Lilith Saintcrow - Working for the Devil

"Nevertheless," Japhrimel persisted. "You should not have used me to prick his jealousy."

I shrugged. "It's his problem. Not mine. My problem is finding Santino and getting that Egg back to Lucifer. Besides, he's only human. It's not like he can hurt you if he decides to do something stupid."

"Perhaps," he replied. "But even demons understand jealousy, Dante."

I started to unbutton my shirt, tossing my sword on the bed. Safe enough , I thought. At least for now . "Next time I'll spar with you. At least you'll give me a workout."

If my voice had been any more brittle, it would have snapped. If I was over Jace, I was over him. Right?

Right?

"You were not sparring with him," the demon pointed out. He leaned on the door, his arms folded on his chest, his eyes half-lidded. There was a faint red stain on his caramel cheeks. Dear gods, was he blushing? "You were trying to kill him."

"I don't see any other way to play," I tossed over my shoulder as I headed for the bathroom. "I'm going to clean up."

"As you like." He didn't sound too pleased.

I stopped and looked back at him, my shaking fingers pausing on the fourth button. I didn't do anything wrong , I repeated to myself. I simply sparred with Jace and made it clear he doesn't affect me anymore. Now everyone knows what's going on, it's official, it's all aboveboard and time-stamped. I didn't do anything wrong . "What? Go ahead and say it."

Japhrimel didn't move. He might as well have been a statue, leaning against the door. Warm electric light caressed the planes of his face, sparked in his eyes. The faint reddish stain had drained from his cheeks. "You are… trifling with his affections, and using me to do so. The game is exceedingly dangerous."

I examined him. "What are you really trying to tell me, Tierce Japhrimel? That Jace has some sort of feeling for me? Why did he leave, then? Huh? You answer me that."

"If you like, I will find out."

I clutched my shirt together. "I don't want to know. If it was important, he would have sent me a message or something. I'm not interested in his excuses now."

"Then stop needling him. Treat him as an equal."

"Hey, demon, I didn't know if you noticed, but everybody gets the short end of the stick from me."

"Do not use me to make a human jealous, Dante. It is very unwise of you."

" Sekhmet sa'es ," I hissed. "I didn't . Don't get your girdle in a twist."

"You did , Dante. I would advise you not to trifle with him, and not to trifle with me either." He didn't move, but the air swirled uneasily. Thunder boomed outside, muted by the bulk of the house but still enough to raise the hairs on my nape. The demon's stain on my aura moved, drawing closer to my skin, a gentle brush against the edges of my awareness.

"Like you care," I said, and turned on my heel, stalking for the bathroom. "Leave it alone, hellspawn. This is a human thing."

He said nothing. I stamped into the bathroom and slammed the door, then started peeling off my wet clothes. "Gods damn it, " I hissed, yanking my jeans down, kicking them into the corner. I could really hate them both, couldn't I? I sure could. Especially the gods-be-damned demon. Because ?

I found myself staring in the mirror, wet lank dead-black seaweed hair, indeterminate dark eyes, pale face, dark rings under my eyes, my mouth pulled tight in a bitter grimace, my fingernails skritching against the counter as my hands tensed. My tattoo shifted uneasily, serpents writhing against winged staff, the emerald turning dark and glittering angrily.

Because he's right. I want Jace to suffer. I want him to lose his temper. I want to win, goddammit. Even if it's a hollow victory. I want him to hurt.

"Fuck," I breathed, looking at my eyes. Dark circles, mouth drawn tight, Power trembling at the outer edge of my control. Deep breath, Danny. Take a deep breath and get cool with the program, okay? Chill down. Chill down .

I'm going to die.

"Shut up," I whispered. "If I die, I'm taking Santino with me. I owe Doreen. And I've lived long enough."

It sounded good, but the woman in the mirror didn't believe it. I had a mortgage. I had a Me I was just beginning to piece together and go on with. I didn't want to die.

"How much longer would you live anyway going up against Santino, Danny?" I asked myself. "Huh?"

Not very much longer , some deep voice replied. Just long enough to make him regret it .

"Good," I said. "So stop fooling around."

I don't want to die.

"I don't have a choice. If the god takes me, He takes me."

I still don't want to die.

"Too bad," I whispered, turning away from the mirror. I couldn't take looking at myself any longer.

" El diablo Santino," Jace said, the knife pressed against the thin Hispanic's throat. "Okay?"

Gabe and Eddie had the mouth of the alley and the demon stood behind me. I watched the man's eyes flicker, white rolling around their edges. He was sweating, great drops of water sliding down his face. The reek of fear warred with the smell of demon. The alley was piled with garbage, hot and rank and wet from the afternoon's rain. It was only slightly cooler. My hair, trapped in a braid, was twisted into a knot at my nape. I looked down at my wrist, having just scanned the man in.

The plug-in, clear plasilica smoothed over my dat-band, lit up with a string of code. "He's got a warrant, Jace," I said quietly. "Do we haul him in?"

The omni and the first H-DOC, slim squares of plasilica with clear Hegemony military-tech flexcircuits, I'd already plastered over my datband. I'd smoothed the second H-DOC over Japhrimel's wrist. We were officially on a hunt now, plugged into the Hegemony police nets and immune to a few laws having to do with general murder and chaos—as long as the murder and chaos served the purpose of bringing our bounty in. The night sky was choked with clouds though the downpour had stopped, and steaming heat closed us in a bubble of damp discomfort. Now I knew what the inside of a rice cooker felt like.

The man babbled in Portogueso, sweating, his eyes rolling. He wore a loose white cotton shirt and frayed khakis, his huaraches digging into the pavement as he tried to back through the rough earth-brick wall behind him. One of his hands hit the dumpster Jace had trapped him beside, and a hollow boom punched the air.

Jace was shaking down his contacts, and none of them looked happy to see him. Considering he was walking around with two Necromances, I didn't blame them. Still, Jace was savage. He was in his element here. The first contact had tried to dive out a fourth-story window onto bare concrete to get away from him.

I was beginning to think that he had a reputation.

Jace said something very low. The man's eyes flicked past his shoulder, fastened on me, and he gibbered something.

Jace went very still. He asked a couple more questions, both answered in a high whine.

Jace laid the knifeblade against the man's cheek. He said something very low and quick, and I caught my name— Dante Valentino —and his own name, accented strangely. Then he let the man go, tossed him onto the floor of the alley, the knife disappearing.

As soon as he turned around, his eyes thoughtful, I knew there was trouble. "What was that?" I asked incuriously, looking down at the man moaning on the pavement. He seemed to be in an ecstasy of fear. "And are we hauling him in?"

"No, let him go, he's wetting his pants anyway. Come on, Danny." Jace straightened his shoulders. "We've got to pow-wow."

Gabe and Eddie drifted in from the mouth of the alley. We left Jace's contact scrambling against the cracking pavement and moaning to himself. "Good news," Gabe whispered. "There's a set of heavies coming through the neighborhood, Jace. Not sure if they're looking for you or—"