Ann Aguirre - Devil's Punch

Thing was—and it made me worse than he knew—I’d have gone ahead, even if Greydusk had warned me. I’d choose to sacrifice some unknown soul to save Shannon. That was the kind of person I’d become, or maybe always had been. Certainly, I wasn’t a gentle white witch like my mother had been. I really had to talk to Chance. Damn . First chance I got, I’d tell him everything, before we went back.

“Take me to Shannon,” I said quietly.

“Those are not my orders.”

I froze. Magick flared from my fingertips in a wild rush. It felt different here in Sheol, darker, almost viscous, as if I could drip it through my fingers like molasses. The energy clung to me like a dark cloak, sizzling beneath my skin in silent threat. Sure, it hurt me too, but if this thing tried to double-cross us, I would fry it. Somehow. Before it could touch either one of us. I gauged the distance and calculated how many seconds I’d have before it reached me.

“That will not be necessary, Binder.” The neutral tone was back, a sure sign I had offended it. “I will convey you to my employer, as I was instructed. Where you go from there is between you and her.”

Her?

“Do we have allies?” Chance asked.

“In a manner of speaking. The Luren want to see you. Speak with you. They are…amenable to the idea of a shift in the power structure.”

I pondered; I wasn’t without resources, so I etched a sigil in the air with my athame, whispered a word, then asked, “Did the Luren have anything to do with taking Shannon?”

“No,” the demon answered. “But they did not strive to prevent it either.”

Truth echoed in my head. The spell wouldn’t last long, so I needed to get as much info as I could.

“Who are they?”

“They mean you no harm,” Greydusk said impatiently. “Which is more than I might say for any other caste. You imperil yourselves by arguing here. It’s imperative that you permit me to complete my contract.”

Half truth. The whispered judgment from the spell didn’t shock me. Unfortunately, it couldn’t tell me which part was less than honest. Maybe the last bit, because the consequences would be terrible for Greydusk if we balked. He’ll die, a skeptical voice reminded me. That meant it was doubtful we could trust him. He’d say anything to get us to cooperate. Yet it wasn’t like I had a demonic version of Chuch hanging around Sheol, waiting for my call. There were no better offers on the table.

“What do you think?” I asked Chance.

He lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “I don’t know where the hell we are. We could die here before we find Shannon without some help, so it seems better to let him take us to the demons who don’t immediately intend to kill us.”

That summed up the situation nicely. Greydusk had us over a barrel. So I muttered, “Let’s get on with it.”

The Imaron set a small, intricately graven box on the ground. Then it whispered a word in demontongue, and the item responded with an agitated rattle. It unfolded rapidly, assembling into something larger, and when the pieces stopped unfolding and turning, the tiny article had turned into what looked like a mechanical coach. I shared a glance with Chance, brow raised. In reply, he shook his head: Nope, never saw anything like that before .

Next, Greydusk uncapped a vial, and blacklight poured out. I recognized it from Lake Catemaco, even if I hadn’t been able to identify the smell. Panicked, I drew, so that magick sparkled on my fingertips, burning like ten small suns. My spells slipped, so that I couldn’t remember which sigils matched what effects; I was that scared, and without an outlet for the power I’d drawn, I would cook myself alive.

“Calm down,” Greydusk said impatiently. “The Klothod won’t hurt you.”

Except when they possess a bunch of angry monkeys, who then try to eat your face. They killed the boatman in Catemaco without breaking a sweat. “Since when ?”

“Since I command them.”

Chance took my hand, even with the energy crackling from it, and it burst away from him, lancing the air in a wild bolt that shook the tree. Overhead, the bird-thing uttered a raucous cry in protest. As I watched, Greydusk whispered orders to the Klothod, and they infused the carriage he’d called. The thing shuddered to life, fed on demonic energies. I swallowed my misgivings, climbed up, and then we were off.

The smell lingered around us, tingeing the air. I couldn’t forget that some of these things had tried to murder me; they had killed Ernesto, an honest boatman from Veracruz. In my heart, I knew Kel wouldn’t approve of this. He’d said I held both heaven and hell in me, and that I had yet to choose my course. But this? No. There was no paradise waiting for me after this. So I’d better make my mortal life count because it was straight down in a handbasket thereafter.

A lonely road stretched before us; there was no other traffic. No signs of indigenous life either. No native flora and fauna. “What is this place?”

“The Ashen Plain. On its other side, we will cross the River of Lethe, and come through the Chasm of Despair.”

“Seriously?”

It ignored my sarcasm. “Once past, we will see the city walls.”

“Xibalba,” Chance said.

“Just so.”

“From there, you’re taking us to the Luren. Tell me about them?” Since Greydusk didn’t seem to be guiding the carriage—the enslaved, formless Klothod appeared to be doing the work—it seemed safe to ask.

“They are the tempters,” the demon said. “Beautiful. Seductive. Deadly. They are…difficult to resist.”

“Is that how you wound up guiding us, against your better judgment?” Chance wanted to know.

Greydusk offered a curt nod. Interesting . So these Luren had incredible powers of persuasion, even over other demons. I’d have to be on my guard. I wished I had some spell to make me proof against mental shenanigans, but off the top of my head, I couldn’t remember anything in either grimoire that would help. Chance’s luck should keep him safe to some degree, but the longer I stayed close to him without a cleansing, the more danger I’d encounter.

“You mentioned taking us to her ?” I prompted, hoping the demon would take the hint.

“Sybella,” Greydusk supplied. “She is the patroness of the Luren caste, holding the rank of Ruling Knight.”

Like Caim, I guessed. Time to learn a little more.

“Do you know of a demon named Caim?” I asked.

Greydusk cut me a sharp look. “The Ruling Knight of the Hazo?”

“I guess?”

“They are the warriors, not to be trifled with.”

Shit. What I had done to the demon knight in Peru was way worse than that. I imagined he’d want to impale me on something sharp and rusty, as soon as I hit the city. The news just kept getting better and better. I mean, I’d known Caim was scary as hell, but the fear that laced Greydusk’s expression made my dread worse.

Chance cut in, “Back to the Luren. Do the others take orders from Sybella?”

“Nothing so brutish,” Greydusk replied bitterly. “It is all much more smooth and civilized among the Luren. More accurate to say she has seduced them to the point that most would rather die than displease her.”

More shit . I preferred free will.

“Is there anything we can do to protect ourselves from her?”

The demon considered, and I could tell it was weighing the advantages of helping us. I wished I hadn’t pissed it off so often. “Don’t look her in the eyes. Stay at least two meters away at all times. Above all, don’t let her touch you.”

“Touching is bad?” Chance looked worried.