Christine Warren: Huntress

Lillith saw a spark of genuine anger in his eyes and fought the urge to shift her weight to the balls of her feet. Fight or flight. Either way his mood shifted, she wanted to be ready; but in the meantime, maybe focusing him back on the business at hand would diffuse the situation long enough for her to walk out with her intestines and her dignity intact.

That was her definition of a win.

“And here I am, seeking you out again,” she said, “only this time I heard that you wanted to see me. Any truth to the rumors?”

Samael’s fingers tapped out a wave on the arm of his chair. His black eyes studied her from beneath narrowed lids. Lilli could feel the air pressure increase as he weighed whether or not to let her disrespectful demeanor go for now. She knew perfectly well she should have curbed her tongue, but that was a skill she’d never managed to master. The only excuse she could muster was that her mouth was just as sharp around those she did respect as those she didn’t. It wasn’t like she was playing favorites.

Maybe she’d have that engraved on her memorial.

“A possession of mine has gone missing,” he answered abruptly. “You will determine where it is and retrieve it for me.

That didn’t sound so bad, which immediately made Lilli suspicious.

“What kind of possession? I collect bounty on bodies, not souls, remember.”

“Yes, you are quite the puritan, aren’t you?” He swiveled in his chair and snapped his fingers. Immediately, the basin at the foot filled with water that begin to froth and churn even though the motor for the built-in jets remained silent. Samael slid his feet in and leaned back. “You needn’t worry, however. This is merely a book—a folio, actually. Early medieval, I believe. Vellum, illuminated, and bound in leather. It looks something like this.”

A wave of his hand and Lilli found herself blinking at an image of a large volume hovering in the air near her head. It looked old, the leather scuffed and cracked in places, worn smooth and slick in others. The image revolved slowly, showing her the thick spine, the uneven, hand-cut edges of the thick, vellum sheets. When the cover turned back, she could see the ancient, golden color of the animal skin pages, the still vivid red and blue inks of the illustrations, the faded black of the careful, stylized script. She could just imagine the robe-clad scribe, bent over the pages, carefully copying line after line of text in the light of the unfiltered sun and smoky tallow candles. She could almost smell the smoke.

Shaking her head, she looked away from Samael’s spell and lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of book is it?”

The devil’s brow mirrored hers. “Does that matter? It’s not ensorcelled to imprison a human soul, if that’s what your suspicious nature wants to know.”

It was.

“What about other kinds of souls?”

Samael made an impatient sound. “It’s not ensorcelled at all. Not cursed, not bespelled, not warded. For all I know, it’s not even charmed. It’s just a book.”

“Then why do you care about getting it back?”

His black eyes fixed on her, and Lilli had to struggle not to meet that gaze. She focused hard on an angelic golden curl of hair that tumbled over his temple and curled an inch above his cheekbone. Her life would have been easier if she could have looked into his eyes and read the truth of his statements for herself, but even if she had possessed that kind of gift (which wasn’t one generally passed on to offspring by generals in the armies of Hell), Lilli knew better than to attempt to use it on Samael. She already knew what she would see if she looked into his eyes—seduction, pain, pleasure, death. Lucifer, his master. The great abyss of evil of which Samael was only a small, pretty part.

She swallowed hard, counted the strands that made up the golden curl, and waited.

“It was mine,” he said, anger and avarice tangling in the rough silk of his voice. “I keep what is mine, and I do not allow it to leave me. No one steals from me.”

Chains, hot and black and heavy, rattled in the back of Lilli’s mind. She pushed the sound away and closed her nostrils to the smell of brimstone. Suddenly, only one more question mattered to her, so she asked it without artifice.

“And if I get it back for you, our bargain will be fulfilled?”

“Once the book is in my hands, you’ll never have to see me again, dear Lillith.” A smile slithered across his face. “Unless, of course, you discover you miss me.”

Lilli caught the snort before it escaped. Fat chance. She’d miss a cancerous tumor before she’d miss this dysfunctional little relationship of theirs. The glimpse of freedom he dangled before her tempted her like nothing she’d ever seen, and he promised all she’d have to do was return his book to him.

Just a book.

It was too easy, a voice inside her whispered. Much too easy, and too uncomplicated. Why would he be willing to use his last favor on so trivial a task? And for something as mundane as a book? No matter how old or rare, could there possibly be any book valuable enough to matter to Samael this much? But did she really care? After all, if she did this, her bargain would be fulfilled. She’d be free of the devil and the weighty stain their association left on her conscience. Could she afford to overlook that opportunity?

Was she overthinking this?

“Fine,” she said, pushing aside the doubts and straightening away from the counter. “I’ll get your book back. And when it’s done. I’ll expect to see our contract dissolved. Burning it works for me.”

His smile taunted her. “You know how I feel about fire, sweetheart. It always turns me on.”

Lilli grimaced against the wave of nausea that rolled in her stomach and turned toward the exit. “I’ll contact you tomorrow for the details on when and where the book was last seen and who else might be interested in it. You’ll have it as soon as I can get my hands on it.”

“Excellent.” His voice followed her as she pushed open the door and gulped the fresh, un-devil-tainted air. “You have three days. Always a pleasure doing business with you, Lillith.”

He tossed something at her, and she caught it reflexively even before his words managed to sink in.

Lilli stopped dead, her feet seeming to sink into the pavement as if it had turned to quicksand. She shrieked out the words before her brain could catch up with her mouth. “ Three days?! ”

Eyes wide, she spun around and pushed hard at the nail salon’s etched glass door, determined to let Samael know what she thought of that ridiculous deadline. The only problem was that the door refused to budge. Probably because it no longer existed.

In the place of the nail salon’s entrance, Lilli found herself facing a solid brick wall with a rather crude and physically implausible suggestion scrawled across it in bright blue spray paint. The door, the salon, and the devil were nowhere to be seen. She cursed a blue streak.

In her hand, the thing he’d thrown at her seemed to throb mockingly.

Lilli looked down. She’d caught it when the devil had thrown it, more out of reflex than intent. God knew she didn’t like to take gifts from Hell-spawn like that, but when she studied the small pewter pendant suspended from a thin, silver chain, she knew this was most definitely not a gift. It was a hangman’s noose.

Formed in exquisite detail was a miniature hourglass. The pewter casing had been etched to look like scales on every surface, but the clear glass inside was pristine and perfect, showcasing every single grain of crimson sand that fell from one chamber to the other.

A line from her favorite movie musical popped into her mind, and Lilli guessed her expression probably mirrored the one she’d seen a dozen times on Marlon Brando’s as she slipped the chain around her neck and let the clock start running.