Sins of the Demon

“I am unmated,” she replied, a slight smile curving her mouth. “I would not have agreed to come had I other commitments.”

“Oh, so, you had a choice?” I said, then instantly hated how it sounded. “I mean.…” I trailed off, grimacing. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m completely ignorant of how things work over there. With the demons and the lords.”

She pursed her lips and was silent for a moment. “It is a complex dynamic,” she finally said. I waited to see if she was going to elaborate on that, but she remained silent.

Time to get to the meat of things. “When we were out at the landfill,” I said, “fighting the golems…when that one golem hit me, you yelled to Ryan. That’s when he turned around and, um, saved me.”

The demon was still as stone. She didn’t nod or acknowledge my statement.

I was suddenly nervous. Little things were starting to click into place, though I knew I was still missing most of the big picture. It was like the moment when working on a picture puzzle that you put three pieces together and suddenly realize it’s a face. Maybe you still don’t know where it’s supposed to go, or what the final picture looks like, but at least you have something more than hundreds of scattered pieces.

I knew that once I started putting it together, I wouldn’t be able to stop until I had the whole picture, whether I liked the end result or not.

“You didn’t call him by his name,” I said, taking the plunge. “I mean, the name you yelled wasn’t ‘Ryan,’ was it?”

She shook her head, a slow deliberate movement. Her eyes never left mine.

My pulse beat an unsteady staccato. “It was ‘Szerain,’ right?”

“It was,” she said in a low voice.

I blew out an unsteady breath. It was true. Fucking hell. He’s a demonic lord. He’s that demonic lord. So what the hell happened? “Can you, um, get in trouble for doing that?” I asked after a moment of mental floundering. “Using that name, I mean?”

She seemed to consider the question. “I should not have done so, but there were circumstances. I doubt I will receive much censure.”

I licked my lips. “Ryan is…Szerain?”

Her look was full of apology. “I am oathbound. I ca

I let out a breathless laugh. Zack had said something very similar when I’d asked him if Ryan was a demonic lord. “Right. I understand.” I suddenly felt calmer than I had in a long time. So what if the answers I’d been given only raised more questions? It was a shitload better than being completely in the dark. “I just have one more question,” I said. “Were…are they enemies? Rhyzkahl and Szerain?”

Eilahn pursed her lips, appeared to consider the question. She was silent for long enough that I was about to retract the question when she took a breath to speak.

“‘Enemies’ is a strong word,” she said, looking off into an unknown distance and speaking as if she was measuring each word carefully. “It implies that the two parties have conflicting goals.” She shifted her gaze to me. “What if they have the same goal? What would they be then?”

“They’d be allies,” I said.

Eilahn’s smooth forehead creased in a frown. “Yet what if they disagreed on how to reach said goal?”

I turned the question over in my head, and finally shrugged. “I du

A smile whispered across her mouth. “Some things are difficult to define.” She stood, and I knew that was the most I’d be able to get out of her regarding the dynamic between Rhyzkahl and Szerain.

In other words, It’s Really Fucking Complicated, I thought wryly.

“I was able to finish the warding on your place of work,” she said. “I was also able to obtain something that may be of assistance.” She reached for a backpack at the end of the couch. “Come to the kitchen. I have something to give you.”

I obediently followed. “Somehow I get the feeling this isn’t an early Christmas present.”

“Alas, no,” she said as she sat at the table. Out of the backpack she pulled a plain cardboard box, big enough to hold a coffee mug, and set it in front of her. “But, speaking of the Christmas festival—when do you plan to obtain a tree?”

I blinked as I took a seat opposite her. “Um, well, I hadn’t really pla

“Oh.” She looked almost forlorn. “Are your beliefs different? Do you object to the symbol of the tree?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that it’s usually only me here, and most of the time I figure it’s not worth the trouble or time.” I paused. “My aunt always puts a tree up though, if you want to see one.”

The demon inclined her head. “I would like that.” She still looked disappointed though.

“Or we could get one,” I said, oddly pleased at the thought.

A smile spread across her face, and once again she was the kid who wanted the pet cat. “Could we? I have read about such things, and was hoping to be able to participate in the traditions.”

I gri

I gave a slight nod toward the box on the table. “So, what’s that?”

She pushed it toward me. “You may open it.”

The top of the box was closed with a thin strip of masking tape, easily torn. I expected there to be some sort of packing material to go through, but there was only one item in the box—a bulky and rather ugly bracelet.

I took it out and turned it over in my hands. It was a lot lighter than I expected, made of some pinkish-coppery metal, though I was fairly sure it wasn’t copper. It looked old, too—pitted and scarred, as if had been knocked around for a few hundred years. Overall, “ugly” really was the best way to describe it. “It almost looks like an old-style shackle,” I said, tugging it open easily. “Except there’s no place for a chain to attach.” Peering closer, I could see an opening that could possibly be a key hole.

“It needs no chain, and it is a shackle—of a sort. It was quite difficult to acquire.”

I set it down on the table. The thing made me vaguely uncomfortable. “And you’re giving this to me…why?”

“This will offer you an added level of protection above what I can provide.” Eilahn said, eyes steady on me.

“What, is it some sort of arcane artifact?” I asked, switching over to othersight to peer at the thing. To my disappointment it appeared perfectly mundane.

“The opposite,” she replied. “It suppresses the arcane, and it will make it nigh to impossible for you to be summoned as long as you are wearing it.”

I let out a breath. “That’s fantastic!” Then I saw that her expression was guarded. “What’s the catch?”

“It dampens all arcane. Including yours,” she said, tone serious. “You will not be able to summon or use othersight while wearing it, nor will you be able to sense arcane that you are accustomed to sensing. And you ca

I swallowed. “Ill how? Like, sick to my stomach, or like cancer?”

“You will feel tired and then generally unpleasant. I believe an appropriate analogy would be the feeling of having influenza. But that would only happen with extended wear. The sensation should disappear as soon as you take it off. Which you would only do when you are within wards,” she added with a warning tilt of her eyebrow.

That wasn’t quite so bad then. As long as I wasn’t wearing a piece of uranium on my wrist that would give me some sort of lymphoma somewhere down the road.

“Put it on,” Eilahn said gently, and I realized I’d been frowning at it for at least a dozen heartbeats.

I glanced up at her. “You said it was a shackle. What did you mean?”

“Artifacts of this type have been used to keep practitioners of the arcane from using their abilities, or to control when they used them”