Caitlin Kittredge - Dark Days

Jack was glad that for once he didn’t actually need a hospital, because he hated them more than any place on earth. The A&E doctor looked him over, saw that he wasn’t gravely injured or bleeding out, and sent him on his way through a packed waiting room full of the aftermath of the riots and the incursion of the Black.

Jack stepped outside to the smoker’s patio to call Pete and tell her that he’d be home soon. She’d left to be with Lily, and he hadn’t minded a bit—he could handle a few pokes and prods just fine on his own.

After the day he’d had, a hospital actually seemed like a vacation, albeit a loud, crowded vacation that smelled of antiseptic and latex.

He watched a zombie shamble down the sidewalk and some lesser form of Fae flit among the gargoyles on top of the hospital. His sight showed him everything as if he were tuned to some kind of radar, pings of magic feeding back to him, but without any of the usual pain.

Jack sat on the steps and lit a cigarette. He could get used to this—magic in the daylight, creatures out in the open, people like him living in the human world like they should instead of living with one foot in the daylight world and one foot in the stuff of nightmares.

“Spare one of those?” Belial flopped down beside him, looking pressed and polished and utterly, utterly slagged off.

“Well look at you,” Jack said, passing over the last of his crushed pack. “Aren’t we a sight for sore eyes.”

Belial lit his cigarette with Jack’s proffered lighter and pulled a face. “These human brands are like sucking on a candy stick. Horrible.”

“You enjoying yourself?” Jack asked. “Seeing everything all topsy turvy?”

Belial shook his finger. “Don’t avoid the subject, Jack. You didn’t give me that blade.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You threatened me. You couldn’t even use it, anyway. And I did your job for you, so by the by, you’re welcome.”

Belial turned to Jack, and his expression was as stony as any of the gargoyles, dead as any of the zombies all around them. “I don’t take this sort of thing lightly, Jack. We may all be neighbors now, but there is still a food chain, and I’m still the big bad wolf.”

Jack exhaled his last drag and scraped out his cigarette on the granite next to him. His virgin lungs protested a lot more than the ones he’d spent decades torturing, and smoking no longer held its masochistic joy. “See, that’s the thing,” he said to Belial, when he’d dragged out the action long enough that the demon looked like he might be about to have a cardiac event. “I don’t think so.”

Belial’s teeth flashed. Jack glanced back at the hospital. If this went wrong, at least they were near an A&E that was rapidly gaining experience dealing with demon attacks.

“Explain to me exactly why I shouldn’t rip your balls off and make a tasty carpaccio to feed back to you,” Belial said, voice as silky as the cut of a good razor blade through a willing wrist.

“Let’s see.” Jack ticked on his fingers, hoping as hard as he could that Belial wouldn’t simply cut his losses and kill him. His brief brush with immortality had worn off, and now he was just sore and painfully alive. “Hell’s only barrier is the Gates. The walls are down. Anyone can breach the Gates, from either direction, and I bet that you lot are going to be busy with revolt for the next, oh, say, five hundred years.” He gave Belial a smile. “Elementals don’t like being your slaves, Belial. Handy tip. Not to mention whatever science projects Azrael has tucked away, plus that prison holding Abbadon and his buddies has got to be pretty shaky by now, and I’d say that even if you wanted to take this Legion mess out of my hide your hands are already full.”

“Don’t test me, Winter…,” Belial started, but Jack held up a finger.

“Shhh, darling. I wasn’t finished.” He reached into the pocket of his coat, which Pete had grabbed when they’d started cutting off his clothes on the plaza. “Also—and this is the important part—you fucked up, Belial. You went against the Princes, misguided as they might be. You stole from them, violated their vaults, and made them look like fools. I’d say the chances of them treating you like a friend at this point are, oh, zero.”

He pulled the key to the Gates from his pocket and held it up. “You have two choices, Belial, the way that I look at it. You can get all hot and bothered and try to get your pound of flesh, or you can walk away into this brave new world, keep that human suit on full time, and sample what the new deal has to offer.”

Belial threw down his cigarette and stood up, glowering as he loomed over Jack. “Are you actually bargaining with me ? That is pathetically hilarious.”

“Not bargaining,” Jack said. “Telling. Those are your choices, and these are your consequences: You walk away and you don’t take to eating babies, and I’ll let bygones be just that. I’ll forget what you did to me. I’ll do my best to forget what you are.”

Jack stood, toeing up to Belial. He had a good inch on the demon’s human form, and he gave Belial a stony look as he held up the key. “You ever come at me again or try to worm your way back into the Triumvirate by screwing me over, and I will use this on you. I’ll deliver you to the Princes’ doorstep in gift wrap, and I’m telling you, Belial, I won’t be the one they’ll have words with.”

He tucked the key back into his pocket and folded his arms. “What do you say, Belial? Do you think we can be friends?”

Belial sucked in a breath. His nostrils flared, and Jack could count every one of his shark teeth, could feel his slender body as it vibrated with rage. “Go to Hell, Winter,” he finally spat, spinning and storming down the steps.

“Already been there!” Jack shouted. “And I’m going to want my lighter back, one of these days!”

Belial shot him the bird and kept walking. Jack sat back down, his knees feeling a bit more liquid than they had before. But it had worked. He’d backed off a demon. First step into a brave new world.

Jack tossed his pack into the bin and went back inside to wait for Pete. If this was the world, he could get used to it.

Two weeks to the day later, Jack stood glaring at Morwenna Morgenstern over the bonnet of her Bentley. “Keep staring,” she said, curling her lip at Jack. “Maybe I’ll do a trick.”

“That would be far too much to hope for,” Jack said. He watched Margaret give Pete a hard hug and kiss Lily on the forehead before she picked up her backpack and suitcase and slumped toward the car.

“Do I really have to go back with them?” she asked Jack. Jack sighed.

“You need real traning, luv, and after what happened it’s too much of a mess here. You need to be safe, and much as I hate to admit it, these tossers will do a decent job of that.” He returned to glaring at Morwenna. “Or they better, if they don’t want me foot up their arses from here to eternity.”

Morwenna gave a delicate shudder. “That literally sounds worse than actually going to Hell and being tormented by demons, Jack.”

Jack grinned. “Going to Hell isn’t so difficult these days. One could arrange it.…”

Morwenna jerked the back door of the Bentley open. “Get in, dear,” she said. Margaret rolled her eyes, but she hugged Jack and climbed aboard while Victor loaded her bags.

“I won’t let them turn me into a posh twat like her,” she whispered before the car pulled away. Jack patted her on the shoulder.

“You’re going to lead all of us some day, kid. Stay in school, drugs are rubbish, they’ll tell you dabbling in black magic isn’t allowed, but it can be a lot of—”