Lilith Saintcrow - The Devil's Right Hand

Good to know.

“Kel.” My eyes met his for a long moment. The mark on my shoulder began to pulse, quietly. “The Hunter. The one who hunted hedaira ?”

Eve tilted her head, her pale hair moving soft and silky. “He did so at the Prince’s orders. Were you told who hunted the ones Kel could not?”

No, nobody told me about that. I met her eyes. “Let me guess. The Right Hand.”

She nodded. “The Prince’s Eldest killed more A’nankhimel and hedaira than Kel could hope to. He is not called Kinslayer for nothing.”

My skin chilled. No wonder Japhrimel didn’t talk about the Fallen, if he’d killed so many of them. He must have never expected to end up as one of them.

Oh, gods. Japhrimel. Did you know about this? About her?

I licked my numb lips. “I can’t say for sure. But if it’s possible, if can do it, I’ll help you.” Then I spoke the words. “I promise.”

If she did manage to break Lucifer’s hold on Hell, what would happen? Would there be uncontrolled demons roaming the earth? I was no Magi, but I knew enough about Hell’s citizens that the prospect filled me with an uncomfortable feeling very close to terror.

But what else could I do? What the hell else could I do?

Eve opened her mouth to reply, but a thin growl rose through the air. I looked past her shoulder. The hellhound’s head was up, its teeth bared. It didn’t look at me, it looked at the door.

Velokel spoke, a single word, sharp and weighted with the consonants of the demons’ strange, unlovely language. He was suddenly tense, his broad shoulders corded with muscle. He reminded me of a bull, powerful and slow, but I was willing to bet he had the same spooky, blurring speed as other demons.

“Time to go,” Lucas said. “Come on, chica .”

I made it to my feet like an old woman. One shock after another, I was starting to feel like a punch-drunk cagefighter. My hand fastened on my swordhilt as I stared at the hound. Oddly enough, I was more scared of the hellhound than of Velokel.

Eve stepped close to me. Her smell, the smell of an Androgyne, a scent that threatened to unloose my knees and spill me to the floor, caressed me. My head filled with heat, my lips parted. I’d never responded like this to Lucifer—I’d been too terrified to feel anything close to desire for him, even though he was beautiful and lethal. I had never had a sexual response to pure Power before, but she was heir to all Lucifer’s crackling force and she wore Doreen’s face like a sexwitch wears submission, like a perfume. The face of my sedayeen lover, the person who had taught me the prison of my body could be a source of joy as well as pain.

You feel everything, don’t you? Doreen had asked me once. But you don’t like to show it. You keep that mask of a face up, and people think you don’t care. But you do, Danny. You care.

She had been the only person, ever , who understood that about me. She had been the only lover who hadn’t asked more of me than I could give.

I had given her all I had.

What wouldn’t I do, if only for Doreen’s memory, if only to expunge the guilt of my failure to protect her?

“Don’t decide yet. I’ll contact you when I can.” Eve’s breath touched my cheek, warm and forgiving.

I nodded, beyond words. Was it true?

Did my blood mix with Doreen’s? Was my genetic material part of Eve’s?

Was she my child as well? My daughter, the only daughter I would ever have. I couldn’t see myself breeding with Japhrimel. Sekhmet sa’es , no. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He refused to kill me. He turned Lucifer down. Gods. I stood frozen as she stepped away, beckoning to the hellhound. It got up, shook itself, and paced after her as she walked to the nivron fireplace. Then, wonder of wonders, she stepped into the fire, flame lifting to caress her body like a lover, and promptly vanished. A high squealing note of Power split the air, my rings spat and the wristcuff rang with green light. Velokel gave me one narrow-eyed, lip-curling look and followed. The hellhound looped on itself and leapt through the fire after them. Vanished.

What the hell, were we supposed to hunt her when she can walk through fucking walls? Why didn’t Lucifer mention that?

Of course he hadn’t told me. I would never have agreed to hunt Eve, no matter what he threatened me with.

Japhrimel. Had he known?

He refused to kill me to go back home to Hell, and he’ll at least keep me alive. I’m feeling pretty fucking charitable toward him right now. Except for the little matter of him possibly keeping this to himself.

Lucas was at my shoulder. “Don’t stand around, Valentine. Somethin’ tells me we better get out of here. We got a transport to catch.”

“Gods,” I said. “ Gods. Did you believe a word of that?”

“Analyze later,” he said, just as the mood of the building underneath—sex and feeding and music blurring together—tipped strangely. A single thrill of fear slid up my spine. “Move now .” He flung the door open and began down the stairs.

“We’re not going out the window?”

“Nope,” Lucas flung over his shoulder. “Sheer brick wall straight down to a blind alley, we’ll be trapped like rats. Come on, chica . I’m s’posed to keep you alive.”

We jolted down the stairs and burst out into the music. The werecain guard at the door was gone. I checked my datband, lifting my left hand, weighted with my sword.

Quarter to midnight. I was beginning to think I might still be alive and not dead of shock. Power spiking in the air cleared my head, and I noticed the crotch of my panties was uncomfortably damp. I had never responded like that before. Never.

She was Doreen’s child, and maybe mine. That I reacted to her was a shameful secret, nothing more. She did, after all, wear my dead lover’s face. I wasn’t attracted to her, I told myself. No, I was simply determined to keep Doreen’s daughter from being dragged back into Hell or killed to salve Lucifer’s fucking pride.

I’ve had just about enough of the Devil. My eyes found the wristcuff snugged above my datband.

The cuff ran with fluid lines of green fire, settling into a frozen, scratched rune, a backwards-leaning spiked H.

Danger.

Yeah, like I don’t already know that. I was beginning to feel like myself again. If Japhrimel had known it was Eve instead of Lucifer here… had he guessed? Why had he thought Lucifer wanted a little chat with me again? Leonidas hadn’t named the demon wanting to see me, and I wondered about that too.

Forget it, Dante. Now it’s time to move.

The dance floor still pulsed with writhing bodies. My awareness swept through the interior, and found the swanhild gone. That was interesting. Something feral stalked closer, if I could feel it the ’hilds certainly could, with their exquisite sensitivity to predators.

I took a deep breath tainted with synth-hash and followed Lucas’s rigid, bandolier-crossed back through the press of Nichtvren flesh, was jostled by a werecain who snarled at me. The mark on my shoulder heated up again, a live brand pressed into my flesh. It hurt, scorching through the layers of gray numbness threatening me.

I almost welcomed the pain. I wished Japhrimel was behind me. Sure, he was a lying bastard—but right now I was feeling very much like I might not get out of this tangled web without him.

I can’t believe I just thought that. He refused to kill me to go back to Hell. He gave up his home for me.

Yeah, and he just “forgot” to mention Eve was out of Hell and giving the Devil a run for his money. Sure he did.