In the Demon's Company (Demon's Assistant Book 2) (8 page)

“You have got to be kidding,” Cam says, staring down the square hole.

“Where did you expect it to be?” I ask, because frankly, I’m not surprised. The fact that wherever he’s taking us is underground seems about right. It makes total sense that demons and monsters would carve out spaces for themselves down here, below the street.

Seattle’s Underground is famous. After a fire in the late 1800s, the new city was built on top of the old, a story or two above where the old city sat. Many old buildings have basement floors for that reason. Some of the Underground is open for a historical tour. My eighth grade class went here on a field trip. But much of it is closed off to the public. I’m pretty sure if the wrong person saw us hovering over the open grate, we’d get into trouble, but I can’t deny that it’s thrilling to be able to ignore the rules.

Gabriel climbs down the ladder and I follow. Cam hesitates at the top, hand on the grate. “Should I close it?” he asks.

“Yes,” Gabriel calls, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and not counterintuitive to shut yourself in the Underground.

Cam pulls the grate down over his head.

It takes me a few moments to get used to the low level of light filtering down from the street above through colored glass panels in sidewalks and more grates. Brick facades line the passageway. I stay close to Cam, more afraid of spiders than anything else. Gabriel leads us around a corner to an old metal-lined wooden door that looks like something from a medieval castle. An illuminated streetlight hangs next to it. Words etched into the stone above read ‘The Repository.’ He knocks.

“Come in,” someone calls.

Gabriel pushes the door open. It takes some effort because it’s so heavy. We step over the threshold and into what looks like a small library. Rows of bookshelves line the walls and fill the center, and continue back until they’re swallowed by the dark. A table sits at the front. Not a reception desk, just an ordinary table you’d find in any school library. Lanterns hang on the ceiling above it. A boy sits at the table. He’s probably around Gabriel’s age, nineteen or twenty. He has pink hair and more earrings than me (which is a feat - I have three in one ear, two in the other). He wears a fishnet shirt over a black tank top; I have the same outfit. A pink laptop that matches his hair sits in front of him and a stack of books sits off to the side, one of them open like he’s referring to it as he works.

The boy scowls. “You do know what ‘taking a break’ means, right?” he asks Gabriel, in a thick British accent.

“This is business, obviously,” Gabriel says, looking affronted. “Ex-boyfriend,” he mouths, as if that wasn’t painfully obvious from the awkwardness passing between them like invisible lasers.

“Meet Myron,” Gabriel says. He turns to Cam. “Get the door, will you?”

Gabriel pulls up a chair at the table, ignoring Myron’s glare as he does so. I join him and Cam flops down next to me a second later, breathing hard from the effort of getting the massive door shut.

“This is Nicki,” Gabriel says, his tone deflated. His coffee buzz must have worn off already. “She works with Azmos.”

Myron’s irritation vanishes and he looks pleased. “Really? I didn’t realize he’d deigned to work with mortals.” Gabriel clears his throat. Myron clarifies: “He doesn’t work
with
you. He uses you.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. I get the impression this is a fight they’ve had before.

“It’s true. I’ve worked for him all year,” I say. Mostly true. I started at the beginning of March, on my sixteenth birthday. It certainly feels longer than a year. I can’t barely remember a time when the demon wasn’t part of my life.

“I see,” Myron says. “Well, what do you want from me?”

I open my mouth but pause. I’m not really sure because I have no idea who Myron is.

“She wants to know more about demons in general. Azmos is not very forthcoming,” Gabriel supplies. He yawns and scratches the stubble on his chin. “Myron is a demonologist.” He looks at me wryly, like there’s a joke I’m not getting.

“Are you sleeping at all?” Myron asks him. Gabriel fixes him with a hard what-do-you-think look. Myron sighs and turns to me. “What do you want to know?”

“Just… general stuff,” I say. “How many demons are there? What kind of powers do they have? Why are they in this realm and not their own?”

