Devil's Punch

“I do, but there’s no escape from it. The courtyard dead-ends in walls from the other houses nearby.”

Chance thought for a moment, then said, “Can we go up and over?”

None of us wanted to fight twenty—or more—demons. Well, except the evil queen in my head. She was sick of running. She was ready to march out and smite them all. The queen whispered of lost and ancient knowledge, demon magick she could teach me.

Join with me, she whispered. I can end this. You shouldn’t be forced to flee like a fugitive. You carry royalty in your fragile human skin.

For a moment I was tempted. But if I let her fight this battle for me, it would make her stronger. I’d fade even more. It was happening without my cooperation, so I sure as hell wouldn’t embrace my own annihilation.

“Does the demon rope we used in the caves work in the opposite direction?” Like, could we slide up or would it make it easier for us to climb?

Greydusk seemed much struck by this idea. “It might, if I reverse the command.”

Something smashed into the side of the house. That spurred me into motion. I grabbed Shannon’s backpack while Chance shouldered his. Then I snagged my purse and stuffed Butch into it. “Let’s get out of here.”

The Imaron ran for the rope and met us at the back door that led out from the kitchen. Demons cooked. Ate. Tended gardens. Oh, man. I puffed out an exasperated breath; I didn’t want to find kinship in them. But everything I learned about their world made me view them in a different light.

Out back, Greydusk had a tidy plot of land with weird, exotic flowers. The surrounding walls were of chipped gray stone. He had tied one end of the cord to a grappling hook and I backed up as he swung it in a tight arc before slinging it toward the top of the wall. It clattered and struck, then the tines reacted like claws, burrowing into the wall. Magickal, no doubt.

A whispered word and then, “Test it out, Binder.”

Shouts came from close-by. Our pursuers had broken into the house. Fear proved a powerful motivator, so I launched myself at the rope. I’d never had the upper-body strength for climbing, but as soon as I touched the cord, it felt like I’d dropped a hundred pounds. I hauled myself up as if I weighed nothing. Reaching the top of the wall, I scrambled over into someone else’s backyard. The lots were terraced here, which made sense as the city was built in the mountains. We’d passed through a chasm to get here, after all. The other two followed me and Greydusk whispered the word that let him reclaim his rope. On deactivation, the crablike grappling hook folded into a package the size of a large coin. Handy.

“Who can we trust in the city?” I asked.

“No one,” Greydusk answered.

If I unleashed the queen, I could command anyone to render aid. And then enforce their loyalty. Eager to begin her quest for Sheol domination, she pushed at the box that caged her in my head. I whispered no again and she howled in rage. The chaos in my brain could drive me crazy if I let it.

“Well, let’s move,” Chance said. “There are demons who look humanoid, like the Luren. We should find a crowd and try to blend in.”

“You could pass for Luren,” the demon admitted, after a cursory inspection.

That was a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one. Chance’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t protest as I hurried alongside the neighbor’s house and out the unlocked courtyard door. I emerged onto a different street. From here, I looked to Greydusk for leadership. He could decide where it would be best for us to hide in plain sight and plot our next move.

“One thing.” The demon touched the corner of each of my eyes, and it stung. The feeling spread, leaving my irises prickly.

Chance drew in a sharp breath. “What did you do?”

“Camouflage. While you can pass on your own, she needs a little help.”

“What?” I demanded, seeing the anxiety he couldn’t hide.

“Your eyes are bloodred.”

“Like the Dohan,” Greydusk said, unconcerned. “It will wear off in time.”

The Dohan were the Drinkers, if I recalled correctly. Which meant I had to feign a yen for human blood. Awesome.

“Thanks.” I meant it.

“It falls within the agreement, Binder. I pledged to serve your interests. It does not benefit you to be captured by your enemies.” He turned to Butch, just barely peeking over the edge of my bag. “Now something must be done about your mammal.”

“Like what?”

By his worried yip, Butch shared my concern and curiosity.

Greydusk didn’t reply. He merely whispered in demontongue until my ears burned with it. Magick built around us and Butch tried to hide. But he couldn’t. Because in a swirl of darklight, he turned into something else.

And he had wings.

After a moment, I recognized what the demon had done. He’d turned Butch into a quasit. It was a revolting but sensible choice, as an imp might serve a demon, but any self-respecting Dohan would eat a Chihuahua, not lug it around and pet it. Butch couldn’t even whine over his fate; his vocal cords were shaped differently now. A muted chir came from his throat. He flapped his wings in agitation.

“Don’t be dramatic,” the demon told the dog/quasit. “This wears off too. It is best for your mistress. Be brave.”

That actually seemed to work, as the quasit settled, still in my purse, but you know, you couldn’t build Rome in a day. Time for us to move. It was odd because we didn’t gather a second look from passersby. Well, Chance did, from time to time, but that was due to his beauty, not anyone’s suspicion. Some glimpsed my red eyes and gave us a wide berth. Apparently the Drinkers didn’t limit themselves to human sources. Which made sense. So they could live on the blood of other demons, but maybe humans tasted like a really nice Shiraz, a treat they couldn’t pass up.

Greydusk led us through winding city streets. In place of the split-faced sun rose a breathtaking moon. It was whole and haunting, larger than any moon I’d ever seen on earth; the edges burned with silver, softening all the ugly lines and imbuing Xibalba with alien beauty. For the first time, this land was not merely strange and terrible, and the dark queen in my head rejoiced.

“Is it not lovely?” Greydusk whispered, following the trajectory of my gaze.

“Gorgeous,” I admitted.

“There was a well-known poet here who wrote, Night in Sheol steals the soul. I have forgotten the rest, but each time I see the moon, I remember that one line.”

“For obvious reasons,” Chance said softly.

I put my hand in his. For long moments, I just stared up. I didn’t care about finding Shannon. I felt warm and languid, as if my skin soaked up that lunar light. I wanted to take Chance somewhere dark and private and spend hours— No, that wasn’t me. The demon queen craved those things. The flavor of her desire differed from mine; it was deep and sharp, like a rapier lodged in my rib cage.

“I understand the land was not always so dark and cold. Barren,” Greydusk observed.

Raising a brow, I prompted, “Oh?”

“There was a civil war. Our records are incomplete.…It was so long ago. But I imagine how majestic it must have been, before our forebears broke the world.”

Damn. I’d assumed—wrongly—that Sheol was ugly because it was full of evil beings, but that involved a logical disconnect. Places weren’t inherently bad; sometimes people populated them who did terrible things and it scarred the land.

“You have a destination in mind,” I said to the Imaron, making a mental note to consider the implications later.

He nodded. “I know of a club where we won’t draw attention. Mixed-caste parties often venture there for a night of carousing.”

Demons, carousing. My spirit recoiled, and my instincts screamed this couldn’t end well. “Take us there.”

Greydusk did.