Devil's Punch (41 page)

I couldn't believe it wholly, but how I wanted to.

Then Shan knocked, and I didn't loathe her anymore, because she was my best friend and little sister combined; she was Shannon Cheney, and her life was worth suffering any pain. Even the unthinkable. Even this. I'd made my choice when I went to Sheol after her. Humans didn't venture to the demon realm without paying the price; Chance remitted my ransom willingly, and the ache of that would never abate.

When I opened the door, she hugged me hard, without speaking; then I stepped back. I mustered a smile.

“Jesse said we were gone a month.”

I couldn't begin to process that. It had seemed longer, a lifetime. So I focused on our mundane needs. “Yeah? Interesting. Stay here and set up, okay? I'll buy us some things. Watch Butch.”

He yapped twice in protest. “You want to come with me?”

One yap.

“Fine, but you can't walk unless I find you a leash.”

He gave me a look, but when he hopped into my purse, I figured he was okay with the terms I'd dictated. I cleaned out the bloody athame and things from the demon world that had no place in this one.

With Butch in tow, I limped down the stairs and out the front onto the street. I got lucky with a pet store a few doors down, and I bought Butch a small bag of food and a leash. That made him happy, as he stretched his legs. Eventually I located a Tesco, where I bought us cheap T-shirts, some snacks, an AC adapter for our devices, and two travel kits with miscellaneous toiletries. Nobody said anything about Butch, so I guessed they
were used to purse dogs, even here. On the way back, I stopped at a place called Noodle Express, where I ordered Vietnamese spring rolls, king prawn pad thai, and ngay tho. They made the food fast and I returned to Shannon with a sense of utter exhaustion.

Conversation was sparse; we ate while she IM'd with Jesse like I'd once done. I had no reaction to their relationship apart from minor happiness, which was all I could manage. Afterward, we showered in shifts and went to bed. I dreamed of Chance dying, over and over again. I felt his mouth on mine, the desperation in his eyes as he sank the blade into his chest. When I woke, my chest felt as if I were dying too, but I hid the pain beneath a tired smile.

Yesterday's emptiness felt more profound. On impulse, I grabbed my athame and whispered, “
Fiat lux
.”

Nothing.
I tried to pull my mother's power. There was no tingle, no heat, no pain. I suspected my use of demon magick had sealed those pathways, and I was no longer a poorly trained witch; any magick that remained to me would be demonic in origin. I didn't know if I could still use the touch, but I didn't care enough to test it.

I have to call Min
.

My hands shook as I input her number. When I heard her soft
hello
, I lost it. “Min? Min, I'm sorr—”

“I know,” she said, her voice raw with weeping. “I already know. He's with his father now.”

She cut the call, whether because she couldn't talk or she blamed me, I didn't know. I stared at the Nokia in my hand, and then squeezed my eyes shut.
No more,
I thought.
I can't bear it
.

“What now?” Shannon asked eventually.

Haunted, I raised my head. I wished she had her radio with her. Chance hadn't been mortal. Not entirely. And the gate required the full strength of a mortal soul to open, so what happened when a demigod gave himself over to it? Surely he was bigger, stronger, than a normal human spirit. I wouldn't believe there was nothing left, not even in the afterlife. He had been the son of Ebisu, for god's sake. That had to count for something. If Shannon
had her radio and tuned in, she could find him, and I could hear his voice again.

I'd know, at least, that part of him had survived the transition. For now, however, I had to concentrate on our current predicament. Using Shannon's laptop, I checked on how complicated it would be to get a passport—when you'd never been issued one. Research indicated there would be all kinds of bureaucratic red tape, awkward questions asked. It wasn't like I could tell the embassy that I'd slipped into London illegally via Sheol. I didn't look forward to dealing with all the complexities of modern life.

Unable to face that just yet, I called Tia, who answered on the fourth ring. Belatedly, I realized it was probably the middle of the night at home, if it was morning here. “
¿Que paso?
” she demanded in a worried tone. “
¿Quien es?
”

“It's Corine,” I answered in Spanish.

