Devil's Punch (17 page)

Fortunately, Greydusk did not seem worried. “These creatures are an inconvenience. We shall prevail.”

That's right; he's a soul-stealer.
So he might've absorbed some ability that would kick some tail right now. We needed it, as I still couldn't think a single spell that would turn the tide one way or another. They had no eyes, so blindness was out. In Laredo, they seemed to track us by heat—

Genius.
I had a plan.

Beside me, the demon's skin boiled. Bone crackled. Joints popped. Shape-shifting looked horrendous…and painful. It wasn't an ability I would want, but if it could help Chance, well, I looked away. Accepted it. And pretended I didn't care at all what the Imaron did in our names.

Needs must. Devil drives
.

I whipped out my demon athame and it responded with an excited buzz. The spell I wanted was deceptively simple and not one I'd expected to find useful. It was one of the five I committed to memory because I thought it might help us elude pursuers. I'd never envisioned deploying it like this. Bracing myself for the burn, I dropped my blocks and let the power come. It fell on me like a dark rush, a swarm of locusts chewing through my veins, and my head went dark and heavy.

Nausea rose in equal measure to the energy. Yeah, no question, this wasn't good for me. I pushed on, bringing the magick to my fingertips. As I cast, Chance destroyed one. Or banished it. A second managed to brush up against him, and he cried out. I knew all too well how that numbness spread, how fast the cold could pull you down. He stumbled back, clumsy.

I fought the tremor in my hand as I etched the sigil in the air. Fear would make me careless; worry would kill us all. I had to be resolute. I whispered the Latin word for steam and released the demon magick in a devastating rush. My whole body went weak, and I almost blacked out. Staggering, I rested my trembling body against the wall.
Shit, I'm not ready for this. I'm not trained. I don't know how much power to use or how much to give each spell. It's a wonder I didn't cook us
.

But my intent had been clear, so I produced excess
volume, not heat, and the room filled like a sauna. I'd hoped the shades would have a hard time finding us if we blended with the ambient temperature of the room, giving Chance an opportunity to recover and Greydusk the time to finish its transformation and wade into the fight.

For my part, I scrambled back toward the door. The steam made it impossible for me to tell what was happening, and it would be the height of stupidity to wander into it, giving a shade a chance at me. Better to hold still and trust in my people. My men would win this war for me. They existed to serve me, after all.

The moment I registered the thought, I froze, despite the heat washing over my skin. Damp heat. Sticky. And I was cold as ice. That couldn't have come from me. I didn't feel that way. I
didn't
. There was no war. I wasn't trying to win anything.

Just to find Shannon and go home.

When we had a free minute, I really needed to talk to the Imaron about what the hell it meant by “ascending.” Clearly it was some kind of transformation, but would I become a demon or what? It was a little too murky for my peace of mind how the Old King had gotten his power over demons. The stories weren't clear. Kel had told me it came from the archangels, which meant it wasn't a bad thing, but if the demons were on board with my arrival—
some
of them, at least—then that seemed to call everything I knew into question.

Muffled noises reached me, but I resisted the urge to investigate. It took every iota of self-restraint, and it felt like forever before Chance stumbled out of the cloud and toward me. I reached for him since he was cradling his right arm against his chest.

“Numb?” I guessed.

He nodded.

“It wears off.” I raised my voice. “Are you all right, Greydusk?”

An enormous shape lumbered into sight. Horrible. Monstrous, even, but the arms like swords gleamed with magick, darklight capable of destroying even shades. Whatever this creature was, clearly the demon had
drained it at some point and gained the ability to take its form. And its power. Beneath my weary gaze, it slipped into its own form. It looked easier this time around, as if its body sighed a little with relief at being permitted to resume its natural lines.

“Well enough. The hide on this Swordwraith was thick enough that the drain takes longer. I told you all would be well.”

