Succubus Takes Manhattan (21 page)

“You don’t have any Shrimp with Cashew Nuts,” a loud, catlike voice announced. “That is my favorite. If you are going to request me on an urgent basis, and I must drop the important research I am doing immediately, the very least you could do is have my favorite dish.”

“I thought you said Crispy Orange Beef was your favorite,” I said, remembering another night with Azoked and takeout.

“There’s Shrimp Lo Mein, you can pick out the noodles,” Eros said in that tough voice that permits no argument. “We’re demons, not mind readers.” Eros shot me a look that made clear that she didn’t know what I was doing and wasn’t all that pleased with Azoked’s arrival.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” I said to the Librarian. “I’ll even call out for a delivery if you don’t like the Shrimp Lo Mein.”

“I prefer fish. Maybe some sashimi?”

“It’s a critical situation,” I interrupted. “A young demon is in danger, and we’ve been attacked fairly regularly in the past few months. Something is going on.”

Azoked licked orange sauce off her paws. “I have told you, we do not have Akashic records on demonkind. Only the living leave records.”

“But you have other records,” I said. “I know that Admin reports attack activity on us as well as Upstairs and you’ve got the archives. I want to know if there’s a pattern. Are there really more attacks on demons, or is it just us? Is it happening all over the world? Only in New York? Only in a few cities? Is there anything the demons attacked appear to have in common? We need to see if this is part of a larger conspiracy or if we are particular targets.”

“And what do I get for doing this?” Azoked asked.

“Well, it is your job, and Satan did contract for your services,” I began, but Eros cut me off.

“You get to serve Satan, which is reward enough. And you may be able to help Mephistopheles, and if you do he’ll be grateful.”

Azoked looked interested. “Mephistopheles is known to be very generous when he is grateful,” she purred. “Can you guarantee that?”

Eros’s pale skin glowed an unearthly color and suddenly it was obvious she had never been of humankind. “No one can guarantee Mephistopheles’ gratitude,” she countered, her voice commanding and cold.

“Except Mephistopheles,” said Satan’s Second in Command himself, appearing in a whiff of sulfur next to the window. “I will guarantee that I will be very grateful indeed.”

“I didn’t get enough food,” Desi said in the background. “Maybe we can order a second round?”

My living room was getting rather crowded and overly hot. Nathan was blinking at the new arrivals. Today Mephistopheles appeared different, more threatening, more powerful. More protective if you are me and Meph wants to protect you.

“I’m going to call in an order,” Desi said too brightly. “What do people want? We’ve got one Shrimp with Cashews. How about more Peking ravioli and some Mu Shu Chicken?”

“Um, fine,” Nathan gulped.

“How’s the Hunan Pork?” Meph asked.

“Not bad,” Eros said. “But not as hot as you might like it.”

“I’ll take an order of Firey Twins, then,” Meph said, and returned his attention to Azoked.

“I see precisely what Lily is asking for, and I applaud her for thinking of the larger picture and calling you in on the case. So, Azoked of the Akashic Library, I am asking you myself to undertake this project. It could prove vital in the history of Hell, of the entire Hierarchy. And we shall all be most grateful.”

Azoked got up and nodded to Mephistopheles. “Indeed, I shall be happy to do this research. This is the kind of analysis that a Librarian lives for, that does not come so often to those of us who labor among the records. And, of course, it will be my honor to serve Mephistopheles.”

My mouth was open so wide that my jaw nearly hit the coffee table. Azoked certainly knew the polite phrases of the older aristocracy, that was for sure.

Then, even more amazingly, Azoked bowed to Meph and disappeared. Back to the Akashic, I assumed, to start on her new project. But she hadn’t even waited to see if we’d ordered her sashimi. Which we hadn’t.

“Well, the answer to the kidnapper’s request is simple enough,” Meph said as he cast a glance over the debris of our demolished takeout. He must have been hungry. “We take a minor demon, enchant her to look like Lily, and then make the switch. When we do the enchantment we add a marker we can trace in the magic, so we can find where they take her. Then we attack the lot of them on their own territory where they think they are safe. . .”

“Except for the demon you enchant,” Nathan protested. “What happens to her? She could be tortured, or even killed, and you don’t care.”

