Ann Aguirre - Devil's Punch

“Hey,” I said. “How bad is it if you get bitten?”

Greydusk and Chance must not have heard me, as they’d started searching. Since the room was clear, I limped inside to see if there was anything noteworthy. My expectations weren’t high by that point, but there was nothing lost by being thorough. Pain lanced through my left calf with every step. The boot felt like it might be cutting off my circulation.

Hang in there. For Shannon. How dangerous can those things be?

My eyesight sparkled. Dark streaks, as if I were peering through a filthy window. Worried, I leaned up against the wall and left the rummaging to Chance and Greydusk. They were fast but careful, leaving no inch of the room unexplored, as we’d done eleven times before. I had little hope it would be different this time.

Until Greydusk opened the closet door—and what I saw took my focus off the bite. Through wavering vision, I recognized it at once: a black backpack with colorful, feminine skulls. Shannon had been here. They’d held her in this room. Oh, gods and goddesses, with those spiders? Was she even alive any longer? The way I felt, she might not be, if they’d bitten her. Even worse, maybe she’d been kept in the closet, in the dark, listening to those hideous things scuttle with the endless and permanent threat that someone could come—for no reason at all—and open the door.

“It’s hers,” I said. “Grab it.”

I tried to take a step toward the pack, toward that link to Shannon, because I could read something in there, maybe get a clue. Find her. Save her.

But the stupid words the Noit had babbled echoed in my head instead: Binder, binder, never find ’er. She’s gone, gone, for a song, into the heart of where it’s dark, and nevermore, forevermore .

My leg buckled. I hit the dirty floor with it twisted beneath me, and I couldn’t see. I heard Chance’s voice cast in worried tones, and Greydusk’s calmer reply, and then it all went away, as if through the water gate, and I became a thing spun in so many directions that I lost all cohesion, and went sailing into nothing at all.

Pain.

Darkness.

Someone’s hurting me .

My throat was too tight and dry to scream, but I heard it in my head. Echoes of voices chattered above me. Noise, not words. One of them was familiar. I wanted to reach for him. I couldn’t. A fire blazed in my leg, eating into my muscles and bones. It stretched up from ankle to thigh, nibbling toward my hip, and my face felt parched and swollen. My eyes wouldn’t open.

“Will she be all right?”

“I don’t know.”

More nothing.

The pain lessened after the poking and jabbing. I sighed in relief as cool hands stroked my cheeks. Whimpering, I turned.

“Does she know I’m here?”

“Hard to say. I’d guess yes, though.”

I know, I tried to say, through lips as solid as wax. I know you, demon prince with the tiger’s eyes .

Slow fade.

The next time I came back to my head, I could move it. A few seconds later, I unsealed my eyelids and blinked against the low light. Chance was asleep beside me, and I had no idea where we were. My dirty clothes were piled on the floor beside us, along with my wrecked boots. The room was small but neat, serviceable rather than ostentatious. Our bed had been built into the wall—or rather, it was a stone ledge with a mattress on it. Cunning design, I thought, and cozy with Chance spooned up against me. I touched his arm where it rested across my waist and his eyes snapped open instantly. He’d always been a light sleeper.

“Corine,” he rasped.

I turned into his arms, and even that small motion made me dizzy. “What happened?” It was all a blur, and then before he could answer, it came rushing back. The former demon brothel, the spiders with dead baby faces, Shannon’s backpack. “How long was I out?”

“After Greydusk administered the antidote, almost a full day.”

“And how long did it take him to find it?”

“Eight hours.”

So it had been over twenty-four hours, in demon time, since we found her pack. Damn it . My injury had cost us a day we might not have to spare. Angry with myself, I strangled a curse.

Gathering my resolve, I tried to sit up and failed. Still too weak. “How long will it take me to recover?”

“Do you not understand you almost died?” His features were tight with exhaustion and worry.

“I get it,” I said. “I also know that Shannon may not have much time left.”

If she has any at all .

“Corine,” he said. “I know you love her. But I don’t. You’re the one I care about, and it kills me to see you go down this road.” He stroked a hand through my tangled hair. “You’re ready to sacrifice anything for her.”

“Yeah. But I’d do it for you too.” That shut him up, as I’d known it would. “Where are we?”

“Greydusk’s place.”

“Wow, he took us home with him?” Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty. Suddenly, it didn’t feel right to think of the Imaron as “it” as if he wasn’t a person. “Sybella must be furious.”

Chance shrugged. “I haven’t been out of this room.”

“I’m sorry I scared you,” I said quietly.

“It wasn’t the first time. I doubt it’ll be the last.” A ghost of a smile chased across his face.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” In fact, just the opposite. I had been trying to get out of the way, but in the confusion of combat, shit happened. Chance knew it as well as I did. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Soon,” Greydusk answered from the doorway.

“Seriously—” Chance began, but the demon didn’t give him an opportunity to complete the objection.

“I can give you a tisane to hasten your recovery if you wish.”

“If? Why would you even ask? Let me guess—there’s some hideous side effect, like I grow horns or bark like a dog for the rest of my life.” Butch raised his head from the pillow on a nearby chair and gave me a look. “Sorry, bud. No offense.”

He heaved a particularly eloquent sigh.

“There are consequences for every action,” the demon said. “As you well know, Binder.”

“Lay it on me.”

“The cost for a swift recovery of your strength is a year of your life, should you ingest this potion.” The demon held a slim vial in one long-fingered hand. When he held it to the light, it swirled in shades of red.

Chance tensed. “How long will it take her to heal naturally?”

“Nine of your months.”

I pushed out a slow breath, thinking. It made sense. If I used sufficient energy in one pass to heal that much damage, there had to be a cost. Nine months’ time couldn’t just magickally disappear; it had to come from somewhere. Whatever. In the end, I could make only one choice. The same one I’d been making all along, no matter how shitty the path before me. But…

“What’s the catch?” I asked. “What you said doesn’t guarantee I knock a year off my life span. It could also mean that I lose a year of my past—when something important happens—or I might wind up in indentured servitude.”

“I cannot offer any warranty,” Greydusk said. “All of the above are possible side effects. The ultimate payment results from the will of the potion’s creator.”

Which I have to deal with later. I often took actions that would cost me down the line in order to survive present circumstances. So be it.

“I understand.” I reached for the tisane.

Chance caught my hand. “Are you crazy? Isn’t there any way to narrow down the potential costs?”

“He’s right,” the demon said. “You should give this more consideration.”