Working for the Devil

CHAPTER 11

I laid my hand against the gate, let the shields vibrate through me. Gabe's work recognized me, and the gate lock clicked open. I pushed before it could swing closed, slipped through. The demon stepped through almost on my heels, and Gabe's shielding flushed red, swirled uneasily. I bit down on the inside of my cheek and waited.

Gabe's shields settled, turned a deep blue-violet. She'd read what was with me, and wasn't amused.

"Come on," I said, and the demon followed me up the long paved drive. "Keep your mouth shut, okay? This is important."

"As you like," he said. It would be hard for him to sound any more flat or sarcastic.

Just when I was starting to think I might like him, too.

I walked up to the house, my footfalls echoing on pavement. The grounds were ragged, but still evidently a garden. Eddie kept the hedges down and the plots weeded.

I went up the steps to the red-painted door. Gabe's house had layers and layers of shielding—her family had been Necromances and cops for a long time, since before the Parapsychic Act was signed into law, giving psis protected status and also granting citizenship for several other nonhuman races. Gabe's trust fund was humongous and well-managed; she didn't even have to work as a Necromance, let alone as a cop. She had this thing about community service, passed down from her mother's side of the family. I admired that sense of responsibility in her; it made up for her being a rich brat.

I knocked, courteous, feeling a flare of Power right inside the door.

Eddie tore the door open and glowered at me, growling. I smiled, keeping my teeth behind closed lips. The demon, fortunately, said nothing, but a slow tensing of his diamond-flaming aura warned me. The same aura lay over mine, tensing as if to shield me, too.

The shaggy blond Skinlin stood there for a long ten seconds or so, measuring us both. His shoulders hulked, straining at his T-shirt, and the smell of wet earth and tree branches made the air heavy around him. I kept my hands very still. If he jumped for me he wouldn't stop until one or both of us was bleeding.

Gabe resolved out of the shadows, her sword out, soft light sliding on the blade's surface. "You didn't tell me you were bringing a demon," she said, her low soft voice a counterpoint to Eddie's growling.

Gabriele Spocarelli was small and slender, five foot two inches of muscle and grace. Her Necromance tat glittered on her cheek, the emerald spitting and twinkling a greeting that my own cheek burned, answering. She wore a scoop-necked silk sweater and a pair of torn jeans, and looked casually elegant in a way I had always secretly envied. I always wondered what she saw in a dirty misanthropic hedge-wizard, but Eddie seemed to treat her well and was almost fanatically protective of her. Gabe needed it. She got into a lot of trouble for a homicide detective—almost as much trouble as I did.

Almost.

"I'm kind of surprised by that myself," I said. "Truce?" I reached up slowly and pulled cloth away from my shoulder, exposing about half of the red, scarred brand that was the mark of a demon familiar. "I've got a story to tell you, Gabe."

Gabriele considered me for a long moment, her eloquent dark eyes passing over the demon and back to the mark on my shoulder. Then her sword flickered back into its sheath. "Eddie, can you get us some tea?" she asked. "Come in, Danny. You've never pulled a mickey on me before; I suppose you're not pulling one now."

"You can't be serious," Eddie started, his blond eyebrows pulling together. Why does he never seem to shave? I thought, letting go of my shirt. I felt better with the mark covered up.

"Oh, come on, Eddie," she said. "Live a little. Tea, please. And you—whoever you are—" Her eyes flicked over Jaf. "If you bring trouble into my house, I'll send you back to Hell posthaste. Got it?"

I saw the demon nod out of the corner of my eye. He said nothing.

Good for him.

Inside Gabe's house, the scented dark pulled close. She'd been burning kyphii. I closed my eyes for a moment and filled my lungs. She wasn't the most powerful Necromance around, but she had a quality of precision and serenity most Necromances lacked. Necromances don't often like hanging out with each other. We tend to be a neurotic bunch of prima donnas, in fact. To find someone I actually liked who understood what it was like to see the dead… that was exceptional.

She led us into the kitchen, where Eddie had the kettle on. He had my regular cup out, too, the long sinuous black mug reserved for me. "Tea?" I asked the demon, and he spread his hands, helplessly. "He'll have tea. I've told him not to open his mouth, it'll get us all in trouble."

"Good thinking." Gabe set her sword down on the counter. I prefer a katana-shaped blade, but Gabe went for a two-handed longsword that seemed far too big for her slim hands. And believe me when I say I never want to face her across that edged metal. "So you said, about that case…"

I dug the file out of my bag and handed it to her. "The Prince of Hell wants me to track down this guy. His name's Vardimal—our old buddy Santino."

"The Prince of—" Her eyes stuttered past me, fastened on Jaf.

"Apparently this is the Devil's errand boy," I said, trying to strangle the mad giggle that rose up inside me. It didn't work; I snorted out half a laugh and shivered. "I've had a really rough day, Gabe."

She flipped the file open, even though she knew what it contained. Her face turned paper-white.

"Gabriele?" Eddie's voice held only a touch of a growl.

Gabriele fumbled in her pocket, dug out a crumpled pack of Gitanes, and fished one out with trembling fingers. She produced a silver Zijaan and clicked the flame into life. The smell of burning synth hash mixed with the pungent spice of kyphii. "Make some tea, Eddie," she said, and her voice was steady and husky. "Goddamn."

