Saint City Sinners

Chapter 27

I was right, this had been a school. I knew because they had him in the gymnasia, a huge wood-floored expanse pierced with shafts of cool light from the high-up windows. Bleachers had been pulled away from the walls and taken out so nothing remained but bare stained expanses of painted wall and gravball hoops bolted to either end of the long room. He was in the south end.

It was just as I'd seen it, and I had to shake away the persistent doubled feeling of living out a premonition. Eve had paused near the door and asked if I wanted to be alone, I shook my head and motioned her inside. She closed the door with a precise little click-the maghinge had been taken off-and leaned against it, waiting. Her eyes were dark again, blue and lit from below like a swimtank with cloned koi flicking through its depths.

I squared my shoulders and walked across the wooden floor, the heels of my new boots tapping on the wood. Halfway there, the mellow shine turned to glass underfoot. Seamlessly, a glossy black obsidian sheet rose up and supplanted the flooring.

Demons are such snazzy interior decorators. I grabbed at the darkly humorous thought as if it was floating debris and I was drowning. If I was still cracking jokes, I was okay. Maybe. Kind of.

Not really.

The Key isn't a what, it's a who. And if I can't convince Japh to back off… a weapon that could kill the Devil. My fingers tightened on the hilt, the Gauntlet's heavy cold weight a reminder of the promise I'd made-the one I was about to break. It could just as easily kill Japh. Then I'd have to resurrect him. I never want to do that again, I don't even know for sure what will bring him back other than fire. Lots of fire. And maybe blood. He says enough blood would do the trick, but how do I know for sure?

The air in here was thick and still, curdled with magick. It raised the fine hairs on my nape, coated the back of my throat, almost made my eyes water.

He sat cross-legged in the middle of the circles, his back straight and his long black coat lying wetly against the floor behind him. In front of him, the candle with the blood-red flame now flickered and guttered, the streak of red light a good four inches high. There was about three inches left of wax for it to burn through.

When the candle was snuffed, what would happen? But he'd probably be loose by then.

I could See the layers of magick, woven too tightly and skillfully to be human, glowing with the icy tang of demon Power. I could also See his careful patient unraveling, working at the threads that held the borders of the circles-my eye traveled over them, marking each symbol in a Magitrained memory. This was demon magick, a kind Japhrimel would never share with me. If it could trap him here like a silkworm in a kerri jar, I could almost understand why.

And if Eve had used my name in the binding, and it held him here this long… I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to think about how furious he was going to be once I finished what I was about to say.

My hands were shaking again. I clasped them around the sword. Then I remembered something.

I freed my right hand for long enough to dig in my bag, eyeing him nervously the whole time. Japhrimel said nothing, merely sat, his head dropped. Ink-black hair fell down, hiding his eyes. His shoulders were military-straight under the liquid blackness of his coat. His golden hands lay loosely in his lap, I could see no mark on his wrists. His sleeves covered them.

The chain twisted, dangling the sapphire from my fingers. I held it out, swallowed harshly, then forced my shaking hand open and let it drop.

It hit the glassy floor with a tinkling sound, four feet from the border of the outside circle, the one holding the pentacle that nested the square and inmost circle in its heart. I could see the shimmering brittle veils of energy, focused and curved so any direct attack from Japhrimel's side would shunt the force directly back at him. Eve wasn't lying-all I had to do was touch, and the outer layers of the magick would crack and fall away. You could not make a shield like this impervious on both sides, even with all a demon's Power.

At the small chiming of the necklace meeting the floor, he slowly raised his head and looked at me, his eyes halting for just the barest moment at my left wrist and the dead black weight of the Gauntlet.

I would have backed up, lifted the sword between me and his laser-green gaze again, but the granite egg inside my chest cracked. Rage boiled up, hot and satisfying, I returned to myself with an incendiary jolt. It felt good to let the anger out, as if a valve had been opened, some of the awful pressure bleeding away.

I narrowed my eyes and stared back, hoping it was just as uncomfortable for him. It wasn't bloody likely, but a girl could hope, couldn't she?

His lips moved. "Dante," he said, quietly. Evenly. With no particular weight of emotion.

Hey, sunshine. Glad to see me? I clamped down on the shudders jolting through me. "Japhrimel."

His eyes bored into mine. The command was immediate, peremptory. "Release me."

Not even a "Hi, how are you?" The fury mounted another pitch. Giving me orders, again. Well, now that he couldn't manipulate me and lull me to sleep while he ran around doing gods-knew-what, I suppose it was about all he had left. It shouldn't have made me angry-but it did.

"What the hell for?" I shook my head, my hair brushing my shoulders and spilling into my face. I needed to find something to tie it back with. "I told you, I warned you. I begged you not to hunt her, didn't I? I begged you not to lie to me, not to keep things from me. But I suppose that's all a human's good for. Begging."

He shrugged. He shrugged at me.

It was a good thing my hands were shaking so badly, I decided. Otherwise I might have done something completely idiotic, like draw my sword and charge through the circles. As it was, I stared at him, my eyes moving over the face I'd thought was familiar. Why was I always so surprised to find him so attractive? His nose was a little too long, his lips too thin, the planes of his cheeks too harsh, his eyebrows too straight. But I liked it better than Lucifer's golden beauty or Massadie's genespliced perfection. Japh was beautiful like a blade was beautiful, anything well-oiled and deadly dedicated to a single purpose.

Hate surged inside me, all the more intense for the spoiled affection and broken trust underneath it. It wasn't fair to blame him for everything, but it was so easy. So convenient. He was here, and so was my daughter, and I might be the only thing standing between them.

I would have to be enough.

"You bastard," I whispered. "You motherfucking demon."

"I am," he returned calmly, "what you make of me." His right hand curled into a fist. His eyes flicked away to the red candleflame, which began to smoke and splutter. "I warned you not to make me savage, Dante."

My voice hit a pitch just under "shriek." "Me? This is my fault? You're the one who deceives, and manipulates, and-"

The candleflame guttered under the weight of his gaze, recovered with a sound like air sliding past a hover's hull. "You are the Prince's Right Hand, and you are implicitly aiding his enemies. Against your own A'nankhimel, I might add, the demon who Fell through love of you. Where is your precious honor in that?"

I don't think either of us believed he'd said that. The glassy floor creaked and shifted as the circles fought to contain him-and won, but just barely. They were right, he was going to get out soon.

And all the gods help us when he did.

"So it's war," I said. "Me and Eve on one side, you and the Devil on the other."