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She looked like Doreen, the same triangular face and wide eyes, the same way of tilting her head. She folded her arms, a fall of material caught in them, and I breathed in the smell of Androgyne, the Power flooding from her sparking along my nerve endings.
"Dante," she said quietly. "I've brought you clothes. And explanations."
"The h-hellhounds." I sounded like a little girl. The wristcuff above my datband glowed green. "Velokel?"
"Only one was ours, and only supposed to find you so I could speak with you. The other, I do not know. Kel would not harm you, Dante. He knows how much you mean to me."
Is that why he tried to tear my head open like a sodaflo can? My throat was dry. "You have Japh."
She nodded. "It was a stroke of luck, capturing instead of killing him." Her pale hair didn't ruffle, it was as sleek as a silken cap. Her skin glowed, burnished gold. "I'd hoped you would be able to distract him."
Me too. "He's persistent." The thin trickle of heat in my belly made my stomach turn. I am not a sexwitch. I do not respond this way to Power.
But I did, didn't I? After all, I was staring at her, at the shape of her lips, filling my lungs with the scent of her. Fresh bread, musk, and demon, a smell that whipsawed me between terror and desire, a smell that made it difficult to think straight. Pheromones like a sexwitch, drenching the air. She smelled like Lucifer, but she didn't scare me the way he did.
She sighed. "We've had a difficult time evading the Eldest."
"You and me both. He kept putting me to sleep without my realizing it. I asked him not to hunt you, Eve. I begged him not to hunt you, and not to lie to me." I sound like a whiny three-year-old. But it was suddenly very important for Doreen's daughter to understand I'd tried my best to keep him away from her.
She made an expressive gesture with one hand, brushing away the need to explain. "Demons lie, Dante. It's in the nature of the thing." Her lips quirked up into a half-smile, my own expression, familiar. Was it true? Was she also my daughter, the sample Santino took from Doreen contaminated with my blood as well?
Doreen's daughter, Gabe's daughter. Both mothers dead and depending on me.
How am I going to pull this one off. My mouth was dry, my lips cracked. "You too?"
"Maybe. I suppose you'll have to figure out if you can trust me. There are no guarantees." She held up the handful of material, jeans and something else. "I brought you fresh clothes. Then I'll take you to see the Eldest."
My throat closed up. He's here. In the same building, maybe? The mark was numb, maybe because whatever they have him trapped in cuts him off from me? "What if I don't want to see him?" It was a rusty croak. The light caressed her face, ran its fingers over her hair, touched the arc of her golden neck where the pulse beat.
She shrugged. "How else are you going to know if I'm lying?"
I tore my eyes away from her face, away from the slope of her breasts under the crisp white cotton. My eyes fell on my sword's curved length, resting against the velvet in the glowing indigo sheath Japhrimel had given me. "I have a revenge to do." I still sounded like a little girl; high and squeaky, and breathless.
"I won't force you, Dante. I'll ask for your support, but I won't force you." She approached quietly, cloth whispering as she laid the clothes on the end of the bed. "Your weapons are there, on the floor. Whenever you're ready, you may go on your way or see the Eldest, as you wish. If you decide to… to throw your lot in with us, we'll welcome you. You killed a hellhound; there's not many that could have done so."
It almost killed me too, it was trying to take my heart out through my ribs the hard way. "The h-hellhound was t-trying t-t-to-"
"The one we sent was supposed to find you and bring you to us, not harm you. I'm sorry, Dante. Events have become… complex."
Complex. I was getting to hate that word. When someone said it's getting complex, the translation usually was Da
My head hurt. I had revenge to accomplish and Gabe's daughter to collect; I didn't have time for demon games. My heart thudded behind my breastbone. "Leander. And Lucas. The demon-"
"The demon who brought you to us was uninterested in the others, Dante. Or so he told us. I believe he was led to you in a ma
Oh, gods. I shook my head, speechless. Leave me the hell out of this. I don't need another demon mad at me. "If you like," she repeated, patiently.
"No," I whispered. Where did they go? Did they sense the demon coming? Gods grant they got out of there in time. I shuddered again, ice water creeping through my veins. I wasn't thinking straight. "No," I repeated, louder.
The gods knew I didn't want to make another demon enemy. Just add it to my laundry list, the merry voice of unreason chirped brightly inside my skull. I choked down a maniacal giggle.
"As you like." She paused. "If you change your mind, all you have to do is tell me."
I shook my head again, and she retreated.
When she closed the door with a quiet click, I scrambled up out of the bed to get dressed. My legs were a little shaky but still solid, and once I had clothes on I felt a lot better. If I kept moving, the vision of Eddie's shattered body-and the vision of Gabe's broken, battered, bloody one-wouldn't torture me so much. If I could just keep moving I might be able to get through this.
The clothes were… well, they were almost certainly Eve's. The sweater was too big for me, as was the silk T-shirt. But they were clean, and the jeans fit, and the boots were my size even if they were too new. They would need hard use before they were good.
My head gave an amazing flare of pain, so did my left shoulder. I crouched at the foot of the bed for a little while with my sword in my hands and my forehead pressed into the velvet of the coverlet. The shivers and hyperventilating finally stilled. Even my god was silent. There was no blue glow, no comforting sense of being held in Death's hands. There was only the breathless sense of waiting. For what? True to Eve's word, my weapons rig was tangled on the floor by the bed. Everything was undisturbed, I buckled myself in and wished for a microfiber shirt and a coat. Jace's necklace still rested against my throat, pulsing reassuringly as my fingers touched the knobs of the baculum. The mark on my shoulder had turned warm but quiescent, feeling like normal skin for the first time since it had been pressed into my flesh.
The cold retreated bit by bit, and the sense of being watched returned, but oddly distant. As if something was trying to see me, through layers of interference. Something deadly and inimical.
The Gauntlet was still dead-dark against golden skin, its surface swallowing instead of reflecting light.
I don't think I'm thinking clearly.
My right hand shook when I held it out in front of me. I tried to stop it, but the harder I tried the harder it vibrated. My fingers jittered like a slicboard needing tuning.
That reminded me of the Valkyrie, under a hedge in the rich bayfront part of town. I wanted the slicboard. It was a ridiculous thing to focus on, but it seemed the only thing that mattered was the sleek black deck, gleaming as I pressed its powercell and flung myself into open air, going fast enough to outrun… what?
First things first, Dante. Get this the fuck over with so you can kill the fucking traitors. Then you can go on living. Everything else-demons, Hell, Lucifer, even Eve-can wait.