ink on wet paper even as I looked at it.