I perched on a stool on the other side of the breakfast counter. "Yeah." My own voice was husky, maybe from the smoke in the air.

Gabe slapped the file closed, not even looking at the demon's addition—the single sheet of paper with silvery lines marking Vardimal-Santino's name in the demon language. "You really think…"

"I do," I answered. "Honestly."

She considered this, took another drag off her smoke. The emerald set in her cheek flashed, popped a spark out into the air; my rings answered with a slow steady swirling. Eddie poured hot water into the cups. I sniffed. Mint tea. "What do you need?" Gabe finally asked.

"I need a paranormal-Hunt waiver on my bounty hunter's license." That was fairly standard and carried no liability for her; all I'd have to do was have her sign off on the paperwork. Now came the big stuff. "I need two H-DOC and omni-license-to-carry, and I need a plug-in for the Net." I licked my dry lips. If I was going to go after a demon, I needed all the policeware I could beg, borrow, or steal. The H-DOC and the plug-in would give me access to Hegemony cop computers and the treaty-access areas of Putchkin cop nets, and the omni license would be nice to have if I needed a plascannon or a few submachine guns to make sure the demon stayed down.

"Christ," Eddie snorted. "And a partridge in a pear tree. Want her fucking left kidney too, Danny?"

I ignored him, but the demon shifted his weight, standing right behind me. My left shoulder throbbed, a persistent fiery ache.

Gabe's dark eyes half-lidded, and she inhaled more smoke. "I can get you the para waiver and one H-DOC and maybe an omni, but a plug-in… I don't know. This doesn't constitute new evidence."

"What if I made a donation?" I asked. My rings spat and crackled. "This is important."

"Don't you think I know that?" she snapped. "What the fuck, Danny?"

I accepted my tea from Eddie, who slammed a pink flowered ceramic mug down for the demon. My mouth quirked, turned down at the corners. "I'm sorry," I said. "I just… Doreen, you know."

"I know." Gabe flipped over another page. "I can't get a judge to sign a plug-in for you on the basis of this… but I can ask around and see what the boys can do on the unofficial side. Might even be able to get you some backup. What do you say?"

"I work alone." I jerked my head back at Jaf. "The only reason I let him tag along is because I've been forced into it. You should have seen it, Gabe. It was awful."

She shuddered, a faint line beginning between her perfect charcoal eyebrows. "I have no desire to ever see that, Danny. Graeco Hades is enough for me."

I had never asked who her personal psychopomp was. Now I wondered. It wasn't a polite question—each key to unlock Death's door is different, coded into the deepest levels of breath and blood and consciousness that made up a Necromance. It was like looking in someone's underwear drawer to the nth degree.

I blew across the top of my tea to cool it. Gabe flipped grimly through the rest of the file. Her fingers shook a little; she tapped hot ash into a small blue ceramic bowl. Eddie hovered in the kitchen, running his blunt fingers back through his shaggy blond-brown hair, his eyes fixed on Gabriele's drawn-back lips and tense shoulders.

"Gods above and below," she said, finally. "Can that thing actually track Santino?"

I half-turned on the stool. Jaf's eyes met mine. Had he been watching the back of my head? Why?

"Can you track him?" I asked.

He shrugged, spreading his hands again to indicate helplessness. I glared at him. "Ah." He cleared his throat. It was the first almost-human sound I'd heard from him. "Once I am close enough, I can track him. The problem will be finding the part of your world to look in."

"I need a plug-in to get information on who's in whatever town I go to," I said softly, swiveling back to look at Gabe. "The nightside will help me trace him, especially if he's up to his old tricks. Dacon can do me up a tracker, but if Santino's a fucking demon and notices me using Magi magick, he might be able to counter." I paused. "Hard."

Gabe chewed at her lower lip, considering this. She looked over at Eddie, finally, and the Skinlin stilled. Motionless, barely even breathing, he stood in the middle of the clean blue-tiled kitchen, his blunt fingers hanging loosely at his sides.

She finally looked up at me. "You'll get your plug-in. Give me twenty-four hours."

I nodded, took another sip of my tea. "Good enough. I'm going to visit Dacon and the Spider, and I need to kit myself out. Has Dake moved?"

"You kidding? You know him, can't stand to walk down the street alone. He's still in that hole out on Pole Street," she answered. "You've got to get some sleep, Danny. I know how you are when you hunt."

I shrugged. "I don't think I'll get much sleep for a while. Not until I rip his spleen out—Vardimal, Santino, whoever he is. Whatever he is."

"If he was a demon, why didn't we know?" Gabe tapped her short, bitten nails against her swordhilt.

I tipped my head back, indicating Jaf. "He says Santino's a scavenger, and they aren't allowed out of Hell. This one escaped with something Lucifer wants back."

"Great." Her mouth turned down briefly. "One thing, Danny. Don't bring that thing here ever again."

My rings spat green sparks. It was small consolation that Gabe understood how much more dangerous the demon was than me. I would have thought she'd be a little more understanding, knowing what it was like to be pointed and sneered at on the street.

But then again, a demon was something different. "He's not a thing," I remarked acidly, and Japhrimel gave me a sidelong look. "He's a demon. But don't worry, I won't."