“Are you all right,
mija
? Did you find your friend?”

No. And yes
.

Aloud, I said, “I need your help again. Can you wire me some cash?”

“
¿Donde?
”

I reached for the laptop and found an agent who could receive payments, then gave her the information. “There's money in my room—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “It will be hours before Western Union opens. Will you be all right until then?”

“I should be.” We had enough for another night here, but only that. “You can wait until tomorrow to go. I won't be able to pick up the money before then anyway.”

“I'll take care of you. Don't worry.” It was comforting to hear her voice, under the circumstances.

“
Gracias
. I'm sorry I woke you. I should have waited to call.” I paused, feeling like I had something important to tell her, but my mind was heavy, tired. “Can you get my passport? It's in the—”

“Lockbox under your bed.” She knew
everything
that went on in her house.

“I'll need it later.” Though my fake passport wasn't
good enough to get me out of the country, it would permit me to pick up the wire transfer.

“
Sí, claro
,” she said. “I will go to FedEx as soon as it opens. And then I will go to Banamex tomorrow.”

“
Gracias por todo.
Feel free to take whatever money you need—for whatever reason.” Then I remembered what I meant to tell her. “Your bracelet saved my life.”

“I knew it would,” she said with satisfaction. Before I could question her, she cut the call.

I handed the phone to Shan. “Ask Jesse to overnight your passport and radio.”

We couldn't travel by rail or ship without ID, and I wasn't sure if the fake driver's license in my wallet would stand up to scrutiny by international authorities. This measure would serve as a stopgap solution while I figured things out. If need be, we could rent a house or a flat while we were here. Tia could send small, multiple payments easily via wire, until I had a respectable nest egg, a buffer against disaster.

Don't think about Chance
.

Shannon nodded. “My phone too, while he's at it.”

The day passed in a blur. I got more cheap takeout, walked Butch, and rented the room for another day while praying Tia would come through. Faith sustained me; she'd never let me down yet. On schedule, the package from her arrived first thing in the morning. I studied my passport—the one Eva had made—and wondered how Chuch and Eva were. How the baby was. They seemed so far removed from this life, this crisis. I missed them, but they were better off keeping their distance from me.

I didn't want to tell them about Chance. During the long wait, Shan brushed and braided my hair. She talked about her plans. Trying to distract me, I know, but the pain kept time with the beating of my heart, so it pulsed in my blood. Eventually, she wrapped her arms around my back and rested her chin on my shoulder.

“Thank you for coming for me,” she whispered.

That drew me out of my self-imposed distance. I turned and hugged her. “Of course. You're my best friend.”

We cried together then, as we hadn't given ourselves time in the alley. Reaction set in. Everything we'd seen and lost. She was the only person in the world who knew what it was like in Sheol. At least we still had each other. My nose ran, my eyes swelled, and her sobs rang in my ears.

“I feel old,” she said finally, easing back to wipe her face with her forearm. “Like, ancient. Jesse used to talk about the age gap between us, but between the kidnapping, the time with the Hazo, your rescue…I feel like I lived a whole life there, you know?”

“I think maybe we did. It seemed longer to me too.” A month, Jesse had said.

No, Shan was right. It had been a lifetime.

Exhausted from the emotional catharsis, we napped. I didn't mean to; it just happened, and I dreamt of Chance again. This time without the blood. This time I saw him in the spray of cherry blossoms, where his father fell in love with Min. He was smiling. Beckoning. I woke smiling, my feet on the floor. Only there was no sunlit orchard waiting, just a cheap rented room and Shannon asleep on her side.

Tia called my cell, startling me. “The money should be there, Corine.”

I thanked her and went off with my cooked passport and my dog, hoping for the best. An hour later, I returned with two thousand dollars, and Shannon was signing for her package down at the front desk. It was large and bulky, due to the antique radio. My heart literally skipped a beat, and then steadied. Her ability drained her, but fortunately, we had snacks in the room, so I could ask Shan to use her gift without feeling guilty.

