Ann Aguirre - Devil's Punch

“Our first drop,” Greydusk said. “Only seven meters.”

That sounded like a lot. I took a breath while it made the preparations. Fortunately, it had a rope; it glimmered golden in the witchlight. The demon went first, sliding deftly down.

“It’s a bit damp, but safe enough. Come along!”

Chance touched my cheek. “Now you, love. I’m not leaving you alone here.”

“Don’t move,” I ordered the dog.

“Why don’t you let me take him?”

Since he was more athletic and coordinated, that was a good idea. I unlooped my bag and handed it over, which left him with both the backpack and my purse. If I hadn’t been so scared, I’d have laughed over using Chance as a pack mule. He was far too elegant for that.

I mustered my courage and sank to my knees, then tucked my glowing athame into the back of my pants. That’s fantastic luck, I’m sure. I had no idea if my upper-body strength could handle this. It took all my willpower to edge back off the rock and start inching down. I wanted to wrap the cord around my waist, but Greydusk held the other end.

We should have belts and straps and pulleys and things, shouldn’t we? Shit. Don’t think about falling .

I was halfway down when the bats appeared. At least they seemed to be, only they were more aggressive than any I’d heard about on National Geographic. They dived at my head, my hair, biting and scratching. My hands slipped on the rope, and I cried out as I slid down. Rock crumbled away against my feet.

Above me, I heard Chance cursing. “I’m not sure the rope will hold us both. Keep moving. You can do it.”

They’re small. They can’t actually hurt you. Only a fall can do that. My hands were shaking by the time I got to solid ground again. As the demon had mentioned, a thin stream of water trickled down the rock, leaving the stone where we stood slick and dangerous. It was so dark that I couldn’t see without the witchlight. I held it up for Chance, not daring to say a word until he hit the ledge beside me.

Thank you .

I threw myself into his arms. He rubbed my back and brushed a kiss against my hair. “I’m fine. You know I always land on my feet.”

Just like a cat. And so he did. But it would kill me if anything happened to him. Maybe we were still figuring out how we fit together, but he mattered.

He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me: leashed passion, restrained desire, and tenderness too. I knew him now in ways I hadn’t before. I could read between the lines of that kiss: I’m here, and I care. I want you. Butch poked his head out of my bag—I didn’t think I’d ever seen the little dog so worried, and we had been in some dire situations. The Chihuahua whined a little, but he settled. Chance kept him for me, which was probably just as well.

“We must press on,” Greydusk said. I couldn’t read its face, but I thought I heard amusement in the tone.

“Is the route like this all the way down?” I asked.

“Uncharted and dangerous? Indeed.”

I swallowed a sigh. “Awesome. What’s with the bats?”

“They’re demon-touched. Pay them no heed.”

Demon-touched. Obviously. I should’ve thought of that.

I realized then that we stood on more a ledge than a proper path, which meant we had to descend again. The demon whispered a word, too faint for me to catch, and then the golden rope uncoiled above us, drifting down to him in a glimmer of light.

“Would the rope react if we lose our grip?” Chance asked.

Greydusk nodded. “It offers better safety than all the mundane climbing gear.”

That was something at least. The reassurance that magick might catch me if I plummeted gave me the guts to approach the edge while the demon tied the rope off again. His knots were impressive, complex and intricate. This time, the drop was deeper, double what we’d done before. Fourteen meters, and I couldn’t see the bottom. Below us, the darkness was absolute.

Shannon. I built her face in my mind’s eye. Dyed-black hair with colorful streaks. She liked to tip the ends in blue. She had a pretty face, but she always wore makeup to make the most of her pallor and a thick coating of kohl, along with three or four coats of mascara. It made her striking, for sure, and she liked dressing in Lolita-style Goth gear. Her panache made men who should know better take a second look.

For her, I could press forward. I could. The rope felt cool in my palms and I decided to try the demon’s trick. Magick would catch me if I failed, so…I let myself slide down, and the cord slid smoothly through my hands with an unnatural friction. No rope burns on my palms when I hit bottom, and it was way less terrifying than trying to brace my feet on the rough rock face.

“Well done,” Greydusk said.

Chance followed my example, with more alacrity and grace. He was smiling when I aimed my witchlight at his face. This probably felt like an adventure to him, bigger than any job we ever took when we were together. Usually it was pretty mundane stuff—missing persons and belongings, or occasionally somebody wanted to use me as a lie detector, like Escobar had done. Since I could view things as they’d really happened, provided an object with sufficient charge had witnessed the scene, I had done that more than once. Seen a few things I wished I hadn’t too.

This was something else entirely.

In this fashion, I clambered down two more drops. These were like stairs cut by a giant inside the mountain, made more difficult to navigate by that trickle that was growing into a cascade the farther down we went. Water streamed from cracks in the rock, rendering them slippery, but the rope simplified our passage.

The next level was downright wet. I tried to stay out of the downpour, but my movement swung me into the stream. I lost my grip on the rope and plummeted, slamming into the rock face, but the cord twined around my waist before I dropped more than a few feet. My heart pounded wildly as I hung there, swaying halfway between up and down.

Magick. Yeah, magick’s good. I didn’t have a spell in my head. Fear drove them all out until I could only dangle upside down and helpless, listening to Butch yap above me. He knew I was in trouble. Good dog .

“Are you hurt?” Chance asked, his voice taut with worry.

“Fine.” Mostly. Bruises and scrapes on my right side, but without the demon rope, it would’ve been worse.

Greydusk called, “Are you ready to resume?” like nothing had happened.

Gripping the cord in preparation for the positional shift, I answered in the affirmative, and it spoke a command. The rope straightened, and I slid the rest of the way down, where the demon caught me. It set me on my feet without comment, and then Chance followed.

“How much more of this?” he asked.

I wondered too. It felt like we had already come that kilometer downward, but it might just be that I wasn’t used to such activity. Clearly I wasn’t. At the best of times, I didn’t like heights, and the dark made it worse. So much worse.

In answer, Greydusk set off along a path that had become proper flat ground again, not just a slippery ledge. I strode after him, using the witchlight to assess the area. The primitive markings higher up had given way to more disturbing décor; I recognized some of the symbols from the harness that belonged to Caim. Which meant they were demonic sigils.

“What do they say?” I whispered to Greydusk. The heaviness of the dark made it feel wrong to speak in a normal tone of voice. Plus the weird acoustics stole your voice and sent it echoing down distant passageways. Not a good idea, under the circumstances.

The demon’s reply didn’t help. “Nothing you want to know, I promise.”