bedeviled & beyond 01 - bedeviled & beguiled (17 page)

When it appeared that I had it under control she asked, “What scares you the most, Astra?”

I shrugged, refusing to look at her. “He’s my friend, I can’t believe what he’s been through that’s all.”

Myra continued to drill me with those eyes. “Uhm hmm.”

I risked an angry glance in her direction. “It’s true.”

“I guess the fact that you’re having dreams about Prince Dialle and discovering that, somehow, you’ve got royal powers has nothing to do with your current state?”

While I silently wondered how much she knew and how she knew it, I chose to view the question as rhetorical and didn’t respond.

After a moment she rose to her feet and looked down at me. “At least now you understand what kind of evil you’re up against. Nerul must be stopped.”

I looked up in surprise as her words sank in. “Are you telling me the Angel Council is on Dialle’s side in this war?”

Myra made a dismissive gesture. “We don’t take sides in that quarter, Astra, you know that.”

“Yes, but in this you are. Why?”

Myra narrowed those beautiful blues at me and started to shimmer. Her voice floated toward me as her body dissolved from view. “I think you know why, Astra.”

And then she was...just...gone. Leaving me feeling more confused and lost than I’d been before she’d come. And I realized, not for the first time, that my life was becoming a really bad one act play, filled with really bad actors. And I was standing up on the stage, the Lone Ranger, wearing my goofy white hat and some funny looking leather things on my legs. And the bad guys had eaten my horse Tonto. And the Indians had long fangs and big claws and they would have eaten me too, except that they thought I was one of them. But I wasn’t. I was supposed to conquer them and save the good guy. But I didn’t know where the good guy was. Or even
who
he was. Where the hell was I s’posed to go with that plot? I mean, I’m good. Damn good. But nobody’s that good are they? Don’t answer that. Shit.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Now, About that Prince?

When one is thought to have no soul, how does his soul distress?

With slings and arrows fit for kings, young princes can be pressed.

When I got to my office the next morning, Emo wasn’t there. I was a little concerned about that, but not overly anxious. I knew my partner well enough to know he would deal with his pain in his own way and in his own time. He would come to me when he was ready.

I flung my coat onto its usual resting place and sat down behind an overflowing desk. Basically, because of all of my comings and goings with devils, demons and angel councils, I hadn’t had time to go through my paper correspondence for several days. I gave a self-pitying sigh and started plowing through it with vengeance. A few hours later, I uncovered a large package from a dead guy. Deaver had evidently requested something to be sent to me upon his death.

I opened the fat, yellow envelope and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers. On the top was a letter.

Dear Mx. Phelps,

If you are reading this letter I am dead. I am sure you have figured out that I did not die of natural causes. For the last several weeks, my life has not been my own. I am caught up in a galactic mess of a situation that has the extreme possibility of changing the course and future of the human race. I am at a loss, which is why I’ve called on you. Nothing in my experience has prepared me for the predicament I have found myself in.

First of all, let me tell you that there is no Advocate. I told you that to get you to help me. I have been stung instead by my inclinations toward making an unholy alliance. The devil I mentioned to you when we spoke does exist. He and his kind have allowed me to live in the Church if I would help them when they required it. At first their needs were small. They asked for particular pieces of personal information about my cult members and I, admittedly knowing the black marks against my soul this cooperation would cause, gave it to them because I lusted for the power they allowed me through their support.

But now, they have asked me for more than I can provide. They have brought a young man here and imprisoned him in the church tower. He is very young and frightened and I fear for his life. We have spent time talking when his captors were not around. He has told me that he was betrayed and that the royal court plans to destroy his soul in retaliation for something of which he is only dimly aware. Either he is genuinely unaware or reluctant to tell me. I am planning to find a way to release him at the earliest opportunity, but he is imprisoned inside a circle of crosses that have been touched by royal powers. His prison is secure.

