Devil's Punch

“Xibalba,” Chance said.

“Just so.”

“From there, you’re taking us to the Luren. Tell me about them?” Since Greydusk didn’t seem to be guiding the carriage—the enslaved, formless Klothod appeared to be doing the work—it seemed safe to ask.

“They are the tempters,” the demon said. “Beautiful. Seductive. Deadly. They are…difficult to resist.”

“Is that how you wound up guiding us, against your better judgment?” Chance wanted to know.

Greydusk offered a curt nod. Interesting. So these Luren had incredible powers of persuasion, even over other demons. I’d have to be on my guard. I wished I had some spell to make me proof against mental shenanigans, but off the top of my head, I couldn’t remember anything in either grimoire that would help. Chance’s luck should keep him safe to some degree, but the longer I stayed close to him without a cleansing, the more danger I’d encounter.

“You mentioned taking us to her?” I prompted, hoping the demon would take the hint.

“Sybella,” Greydusk supplied. “She is the patroness of the Luren caste, holding the rank of Ruling Knight.”

Like Caim, I guessed. Time to learn a little more.

“Do you know of a demon named Caim?” I asked.

Greydusk cut me a sharp look. “The Ruling Knight of the Hazo?”

“I guess?”

“They are the warriors, not to be trifled with.”

Shit. What I had done to the demon knight in Peru was way worse than that. I imagined he’d want to impale me on something sharp and rusty, as soon as I hit the city. The news just kept getting better and better. I mean, I’d known Caim was scary as hell, but the fear that laced Greydusk’s expression made my dread worse.

Chance cut in, “Back to the Luren. Do the others take orders from Sybella?”

“Nothing so brutish,” Greydusk replied bitterly. “It is all much more smooth and civilized among the Luren. More accurate to say she has seduced them to the point that most would rather die than displease her.”

More shit. I preferred free will.

“Is there anything we can do to protect ourselves from her?”

The demon considered, and I could tell it was weighing the advantages of helping us. I wished I hadn’t pissed it off so often. “Don’t look her in the eyes. Stay at least two meters away at all times. Above all, don’t let her touch you.”

“Touching is bad?” Chance looked worried.

“For you, yes. If you consent to sexual contact, she’ll steal a year of your life, and once you start down that road, you’ll find it impossible to stop. The Luren are a…lethal addiction.”

Yeah. Bad. Really bad.

“No sex with the Luren. Got it.” I narrowed my eyes. “I thought you said they mean us no harm.”

The Imaron laughed softly. “They need not intend harm to inflict it…as you well know, Binder.”

Ouch. Direct hit.

“I take your point. And we’ll be careful.”

“It is nothing to me either way, once I complete my contract.” But a hint in the demon’s expression told me that wasn’t entirely accurate—or maybe it was a flicker of response from the truth spell I’d cast a while back.

So I called its bluff. “So no matter what we do in Xibalba, it won’t affect your world at all?”

Greydusk angled a cold look at me. “You have the power to level my world, Binder, but I am no kingmaker. I am Imaron—I honor my contracts. And that is all.”

“Would you like to be more?” I asked.

“That’s like asking an eyreet if it wants to fly. Some things can never be.”

I had no clue what an eyreet was, but I recognized stifled ambition when I saw it. “Let me offer you a new deal. Keep your contract with the Luren, but once you deliver us, you come to work for me. I need someone who can explain how things work and keep us from making stupid, terrible mistakes.”

“That could be dangerous—and unwise,” Greydusk said.

“You said I have influence here, whether I want it or not. And it’s always better to have powerful friends.”

“Will you force me to submit to the ritual?” Its tension and word choice gave me insight into its preferences.

I recalled the demon had mentioned how it was compelled to complete its contracts via a blood ceremony— with death as the penalty for failure. So I shook my head. “No. Your word is good enough for me. It isn’t right to force you to keep an agreement in such a way when you have no assurance that I will deal faithfully with you in return.”

Greydusk shifted and offered me its hand, long fingers with those soul-stealing sucker pads. The first time, I’d refused to touch it. This time, I gambled—and as Chance drew in a sharp breath in protest, I clasped the demon’s palm in mine, sealing the bargain. I didn’t know if this was the right move, but it had to be better to have some notion of how to behave and what dangers we might face.

I didn’t expect our mission to be as simple as demanding to see Shannon and being taken to her. The fact that I’d been brought to Sheol was a power play, pure and simple, and the ones responsible for her kidnapping would try to make sure I did as they wanted—whatever that action might be. My goal was to survive, keep Chance safe, rescue my friend, and get the hell out.

The ride continued in silence from there. Beside me, Chance seethed. He hadn’t changed so much that he enjoyed seeing me take foolish risks. But this one was calculated more than stupid. Killing and draining me to a husk didn’t serve Greydusk’s interests at all at this juncture. That move, in fact, would’ve killed the Imaron, as it had an obligation to take me to Sybella. So with minimal risk, I made inroads into its good nature, such as demons might possess, and gave it reason to think well of me. I was a sentient being who had dealt honestly and kindly with it and who trusted its honor enough to make a pact that wasn’t rooted in death magick. That had to be significant.

I understood why this was called the Ashen Plain. It looked as if volcanoes had erupted for eons, before the lava cooled, leaving a dark, ashy earth that churned as our diabolic carriage clanked along. It plumed out in our wake like a macabre banner, and the bird-things swooped along behind us. There were more of them, singing our arrival in a cacophony that reminded me of tortured cats.

Greydusk threw a nervous look over its shoulder. “I do not like the interest the quasits have taken in our arrival.”

So that was what they were called. I asked, “Do they work for someone?”

“Perhaps.”

“They’re spying on us, then.” Chance firmed his mouth into a tight line.

“Indeed. We can expect trouble at the river, if not sooner.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Bring on the next assassination attempt.”

“I’m glad you’re amused,” Chance muttered.

“Better to laugh than cry.” Or I’d never stop.

I was in over my head here and scrambling for purchase on a slippery shore. Oh, Kel, I thought. Save me. But he wouldn’t. Not here. Maybe never again— he’d made that clear the last time I saw him. He didn’t have a life; he had a calling. And I had to save myself. Good thing I’d had some practice.

With the Klothod-powered carriage stinking up the area, it was impossible to smell trouble coming, like I usually did with demons. The plain grew darker as we approached the river, which doubtless fed the tiny tributary at the natural gate, and even that didn’t look like normal water. It had an unnatural blue tint, like it was full of dye. Overhead, the sun looked peculiarly broken, as if it hung in two halves with a dark rift in between them, and that darkness was full of blood. Shadows on the ground moved as the quasits chased us, their raucous cries telling anything that might be nearby where we were.

“I’d love to kill those things,” Greydusk muttered.

Chance asked, “Why can’t you?”