Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) (2 page)

“I don’t see any blood or bones,” one commented casually.

The taller elf sighed. “Because she’s still in the corner, where we left her. And the demon is
still
on the floor, where we left it. This is stupid, Lyte. Let’s just dump it down the drain and be done with it.”

Yes, please dump me down the drain and be done with me. Even if I wound up in the sewage system, it had to be better than the dungeon of my enemies.

“No. It’s a demon. I’m sure of it.”

“Then why is it still like that?” the tall one demanded. “I thought you said it wouldn’t be able to resist a human. Why is the wench still alive?”

“Maybe it just needs incentive.”

The lock grated, and the door opened, but instead of walking toward me, the elf strode to the human, grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. She caught her breath, and I tensed as the elf pulled out a knife and slashed her arm from wrist to shoulder.

The girl gasped, biting off a scream. I struggled to do anything—shoot the fuckers with a bolt of lightning, suffocate them with my gelatinous form, anything. I felt helpless—again. Just as I felt when I watched Stab being murdered. What a cruel turn my life had taken that I finally cared and couldn’t do anything to help.

“Lyte! Don’t kill her. Humans are expensive, and this one has a lot of fun left in her.”

The elf slashed her other arm, then did the same to her legs. She stood shaking, dripping lines of red from her limbs. They were shallow cuts, not likely to kill her, but the girl looked like she was on the verge of collapse. She was half starved, probably dehydrated. She couldn’t afford to lose any blood, even the small amount decorating her body.

“Idiot.” The taller scout curled his lip. “The pond scum doesn’t look any more interested in her now than when she wasn’t bleeding all over the dungeon floor. I’m done with this nonsense.”

He left the cell, his footsteps ringing on the stone. The other scout shoved the human girl to the floor and waved his knife at me. I wasn’t particularly alarmed. Poking with a stick hadn’t bothered me; I doubted being stabbed would do any damage.

“I know what you are. Let’s see if you can resist her now.”

He left, locking the cell door carefully and leaving me with a thin girl, dazed and bleeding in a dirty corner. I wished I could do something to help her, to help all of them. I thought of Nyalla, of what she’d been through. Terrible as it had been, it was nothing compared to the life of this poor creature before me. I stared at her, at the defeated look in her eyes and swore that if I could regain any of my powers, if I could somehow manage to even move about, I would help her. I would help them all.

“If only you were an angel, Mister Algae,” she sighed, her voice wandering as if she had a fever. “If only you were an angel to heal me, to avenge my hurts and shelter me under your wings. An angel like those in the songs and stories.”

If only I were an angel. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t even sure if I was the Iblis anymore. I was only a powerless imp trapped in a dirty elven prison cell.

2

G
abriel stood outside the decrepit Cape Cod style house, under the spreading canopy of an ancient maple tree. Cicadas filled the humid summer air with their mating song. Blue light flickered from the windows, illuminating the gray dusk. The angel hesitated, uncertain of the modern protocol of requesting entry into a human’s dwelling. Should he vocalize something? Rap on the entrance with his knuckles? One of his angels had told him to push the little beige button beside the door, but he suspected that angel’s knowledge might be less than accurate.

Eventually he gave up.
Eldest brother? May I speak with you?

He felt like a child, or a lesser angel requesting an audience. The uncomfortable feeling grew as his request was met with a long silence.

A moment. I am killing undead at present.

Undead? Necromancy was a lost art, but the humans had made some impressive medical advances lately. Clearly those advances had gone wrong if the head of the Grigori felt the need to temporarily put aside his duties to address the issue. One more thing the humans had messed up in their frenetic evolutionary pace. Gabriel frowned at the window, wondering if intervention would be welcome, or if it would be perceived as a slight upon his brother’s ability to massacre animated corpses unassisted.

Just as Gabriel was about to rush the door, it opened. A tall figure stood in the entrance, blocking the light from within the house. With a few words to someone behind him, the angel closed the door and headed toward Gabriel with a relaxed stride. The older angel carried some sort of bag in one hand. It crinkled noisily as he folded the top down.

