Devil's Punch

some books, her netbook, and iPod. Oddly, they both still had power. I clicked through her playlist, wondering if she’d cowered in the dark listening to the music that drowned out her terror: “Fear of the Dark” by Iron Maiden, “Trains” by Porcupine Tree, “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult, “Drumming Song” by Florence and the Machine, “The Weeping Song” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, “Wretches & Kings” by Linkin Park, “On My Own” by Three Days Grace, “I’m Not Okay” by My Chemical Romance, “Cryin’ Like a Bitch” by Godsmack, and “Last Man Standing” by Pop Evil.

At that point I stopped scrolling. Her music told me so much about her—or rather, it reminded me. A lot of it was old, a hallmark of her stunted childhood in Kilmer. Other bands were those she’d discovered since I freed her, and they reflected more of her personality.

Steeling myself, I curled my palms around the iPod, which I knew she loved. There would be a charge. If her time in this room had been as traumatic as I expected, I’d learn something. Sufficiently braced, I let my concentration drop and the pictures screamed into my head, and I became Shannon Cheney.

I’m bound, hand and foot. Someone shoves me roughly from behind. My iPod clutched in one hand, I tighten my fist so I don’t drop it. This is my one link to safety. What the hell am I doing here? What do they want? These things don’t talk to me. They don’t tell me anything. Oh, God, I’m so scared.

Jesse.

I want him so much I ache with it. He’s my first love, and he doesn’t know where I am. And maybe to him, I’m just another weird, gifted girl who wigged out because I have a less-than-stable background. He thinks maybe I’m too young for him, like he’s a dirty old man for being with me, but I’m not a kid. I’m not.

I wanted him from the first moment I saw him. But now I’m here in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Where is here?

Monsters skitter at my feet. Hideous things that are like spiders, only they’re not; it’s like they ate a baby’s head or something, and they’re so hungry. I wish I had my radio. Surely there are dead things even here. I’d wreck them all.

The bastard behind me whispers low in a language I don’t understand, calming the spider things. They back off, permitting my faceless captors to shove me toward the closet. They’ve kept me blindfolded until now, and I still haven’t seen anything. Stop talking about me.

A hard push launches me inside, and then the door shuts behind me. I land hard, slamming into the far wall. My face is bruised. Blood drips down my chin. Chains rattle as they fasten me in here. My hands are bound, but not my arms. With some careful maneuvering, I get my earbuds in so I don’t have to listen to the monsters scrabbling at the door. I won’t let them break me. I won’t.

Maybe the music can take away this awful, endless pain—because I remember now. Passing through that water gate burned all the cobwebs out of my mind. Something was done to me—it made me forget. I don’t understand it, but somehow, I lost all my memories of my best friend. And then I stole her boyfriend. So I probably deserve to be here. Whatever happens next, I’ve got it coming.

I fell out of her thoughts then. Maybe the music calmed her so that her mood leveled out, stopping the imprint. Whatever the reason, I lost connection. Tears caught me by surprise, burst out in a noisy rush. Oh, God, Shan, it’s not your fault. It’s my fault. Everything is. I couldn’t shut off my grief. The sobs felt endless, and I couldn’t resist when Chance pulled me to him. He rubbed my back, whispering in low, worried tones to Greydusk, but with so much of Shannon’s terror and anguish in my head, it was impossible to do anything but weep.

It took long moments for me to cry it out. Chance pressed little kisses against my hair, holding me close. Eventually I mustered the self-control to explain what I’d seen. I didn’t share Shannon’s private thoughts, her guilt. That was my burden to bear alone, until I could find her and explain. She had to know I didn’t blame her for anything that had happened with Jesse. In fact, I was happy for them. My own relationship with him hadn’t progressed far enough for me to want anything but his happiness—and if he could find it with Shannon, then they had my blessing. But it tore me up to hear her beating herself up for the spell I cast on them, against their will. I accepted full responsibility for the fallout.

“Unfortunate,” Greydusk said when I finished.

“What is?” Chance was still holding me, but he had a look like he was handling a crate of C-4 instead of the woman he professed to love.

Then I remember how I’d acted before I handled the iPod. Cringed. “God, I’m sorry. The potion—”

“Then you didn’t see anything that could aid us in tracking Shannon?” the demon interrupted.

The remnants of Ninlil’s power, passed down through the ages, flared at his presumption, but I stamped her down. I didn’t intend to let her take over my head again. Now that I was forewarned, I’d be stronger. I wouldn’t ascend and rule over Sheol. I would not. I’m Corine Solomon. I run a pawnshop. And I’m going home.

At least I knew the identity of the whisperer in my skull. I wasn’t losing it.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to Chance again.

“It’s all right. That wasn’t you.” But he still seemed…unsettled, as if I’d become way more than he bargained for.

I swallowed hard. “That was who I could become.”

“That was…scary as hell. You didn’t even see me. And the fact that I couldn’t bring you out of it…”

Yeah, I got where he was going with that. It had taken Shannon’s fear, Shannon’s pain, to shock me back to myself. Yet I had been immersed in it. That was more powerful than someone talking to you, no matter how much you cared about that person. But I understood why he felt worried.

“You’re faster than me,” I said then. “And you’ve got the gloves. If you see me going darkside, knock my ass out.”

He laughed then. “You say that like I could hit you.”

“And there’s no guarantee it would fix the problem,” Greydusk put in. “You might only wake up in demon queen mode, three times as enraged.”

“Okay, so maybe that’s not the solution. Let’s head downstairs so I can sort through the rest of her stuff.”

“As you wish, Binder.”

After having Ninlil in my head, the Imaron’s instant obedience didn’t feel wrong anymore. And that bothered me. Chance still wore a troubled expression, and when he let go of me, I got the feeling he’d love to put some space between us so he could do some thinking. I didn’t blame him.

God knew I’d like some distance from myself. Only it wasn’t possible. I had to live with everything I’d done and everything I was. Until the end.

Rock Steady

I trudged downstairs in silence, clutching Shan’s backpack. There were other items, the laptop, books, and articles of clothing. I’d handle everything, just in case, but it didn’t make sense to sit in bed while I did it; I had to recover quickly. With any luck, I’d find a clue that would tell us what our next move should be.

Less than five days before I had to return to Sybella.

My one consolation was that Shannon had been alive in my vision, listening to her iPod, and the music player still had power. So it couldn’t have been too long since they took her to the new location. There had to be something that could lead us to her. I’d find it.

Chance took off. Not into the city, but he stayed upstairs, making clear through his body language that I should give him some space. Though I regretted hurting him, there was nothing I could do. I wished his concern had been enough to drive the demon queen out of my head, but he could either accept me or he couldn’t. I had no energy to spare for reassuring him.

Clearly I had been here for a while, but I didn’t remember, so I took stock of my surroundings, inside and out. In Mexico City, I’d call this a town house, as it didn’t touch the other homes nearby and there was a small courtyard out back. It was similar in design, in fact, to Tia’s home. Otherwise, in furnishings, design, and building materials,