I have been studying their ways and powers in an attempt to learn how to breach the prison and I think I’ve made a breakthrough. But lately I have felt an evil aura in the air around me and the one who brought the young prince to me has looked at me with a new coldness in his terrifying eyes. I begin to fear for my life. I need your help.

If I have been killed, you must find the young prince and release him for me. You are his last hope. Save him, and maybe my soul will rest, despite my godless treacheries.

I have enclosed the name of my personal assistant. She has probably gone underground and you will have trouble finding her because she will be spooked by my death. She can help you. You must find her.

Also, enclosed in this packet is a check for your services. It is everything I have and is nothing compared to what my deeds have cost others. But I am trusting your good reputation as an honest creature to take the funds and perform the task I have requested. Please don’t fail me, I beg you.

Someone comes.

In Him,

Alexis Deaver, Cultist

I dropped the letter on top of the other papers and put my weary head in my hands. Could things get any more complicated? On top of everything else, I was being hired by a dead guy to find some devil prince who was presumably Nerul’s son and who had apparently been imprisoned at the church by Dialle. I now had several parties who were expecting me to find answers. But so far all I had were questions.

Where was the young prince now? Had he escaped? Was he still in his prison in the tower at the Church of the Twined Hands? Or had he been sprung from there the night Deaver was killed?

More importantly, why hadn’t I pursued a career as a hair stylist?

I had three clients on the current case, all wanting me to represent their individual interests, all opposing in nature. How in Hades was I gonna pull that off? The short answer was, I wasn’t. There was no frunkin’ way.

“Okay,” I said to myself as I felt desperation taking over, “I need a plan.” I placed my palm over the Identi-pad on my information unit and it hissed to life. Standing up to pace, I started dictating. When I was done about thirty minutes later I had something to start with and felt better.

My first task was to try to locate the assistant. With that goal in mind I turned to my televisual and said, “Transmission. DD Raoul.” A few seconds later, his dark, exhausted face swam into view on the screen.

“Pretty Astra. You’re sure a crashin’ lot better to look at than these holograms of last night’s victims I’ve been starin’ at all day.”

I smiled and, as usual, my heart went out to him. He was a good man with a really terrible job and he did it with as much class and passion as he could muster up. “Please tell me you haven’t had any more trouble with the you-know-whats that you and I discussed at the Church of the Twined Hands last week.”

His face crumpled into a frown. “Unfortunately, yes. I have.”

I allowed an eyebrow to peak in surprise. “You want to meet?”

His frown smoothed into a smile. “Always. Where and when?”

“How about midnight, at Darla’s?”

“Darla’s it is. I’m lookin’ forward to it, Astra. You’ll never know how much.”

He faded away on a sad smile. I walked away from the blank screen and grabbed my coat. If I was going to meet Raoul at Darla’s at midnight, I had plenty of time to visit the church before going home to change. I figured I had to at least check out the prison in the tower Deaver had written about. I was pretty sure Prince Nille wouldn’t be there, but maybe I’d find something that would lead me to him.

I had the door open but didn’t quite make it out before Myra shimmered into the room. Biting back my impatience, I closed the door again. “Hey, angel. What’s flyin’?”

Myra lifted an eyebrow and turned away. “Coffee. Your office.”

I bit back a snarl and moved into the tiny food service area that I had installed in a windowless corner of the office. Moving quickly, I punched in an order for one cup of strong, black coffee and carried it to her. To show her that I was in a hurry I didn’t sit down behind my desk. I hovered near the door and watched her sip the coffee and then close her eyes on a satisfied sigh. “I’d almost go to hell for coffee.” Her eyes flew open as she realized what she’d said. She raised her blue orbs toward the sky and murmured quickly, “Just a figure of speech of course, no blasphemy intended.”

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and scowled at her. “I was just heading out, Myra. What did you need?”

She ignored me as she took another sip. Finally she looked up and smiled. I felt my skin crawl. “I know I don’t want to hear this.”

