Satan's Sword (Imp Book 2) Page 10

  Closing my eyes, I extended my personal energy to the limits of my form and tried to sense this place directly. Suddenly there was everything. Color, light, sound, smell. Not as a human would perceive though. Back home, the energy saturated everything making the very air feel thick, heavy, and musky. Here the energy felt clean. My mind became sharp and focused and I could see possibilities and alternatives stretching before me like threads intertwining on a three-dimensional map. My body felt slightly itchy and I wanted to remove it like an article of clothing. It was the same feeling I’d had after Gregory and I had done the angel nasty in my house.

  I opened my eyes to check on my canary and make sure he hadn’t croaked or anything while I was busy exploring this unknown world. He seemed fine, looking around with bright eyes. Suddenly he tweeted, the sound huge and echoing in the vast physical silence of the place. Alarmed, I loosened my grip and the bird flew out of my grasp. Great. Stupid fucking bird had possibly alerted whatever might live here of an alien presence, and now he’d escaped. I’d barely been able to grab him from the confines of the cat carrier, there was no way I could manage to catch him in this place, even though he was clearly visible, a splash of yellow in nothingness.

  Panicking, I abandoned the bird and dashed back out the gate to find myself standing with a rope around my middle, a few feet from my Suburban in the dark. That was enough for one night. In fact, that was probably enough for an eternity. I’d lost my bird, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to explore this gate in the future. What if the bird had alerted any residents of my trespass? Would they be able to follow me back through the gate to this realm? Would they be able to set up traps to catch me if I showed up again? I wish I knew where the hell it led to. An elf could probably tell me. Gregory could definitely tell me. Not that I was going to clue him in on these particular extracurricular activities.

  I left the battlefield, determined to give up on this gate forever. I’d need to keep my eyes open for another one to try and examine. The whole experience made me feel depressed, like a failure. Maybe if I flew it would help my mood.

  I didn’t want to be caught flying around close to my house, so as I left, I drove the back way to reach Dargen’s Landing. I was always surprised to see any cars at all parked down at Dargen’s Landing. Most people accessed the Potomac River and the C&O canal towpath at the major spots like Brunswick and Point of Rocks, where there was plenty of parking and easy access from the highway. To get to Dargen’s Landing, you had to circle past Brunswick and along the Potomac for miles down twisty narrow country roads, then manage to see the half hidden sign for yet another narrow wooded road that lead to the parking area. A few people were persistent about finding it, though, as there was a nice boat launch.

  I loved it here. It was secluded, and on a lower traffic part of the towpath. The few people you’d see in the parking lot ignored you and minded their own business, whether it was biking, jogging, or fishing. It was an easy jog to the railroad bridge river crossing to Harpers Ferry, and there were lovely views of jagged outcroppings and the churning, muddy Potomac river. I vowed to call Candy this week and have her meet me here for our river run. Maybe we’d do it at night on four feet.

  Although the rain had stopped by the time I pulled in, everything, including myself, was still wet and smelling of damp leaf mold. Normally I’d want to climb up and launch a flight from a higher area, like the cliff by the railroad bridge, but here I was sure my take off would be unobserved. I created my wings with a pop from the raw energy I held within myself, as I typically did at home, and flapped to rise majestically into the air. Flapping was all I did. Fucking gravity. This was clearly not going to work.

  It took me about an hour of playing with combinations and doing mathematical calculations in my head to come up with something reasonable. The wingspan ended up being fifty feet across, even with partially hollow bones. I had to balance out the extra weight with wingspan and musculature. I also had to alter my spine angle into a curve to support the massive muscles, and extend and strengthen my breastbone to hold the additional chest muscles. I wouldn’t win any beauty contests.

  I’d opted to keep my arms so I could grab something if I wanted. I daydreamed for a few moments about scooping up anyone unlucky enough to be out walking tonight, like one of those flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. Finally satisfied that I could perform a standing take off and maintain a decent flight, I searched for a clearing large enough to accommodate my humongous wings.

  Huge as they were, the wings felt glorious after so long without them. I stretched and arched them out, getting the feel for them all over again, then with a run down the boat launch I took flight. Well, I tried to take flight. Vertical takeoff is always hard, and I was carrying a lot of weight. I beat my wings furiously wishing I’d been able to catch an updraft or at least a wind to assist. Sweat beaded on my skin with effort and my feet touched the water as I slowly edged upward.

  Once aloft, I was able to take advantage of gentle wind along the river and gain some altitude. The higher, the better. Up high I’d look more like a large bird. A few feet off the Potomac and people would be thinking the dinosaurs had returned. I couldn’t resist a quick drop to plunge down under the bridge to Harpers Ferry though. I folded my wings tight against my body and gained speed on the descent, shooting between the bridge supports. Then used my momentum and a burst of energy to help me streak back up into the sky.

  I was on my own up high. It was night, after all, and all the nocturnal flying animals were lower down catching bugs and stray rodents for dinner. It was amazing to once again feel the cold damp against my wings, hover while supported by the thermals, and to dance in the winds. I felt free, truly free. Not a bound demon, living under an angel’s restrictions in a human world. Not a lowly imp, a cockroach who ran to avoid those who would squash her flat. Free. There was a sense of poignancy about it all, though, as if this were my last moment of freedom before a cage closed in upon me.

