Lilith Saintcrow - Working for the Devil

Power tingled over my skin, a wash of fever-heat, the sickening feeling of freefall just under my stomach. The Power-burst would force my own energy channels to change to acclimate to the different brand of Power here if I just gave it enough time. I kept my breathing even. Just a few minutes , I told myself. It'll go away. Just need to relax long enough for it to work, that's all. Stay cool, Danny. Just stay cool .

It was while I was staring at the vevé and waiting for my body to acclimatize to the resident Power, my mind tuned to a blank expectant humming, that the precognition hit.

The demon had my shoulders, drew me back away from the clear space in the pavement, the babalawao's chanting rising against the backdrop of city noise. "Dante?"

My gods, does he sound concerned?

"What's wrong? Dante?"

"Nothing," I heard my voice, dim and dreamy. Precog's not my main Talent; if it was I'd be a Seer. But I had enough of it to be useful sometimes. "Nothing." Darkness folded over me, a quiet restfulness, the sound of wings. The vision trembled just outside my mental grasp. If I simply relaxed and let my minor precognitive talent work, it would come to me, and I would be warned… but of what?

What did I need a warning for? I already knew I was in deep shit.

"Nothing…" I whispered. Hot fingers touched my forehead; my fingers curling around my scabbard, head lolling, I sank into the candleflame of the future, guttering, held in a draft—

"Don't lie to me," he snarled, and I found myself dimly surprised. Why should he give a shit if I lie to him ? I thought. I snapped back into myself, hot prickles running over my skin, my stomach flipping uneasily, my eyes fluttering. "Dante! Dante !"

"I'm fine," I said irritably. "Just give me a minute, okay? Will you?"

"As you like." Heat roiled over my skin. Was it him? A flood of hot, rough Power slid down my spine from the demon's hands. It knocked the premonition—and my hold on relaxation—away like a jo staff slamming into my solar plexus. There went any hope of seeing the future.

" —fuck—" was all I could say, digging my heels into pavement, curling around the scorching pain in my middle. The Power tipped back and slid into the hungry well of Nuevo Rio. "Gods damn it—"

"What's wrong?"

It was too dark. What had—

I opened my eyes slowly. The demon stood, feet planted, green eyes glowing like chips of radioactive gemstone. "I lost it," I said. "A premonition, and I lost it. Ask me before you do that next time, all right?"

The demon shrugged. I looked up. Brick, plasteel, cardboard, and aluminum sheeting, tenements sloped crazily up. Instead of the street, it was an alley. Why wasn't I surprised? Had he dragged me here, thinking I was about to have some sort of fit? "I acted for your safety," he said, quiet but unrepentant. "I feared you were being attacked."

"Who would be stupid enough to attack me with a demon right next to me?" I snapped, and wriggled out of his hands. He let me go, clasping his hands behind his back again, standing straight, his eyelids dropped, hiding his eyes. "Great. A premonition usually means something nasty's on its way, and now I'm not even forewarned. Perfect."

Japhrimel said nothing.

I sighed, filled my lungs with the heavy carbon stink of Nuevo Rio. Curdled smells of garbage and human misery rose around me. My shields were paper-thin, the premonition draining me; I forced myself to breathe through the stink. " Anubis et'her ka ," I breathed, shaking my head. "I'd better get back. I think I'm going to crash."

"Very well." Japhrimel took my elbow, guiding me toward the mouth of the alley. "You should take more care with yourself, Dante."

"Nobody ever got rich by being cautious," I muttered. "Besides, what do you care? As soon as we find this Egg, you'll be on your way back to Hell, and I'll probably be left to clean up the mess. I'll be lucky to get out of this alive, and you're telling me to be careful." I snorted, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other.

"I would not leave you without being sure of your safety," he replied, quietly enough. "It would grieve me to learn of your death, human."

"Bully for you," I muttered ungracefully.

"Truly," he persisted. "It would."

"Fuck," I said, the beginnings of a backlash headache starting behind my eyes. "Just get me back to Jace's, okay? My head's starting to hurt."

"Backlash," he said. "Dante, there is something I would—"

If he kept talking I was going to scream. "Just get me back to Jace's, all right?"

His hand tightened on my elbow. I closed my eyes. "Understood."

I stamped into the practice room just as the afternoon heat began to get thick and heavy, black-stacked clouds massing over the city. There would be rain soon, a monsoonlike downpour. Thunder and lightning would accompany the rain, and by the time full dark fell the steaming city might get some relief.

I wasn't wearing my bag or my coat, just jeans and a fresh microfiber shirt, boots and my rings. My hair was wet, braided back tightly, and I'd relacquered my fingernails with the molecule drip that made them tough as claws.

The practice room was a long hall floored with tatami, weapons racked on the wall and three heavy bags ranged in a row near the door. One wall was mirrored, a ballet barre bolted to the mirror (Now that probably wasn't here before, Jace must have put that in , I thought snidery) and Eddie faced Jace in the center of the room.

Jace had a jo staff, and Eddie had one, too. They both wore black silk gi pants, and Eddie wore a white cotton tank top that did nothing to disguise just how hairy he really was. I stopped, leaning against the doorjamb to watch.

Jace, stripped to the waist, held his staff with both hands. Muscle flickered under his skin, the scorpion tattoo on his left shoulderblade moving slightly, his golden hair plastered down with sweat.

Gabe was stretching out, well away from them. She went into a full front split, then leaned forward to touch her forehead to her front knee. Showoff , I thought, the ghost of pain behind my eyes reminding me of backlash.

Japhrimel, his arms folded, leaned against the wall on the other side of the heavy bags. The windows were covered with sheer curtains, but the sun pouring in still made it a little too warm. Nobody had flipped on the climate control in here.

I watched as Eddie moved in, Jace parrying strikes, low sounds of effort from both men. I watched the fight, almost feeling the wood balanced in my own hands, jagging in a breath when Eddie smacked upward, meaning to catch Jace in the face. It was a dirty move, but they were both good enough—and with two Necromances standing by, if someone caught a bad strike we were well prepared to handle it.

Japhrimel approached me slowly. "Better?" he asked. Behind him, the sunlight coining through the windows dimmed. The clouds had arrived. That didn't break the heat, though; it just made one more conscious of the awful humidity pressing against skin and breath.

I don't know why heat rose to stain my cheeks. "Yeah," I said, glancing up at his unremarkable, saturnine face. "Thanks."

"I've seen backlash before," he replied quietly. "The best thing for it is Power, and letting the pain pass."

"Thanks," I said again. "It helps, to have someone there during—"

Crack . Eddie's strike wrenched Jace's staff out of his hands. I clicked my tongue. That's the first time I've seen Jace lose at staves with Eddie .

Eddie growled. "Quit fuckin' around and give me a fight, hoodoo! Goddammit! You ain't no fuckin good to us distracted!"