Myron nods, like this is a perfectly understandable request. “Well, here’s the deal. I curate and collect information. In order to get information, you must offer some in trade.”

“I don’t really have any,” I say, my throat dry. I rub the ring on my pinky, acutely aware of how stupid that sounds. I’ve worked for a demon for nearly a year, long enough that I should know
something
of value. “My boss is not exactly spilling his life story.”

Myron’s smile widens. “So? It’s not his story I’m interested in.”

I exchange confused looks with Cam. “I don’t understand.”

“You work with a demon, yes? I’m sure you’ve got some stories to tell. I won’t ask it right now—I suspect there’s plenty to come—but sometime in the near future, I want you to sit down with me and tell me your story. Do we have a deal?”

The word ‘deal’ makes me cringe. In my limited experience, ‘deal’ is a loaded word in the arcane world, as Gabriel calls it. And yet, I’d much rather tell my story than Azmos’ or Xanan’s. It’s the only one I’m qualified to tell or have any right to give away.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say.

Gabriel, understanding my hesitation, puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s not that kind of deal.”

On my other side, Cam stares at me with the force of laser beams, but he doesn’t say anything. I look at Myron.

“It’s just a promise to let me ask you some questions,” Myron says. “This,” he gestures to the library behind him, “doesn’t compile itself.”

“ That sounds ok,” I say.

Myron’s smile is warm and I hope it means I haven’t made a huge mistake. “Good. Now. You have questions.”

“Well, Az said what he can do—his magic—is uncommon. But he’s not, like, a unicorn, right?”

“A unicorn?” Cam teases, trying to lighten the tension that’s rolled into the room like fog. I elbow him.

“In a way, that’s actually a great analogy,” Myron says. “Except that unicorns never existed. Azmos is Vitas. As far as we know, they’re functionally extinct.”

I frown.

“He means there aren’t enough of them to breed and carry on the species,” Cam explains. “Like the Yangtze River Dolphin. Before it died out for good there were only two males left.”

“Exactly,” Myron says, pointing at Cam.

“Yangtze what?” Gabriel asks.

“For god’s sake, go make some coffee, will you?” Myron sounds more concerned than irritated. Gabriel rolls his eyes again but he stands and touches a black switch on the wall with his finger. The bookshelf to the right swings open. Through the opening is a typical looking apartment, unremarkable except that it’s underground and connected to this small library. The bookshelf swings shut behind him. “There’s no cure for his condition,” Myron says apologetically.

“Oh,” I say. I hadn’t really thought of his visions as a condition but then, getting mental pictures of people dying all of the time would cause all kinds of problems. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, it is.”

There’s an awkward silence. Myron stares at the bookshelf as if he can see Gabriel through it.

“So, there could be others like Azmos. They’re just not.. Compatible?” Cam asks.

Myron shrugs. “Azmos is the only one I have a record of in the past three hundred years. Before that, there was another one, but he vanished into the ether. Not that my records are complete, mind you, and information I get from the Vacuus Realm is usually second or third hand, but as far as I know there aren’t any there either.”

“What about female Vitas?” I ask, the word unfamiliar on my tongue. Azmos has always been just a demon. The idea that there were different kinds of demons never occurred to me until I met Xanan, and even now I have no idea just how many kinds of demons there are.

Myron furrows his brow at my question. He types something into his computer and then shakes his head. “No females, but they must have existed. Few demons reproduce asexually.”

“Some do?” Cam asks, surprised.

“Sure. But it’s not common. It’s more common for them to interbreed with humans.”

“That can happen?” Cam asks. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

Myron shrugs. “The Vacuus Realm and the Human Realm are two dimensions laid on top of one another. There are cracks between the worlds. No one knows how or when the cracks appeared. Some people theorize they’ve always been there. Over time, travelers from each realm have wandered into the other. The Vacuus Realm has constant cloud cover, so humans who went there and made their way back thought it was the Underworld. Hence all of the stories about Hell. Travelers from the demon realm used to call your world the Overworld. It goes both ways, you see, the misconceptions. The inhabitants of the other realm are called demons as a form of shorthand, one we’ve all adopted, but it’s inadequate.