“This better be good. I’ve left the fate of the world hanging in the hands of a human with rather poor fine-motor skills.”

Gabriel was momentarily distracted by the glossy orange and tan bag at his brother’s side. Did it hold some substance that neutralized undead? He’d never seen a weapon like this before, but humans had changed considerably since he frequented their home. Who knew what they were capable of?
Too far, too fast
, he thought with a scowl.

“I’ve been reading the reports of the two dead angels and have found some unsatisfactory gaps. Since your Grigori discovered the deaths, I’d hoped you could shed some light on what happened.”

Any other angel would have shriveled at Gabriel’s tone, but his brother just shrugged and opened the colorful bag, shaking it and peering inside thoughtfully. “And this couldn’t wait until the next council meeting? These ‘unsatisfactory gaps’ weigh so heavily on your mind that you risked your purity to venture here and disturb my important work?”

Gabriel tensed, a reflex born billions of years ago, but he refused to let this brother intimidate him anymore. “I’m sure the undead in that house can wait while you turn your attention toward
two dead angels
.”

The elder angel sighed, shifting his gaze from the bag to meet Gabriel’s eyes. “In the most recent death, the angel was destroyed in an explosion on an island off Washington State. He was not Grigori and did not have permission to be here. Cause of the explosion is unknown.”

“Yes, I know that. It’s in the report.” Gabriel waved an impatient hand. “When will you have concluded the investigation as to the cause of his death, and his reason for being out of Aaru without following proper protocol?”

Gabriel felt the weight of his brother’s stare and struggled to continue to meet his gaze. Slowly, the elder angel lowered his eyes to the bag, reaching his hand in and withdrawing a thin, circular object, dusted in orange powder. “We are Grigori. It is not our primary responsibility to investigate fallen angels who have met a just end.”

Gabriel took a sharp breath. “And how do you know it was a just end? The report simply says he was here without permission. That alone does not deserve death, unless your standards have become refreshingly strict in the last few days.”

“We’ll investigate in a fair and impartial manner. In due time.”

Gabriel felt his temper rise. “What kind of explosion could have killed an angel? If the humans are starting up that nonsense again, then we need to take action. Really, brother, I didn’t expect you to have such a casual attitude toward this.”

The elder angel fingered the thin disc in his hand, sprinkling orange powder like fairy dust on the pavement. “As I said, we will investigate in due time. The other dead angel was found in Parral Mexico by one of my enforcers. He left behind his corporeal form.”

Gabriel sputtered in frustration. “Yes, yes.
Why
? Is this some new, dangerous human technology? Was it a devouring spirit? If so, I’d expect you would not be standing here playing with round orange things in a bag.”

What was
wrong
with him? The brother he’d grown up with would have scoured the earth, sword a-blaze, filled with holy wrath until he’d found the murderers. Especially if there was a devouring spirit at large. The fate of all creation might be at stake, and here he stood as if he just didn’t care.

“It was a devouring spirit. He’s dead. Case closed.”

Gabriel felt words choking in his throat. “
Why
is that not in the report? A devouring spirit strong enough to kill an angel and you just conveniently leave it out of the report? We need to catalog this incident, record the power levels and add the data to our projections. How could you not report this?”

His brother shrugged, turning the orange disk between his fingers. “Guess I forgot. My bad.”

Forgot? He forgot? And since when did his esteemed, ancient brother use human slang? Gabriel felt his body shake with rage, but anger was a sin that would move him too far from the precious, balanced center. Clenching his fists, the younger angel took several deep breaths, willing himself to return to a calm and logical state.

“Why was the deceased angel down here? What was he doing, and how did he manage to encounter a devouring spirit? Two angels, down here without permission, both dead—brother, what do you intend to do?”

The elder angel looked pensive as he shoved the orange disk in his mouth and crunched it. “I intend to suggest that angels not journey down here without following proper procedure. It appears to be hazardous to their immortality.”

