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My rings glinted dully in the red light. "I don't want to die," I said finally. "Why me?"
"You have a set of… talents that are uniquely suited to the task," he answered.
"So what is it exactly you want me to do?" I asked.
"I want you to kill someone," he said.
CHAPTER 6
"Whoa." I looked up at him, forgetting the hypnotic power of those green eyes. "Look, I'm not a contract killer. I'm a Necromance. I bring people back to ask questions, and lay them to rest when necessary."
"Fifty years ago, a demon escaped my realm," the Prince said mildly, his voice cutting through my objections. "He is wandering your realm at will, and he is about to break the Egg."
Did he say crack the egg? Is that some kind of demon euphemism? "What egg?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. My sword lay across my knees. This felt too real to be a hallucination.
"The Egg is a demon artifact," the Prince said. "Suffice it to say the effects will be very unpleasant if this particular demon breaks the Egg in your world."
My mouth dried. "You mean like end-of-the-world bad?" I asked.
The Prince shrugged. "I wish the Egg found and the thief executed. You are a Necromance, capable of seeing what others do not. Some have called you the greatest death-talker of your generation, which is high praise indeed. You are human, but you may be able to find the Egg and kill the thief. Jaf will accompany you, to keep your skin whole until you accomplish your task." He turned back to the fireplace. "And if you bring the Egg back to me I will reward you with more than a human being could ever dream of."
"I'm not so sure I want your reward," I told him. "Look, I'm just a working girl. I raise the dead for issues of corporate law and to solve probate questions. I don't do lone-gun revenge stuff."
"You've been dabbling in the bounty-hunting field since you left the Academy and with corporate espionage and other illegal fancies—though no assassination, I'll grant you that—for five years to pay off your mortgage and live more comfortably than most of your ilk," he replied. "Don't play with me, Dante. It is exceedingly ill-advised to play with me."
"Likewise," I said. "You've got a fully armed Necromance who knows your Name sitting in your i
Despite being more research-oriented than most of my kind, I didn't know the Devil's Name—nobody did. In any case, he was too powerful to be commanded around like a mere imp. I doubted even knowing Tierce Japhrimel's Name would do more than keep him from outright killing me. Lucifer's Name was a riddle pursued by Magi, who thought that if they learned it they could control the legions of Hell. The Ceremonials said Lucifer's true Name was more like a god's Name—it would express him, but didn't have power over him. The exact nature of the relationship between Lucifer and the gods was also hotly debated; since the complete verification of the existence of demons the various churches that had survived the Awakening and the Ceremonials had conducted experiments, largely inconclusive. Belief in the power of the words to banish imps was necessary—but sometimes even that didn't work unless the demon in question was extremely weak. As Gabe's grandmother Adrie
"And you must be greedy." His voice hadn't changed at all. "What do you want, Dante Valentine? I can give you the world."
It whispered in my veins, tapped at my skull. I can give you the world…
I actually thought about it, but Lucifer couldn't give me anything I wanted. Not without the price being too high. If I was sure of nothing else in this situation, I was sure of that. "Get thee behind me," I whispered, finally. "I just want to be left alone. I don't want anything to do with this."
"I can even," he said, "tell you who your parents were."
You son of a bitch. I rocketed to my feet, my sword whipping free. Blue runes twisted inside the steel, but neither demon moved. I backed around the chair, away from Jaf, who still looked like a statue, staring at my sword. Red firelight ran wet over the blade, blue runes twisting in the steel. "You leave my parents out of this," I snapped. "Fine. I'll do your job, Mis Lucifer. If you leave me alone. And I don't want your trained dog-demon over there. Give me what information you've got, and I'll find this Egg for you."
For all I knew my parents had been too poor to raise me; either that or they'd been too strung out on any cocktail of substances. It didn't matter—since my Matheson index was so high and they'd had me in a hospital, they hadn't been able to sell me as an indentured. That was the only gift they'd given me—that, and the genetic accident that made me a Necromance. Both incredible gifts, when you thought about the alternative. It wasn't the first time somebody had twitted me about being an orphan.
Nobody ever did it more than once.
Lucifer shrugged. "You must take Japhrimel. Otherwise, it's suicide."
"And have him double-cross me once we find this Egg? You must not want word to get out that someone took off with it." I shook my head. "No dice. I work alone."
His eyes came up, bored into my skull. "You are under the illusion that you have a choice."
I lifted my sword, a shield against his gaze. Sweat trickled down my back, soaking into my jeans. It was damnably hot—what else, in Hell? You were expecting a mint julep and a cool breeze?
I didn't even see Jaf move. In one neat move he had the sword taken away, resheathed, and the gun pressed into my temple. One of his arms was across my throat. My feet kicked fruitlessly at empty air.
"You are intriguing," the Prince of Hell said, stalking across the room. "Most humans would be screaming by now. Or crying. There seems to be a distressing tendency to sob among your kind."
I spat an obscenity that would have made Jado-sensei, with his Asiano sense of decorum, wince. Jaf didn't move. His arm slipped a little, and I fought for breath.
He could crash my windpipe like a paper cup. I stopped kicking—it would waste what little oxygen I had left—and concentrated, the world narrowing to a single still point.
"Let go of her," the Prince said calmly. "She's building up Power."
Jaf dropped me. I hit the ground and whirled on the balls of my feet, the sword blurring free of the sheath in an arc of silver, singing. No think, little nut-brown Jado in his orange robes yelled in my memory. No think, move! Move!
I didn't even see Jaf move again. He stepped in close, moving faster than a human, of course, twisted my wrist just short of breaking it, and tore the sword from my fingers. I punched him and actually co
Anything except this.
Jaf dropped my sword. It chimed, smoking, on the floor next to the scabbard. "Blessed steel. She believes," he said, glancing at the Prince, who had stopped and was considering me.
Of course I believe, I thought, in a sort of delirium. I talk to the god of Death on a regular basis. I believe because I must.
"Do you think you can fight your way free of Hell?" the Prince asked.
"Do you think you could be polite?" I tossed back. " 'Cause I have to say, your treatment of a guest kind of sucks." I gulped down air, a harsh whooping inhalation.