Lilith Saintcrow - Working for the Devil

He set the bottle down beside his glass, watching my face. "Dante?"

I stood stock-still, frozen, my entire body gone cold. Abra told me Jace is working for the Corvins… The Corvins want me alive, and they're paying so much… someone else is leaning on them, someone big … Jace and the Corvins. He's one of them. Once Mob, always Mob .

"Danny?" Gabe must have caught my sudden stillness, because she was staring at me, too, her dark eyes wide. "Danny?"

I swallowed. "I've got to go up to my room," I said, hearing the queer breathlessness in my voice. I sounded like a young girl viciously embarrassed at her first party. "Excuse me."

I was halfway to the door before Japhrimel fell into step beside me. He said nothing.

"Danny, what's wrong?" Gabe called. " Danny !"

I found the grand wide staircase and started to climb, the premonition beating under my skin. Premonition—and shock. It couldn't be. It couldn't be.

But he betrayed me once, didn't he? Left without a word—what do you want to bet he was called down here by the Corvins and that's why he left? Abra warned me … she knew. And now he's so willing to help… so very hospitable, stay in my house, it's safer there, he said he bought himself free of the Corvins but I know the Mob, you never get free. Even if he bought something from them, they can squeeze him until he hands over an ex-girlfriend, can't they ?

My brain shied away from the cold, logical conclusion. I didn't want to believe it.

The demon stepped behind me, soundless, his musky aura closing me in, a shielding I ignored because I didn't have time or concentration to spare to shake it aside. He only touched me once, a subtle push on my blood-crusted shoulder when I almost got lost in the hallways. When we reached the blue room, I shoved the door open and bolted inside, trembling. Stopped.

The room, instead of blue, was now white. Heavy fragrance drenched the air.

Flowers. White flowers. Lotuses, roses, lilies, scattered over the room as if a snowstorm had dropped its blossoms. Gooseflesh raced up my arm, spilled down my back; my teeth chattered and my nipples drew up hard as pebbles. The flowers lay on every flat surface, even the floor, the smell was stifling, heady, and cloying. They piled on the bed, fluttered near the window, and I could see the bathroom was full of them, too.

Santino had sent blue flowers to Doreen. Great sprays and cascades of flowers in every shade of blue. I still couldn't look at irises or blue roses or cornflowers without shuddering.

"Dante?" Japhrimel definitely sounded alarmed now. He closed the door, then stepped aside, his long coat brushing his legs with a soft sound. "My shields are intact; only the house servants could have—"

"They were probably delivered and brought up by the staff." I sounded like I'd been punched in the stomach. "Look, I need to change. And pack my bag." I flattened my free hand against the door to brace myself. "Can you get me out of here without Jace's shields reacting?"

"Of course," he said, lifting one shoulder and dropping it. All things should be so easy , that shrug said. "What is this?" he asked. "Did your former lover perhaps—"

"Santino sent all his victims flowers," I said numbly.

The demon stilled, his eyes turning incandescent.

"He knows," I continued. "He knows I'm here, and looking for him. And I'm a Necromance. He's picked me as his next victim."

"Dante—"

"That means I won't have to worry about finding him," I said. "He'll find me." I laughed, but the sound was gaspy, panicky. The world roared underneath me, spinning carelessly away, almost like a slicboard but my feet supping, slipping—

"Dante." He had me by the shoulders. "Stop. Breathe. Just breathe." His fingers bit in, and he shook me slightly. My teeth clicked together. I tasted apples, and the sour smell of my own fear.

A whooping breath tore between my lips. My left shoulder gave a livid crunching flare of pain, shocking me back into myself. I found myself shaking, my hands trembling, the demon's chin resting atop my head, his smell enfolding me. His arms closed around me, the feverish heat of Hell flooding my entire body. I was sneakingly grateful for it—I was cold, so cold my jaw clenched, my teeth chattered, and goosebumps rose everywhere. He had my sword—had I dropped it or had he just taken it from my numb fingers? That was three times he'd taken my blade. Was I really getting sloppy? When I was younger, I never would have dropped my blade.

"Breathe," he murmured into my hair. "Simply breathe. I am with you, Dante. Breathe."

I rested my forehead against the oddly soft material of his coat, filled my lungs with the musk smell of demon. Alien. It steadied me. The lunatic urge to sob retreated.

"Calm," the demon said. "Steady, Dante. Breathe."

"I'm okay," I managed. "We have to get out of here."

"Very well." But he didn't move, and neither did I.

"We have to find a place to stay," I said, "and I have to… I have to…"

"Leave it to me," he answered quietly.

"I've got to pack." I sounded steadier now. " Anubis et'her ka. Se ta'uk'fhet sa te vapu kuraph ." The familiar invocation bolstered me.

He didn't move until I did. I rocked back on my heels and he let me go, his arms sliding free. His face was blank, set, his eyes burning holes. The mark on my shoulder throbbed insistently. He held my sword up, silently, and I took it from his hand. "Thanks." I was shaky, but myself again.

Japhrimel nodded, watching me. I wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he examined my face as if the Nine Canons were written there. Heat, a purely human heat, rose to my cheeks. "It is my honor," he said quietly. "I swear to you on the waters of Lethe, Dante Valentine, I will allow no harm to come to you."

"Santino—" I began.

A swift snarl crossed his face. I flinched.

"We will find a way to kill him, you and I. Pack your bag, Dante. If you are determined to leave this place, let us go quickly." He sounded utterly calm, the kind of calm that could draw a razor through flesh with only a slight smile.

"Sounds like a good idea," I managed. The flowers stirred. More thunder rumbled above the city, and a slight cool breeze stole in through the open window, ruffling petals, swirling the cloying stench of dying blooms against my face. I swayed in place. Japhrimel reached out, his golden fingers resting against my cheek for a moment. The touch made my entire body glow with heat. "Japhrimel—"

"Dante," he replied, his glowing eyes holding mine. "Hurry."

I did.

The bodega was deep in the stinking well of Nuevo Rio, a small storefront marked with the universal symbols of Power: signs from the Nine Canons spray-painted on the front step, a display window showing small mummified crocodiles nestled among grisgris bags and bottles of different holy waters, lit novenas crowding on the step, each keyed to a shimmer of Power. The smell of incense from the fuming sticks placed near the door threatened to give me a headache, along with the breathless sense of storm approaching that hung over the city. I adjusted the strap over my shoulder, then rubbed at my dry, aching eyes. Japhrimel leaned on the counter, bargaining with the babalawao in fluent Portogueso. The woman had liquid dark eyes and a Shaman's thorn-spiked cruciform tattoo on her cheek; the cross shape and thorns told me she was an Eclectic Shaman—rare here in Rio for a native to be an Eclectic. She eyed me with a great deal of interest, stroking her staff at the same time. The staff thrummed with Power, as did her tiny bodega, and I counted myself lucky that I didn't have to fight her. She was tall, and moved with a quick ferret grace that warned me she was very dangerous indeed.