For a few moments Gabriel could do nothing but stare, uncertain whether his brother’s action or his words were the most disturbing.

“Did… did you just
eat
that thing?”

His brother brushed his fingers across his jeans, leaving a trail of orange. “Potato chips with some sort of crab seasoning on them. I prefer the salt and vinegar ones myself, but Wyatt likes these best.”

He extended the bag toward Gabriel, who just shook his head in mute astonishment. “Let it be, Gabriel. I will take care of this business, and I promise you will eventually have your full report.”

With that, the elder angel dug another chip from the bag, popping it into his mouth before turning to walk back into the house, leaving Gabriel to stare after him.

3

T
wo weeks. At least I think it had been two weeks. There was no daylight in the cell, no way of counting the passing hours, so I was pretty much guessing. Could have been two days, could have been two years. It certainly felt like two years. The shorter elf scout, the one called Lyte, had come back for the girl, furious to find her still alive. She was weak, but managed to stagger out when he’d told her to go. I only hoped someone healed her wounds and kept them from infection. I hoped she’d gotten something to eat, some sort of relief from the nightmare her life had become. I worried that she might have been killed, but perhaps that would have been a relief to her.

Soon after the girl left, Lyte had scooped me back in my bucket and dumped me in another, more filthy cell. I wasn’t sure why. This time he’d taken the bucket with him, leaving me alone in the cell with whatever bugs and rodents could penetrate the magical barriers.

Since then, that fucking elven scout had been down ten times to check on me. He’d taunt me, dangle a finger temptingly close then stand back and frown, as if he wasn’t sure whether I was animal or vegetable.

I’d made progress. I could feel the bits of my spirit-self knitting together with a hideous network of scarring. That’s one of the reasons I felt I’d been down in this cell at least several weeks. Damage like I’d sustained didn’t repair quickly. In my semi-liquid state, I could shift myself across the floor. Mobile pond scum was a step in the right direction but I was more ecstatic that I could now change the composition of my body. I could manage a solid form—some kind of lizard with internal organs and legs. I wasn’t the fastest thing in Hel, but I could move, and I had little teeth. I formulated a plan to burst from pond scum into my little lizard being, escape from the dungeon and hopefully manage to get into the forest. I just needed to wait for the right moment.

I still couldn’t store raw energy, but here in Hel, that wasn’t really necessary. If that skill was lost forever, I’d never be able to return to the realm of the humans, though. There, I’d be defenseless, unable to fix any injury or change my shape or create even the most basic of elements. Without any storage mechanism, I was damned to Hel forever. Baby steps, though. Right now I just wanted to be mobile, and to get the fuck out of Wythyn before they figured out what, and who, I was.

I was trying to convert into something more ferocious, and possibly with a voice box, when I heard the clang of the dungeon door, and footsteps. Quickly I resumed my original state, oozing back to the spot where I’d originally been deposited.

“See? There.” It was my elven nemesis, accompanied by three individuals out of my range of vision.

There was a moment of silence while I contemplated the chill of the stone floor, the thick layer of dust stacked high in the corners of my cell. Someone really needed to clean this fucking place.

“It’s some kind of pond scum,” announced a bored voice. Maybe I wouldn’t need to plan a jailbreak after all. Maybe they’d finally let me out, take me in the woods and dump me where I could repair myself in peace. It would really suck if they just power-washed me down the grate at the edge of my cell, although at this point I’d be happy to take that option. I’d no idea where that thing went. I was sure it would not be pleasant, but it had to be better than this boring, filthy dungeon.

“No, look. It’s been moving. See how there are marks in the dust on the floor? It’s in the same place every time I come in here, but clearly it’s been moving about.”

Fuck! I hadn’t thought about having to cover my tracks. Not that I had any way to do so.

“Rats. Or snakes. Or a breeze.” The voice was bored, irritated with the bother.

“No! The footprints are too big for rats, and the pattern isn’t like a snake. There’s no breeze down here strong enough to move the dust in that pattern. Look at the other cells, they don’t have those kind of marks on the floor.”