Eros rolled her eyes, but Meph met him head-on. “No. The demon will be a volunteer, and she is immortal. She can’t be killed. She may suffer a few moments of pain, yes, but she will be serving me and, more important, Satan. She will have my favor and will be well situated to advance. It is a very small price for the potential benefits. I expect that we’ll have a fair number of volunteers.”

“Absolutely not,” Nathan protested. “Even if it weren’t unethical, we don’t negotiate with kidnappers. Ever. We have no guarantee that they actually have Vincent, and if they do we can’t trust that they’ll actually trade him back. We need to track them down, and we should be doing that now.”

“But it’s a good plan,” I said. I think I was pleading.

Then Nathan turned his eyes on me and his look was cold. “Yes,” he said. “You’re one of them. Ethics in Hell, what was I thinking? Of course you’ll let someone else take the fall for you while you go off scot-free and you don’t even care. You know, Lily, until this minute I had almost forgotten what you are.”

No. Oh no. He wasn’t going to blame me for that. That was his problem. I was about to lash into him when Meph held up his hands.

“Nathan, why don’t you pursue your avenues of inquiry?” Meph said diplomatically. “I can certainly get a volunteer and we can be ready to go in case we need to. We have four hours. If you can’t find any leads in that time, we can go with my plan. Unless you have a better one?”

“Lily, where are you in this? Are you going to help Mephistopheles or are you going to try to track down the kidnappers with me?” Nathan pleaded.

He was clearly confused. Meph’s plan was excellent, and would work. And would gain the volunteer a career in Hell that she couldn’t have dreamed of otherwise. Thousands of lesser demons compete every day to come to the attention of the higher circles.

“You think a little bit of physical pain is unethical,” I said to him in a low voice. I didn’t really want all these witnesses to our argument. “But you can torment me, you can throw me out of your life without a second thought and that’s just fine. Because I’m a demon so my feelings don’t count. At least our volunteer will know what she’s getting into and will get some serious benefits in return for her few hours of misery. Me? I’ve been miserable for a month and you think you’re Mr. Nice Guy.”

I turned my back and flounced across the room. I didn’t want to hear his answer, didn’t want to see his face. I was too furious to even think.

Fortunately, the intercom rang just then as a doorman announced the arrival of the second wave of food. I went to the door and Meph met me as the delivery man arrived. Meph pulled out his wallet, which I found strange. I already had cash in hand. Meph slowly returned his wallet to his jacket pocket as I paid for the large bag.

As I cleared away the empty cartons and opened the new steaming ones on the table, I heard Nathan move to the door. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. And then I heard the door close behind him.

Even though my apartment was jammed with people I felt cold and horribly alone. I think a tear rolled down my cheek.

“You’re getting the Peking ravioli soggy,” Eros said. I didn’t care.

It was Desi who came up to me, Desi who led me from the food table to the sofa and sat me down and handed me my own Kleenex. It was Desi who told me to blow my nose and Desi who fed me a Benadryl and a big dish of Shrimp with Cashews.

“You’ve been so brave and caring,” she said as she petted my hair. “You’ve put Vincent’s safety ahead of your hurt at seeing Nathan now, to have to work with him and even feed him in your own apartment. You’ve been so good to all of us, to Sybil, to everyone, and no one has said anything to you at all. So I’m going to say it. You’re the best friend ever.”

And then Eros and Sybil joined Desi hugging me while Meph disappeared into the bedroom.

“I’m sorry,” Sybil said. “I’ve been so scared and worried about Vincent that I didn’t ever tell you how much I admire you being willing to deal with Nathan at all. I’m really sorry about this whole mess and about dragging you into it.”

What can I say? My friends are the greatest.

I was heartbroken and so was Sybil; we didn’t talk much. Meph broke the silence when he came back into the room.

“I have a volunteer,” he announced.

chapter
SEVENTEEN

Her name was Raven (how unoriginal) and she was scrawny, too young, and scared-looking. She also looked determined.

“I’ve been a demon for seven months,” she said. “And yeah, of course I want to advance. I’m not stupid. But I also know Vincent from class—we were in orientation group together and we’ve been study partners, so I’m doing this for him, too.”

Sybil eyed her suspiciously. “Are you in love with him?” she practically hissed.