Though I wasn't sure this would work, I gave it a shot. Not a spell whose forms and rituals I'd memorized. My mother's charms shouldn't work anyway, so clearly I was driving without a license, practicing demon magick here. Best to see what I could accomplish when our life didn't depend on it. Clutching the athame, I called the power to me again. It enveloped me, still cloying and unpleasant, and it tried to smother my head. I forced it down and out to my fingertips, where I held the blade. Then I whispered a single word and let it go. More delicately, as if it were a silken rope lowering an inch at a time. In response, a puff of wind swept the room, blowing away the remaining steam. This time I felt a little sick, but not on the verge of puking or passing out, as I had when I'd summoned the steam.

Greydusk nodded. “Better control. Do you lack training, Binder?”

Since it was on my side, I figured I could be straight with the Imaron. “Precious little. I haven't been able to access my mother's magick for very long.”

“Interesting. There was a block?”

“No. I think her power was held in reserve for me in her pendant, but she died, and Maury had the necklace in his lair, so I didn't get witchy right away.”

“So you came into the power late. I understand.”

“We should wrap up,” Chance said. “And take a look around before something else pops up.”

“Agreed.” I turned to Chance, waiting for him to find the path.

There had to be something of Shannon's here. Maybe she had been held nearby at first, and then they moved her. Or…
maybe
the shades had been posted as guards. She could still be captive in the building somewhere.

Spurred by that unlikely possibility, I prodded Chance, who still looked dazed. “Can you work?”

The chill effect just about froze your brain, so maybe he couldn't.

He closed his eyes and turned, but eventually he sighed and shook his head. “I'm not getting much of anything now.”

“Because of the shade? Or because what was here isn't anymore?”

“Not sure. The feeling is fuzzy now and…far. Like it's moving.”

“You mean they moved Shannon while we fought the shades?” My heart dropped all the way to the pit of my stomach.

If they knew to watch out for us now, it would be ten times harder to find her next time. They could ward off Chance's abilities, maybe. They'd move her and set monsters on us every time we got close. I saw the week going by in a flash of heartbreaking near misses, and I curled my hand into an impotent fist.

“Oh, Shan, I'm so sorry.” The whisper slipped out before I could stop it, and I hung my head.

“Even without his gift, I believe we may find something useful here,” Greydusk said. “Let's check.”

It had a good point. Our enemies might have overlooked some clue that would lead us to them, directly or otherwise. So I cast the spell that turned my athame into a serviceable flashlight, and held it ready. It wasn't a weapon, but it would hurt if I shoved the blade in a monster—and I had no clue how the magickal glow would affect a demon if it was burning inside its chest. Maybe before the end of the day I'd find out.

With my light on, I could see that we were in the foyer of what might have been a magnificent structure long ago, albeit in definite creepy diabolic style. If demons had built their version of White's in the nineteenth century and then abandoned it to the roaches and rats for a hundred years, this would be the end result. I led the way toward a bigger room, passing through a tall archway into a shadowy chamber. But these were harmless shadows,
created by my light and our movement. The familiar chill was absent. Some of the furniture remained: a chewed-up chair, a decrepit table.

“There were private rooms upstairs,” Greydusk said. “If there's anything of note, we'll find it there.”

“Have you been here before?” Chance asked.

“Yes.”

Interesting. But I didn't ask why. I figured I probably didn't want to know, if the meetings had been as gruesome and depraved as I imagined. I crossed the debris-littered floor to the stairs, which were partially blocked with fallen stones. A dust-and-copper smell deluged me, making me wonder again about these bricks.

There was enough room for me to slip past if I turned sideways and took care with my footing. My companions were likewise slim enough to get by. Kel would've been too broad in the chest, I thought, even turned. My time with him felt like something I'd made up, a story or a wistful fancy. It was probably better if I let it keep slipping, though the loss felt sharp as icicles and just as chilling.

From above came the sounds of small creeping things. No threat to us, just pests or scavengers, but I couldn't
wait
to meet the wildlife that filled those niches in Sheol. Actually, not so much.

“Is the feeling coming back?” I asked Chance over my shoulder.

“Yeah.”

