Devil's Punch

know why it hurts you to cast, I can’t be sure, but I’d speculate it’s because those channels—neural pathways—are already cut.”

“What’s done cannot be undone,” Chance murmured, easing into his gloves.

Between the gauntlets and the black clothing he’d donned earlier, he looked like a beautiful enforcer, capable of the most delicious mayhem. Before, I’d always thought him elegant, not brutish, but his expression held traces of the latter. He wanted to hurt someone, and I wasn’t sure why.

It’s Sheol, a small voice whispered. It’s turning him. He doesn’t belong here.

This sounded like the same person who had explained about Sybella’s motives. Who are you? I asked. But the voice didn’t reply. Maybe I was going crazy.

With nod at Greydusk to acknowledge the explanation, which made as much sense as anything, I tucked the athame into the back of my pants. Fortunately, my clothing was nondescript, black as well, which—along with brown—lower-ranked demons wore a lot. Darker colors didn’t show dirt and blood.

And that ought to indicate just how I foresaw the day going.

Greydusk led us unerringly to the exit, and true to Sybella’s word, her people did not interfere. I wouldn’t come back here before my week was out. There must be someplace safe for us to hole up while we searched for Shannon. I’m sure the Luren knight expected us to make use of her lavish hospitality, but I preferred staying out of her reach as much as possible.

Sometimes I sensed eyes on us, though. We were definitely being watched. I whispered to Greydusk, “Can you lose her spies?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Outside the Luren compound, my tension eased a little. The whole way I’d thought Gilder or Lash would pop out to restrict our passage or to scream “THIEF.” They hadn’t. At least we’d cleared the first hurdle.

Our demon guide chose the most circuitous path I’d ever seen, applying itself to my instructions. Soon, I was hopelessly lost—and so were our pursuers. I hoped. Traffic teemed around us. In this way, it was a city like any other. But the citizens—they were strange and shocking. I didn’t let my eyes linger long, as staring had to be rude even in Sheol. Oddities gnawed at my senses, reminding me forcibly just how far from home we were.

As if he sensed my unease, Chance twined his fingers with mine. “Where to?”

At first I thought he was asking me, but then I saw his gaze fixed on Greydusk. Who set the pace as it considered. I had no resources here, except the Imaron’s knowledge and willingness to help. Some queen. But as Kel had told me, the mark of strong leadership wasn’t the ability to do everything yourself; it was being capable of recruiting key personnel, and I was doing okay for my first day on the job.

“You could probably tell us,” I said, as the idea struck me.

Chance’s expression brightened. “You want me to turn my luck to it?”

“If you can.” He’d managed it in the tunnel, but we were in the city, surrounded by demon magick. In Kilmer, due to the demon magick that sealed the rest of the town away from reality, Chance had trouble with his luck. That shouldn’t be the case here, though, unless those who took Shannon had known to shield her. Since Chance’s ability wasn’t one I’d encountered before, it was safe to guess they wouldn’t have planned for him.

“I’ll try.”

The air crackled with power, and he closed his eyes. Greydusk watched with apparent fascination as Chance spun in place. It took several moments, but he eventually said, “That way, pretty far, I think.”

“Still in the city?” the demon asked.

Chance shrugged. “How would I know?”

“What’s the fastest way to travel?” I asked.

Please tell me it’s not that Klothod-fueled carriage.

In reply, Greydusk summoned something like a pedicab, but it was pulled by a hulking, red-skinned demon. I noted the resemblance between this cabbie and Caim, which made it Hazo caste, lower in rank than the knight.

It growled, “Where to?” as we slid onto the box seat.

The Imaron thought for a second. “Toward the Barrens. I’ll let you know when.”

“People usually give me an address,” the cabbie muttered.

“You’ll earn your tip,” I put in.

Redskin sniffed the air appreciatively, and said in a bass rumble of a voice, “Mmmm. Human. Lost, pretty thing? Want to—”

“Drive,” Chance said softly. That was all.

That was all he needed to say. Something had shifted in him; and even though he didn’t alter in appearance, he gave the impression of being larger and more menacing, as if he held power enough to snap the cabbie’s spine.

“Yes, boss.”

Greydusk regarded Chance with new respect. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t, but I didn’t press. Neither did the demon, which spoke volumes on how much scary Chance was channeling. In a way I couldn’t nail down, he was different here in Sheol. Not himself. From what Greydusk had said, he was becoming less Chance and more the consort. I didn’t like the idea of him losing himself, but hopefully, we’d be in and out before he yielded everything that made him Chance. Once we got out of Sheol, he should return to normal.

Shouldering the poles, the Hazo took off, weaving into traffic with kamikaze intent. The other vehicles weren’t like those in the human world. Some were obviously Klothod-powered, and others were pulled by demons. Yet others ran in a disconcertingly magic/mechanical fashion. The carriage next to us had a pair of spindly legs that didn’t look strong enough to bear the weight, but they clattered on, running, running. It and reminded me of the legend of Baba Yaga’s house.

We passed by a market with vendors hawking and customers haggling. I would’ve liked to have taken a look, as I could imagine the kind of items for sale in Sheol. But at Chance’s direction, the Hazo ran on. It was incredibly strong and fast, and I remembered the terror of facing down Caim in Peru. More of the beasts I’d first glimpsed outside the city circled in the air above us. Greydusk had called them quasits.

“Left.”

The turn carried us into a narrow alley between buildings. On the other side, the neighborhood deteriorated swiftly. In big cities, it was often like that. Two or three blocks could mean entering a different world. How odd that it would be the same in Xibalba. More twists, until I was hopelessly lost. These small thoroughfares were a warren of crumbling stone and dangerous characters. And you’d get a lot worse than mugged if you wandered off alone.

“Stop,” Chance said at last. “She’s nearby, I think. I should get a better fix if we walk from here.”

Elated, I slipped from the pedicab while Greydusk paid the Hazo. Into his shovel-size palm, the Imaron counted out a number of ivory disks. I guessed those were coins, but they didn’t look like any I’d ever seen. The cabbie growled a farewell, leaving us in the Barrens. As he lumbered off, we drew some interest, but Greydusk discouraged it with a gesture.

“Who runs this part of the city?” I asked, noting its influence.

“It’s neutral ground. Each caste controls its own territory with the exception of the Mhizul. We came from the Luren sector, which is called the Mirror.”

“Because they’re obsessed with them or because everything is shiny?” I asked.

The demon bared its teeth at me in an appreciative smile. “Both.”

Chance had his eyes closed, circling. It wasn’t exactly like the dowsing that witches did to find water. Instead the luck drew him in the right direction, which would in turn put us onto something that would help us in the case. For the first time, I wondered why he hadn’t just done that to find his mother, why he’d needed my help at all. So I asked.

“I can’t effectively turn it on people I love,” he answered. “I tried when my mom first went missing. But it was erratic and my emotions got in the way.”

“Would you be able to use it to find me if I was in trouble?”

“Not a chance.”