We disappeared, reappearing a heartbeat later in an unfamiliar area that definitely wasn’t part of the titheling village. I tugged my arm away with a bit more sharpness than necessary, easily able to foresee a time when I’d be thoroughly fed up when it came to being teleported from place to place by demons.
I eyed my companion. “So, I take it you’re not planning on hulking out before we meet the great and the good of demon society?” I asked. “You know, with the wings and the...” I made a motion with my fingers to indicate horns sprouting.
With the air of someone who had hopelessly misplaced whatever atrophied sense of humor he’d originally possessed, Nigellus looked pointedly at my classy Wal-Mart chic attire.
“Why? Concerned about appearances, are you?” he retorted in a tone dry enough to parch rocks.
I shrugged. “Hey, I’m just asking.” As I continued to study the demon, I couldn’t help noticing that he still had the same look of pastiness he’d sported when I’d first walked in on him after he’d resurrected Edward. “How drained are you right now, anyway? Edward made it sound like you just expended a fuck-ton of animus to save him. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Don’t concern yourself,” he said in a tone that did not encourage further inquiries.
Not for the first time, I wondered what the back-story was between him and Edward. As I understood it, the point of a demon-bond was to act as a power source for the demon that held the bond.
Not only had Nigellus failed to harvest Edward’s soul for extra power when things started going badly in the war with the Fae; he’d apparently drained his own power to bring the aging butler back from death on not just one occasion, but dozens. It bugged me immensely that the demon could be such a backstabbing son of a bitch in some regards, and so apparently selfless in others.
Or maybe I was still thinking too much like a human. For all I knew, Nigellus had a totally selfish reason for his actions with Edward, and I just wasn’t devious enough to see it.
“Sure,” I said lightly. “Whatever you say. I’ll file it away with all the other important questions I’m not concerning myself with, shall I?”
“A wise plan,” Nigellus agreed flatly.
For the moment, I stopped worrying about the stick up Nigellus’ ass in favor of trying to orient myself to my new surroundings. We were in a canyon formed from layered sandstone—the silvery light from the three moons picking out different colored streaks stacked up nearly as far as the eye could see. Here and there, cave mouths were visible as darker patches against the rock.
“Is this where all the demons live, then?” I asked.
“Not precisely,” he replied. “There are many such geological formations in Hell. Some do, in fact, act as domiciles, but this one is devoted mostly to administrative tasks. Think of it as the equivalent of the tithelings’ meeting hall, only with considerably more perfidy taking place inside.”
“What? Demons double-dealing each other?” I muttered. “I’m shocked.”
His dark eyes cut to me in the pale moonlight. But all he said was, “Come.”
I followed him toward one of the larger cave entrances. “Won’t we need to wait until morning to talk to the Council? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Demons don’t sleep,” he said shortly. “Someone will be available.”
I shook my head in amazement at this new revelation and followed him, wondering how demons kept from going completely around the bend. Not only were they fricking immortal; they couldn’t even pass the time by napping for a decade or two here and there. Then again, maybe they were all a bit crazy. Maybe that was part of the problem.
As we entered the cave, I heard the click of Nigellus’ fingers snapping together. Torches along the wall flared into life, illuminating our surroundings. The place was not, as I had assumed, a natural cave. Or... perhaps it had been a natural cave originally? It was hard to tell. Certainly, the walls and floor had been smoothed and carved with tools, along with a ton of patience. It reminded me of an archaeological site from one of the Indiana Jones movies—the place with the huge columns and facades carved out of a rocky canyon.
Petra, in Jordan. That was the name of it.
I looked up, the height of the cavern above me making me dizzy.
“Okay,” I said faintly. “Wow. Yeah. That’s a seriously big cave to carve out of solid stone.”
“When one has an eternity to pass, one comes to appreciate many things, including stonemasonry,” Nigellus said.
He led me deeper into the structure, through hallways carved with writhing beasts and winged, battling figures. I tried not to be overwhelmed by my surroundings, focusing instead on the reason I was here in the first place. My father. Myrial. Edward’s body lying strewn in pieces on the ground.
I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin.
“Who’s there?” called a voice from the chamber ahead, muffled by the stone still separating us.
“It’s Nigellus,” my companion called back. “With a visitor.”
We entered to find a lithe demonic figure seated on a stool behind a massive stone desk carved from the same stone as the walls and floor. He appeared male, but was far smaller than the guards I’d come to know during my previous stay. In many ways, the figure hunched at the desk in front of us reminded me of the gargoyles found on some church rooftops.
I tried to think back to my quick and dirty lesson on demon society. “Are you an imp?” I blurted.
The figure’s eyebrows rose. “It’s... not obvious?”
Nigellus sighed. “Baalazar, may I present Zorah Bright. Zorah, Baalazar.”
Baalazar’s expression closed off. “Ah. The cambion’s daughter.” His flinty eyes moved to Nigellus. “We did discuss this at length already, Nigellus.”
Nigellus waved the words away carelessly. “We are here regarding a unrelated matter. There has been an unprovoked attack in the titheling village. A mortal that is bound
