Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) (32 page)

It was slow going. I could hear nothing of the battle above me, and I wondered if it still raged or if either side had won. It would suck to go through all this to find Feille had left his sanctuary to congratulate his troops, leaving me empty-handed below ground. I ducked to hands and knees for the length of the tunnel and counted five passageways, and over twenty wire traps, which I thankfully avoided, before I turned left again. The scurrying noise was more frequent, louder, and I had a long hallway with eight passageways to go before my next turn. My heart thudded. Whatever animal was in this tunnel, it sounded solo. Hopefully it was small and weak.

One, two, three, four, five. I saw a shadow dart across my dim beam of light, and I started, jumping instinctively to the right to hug the wall. My foot hit resistance then slid forward. A thwang sounded and I felt a brush of air before pain soared through my backside.

"Ow, motherfucker." I choked the curse out as quietly as I could, managing to retain a grip on the light globe as my other hand reached around behind to feel the arrow shaft protruding from my ass. At least it wasn’t poisoned, although I did feel a rather unpleasant burning sensation along with a searing throb.

"Mal? Shit, you sound like a fucking herd of elephants. It's a wonder half the elven troops aren't down here after you."

Dar. He was a great one to talk. I'd heard his shuffling around long before he'd heard me. I yanked on the arrow. It tore painfully, and I was unable to remove it.

“Give me a hand here. I’ve got an arrow in my ass.”

Dar snickered, turning me around to face the wall and bracing himself with a foot on my back. He pulled. My vision went white as the arrow came out.

“Ah, that hurts like a son-of-a-bitch,” I whispered.

Dar patted my rear, sending a fresh wave of pain through me. “You’ll live. Lucky for you it wasn’t barbed, or you’d have half your butt cheek torn out.”

I tested to see how well I could walk with my new wound. I could fix it, but it would take me a few hours. Pitiful. "What the fuck are you doing down here? You're supposed to be managing the forest ambush."

"Which was wrapped up hours ago." His tone added the "duh" to the end of his words. "And what the fuck are you doing down here? Did you manage to kill Feille?"

"I'm working on it." Asshole. We stood and stared at each other in the dim light, shifting awkwardly, neither wanting to explain.

"I came to find you," Dar finally admitted, his voice gruff. "I thought you'd be out by now, and when I didn't see you, I worried."

His words sat heavy in the tunnel, the only other sounds our breath against the dirt.

"Feille left his rooms before I got there. He's already holed up in another safe house, under the garden at the end of the tunnels," I admitted, feeling a wash of shame at my failure. "I'm trying to find him and hopefully finish the job before he escapes."

Dar tilted his head to the side, his eyes a bright red in the dark. "The warded room under the gnarled feetig tree garden? You missed the turn about ten feet back."

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out again, but the frustration remained. "I counted. I've got five more hallways to go before tuning right."

Dar brushed passed me, fur against my arm. "Well, yeah if you want to have your head taken off by magical tree roots. Since I doubt you have time for that sort of fun activity, let's take the back way instead."

I followed him, watching the swish of his tail in the faint light of my globe. "How do you know? Did you get a map or something?"

The demon came to an abrupt halt, and I nearly plowed into his back. His nose twitched, and I saw the sheen of his eyes as he cocked his head to the side. "I played in these catacombs growing up. You had your swamps; I had my tunnels. I know them like the back of my paw—all their entrances and exits. I've expanded on the elven tunnels with some of my own. It's how I planned to get into the palace undetected and look for you."

I eyed Dar, a surge of respect and admiration roaring through me. "You rock."

His chest puffed out, his snout lifting slightly. "Damned straight."

And off he ran, me scrambling to keep up with his pace. His eyesight was keen in the dark, and I stumbled around, trying not to lose him and not to fall flat on my face.

"For fuck sake, Mal," he hissed. "Could you try to be a bit quieter? And you stink. When was the last time you bathed? You smell like chicken shit."