Relieved, I paused to take stock. The second-floor hallway stretched before us, with six doors on either side. Meeting rooms, my ass. This had been a brothel, I was pretty damn sure. The open room below would've served as the lounge, where demon dudes picked up demon hookers, and then took them upstairs for a good time. Whatever the hell
that
entailed.

“Left or right?” I asked.

“Left.” Chance sounded so sure that I just turned and opened the door closest to us.

And a wee angry thing tried to eat my face.

Fortunately, since it
was
small, I knocked it aside and
then crushed it under my boot. A wet squelch greeted my stomp, and then I shone the light to see what I'd killed. The animal was too squished for me to tell anything about it, but Greydusk just shrugged.

“It's a tuali. They're territorial.”

Stepping over the tiny corpse, I moved into the room, where the wrecked furniture confirmed my earlier guess. There was a bed, sunken in the middle. It smelled like something had been nesting in it, probably the tuali.
Hmm.
Unlikely we'd find anything there, except stuff the tuali thought was cool.

So I turned to the bureau while Greydusk went over to the closet. Chance stood watch in the doorway to make sure nothing tried to whack us from behind. In each drawer, I found scraps of paper that might've been receipts at some point but now were just shreds, dry pellets that looked like droppings, and a few stray articles of clothing.

From the last one, I pulled out a whip. I knew it didn't belong to Shannon, but something like that could come in handy. Okay, so maybe I just wanted to tease Chance with it later. The situation was all kinds of fucked up, but if I didn't keep my sense of humor, I'd fall into a black hole of despair and never save Shan.

Greydusk turned from the closet, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

The rest of the rooms went likewise, until we came to the last room on the left. Chance had been quiet up until this point, massaging his arm and maintaining a brooding silence. Greydusk opened the door and a host of spiders poured out. Only they weren't normal, household spiders. Which would've been bad enough.

No, these were the size of small dogs, like, say, the one cowering in my handbag, and they had long, excessively hairy legs, and the purple wizened faces of human babies that had been dead for four or five days. They chattered as they rushed us. I sprang back with a stifled scream and slashed at the ones surging at my feet.

Chance growled the command word and ice crackled around the dark leather of his gloves. He pounded them
with lightning strikes and the guts spattered all over my boots. When Greydusk attacked, it was cleaner, as these animals could be drained.

I impaled one with my athame, and the light burned it up from within. It was horrifying yet fascinating to watch; the flesh cooked and shriveled. I danced away from the fangs as the dark, dried flesh dropped off my obsidian blade. The demon fighting beside me was slow in his absorption, and after taking one that way, it lifted its large foot and went with a more direct approach. I slid back to get out of the way.

As I moved, I stumbled over something.
Shit.
That one sank its fangs deep into my boot, far enough to pierce the leather, and the tooth grazed my ankle. It stung more than the slight wound merited, which told me I was in trouble. How much so remained to be seen.

In short order, Chance and Greydusk eradicated the infestation. Meanwhile, my ankle swelled and felt like it was on fire.

“Hey,” I said. “How bad is it if you get bitten?”

Greydusk and Chance must not have heard me, as they'd started searching. Since the room was clear, I limped inside to see if there was anything noteworthy. My expectations weren't high by that point, but there was nothing lost by being thorough. Pain lanced through my left calf with every step. The boot felt like it might be cutting off my circulation.

Hang in there. For Shannon. How dangerous can those things be?

My eyesight sparkled. Dark streaks, as if I were peering through a filthy window. Worried, I leaned up against the wall and left the rummaging to Chance and Greydusk. They were fast but careful, leaving no inch of the room unexplored, as we'd done eleven times before. I had little hope it would be different this time.

Until Greydusk opened the closet door—and what I saw took my focus off the bite. Through wavering vision, I recognized it at once: a black backpack with colorful, feminine skulls. Shannon had been here. They'd held her in this room. Oh, gods and goddesses, with those spiders?
Was she even alive any longer? The way I felt, she might not be, if they'd bitten her. Even worse, maybe she'd been kept in the closet, in the dark, listening to those hideous things scuttle with the endless and permanent threat that someone could come—for no reason at all—and open the door.