Raven laughed, and her laughter was clear and resonant and merry, and made me like her at least a little better. “Not even a little bit,” she said straight to Syb. “He’s too mainstream for me. Nah, I go for skinny long-haired guys with ink and facial piercings who wear nail polish and read Rilke. Preferably in the original. But Vincent is a good study partner. He doesn’t distract me and he’s smart and, even though you might not figure it out from the way I look, so am I. We’re buddies, that’s all.”

I could feel Sybil tremble next to me. “Come on,” I whispered. “She’s flat-chested and she bites her nails. And look at her clothes. No, Vincent appreciates class and beauty and elegance. You’ve got no competition, Syb. Relax.”

“That outfit came from some mall shop on Long Island,” Eros agreed. “Not Vincent’s style at all.”

Raven giggled. “Yeah, I’d agree that I’m not his style. He’s not mine.” She studied Sybil carefully. “You’re his girlfriend, the famous greed demon?” the little baby demon demanded.

Sybil nodded.

“Well, if you want to know, he talks about you all the time. About how beautiful and elegant and smart and talented you are. He’s been pushing the coursework really hard because he wants to impress you, doesn’t think he has a shot until he makes a mark in the Hierarchy. He keeps saying things like, ‘She’s Satan’s Chosen, how could I be in her league?’ And I’m the one who has to keep reminding him that everyone started someplace and you couldn’t have started out as Satan’s Chosen. But it gives me hope for my own future, so it’s really exciting for me to meet you.”

“And so you’re hoping to catch his attention by volunteering. He should be grateful to you,” Sybil said.

The girl deflated. I tried to imagine her when she was human, probably from some suburb, a little too smart, a little too weird for her family and school, always passed over and pushed aside. Her hair was dyed black with blue and violet streaks, shaved underneath but stringy and spiked on top. For some reason the facial piercings were actually cute on her, one emphasizing her lower lip, and the other in her cheek. Where a dimple would have been if she’d had dimples. If she ever smiled.

The look she gave Sybil was suddenly shockingly mature and measured. “No,” she said, and it was clear she was serious. “I’m doing it because I have ambitions too. I want to be one of Satan’s Chosen. I might never have thought of it if Vincent hadn’t told me about all of you. Here he was in my orientation group and dating one of Satan’s personal friends! And positioned to serve another. It made me think about what I want to accomplish—and this is a great opportunity.”

Sybil nodded solemnly. “Yes, I understand,” she said, and I think we all did.

The girl might have chewed-up nails and too much smudged eyeliner, might look a little too much like a junkie or a Neil Gaiman fangirl, but there was something under that ridiculously dyed hair that I could respect. Raven had a spark, determination, ambition, things that we’ve seen too rarely in Hell of late. Give her a thousand years and a better wardrobe and she could be one of our friends.

“You do know that it’s highly likely you will be physically hurt, possibly badly?” Eros said. Leave it to Eros to make sure that the girl knew the worst right up front.

Raven nodded firmly. “That was in the description.” Then she pulled up her sleeves and we saw the scars. She’d been a cutter in life, and I’d bet a suicide as well.

Not all suicides end up in Hell, not anymore. Once upon a time, killing oneself was considered the greatest sin, the rejection of His greatest gift of life. Today Upstairs is full of psychologists and theorists who are ready to say that humans who kill themselves are mentally unstable and therefore not responsible for their actions. Anyone who manages to get too far on that road but repents, even a little bit, is immediately saved. Even the ones who merely feel a little sad for the life they are rejecting are grandfathered in as “repentant” and don’t end up in Hell.

No, it takes a deliberate act without any second thoughts. I wondered what Raven had done.

“Now, if we can douse the electricity and get Lily to stand next to Raven . . .” Meph directed. As I took my place beside the ragged-looking girl, I did notice that we were both the same height. And close to the same weight, although hers was not distributed as strategically as mine. This close, and by candlelight, I realized that under the clown makeup and the pallor of death her skin was not bad at all and her eyes would be rather pretty without all the thick black liner. Gray eyes—that wouldn’t be too hard to glamour to my green.

Her hair was another matter, though. Spiky and straight and possibly overdue for a wash, it could not be more different from mine. Good thing that it was a demon of Meph’s status and expertise who was doing the glamouring. He could pull it off. I didn’t know if I could have done it.