“I’ll just hang out near the door,” he said. “Aeromancer, remember? I’ll shield myself, and if you come running for the door, I’ll shield you, too. It’s not going to hurt to have someone inside.”
He made a lot of sense, but I chuckled when he had to use his badge to bypass the line outside. I just walked to the front, winked at the bouncer, and licked my lips. I don’t think he even noticed the large pistol strapped to my right leg.
Once I was inside, I walked over to the bar and asked the devil pouring drinks where I might find Ashvial. He sneered at me. I held up the card the demon lord had given me.
“Your name?”
“Tell him it’s the brunette elf girl.”
He stared at me for a moment, then picked up a phone, and spoke into it. Someone answered, they spoke, the bartender listened, the bartender turned and looked me up and down, then spoke again. I was impressed. A demon who could use a phone. That made him a technological genius compared to most demons. Then I reassessed, wondering if it was some kind of demon magik that just looked like a phone. Demons were good with illusions.
When he hung up, he said, “Stairs over there. Go straight at the top, last door on the right.” He still sneered, only with a bit more mockery in it. Oh, well. I figured there were worse things in life than having people think I was a demon-loving bimbo. As I climbed the stairs, I tried to remember what those things might be.
Two demons—an oni and a troll—stood guard at the top of the stairs. The troll leered at me, but the oni saw my pistol and started to move in front of me. I had never figured out if I inherited any magik with my elven blood, but I was faster than other humans. I drew the pistol and leveled it at him. He stopped in mid-step.
“I’m here to see Ashvial, and he knows I’m coming,” I said. “Check, if you wish.”
The two demons exchanged glances, then the oni moved out of my way. I waited until I was past them before I holstered my weapon. Halfway down the hall, I stopped and sprayed myself with a couple of shots from the spritzer Kirsten had given me.
The last door on the right was open, and a lust demon—not a lilith, possibly a succubus—came out just as I reached it.
She gave me a leer and said, “Have a good time,” as she brushed past me.
The office was lit with red lamps, giving the place a demon-world ambiance. The desk and a couple of chairs were the only human furniture. Ashvial sat behind the desk on a throne decorated with carvings of demons ravishing humans. Very comforting.
On a pedestal behind him was one of the most striking statuettes I had ever seen. The body of a woman—a human woman—with the head of a dragon. Sharp ridges ran from the top of its head between its horns, down its back to the tip of its tail, which was curled around its feet. It looked almost alive, as though its skin would be soft and warm. Its eyes were demon red, glowing, and I felt as though they followed me.
I had seen it before, in dreams with my father. Once, it—she—had ridden him like a woman rides a man.
“Ah, Miss James.” His eyes briefly glanced down to my pistol, then returned to my face. “Is this visit pleasure or business?”
I stalked toward him and sat on the corner of the desk. His nostrils flared, and his pupils widened.
“Mostly business,” I said. “But I was curious to see you again.” I didn’t ask how he knew my name.
“Oh? And what were you curious about?”
“No one has ever made me feel like that. The challenge, I guess. Wondering if you just took me off guard.”
A feeling of warmth started between my legs and intensified, spreading up to my breasts, my throat and ears. I felt my face flush and was thankful for the red light in the room. But he didn’t need to see my reaction—he could feel it.
I could tell Kirsten’s potion was having an effect on him as well. His breathing quickened, and he leaned forward, inhaling deeply through his nose.
The more he got turned on, the more lust he projected, and the more I got turned on. An uncontrolled feedback circuit. My head swimming, I stood, turning away from him and going to the far side of the room. I picked up a grotesque little statue from a buffet and tried to concentrate on it.
“A man you’ve had business dealings with was killed the other morning,” I said.
“Yes, Martin Johansson. A tragedy.”
“Several people who are implicated in human trafficking have done business with both Johansson and you.”
“Is that so? A terrible business. Personally, I prefer to share pleasure with willing partners.” He stood and walked around the desk toward me. The lust he was projecting threatened to overwhelm my senses.
I turned to face him, the statue still in my hand. It was better facing him, because he didn’t look remotely human. His facial features resembled a medieval gargoyle’s more than they did a human’s. Standing in front of him, I estimated that Ashvial was at least seven and a half feet tall and muscled like a weight lifter. His red skin was an even deeper color in the red light, and the curved black horns projecting from his bald head made him seem even taller. His teeth were pointed like a dinosaur’s, and the black claws at the end of his fingers could easily rip my guts open.
“I was also hoping you might have some information about the murder of a demon, Lavessinel. He was a drug dealer.”
“He was a traitor and a thief. I don’t wish to speak of him.”
The lust he