She laughed. “You’re always so cynical, it isn’t one of your more attractive traits.”

“Bite me.”

Myra’s smile faded a bit but her eyes sparkled. She loved to irritate me and she was so good at it.

“Well?” I tapped my foot and glared at her. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, what?”

“Dammit, Myra!”

She stood and reluctantly set the coffee cup down. Then she moved toward me with a smile. “I’ve been sent to fetch you.”

I felt my blood turn cold. “Fetch me?”

“Yes.” She reached for me and I jumped away. “I don’t want to be fetched right now, I have work to do.”

Myra stood glaring at me with her hands on her hips. She reminded me of my mother. I half expected her to use my full name in that way that told me I was in deep shit. “I see. Well in that case.” She shimmered away.

I stood there staring into space for a minute. If I was completely honest with myself I’d have to admit I felt a bit guilty about being so obstinate. Then I realized that was probably exactly the reaction she’d been going for and I cursed her for being devious.

With my annoyance restored, I turned toward the door...and ran smack into my angel. She giggled and placed her hand on my head. The distant pinprick of light reared up before my eyes as the world shimmered around me. The worst part was that, since I couldn’t move, I spent the entire time it took to shimmer into council chambers staring in stupid surprise at my sneaky damn angel.

When we met the light and I could speak again, I let loose a string of foul curses that would have embarrassed even the tacky, degenerate company I usually found myself keeping. After one particularly unfortunate string of obscenities, Myra, scowling, asked me if I was finished.

“I’ll tell you when I’m finished, you sneaky, damnable, slithering demon from the wrong side of the spiritual tracks...” I stopped when my angel cast her eyes meaningfully toward the front of the room, where I finally realized the entire council waited, with celestial mouths hanging open, to provide me audience. I swallowed the rest of my dialogue and tried a weak smile. “Hey.”

The High Council stood and nodded at Myra, who swung haughtily away from me and floated toward her seat at the council table.

“Mx. Phelps. I want to thank you. The council has very much appreciated your impromptu, little lesson in gutter language. It isn’t often that we hear words of such color in these chambers.”

I tried a weak laugh that was strangled off by his dark glare. “Sorry, sir. But I do have a life and I deeply resent being pulled here on a whim.”

His scowl deepened. “A whim, Mx. Phelps? This council does not function on whims. You will just have to resign yourself to the fact that you have been called into our service and nothing you do from this point on will be entirely your choice. You cannot hope, with your low and I do mean low, Mx. Phelps, status, to know more about how these things should be handled than does the Angel Council. The idea is preposterous and borders on sacrilege. Do I make myself clear?”

My teeth were grinding together so hard that I thought I’d have to gum my dinner later, but, political creature that I am, I simply scowled at him and nodded.

He heaved a sigh and lowered himself back into his gilded chair. “Good. Then let us continue. What have you learned?”

I took him through the adventure at Nerul’s court, leaving out most of the details on my growing powers and my discovery that Emo was a disenfranchised royal. I figured old High and Mighty could find those things out for himself since he appeared to think he was so
special
! Okay, it was childish but, Hades, it was all I had at the moment.

I informed them of the letter from Deaver and was surprised by their apparent lack of surprise. My blood pressure rose at the High Council’s unwaveringly, blank expression. As I finished up by relating my intended plans for the evening, before I had been so rudely interrupted. I looked at him with what I hoped was an accusatory expression. “You knew about the Prince being held at the Church.”

His HighCouncilness stared at me for a long time. He appeared to be weighing the possibility of not telling me anything. But apparently he wasn’t ready for Advanced Gutter Language 201 at Phelps University. “Yes. We have followed the developments in this war very closely since Nerul was evicted from the court of Dialle the First some two thousand years ago.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you already know everything you’ve dragged me here to report?”

The High Council shook his head sadly. “Alas, no, Mx. Phelps. We followed the abduction of Prince Nille by Princess Rayanne, but we have lost his trail. We need your help to find him.”