I bit back the retort and tried to blindly run through the narrow dirt passageways with greater stealth, my ass throbbing in pain. We took a complicated series of turns, and I was grateful that I had Dar to lead me, otherwise I'd never find my way out of this labyrinth. After a scant few minutes, the tunnel lightened, and I saw a glow from the edge of the hall before us. Dar halted and held out a hand for me to do the same.

"The light is the passageway to the sanctuary," he whispered. "There's always a set of mechanical as well as magical traps along the hallway, in addition to the ones in the rooms. Because of the battle, there are likely to be elven troops posted there."

I grimaced. I had little more than human strength and ability right now—a slightly enhanced human with a dwarven knife and a chicken wand. "Can you scout for me?" I asked Dar.

He wiggled his eyebrows, casting me a playful look before condensing into a small, furred shape. Dar had always been able to convert his form to this particular shape without a lot of show. He stood up on hind legs, twitching whiskers at me before darting down into the lighted hallway.

An alarm sounded. I heard a shout, followed by a relieved, somewhat disgusted noise.

"Rat. Stupid things keep setting off the alarms. I thought the humans cleansed these tunnels last week."

"They did. Disguising things keep coming back quicker and quicker each time. Nothing we do seems to keep them out."

I pressed sideways against the dirt wall and slowly looked around it. Two elves, armed with small swords, stood near a doorway filled with light. They had their backs turned to me, trying to skewer Dar with the tips of the swords. I held back a laugh. Dar was fast. There was no way they were going to get him.

Normally I would have taken advantage of their inattention and blown their heads off, but I lacked my demon powers. All I had to fight these two armed elves was a small dwarven knife and a chicken wand. It wasn't just their swords against my puny knife that concerned me; it was their elven magic too. As a human, I was helpless.

But I was an imp.

Holding the chicken wand in one hand, and the knife in the other, I contemplated my options. The dwarven knife would not only cause a physical wound but would disrupt any magical ability they had for a short period. I doubted I could stab both of them before someone ran me through like a shishkabob, though. Actually, I doubted I could stab one before someone ran me through like a shiskabob, even with the element of surprise on my side. So I slid the knife back into its sheath under my pant leg, and whispered the sound to activate the wand.

I had to stifle a laugh as the elves whirled around, astonished to see three clucking chickens strutting around the subterranean tunnel. The birds paused, jerking their heads from side to side as they contemplated the elves.

"His Lordship! Don't let him see them," one gasped.

They both took off, chasing the chickens around and down the hallway, out of sight. Dar loped past me, transforming to his larger, more upright size as he watched them head further away.

"I'll go take care of those guys. You get Feille."

And how, exactly, was I supposed to do that, I wondered as I looked toward the bright light. I had an arrow wound in my ass, and Feille was most likely in a room surrounded by a rotating globe of runes, if this safe spot was anything like the one in his bedroom.

"There's another entrance to the room," I told Dar. "Can you take care of the guards, find a quick way out and circle around to guard the other door? I wouldn't put it past him to try and bolt."

Dar rolled his beady red eyes. "What am I, fucking Superman? Faster than a speeding bullet, able to kill guards and race through miles of tunnels in seconds?"

I blinked at him, waiting.

"For fuck's sake, Mal. You owe me for this."

"I love you, Dar," I teased as he ran down the hallway, grumbling under his breath.

Then I walked toward the light, wondering in the back of my mind why my chicken trick had worked so well that both guards had abandoned their posts to chase them.

The entrance to the sanctuary was an archway, runes flaring as I drew near. I contemplated using my knife to enter versus using it on the multiple protective circles that I knew surrounded Feille. The circles were the bigger obstacle, but if I couldn't get in the damned room, I'd never even get the chance. I pulled the knife out of the sheath and reversed my grip in a Hollywood-worthy spin.

"I'm coming for you, Feille, you dickless fairy," I proclaimed, plunging the knife into the doorway.

Dwarves have a special skill that makes them ideal foster parents for young demons. They are tough and hardy, difficult to wound or kill… and they are practically immune to magic. They imbue their weaponry, their dwellings, and their artwork with the same immunity. The silver light from the runes flew toward the knife then fled like children from a plate of mashed turnips. Rather than the dramatic explosion that occurred when demons countered elven magic, the runes withered, shrinking and twisting into faint traces in the wood grain of the doorframe.

