Working for the Devil

CHAPTER 27

Japhrimel didn't say anything until we reached the blue suite. He closed the door behind us, precisely, locking it, the defenses he'd set in the walls humming as soon as I entered the room. "That was not wise," he said quietly. "A jealous man does not work well."

"Jace works better when he's under pressure," I said, unwinding my wet hair from its braid. "And he deserved it." My rings lay dark and silent against my fingers now. I felt better, the headache eased out by pulling on Power from the well of the city now that my body had acclimatized, my back stopping its low-level cramping. I'd stretch out after a hot bath, and be ready for recon.

My hands shook. I'd just faced Jace over a sword again. Three years. Three years—and he hadn't even tried to explain yet. Just acted as if—

I took a deep breath. I could feel the weight of Japhrimel's green gaze on my back. Jace didn't matter. I'd said he didn't matter, that I didn't care anymore. I'd sworn many times, out loud and silently, that I was over Jason Monroe. Period. End of story, end of spell, so mote it be, amen, finis.

"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.