Ann Aguirre - Devil's Punch

The city stretched before us, an endless monument to human ambition. It took two hours to cross onto the cuota —toll road—that led toward Oaxaca. At this speed the wind whipped my hair about my face, and I rolled the glass up halfway. That was better. Out here it was darker too, a black velvet sky and stars shining down on the hulks of mountains sleeping in the distance.

He drove halfway, and then he pulled over so I could take a turn. To the best of my recollection, he’d never done that. I smiled at him, silhouetted against the headlights of a passing car.

“You can nap if you want. I’ll wake you if I get tired.”

“Thanks.” He tilted his head against the window and went to sleep. That demonstrated a level of trust we hadn’t achieved before. In the past, he’d be tense the whole time, as if giving me that much control proved problematic for him. The El Camino had an old AM/FM radio in lieu of a more expensive stereo, but that was good, as it eliminated any interest in jacking it. I listened to ranchero music all the way to keep my mind off Shannon’s plight, but when I got off the highway, I woke Chance. GPS could be unreliable in the mountains, and the coordinates were remote.

“I think we’re getting close.”

He rubbed his eyes and studied our surroundings: nothing but trees and mountains and bright, indifferent stars shining down. Pretty soon we were on a dirt track that became downright impassable. When we hit a deep rut, I parked the car in what was meant as an overlook, just rocks and dusty soil. Chance climbed out and grabbed his rucksack. The night air smelled of pine resin and distant smoke, possibly from a campfire. This looked like a good place if you were trying to get back to nature. Terribly remote, in fact.

He offered a half smile. “My backpack has plenty of room. Is yours full?”

I shook my head.

“Get the minimum of what you need and wedge it in with my stuff.”

“Athame. Chalice. Grimoires.” I wished he had room for my magickal chest, but it was heavy. I had to make do with the touch and spells powered by will alone. Fortunately, the five spells I had practiced with Tia fell into that category. This meant leaving my clothes behind, but the arcane items were more critical.

After we arranged my things, he said, “It’s pretty dark. We can set off on foot, or we can wait until light to see if it’s safe to drive on.”

“I can fix that.” It was a simple charm, but Chance hadn’t seen me cast it before. Maybe I was showing off a little.

With my athame, I etched the air with the symbol for magnesium, coiled the power within me, and then whispered, “ Fiat lux .”

I used Latin when possible because it sounded more impressive, but so long as I had the willpower to drive the desired result, I could say Clap on, clap off , for all it mattered. This spell I had practiced often because we lost power a lot, and so it flared to life smoothly. The result was a white-hot glow at the top of my knife, far brighter and more piercing than anything technology could kindle. The pain I ignored and swallowed, like a large pill down my throat. I’d gotten good at pretending magick didn’t burn me from the inside out like a live coal. This was a small price to pay for using it, and Tia had said it didn’t seem to be doing me any harm. She’d worked at first to see if there was a way to mitigate it, but eventually she just shook her head and said, Everything comes at a cost .

Chance drew in a breath. “Wow.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve these days.”

“So I see.”

I still hadn’t told him about the demon summoning. I should . God, after my lectures about transparency, and how people should have the right to choose, I should be ashamed. He needed to know what I’d done to survive and how it had changed the way the world reacted to me. Then he could make an informed decision about whether he still wanted to be with me.

Soon, I promised myself.

The path lay before us, rocky and uncertain. Farther on, it narrowed and became impossible for a car to pass. I’d stopped, in fact, at the last point where a vehicle could turn around and head back. The whole area gave off an abandon all hope vibe. The light made us easier to track, which set my nerves on edge, but I wouldn’t dare move without it. One wrong step could send us tumbling down the side of the mountain. Good thing Butch was opposed to nature hikes; he dozed uneasily in my handbag, as usual.

To make matters worse, I was stiff from driving, exhausted, and worried. Not in top fighting form. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that.

“We’re heading the right way?”

Chance closed his eyes, and the air around him crackled as if with heavy static electricity. When he turned his luck to a problem, he received a sense of whether the set course intersected with the desired result. “Yes. It’s not far. Less than a mile.”

He took my hand then, interlacing our fingers, and he led the way, sensing that fear and weariness made it hard for me to act decisive. If we took turns leading, as true partners, that’d make me very happy. I focused on walking, picking my steps with care. When we approached the rendezvous point, I had five spells locked in my head. I’d prefer if we arrived first so I’d have time to lay a circle, but from the smell of sulfur and brimstone, I could tell I wouldn’t be so lucky.

Chance sniffed the air and glanced at me with a raised brow. “Seems like we have company. What do you want to do?”

“Go forward. We have to, for Shannon.”

“Do you have any idea what they want with you, Corine?”

“In Peru I fought a demon. A Knight of Hell, actually. I wounded him pretty bad, stole his true name, and banished him. If I had to guess, I’d say revenge.”

“A Knight of Hell,” he repeated. “Like the ones my mom summoned to witness her pact with the Montoyas.”

“Yep.”

“And you fought one?”

I flashed him a smile. “I didn’t just fight. I won.”

His muscles coiled as if in protest of that revelation, but he let me take the lead. I went up the path the last few steps, and found a single demon waiting. It was unlike any I’d seen before, with an odd, marine-animal look. It had gray, scaly skin, side-set eyes, and a tremendously narrow skull with two rows of teeth. The thing was naked and showed no genitals, but its chest moved, breathing the air. I saw no gill slits. Its hands were elongated like paddles, tipped with wider fingers. I couldn’t imagine what purpose that design served.

The demon offered its hand, evidently knowing that much of our customs, but when it registered my repulsed fascination, it drew back. The face did not change. “You are familiar with our lore, then? I would take nothing uninvited.”

“Where’s Shannon?” I demanded.

On second glance, I saw that the broad pads of its fingertips were curved, almost like little suckers. They appeared perfectly suited for draining…something. Best I’d opted not to touch it.

“I am Greydusk, here as guide only. To survive the descent, you must do precisely as I instruct.”

The…descent? That did not sound healthy. I glanced at Chance, who stepped forward, both fists clenched. “Where’s our friend? I won’t ask again.”

“Sheol,” Greydusk answered. At my blank look, it added, “The other side of the gate, where you must also go, if you would ever see her again.”

“You want me to cross over?” Fear clamored in my head.

As if in response, Butch whined. I knew the feeling. I should’ve left him with Tia, but there was no chance he’d behave himself. For good or ill, he was my dog. If he couldn’t talk me out of an adventure, then he always accompanied me. So I settled him in my purse and crossed the strap over my body.