Ann Aguirre - Devil's Punch

Implacably, I turned my arm so my palm faced up. Silently demanding. There was no merit in arguing with either of them. Words were no use after a certain point. I would not be gainsaid or advised by my men when I had not sought their counsel. Greydusk yielded to my stare without further objection, delivering the vial. Chance turned his face away as I broke the wax seal and downed it. It tasted of blood and heartbreak, burning all the way down my throat. My stomach roiled as the demon magick streamed into my veins, lacing my system with black wildfire.

At first it hurt, and then it spun me around, almost as powerful as the Nephilim blood, only instead of colors I saw darkness. Shadows and layers and whispers of gray, marking the demon, and Chance’s hair, which had once only been raven black to my human eyes. Now I saw the hidden glimmer, like the sheen of oil in the sunlight, too subtle and deep for my formerly limited senses to discern.

I felt strong and fast and damn near invincible. Laughing, giddy, I leapt from the bed and demanded, “Where the hell are my clothes?”

Wordless, almost subservient, Greydusk fetched them for me. It was only afterward that I caught myself, a long way past the euphoria, and some part of me shook her head and worried and choked on words of caution. This isn’t you. You don’t think of people as your servants. You don’t give orders. You grew up poor, and you’re not the queen of anything. But that voice was small and boring, and I squashed it. Chance had a grave look about him, and I thought I might need a new consort if he couldn’t learn to be more obedient.

That was a difficult and thorny issue, however, as I didn’t want to ally with any one caste. I would raise no demon higher than another. That way led to unrest and eventual civil war. No, I would be better off with Chance beside me, even if his behavior became tiresome. He offered precisely the measure of presence and charisma I required in a mate. On my arm, he added consequence, as others would certainly know he was no mere human. I liked the fact that I had ensnared a godling; I dropped a careless kiss on his quiet mouth and dressed quickly.

“Bring me her bag.”

“She’s not herself,” Chance said sharply to Greydusk.

“It was a risk of the tisane.”

“ What was?”

Outrage built inside me. Were they talking about me like I wasn’t here? Do they not know who I am ?

“What’s happening to her?”

In another minute, I was going to blast one of them. The power gathered, and it didn’t feel wrong anymore. It was dark and luscious in my bloodstream, like a black velvet throw, just the right weight to show I meant business. Magick flowed to my fingertips as my rage burned as bright as a falling star.

“She’s starting to ascend.”

Good. All this fucking around made no sense. Skulking? Hiding? I’d level this city, find Shannon, and then run the place properly. These demons knew nothing about fear as of yet, but so help me, I would teach them.

“What does that mean?”

I held the black fire, burning in the palm of my hand. Enough curiosity stirred that I wanted to hear the answer before I smote them for their impertinence. Greydusk turned to watch me, expression unreadable. And then he sank to his knees. Chance turned his head, his brow furrowed in disbelief. The demon used his unnatural strength to drag my consort down into a reluctant obeisance.

“It means the demonic part of her soul is on the rise.”

“Explain,” I demanded, letting the fire die. This seemed like something the Once and Future Queen should know. And since they’d abased themselves before me, my ire was appeased. After I heard the explanation, I would dispense an appropriate punishment for their defiance.

“You have doubtless been told that the Old King’s power over demons came as a gift from the archangels,” Greydusk said softly.

I inclined my head.

“What your source did not reveal, I suspect, is how they imbued the first Binder with that power.”

“My patience wears thin.”

“Long ago, there was a true queen of Sheol, named Ninlil. She ruled over the castes and all owed her fealty. Then the greatest of the archangels called her forth. On the steps of the temple, after a great battle, he slew the demon queen and bound her power to the Old King’s soul. The angels gave Solomon other gifts, such as the ring of Aandaleeb, known to most as the Seal of Solomon. He used it to summon and bind Asmodeus, who had been Ninlil’s consort, at which time we bestowed upon him the title Binder. Your line has carried it ever since.”

“So…the more she uses demon magick, drinks potions fueled by it, the more she’ll change. Become less herself and more the demon queen.”

Since it was more or less what I’d have asked, I didn’t reprimand the male. Yet. But he had to learn subservience if he was to remain with me. And under me.

“Rise,” I said. “And bring me the bag. We need to find the girl. She’s one of mine, and those who stole from me will suffer.”

Greydusk obeyed with alacrity, as it should be. Once I had the pack in my hands, a wave of…something swept over me. It was soft and warm, aching, and I had no name for this feeling. The scene replayed in my head; it was a young girl—the one we were searching for—and me in a store, shopping, laughing over nothing in particular. She nudged me gently, grinning, and a lock of dyed-black hair flopped into her eyes. We’d picked out this bag together. All at once, I wanted to weep, but demon queens did not. Obviously the girl was mine, and that was why I wanted her back.

I ignored their stares as I unzipped the backpack. It had her things in it: a change of clothes, a toothbrush, some books, her netbook, and iPod. Oddly, they both still had power. I clicked through her playlist, wondering if she’d cowered in the dark listening to the music that drowned out her terror: “Fear of the Dark” by Iron Maiden, “Trains” by Porcupine Tree, “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult, “Drumming Song” by Florence and the Machine, “The Weeping Song” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, “Wretches & Kings” by Linkin Park, “On My Own” by Three Days Grace, “I’m Not Okay” by My Chemical Romance, “Cryin’ Like a Bitch” by Godsmack, and “Last Man Standing” by Pop Evil.

At that point I stopped scrolling. Her music told me so much about her—or rather, it reminded me. A lot of it was old, a hallmark of her stunted childhood in Kilmer. Other bands were those she’d discovered since I freed her, and they reflected more of her personality.

Steeling myself, I curled my palms around the iPod, which I knew she loved. There would be a charge. If her time in this room had been as traumatic as I expected, I’d learn something. Sufficiently braced, I let my concentration drop and the pictures screamed into my head, and I became Shannon Cheney.

I’m bound, hand and foot. Someone shoves me roughly from behind. My iPod clutched in one hand, I tighten my fist so I don’t drop it. This is my one link to safety. What the hell am I doing here? What do they want? These things don’t talk to me. They don’t tell me anything. Oh, God, I’m so scared .

Jesse.

I want him so much I ache with it. He’s my first love, and he doesn’t know where I am. And maybe to him, I’m just another weird, gifted girl who wigged out because I have a less-than-stable background. He thinks maybe I’m too young for him, like he’s a dirty old man for being with me, but I’m not a kid. I’m not.

I wanted him from the first moment I saw him. But now I’m here in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Where is here?

Monsters skitter at my feet. Hideous things that are like spiders, only they’re not; it’s like they ate a baby’s head or something, and they’re so hungry. I wish I had my radio. Surely there are dead things even here. I’d wreck them all .