“Like Earth, the Vacuus Realm has many different species. As humans are the most prolific species here, the payvan demons are the flourishing species of that realm. We look similar to humans, and again, no one is sure if it’s merely a case of convergent evolution or if there’s some connection. But humans and demons have managed to breed, so there must be something in common.”

Cam and I exchange a look, realizing at the same time that this guy in front of us is a demon. Cam’s discomfort doesn’t last, mostly because he gets to talk science. “So it’s possible they—we—share a common ancestor.” It sounds more like anthropology than demonology so it’s no wonder Cam’s enjoying this.

Myron points to him. “Very possible.”

“So Azmos is a rare form of demon,” Cam continues. Myron nods. “What about other demons with similar powers?”

Myron shakes his head. “It’s kind of a speciality. I mean, it’s weird magic. Some call it dark or cursed. Those people are a bit melodramatic, but you get the idea.”

“So, you aren’t familiar with magic that could emulate what Azmos does? Even temporarily?”

Myron scratches his forehead. “No.” His jaw tightens. “Maybe. But I’d sooner believe there was another Vitas in this world than a necromancer that powerful. Necromancy takes a strong toll on anyone who tries to wield it. Bringing anyone back to life at all is enough power to drive a person mad, let alone bringing them back with their mind intact. So it’s highly unlikely.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands at attention. Necromancy is twisted death magic from movies, not something that can exist in reality, or so I’d believed. What Az does is close to necromancy but he doesn’t bring people back. He keeps them alive. He can’t bring people who are totally dead back.

“What kind of magic do other demons have?” I ask.

“It varies,” Myron says. “But if someone is doing what a Vitas can do, then against all odds, I’d say they have to be Vitas. Of course, the odds of that are staggering.” He shrugs. The bookshelf opens and Gabriel returns with two steaming mugs. He sets one down next to Mryon, who nods in thanks, and then sips at the other.

“Why are they so rare?” Cam asks.

Myron taps his fingers against his coffee mug. “Powers that defy death are often feared, and often for good reason. Those who wield such magic rarely show the restraint and respect such magic deserves.”

“They were hunted down and killed,” Gabriel says, less ceremoniously. “Unfortunately, my knowledge of the Vitas is mostly limited to stories and legends that have been passed along since before I was born,” Myron says. “I do have a suggestion. You work for Azmos. You could ask him.”

“Yeah,” I say, standing. If only it were that easy. Azmos tells me some things, but he’s tight-lipped about others. Then again, maybe I just haven’t asked the right questions. “Thanks for your help.”

“Do keep me informed,” Myron says. “And you and I will be in touch.”

I swallow. “Yes. As promised.”

I turn to head for the door. Cam hesitates, his eyes flicking to the ring on my pinky. “Can I ask one last question?” I turn to see Myron gesture ‘go ahead.’ “Do humans… Can they become demons?”

I gape at him and twist my silver ring around my finger.

“Theoretically,” Myron says. “There are rumors that some of the rarer demon races can convert others, but that’s an old magic thought to be lost if it ever existed at all.”

Cam lets out a breath but won’t meet my eyes. “So Azmos couldn’t…pass on his power or make Nicki like him.”

Myron raises both his pink eyebrows. “As far as I know, Vitas do not have that power. Their only power that I’m aware of is to bind the souls to the bodies instead of letting them die. Maybe some light healing magic but accounts vary on that end.”

I shudder. The way he says it sounds horrible, rather than helpful. “I doubt the people he’s bargained with would see it that way,” I say, defensive. Azmos does a lot of good for people with no other choice.

Myron shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.”

We part ways with Gabriel and head back toward downtown to catch a bus back up the hill. Cam is quiet, contemplating what we’ve learned, fingers tapping the strap of his backpack as he holds it over one shoulder.