I strode into the room and saw Feille, standing majestically before an ornate throne, in the middle of a globe of rotating runes. A salt ring encircled him, three feet from the throne, and he held a jeweled dagger that glowed silver in my presence. He'd covered all his bases.

"Coward," I taunted. "Safe here while your troops are slaughtered."

He lifted his other hand, and a translucent globe appeared. "I am seeing the opposite. Seems your demons have lost the advantage and are being picked off one by one. My troops from Allwin are arriving as we speak. That weak fairy, Taullian, will lose."

"At least that weak fairy is leading his own army. You're hiding in here like a sniveling coward. What do you think your troops think about that?"

He waved a hand and the ball projected an image large enough for me to see. Feille, fighting right alongside his elves. The fucker had some kind of doppelganger to take his place. That was some serious magic, and I hoped it had weakened him a bit. I remembered Feille killing the guard in his dungeons, him causing the magical vines to sprout from the stone floor. No, I really didn’t want to meet Feille when he was at full power.

"Doesn't matter. You'll die out there, and you'll die in here."

And hopefully if his doppelganger died, it would weaken him further. I’d take any advantage I could get at this point.

He looked around at the runes and laughed. "And just how are you going to get past this magic, Az? Where is your exploding stick? Has it left you? Found a demon worthier of the title ‘Iblis’?"

My breath locked inside my chest, head pounding at his words. I'd never wanted the damned thing, but the thought that it had tossed me aside the moment the going got rough, abandoning me for someone else, sent a wave of fury through me. I was the Iblis. Me.

"I don't need it to take you down." I waved the knife at him, knowing full well that after dismantling the doorway protection, it would never withstand the humming might of magic before me.

"Pig sticker." He shrugged, sitting down in his throne with a dismissive slump. "Fully charged, it might get you past the first layer, but no more. Unless you happen to have a few hundred of those knives glued to your person."

Only one way to find out. I stabbed the knife into the silver swirl and felt a vibration that numbed my arm to the shoulder. The knife sizzled and melted from the tip upward, hitting the ground in a puddle as I dropped it before my hand suffered the same fate. The high lord laughed.

"What now, Az? Can I convince you to throw yourself into the circle? I'd love to watch you burn."

As a demon, I might have attempted it, but with my compromised repair skills, and fragile human form, I wasn't about to risk it. I might be able to live inside a corpse, but a melted blob was probably beyond my skills at the moment. I stalked around the circle, looking for a weak point while Feille continued to mock me. Nothing. He wouldn't have been safer in Fort Knox. He wouldn't have been safer in Aaru.

Be an imp.

Oma's vision. Her words came back to me. Demons might not be able to penetrate a circle, but non-sentient things could. The protective barrier around Wyatt's house last fall had kept out demons and angels, but Haagenti's hit men had been able to throw rocks through it, fling fire through it, and even lightning. Elven circles would resist any demon energy, any attack directly from me, but not things of this world, or the magic of elves. I could spit on him. I could throw bits of dirt and roots at him. And I could lob chickens at him.

The wand was smooth in my hands, a light birch with carvings stained red. A round, black-veined jasper was embedded at the tip. I wasn't sure how many charges it had, but I was about to find out.

Feille jumped to his feet as the first white bird materialized. "What are you doing?"

I threw it through the circle, amused to see it pass unharmed to land gracefully near the throne. Feille jumped on top of his ornate chair as if he'd seen a mouse, and I created another, again launching it into the circle.

"What are you doing?"

The air filled with the soft clucking of contented birds. They seemed happy within the circle, nodding their heads as they strutted about, occasionally pecking at the ground.

"What are you doing? Get them out! Get them away from me!" Feille screamed, standing on his throne and waving his knife at them. He seemed unwilling to get close enough to the fowl to kill them with his knife, and his panic over the harmless, feathered things amused me. No wonder the boy in the palace, and the guards, had been so nervous when they’d seen my chickens. Their high lord had a phobia.