I
had
to know.

Upstairs, she unpacked the box and found more than she'd requested. Her radio, her fake passport, some clothing—T-shirts and underwear mostly—her phone, which ha'd a picture of Jesse Saldana as the wallpaper when she booted it up, and a prepaid MasterCard. As a cop, Jesse would know it was illegal to send cash via FedEx, so he'd tried to help Shannon as much as he
could without knowing the specifics of her predicament. It had to help, just knowing she was safe.

“I already know what you're going to ask,” she said.

I produced the adapter, plugged the radio into it, and then connected it to the wall in confirmation. “It's killing me. I can't sleep, can't do anything without knowing. I
dream
about him, Shan.” My voice broke.

“It's okay,” she said. “Let's do this.”

She clicked on the radio that let her summon and talk to the dead. At once, a chill swept through the room, so strong I saw my breath. I tucked my hands beneath my arms as I folded them and waited for Shannon to work her magick. I'd seen her in action before, but it had never mattered so much.

“Chance, Corine needs to hear from you.”

Like always, she fiddled with the tuning dial as the tension rose in the room, until the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It felt like fingers stroking, stroking, and a shiver ran down my spine. At 1122 on the AM dial—also Chance's birthday—the static resolved. I bit down on my lower lip.

“Are you here?” Shannon asked. “Chance, can you hear me?”

Those fingers stroked down my nape again. The radio spoke in a hauntingly familiar voice:
“Even death will not keep me from you.”

The gem at my throat blazed with heat—and this time I wept tears of joy.

Aronesti
—the Snatchers. They feast on the flesh of the dead, and when summoned will often manifest in cannibal killers. They are winged, humanoid with withered features and terrible claws. Most likely, they gave rise to the Harpies of legend.

Birsael
—the Bargainers. They are the most commonly summoned demons. They love making deals with humans; they thrive on mischief and misfortune. In Sheol they are shape-shifters and can take whatever form they desire.

Dohan
—the Drinkers. These demons can be summoned only via blood magick. They require a sacrifice, and can be bound to enhance a dark practitioner's power. They appear human, apart from their unusual eyes. On the rare occasions when they passed into the human world corporeally, they gave rise to vampire lore, as they subsist on human blood.

Eshur
—the Judges. They do not respond to summonings of any kind. They are outside the other castes and sit in judgment of their peers. The Eshur cannot be bribed; they are emotionless and bound to duty. They are tall and thin, blue-skinned, with vestigial horns.

Hazo
—the Warriors. They can be summoned only to sites where great battles have taken place. A human possessed by a Hazo spirit becomes a berserker, incapable of stopping short of dismemberment, impervious to pain. The Vikings perfected a rite that guaranteed possession by a Hazo, and by all accounts, the warrior enjoyed a symbiotic relationship with his demon—the only known circumstance in which the possessed does not lose all control of his or her form. In Sheol they are enormous,
red-skinned with black shoulders, ridged skulls, and faintly ursine features. They have fangs that are almost tusks and razor-sharp talons. They favor heavy weapons, are fiercely aggressive, and can be gated if sufficient power is expended at the summoning site.

Imaron
—the Soul-stealers. Honorable. Law-abiding. They have the ability to drain skills, thoughts, experiences, memories, all the way up to life itself. If an Imaron drains a victim, only a husk remains. They are gray-skinned, with narrow skulls, double rows of teeth, and a distinctly alien appearance. It is not possible to discern gender via visual inspection.

Klothod
—the formless legion. These are the only demons that have no physical form, even in Sheol. They were cursed by King Solomon to live solely as shadows. If a demon is summoned from its physical form and remains in the human world too long, it is possible for its physical body to die, at which point it becomes a Klothod. This is the only circumstance in which a demon can change its caste, but it takes centuries for the summoning-stasis magick to go inert, permitting it to occur.

The Knights
—high-ranking individuals who command in Sheol. Each named knight comes from a particular caste, ruling over the rest of the demons in a functional oligarchy.