“Nigellus put me onto him, back in the early nineteen-sixties,” he said. “I think he just wanted me to keep an eye on the poor bloke... make sure he didn’t get angry enough to rat out the demon who’d made the illegal bargain with him to the Fae, or start helping the Fae Queen as a way to get revenge on demon-kind in general. We ended up getting on rather well, and it doesn’t hurt that Guthrie is an excellent investment manager.”
I tilted my head curiously. “Does that mean Nigellus knows which demon broke the treaty and struck the bargain with him?”
“Probably.” Rans settled his weight on his hands, regarding me. His tone turned wry. “Try getting anything out of a demon, though...”
“Yeah—I’m beginning to understand what you mean about that,” I muttered, still irritated with myself for having left Atlantic City with nothing more than non-answers and vague reassurances from Rans’ demon mentor. “Speaking of which—like I said, I still have questions.”
He nodded. “I may or may not have answers, but ask away.”
It took a moment to organize my thoughts. “Right. First thing. This whole concept of demons actually bartering souls. I don’t... understand what that even means, in real terms. I mean, if we’ve established that Hell isn’t really a lake of fire designed to torment the sinful, then what physically happens to someone’s... soul, when a demon takes it? Is soul even the right term? You called it life-force, right?”
Rans shrugged. “Eh. Tomato, tom-ah-to. I suppose the distinction depends on your religious and philosophical outlook, mostly.”
“That’s what I’m saying, though,” I pressed. “What is a demon-bound person giving up, in reality? What would normally happen to their... life-force, or whatever, if they hadn’t bartered it away?”
A grim smile tugged at one corner of Rans’ lips, and disappeared an instant later. “I’m afraid you’d have to ask someone who’s dead to get the answer to that question, luv.”
I stared at him pointedly, and he huffed in annoyance.
“There’s quite a difference between dead and undead, Zorah,” he said. “The clue’s in the prefix—it means ‘not.’ From the proto-Germanic, I believe.”
“Fine,” I allowed, wrinkling my nose at him. “But if Hell is just another world rather than a realm of eternal punishment, is there also a Heaven?”
He considered me across the distance separating us. “According to the demons, there’s an angelic realm, yes. But there’s no passage into it from the other worlds, and angels show no interest in intervening with the other races. They haven’t for eons, apparently.”
Okay, this was good. This topic was interesting enough—and important enough—that for now, I could successfully put aside thoughts of tomorrow. Of my parents, and everything I’d lost.
I nodded my understanding.
“All right. So we can discount angels. Good to know, I guess.” I drew in a breath and tried to summarize. “Basically, then, if a human dies, no one knows what happens to their life-force. Maybe it dissipates into the universe, or maybe it’s transferred somewhere. Maybe the Buddhists have it right, and it’s reborn into, I dunno... a mollusc or something.”
“A mollusc?” Rans echoed, giving me an odd look.
“Or something,” I reiterated. “But if you’re bound to a demon, they vacuum up your life-force when you die, and add it to their own power.”
“More or less. At least, so I’m told.”
I frowned. “And what’s so horrible about that? I still feel like I’m missing something.”
Rans looked at me with mild astonishment. “What’s so horrible about it? I think your succubus blood is starting to show around the edges, luv.” When I only looked blank, he continued. “Guthrie mentioned the metaphorical axe over his head.”
“He called it a guillotine,” I corrected. “So, you’re saying the demon might decide to harvest his soul at any time?”
“Quite so.”
That made sense. “Okay, I get it. They could keep you on ice for decades, or centuries, even, and just randomly decide to kill you one day. Yeah, I can definitely see where that would mess with a person.”
I flopped down in one of the wrought iron chairs and chewed on a thumbnail.
“You seem very interested in the subject all of the sudden,” Rans observed.
I lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “It’s a distraction, isn’t it? I kind of need one at the moment. Also, I need to know as much as I can about this stuff, in case I end up getting stuck in Hell despite my demon heritage.”
His expression shuttered, and I gathered he still wasn’t on board with my decision to go and see Dad, come hell or high water.
So to speak.
I forged ahead. “Next question. If demons get their power from eating other people’s souls, but they’re not supposed to interfere on Earth anymore because of the treaty, then how do they keep from starving?”
But Rans only shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. Human souls aren’t the demons’ version of fish and chips. They’re immortal in the literal sense. They can’t starve for the lack of something. Absorbing life force is more like... erm, what’s a good metaphor? It’s more like a RAM upgrade for your computer. Having it makes the computer more powerful, but the thing would still work just fine with the RAM that came from the factory.”
Understanding dawned. “Ah. So it’s a pecking order thing, not a survival thing.”
“I suppose you could look at it that way,” Rans agreed. “There are different kinds of demons, as you’re aware. All of them can barter souls. Incubi and succubi can also draw power through sex—from humans, or from other demons.”
“From Fae, too?” I asked curiously.
“Evidently,” he said. “At least, you didn’t seem to have a problem doing so.”
I flushed, not pleased at the reminder.
“There are also imps,” he continued. “They tend to attach themselves to any being or location with magic, and are able to draw power from that. Then there are demons of fate. They draw power from the fabric of reality itself.”
I thought of the timeless depths of Nigellus’ eyes. “I’m guessing Nigellus is one of
