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Chapter 32
Demilitarized Sarajevo is still almost-contested territory. It took two Nichtvren warlords and a whole cadre—seven Packs—of werecain to restore order after the nightmare of genocide following the Seventy Days War. Nowadays, it’s the kind of place where even psion bounty hunters don’t go—because human bounties don’t either.
The northern half of the city is the Demilitarized Zone itself, where most nonhuman species have their enclaves; the southern half is patrolled by werecain whose only boss is the Master of the territory, a Nichtvren named Leonidas who was the final wi
Leonidas, probably understanding that even a Nichtvren can’t argue with joint Hegemony-Putchkin thermonuclear attack, made sure most of the surviving humans were released unscathed.
A few humans tried to go back, but nobody ever heard from them again. For a while there was a movement to reclaim the territory, especially the psychic whirlpool of the Blackbird Fields, but in the end the Nichtvren paid off whoever they had to and the whole issue became a moot point. Any human dumb enough to go into DMZ Sarajevo was either dead or Turned within twenty-four hours—and that went for psions too. Even accredited psions with combat training and bounties under their belt don’t go there.
There are rumors, of course, of people desperate enough to go into Sarajevo and bargain to be Turned. There are also rumors of indentured servants and slave trading—but those are only whispered in dark corners. The Hegemony and Putchkin largely paid very little attention as long as Leonidas kept order and nothing thermonuclear was smuggled out of the territory.
I’m actually in Sarajevo, I thought with dazed wonder, looking out the hover window.
“We’ve got clearance.” McKinley looked back over his shoulder. “They’ll meet us at the dock.”
Japhrimel merely nodded. He had sat there the entire flight, watching me. After a while I had dropped all pretense of sleeping and instead had studied the darkness outside slowly falling under the hover. A faint grayness had begun in the east, the herald of dawn. I saw fewer lights than most cities, slices of complete darkness in certain districts north of the river, lots of neon as we banked over the DMZ, McKinley piloting the hover with a sure, deft touch.
“My lord?” McKinley asked.
Japhrimel finally stirred, swinging the seat to look toward the front of the hover. “Yes?”
“Is she… ” It sounded like he couldn’t find a polite way to phrase it. What was he asking? If I’d been taught my place yet? If I was all right? If I was still alive? Why the fuck should he care?
“That is not your concern.” Nothing shaded Japhrimel’s voice except perhaps a faint weariness.
“Yessir.” McKinley turned back to the front. After a few moments, I saw the console begin to flash as a hoverdock AI took over. McKinley eased himself out of the seat and stretched, joints popping. The metallic coating on his left hand shone dully with reflected light.
He didn’t look at me. I was happy about that.
Japhrimel turned back to me. “Your cooperation, Dante. I want your word on it.”
That managed to wring a laugh out of me, a jagged sound that made the air shiver. “You sure you want to trust my word, demon?”
“You will give me little else.” The mark burned on my shoulder, velvet flame coating my nerves. The sensation had once been pleasant. Comforting.
Now I hated it. The feeling of my skin crawling with loathing under the Power was new, interesting, and awful. It was the way I imagined an indentured servant would feel, helpless impotent loathing and rage. My sternum still throbbed with raw pain, maybe because I’d kept rubbing it, scrubbing it with my knuckles, trying to scour away the helpless feeling of being trapped and betrayed at once.
“I will make you pay for this,” I whispered. My throat was full, my eyes hot and grainy. You shouldn’t have done that, Japhrimel.
“No doubt. Your cooperation, Dante. Full and complete cooperation. Your word on it.”
“Or what, you’ll kill me?” I tried to make it sound like a challenge. “Hold me up against a wall again? Maybe you’ll beat me up a little. Slap me around. Teach me my place.”
A muscle in his sleek golden cheek twitched, but his voice was still soft and even. “I can think of more pleasant things to do with you, my curious. Your word.”
I glared out the window, faintly surprised when the plasilica didn’t crack. You’re going to regret this, you bastard. “Fine. You have my word. I’ll cooperate.” Cooperate with what and who, though? That’s the question.
He studied me. I let him have my profile, kept my gaze out the window. “You will cooperate with me for as long with our bargain with the Prince lasts.”
“You get seven years from the day I negotiated with Lucifer,” I returned tautly. The first chance I have I’m ditching you, I can “cooperate” from anywhere in the world.
The bravado was pure reflex, and I knew it. If I left him, how long would I last on my own?
“I have your word?” Damn him, he was pushing me. I could tell from the faint shadow of carefulness in his tone that he had probably gauged just how far he could push me without me snapping and trying to run him through.
If I did leap at him now, what would he do? Take my sword away? Cuff me with plasteel cuffs or the shackle of a demon’s magick? I am no longer your familiar; I am your Fallen. I am not bound to obey, only to protect.
To a demon, “protection” might not mean what it meant to me. He was being careful, but he could force me to do just about anything. I had the same chance of escaping him as a stuffed and cuffed bounty has of escaping a good hunter.
In other words, no fucking chance at all unless I got a little creative and very lucky. But even if I managed to pull anything, what then? “I already said so.” I bit off the end of the sentence. “Don’t fucking push me.”
McKinley didn’t look at me, but he flinched. That was interesting. I had the not-so-comforting idea that the agent thought Japhrimel was still playing nice with me. Or that I was recklessly suicidal. Welcome irritation began to flow back into me like a tonic, giving me the strength to take a deep breath and measure Japhrimel with open eyes and defiantly lifted chin. Even if you can force me to do anything you want, I’m still going to fight. I can make this difficult for you.
Maybe he’d get tired of it after a while. I hoped so.
The hover descended. My ears used to pop every time a transport sank. Now I just felt a fu
Japhrimel still wasn’t done. “Be careful what you make of me.”
As if I was somehow responsible for him treating me like this. As if it was my fault. Just because he was stronger than me didn’t give him the right to do that to me, did it? I set my jaw, looked down at my sword. The thought—did Jado give me a blade that could kill the Devil? — circled through my brain.
Then, like a gift, an idea began to form.