  I thought about Dar and his annoying problem, that crazy lump of blanket at the abandoned grocery story, Candy, chafing under the thumb of a bunch of bigoted angels, and Gregory. That irritating, controlling asshole that fascinated me. I wondered what his wings looked like, if he ever snuck out and flew. I’d bet he was amazing to watch in the air. I would have liked to fly with him, to try and catch him.

  After about an hour of playing around I found myself heading back to Dargen’s Landing and my vehicle. I landed beautifully along the boat launch, not even wetting my feet, and walked toward my car with wings still extended. They brushed against tree trunks and I relished the feel of the wet jagged bark against the membranes. There was no one here, and I wanted to enjoy them as long as I could before I dispersed them. My Suburban sat quiet in the dark lot. I stood beside it a few moments then returned myself to my typical human form. It was dark and silent in the autumn night beneath the damp trees, and I felt so lonely. So empty.

  Chapter 11

  Wyatt and I were fairly late getting back from our ride because I’d had to switch horses mid–stream. Well, not literally mid-stream, although I certainly looked like I’d been in one.

  On a whim, and against Wyatt’s strongly worded recommendations, I had saddled up Diablo for what was supposed to be a leisurely ride through the fields. I’d been bucked off before we left the pasture. Within half an hour Diablo had bolted twice, bucked me off four times, and reared six. I’d managed to stay on through the rearing incidents, but the subsequent spinning around had me either on the ground or hanging upside down from the horse’s neck. I’d stuck him full of raw energy to try and hold myself on better, but he was quickly able to overcome it and dump me on my rear. I’d been disciplining him with increasing violence and could tell that Wyatt was becoming uneasy. I really needed to force the horse into compliance or he’d become uncontrollable, but I realized the level of injury I’d need to inflict on him was beyond what Wyatt could comfortably witness. Reluctantly, I took the horse back to the stable and
saddled up Piper instead.

  I tried to enjoy the beautiful fall day, but I kept thinking of how I now needed to spend the afternoon bringing Diablo in line. A lot of hybrids live comfortably as their maternal animal. Maybe they’d be a little temperamental or mean, but they’d still pass. Diablo had so much more to him. He had potential, power, but it was all wasted rattling around unused in a stallion’s body. He needed to learn, to explore what he could do and who he could be. Only then would he really be happy. He wasn’t just a horse, and it wasn’t right to let him go on living a life unrealized. Unfortunately, I’d probably need to wallop the crap out of him to get him on the correct path.

  I looked over at Boomer, my hybrid Plott hound, as he trailed after us. He was the same, only he’d been raised since birth with the demons. He’d never experienced living as a dog, confounded by why he was different, trying to appease humans who didn’t understand him. I watched him jog along, covering twice the miles as he traversed back and forth to catch intriguing smells. I’d had to lock him down to life here, so he’d remain undetected. It bothered me. I knew it was risky, but it wasn’t fair to make him live as just a regular dog. I needed to free him. I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

  The rain had left the fields soft and muddy and I was covered from my frequent falls from Diablo. I managed to stay on Piper, but the occasions when Wyatt led on Vegas sprayed small bits of mud from the horse’s hooves onto me. We were both speckled with mud by the time we rode back to the stable, but I was far worse.

  I heard Diablo squeal as we dismounted and wondered what was going on. He’d be making that noise a lot this afternoon when I got a hold of him, but there wasn’t anything in the barn for him to be fighting with beside the cat. I handed Piper’s reigns to Wyatt, dashed in to see what Diablo was up to and saw Dar.

  “Mal, this horse is very rude and needs to be taught a lesson in manners. I can’t believe you tolerate this level of insubordination.”

  Dar was in his favorite human guise. I’d seen it before, and he sometimes even assumed it at home. His black hair was silver streaked, and deep blue eyes shone from a tanned face with a sharp nose and full lips. The original human he’d Owned to obtain this form had been portly, but Dar was too vain to walk around with a pot gut and love handles. He did keep some of the weight on the form, though, giving the impression of a powerful man, slightly past his prime and putting on a few extra pounds. Not handsome by conventional standards, but a form that conveyed power. I preferred the young Italian priest he’d picked up in the fifteenth century.

  “I just got him Dar. I haven’t had much time to work with him since I’ve been running all over the place on your stupid fucking errands.”

  He turned and zapped Diablo again. I let him. It would show weakness to come to my horse’s defense. It would reveal that I cared enough about the horse to protect it and mean the horse could be used as leverage. It would also demean Diablo by implying that he was too weak to withstand the discipline. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Boomer poke his head in. He took one look at Dar and vanished silently. Smart dog.

  “Damned animal, I’ll teach you to bare your teeth at me.” He readied another bolt of energy. Diablo snorted and zapped him first.

  “What the fuck? You cocksucker. Mal, why didn’t you tell me you had him storing energy? Fucker just shot me.”

  I laughed. “Stop messing with him Dar. I’m training him this afternoon and you’re going to get him all fired up.”

  Dar walked over and grabbed a chunk of my hair, tugging at it affectionately. I missed him, too. I hadn’t kept in touch with most of my other foster siblings. Dar and I always stuck around though. We kept separate households, but we both relied on each other when the need arose and we enjoyed each other’s company most of the time. I felt a sudden longing to tear into him with claws and teeth, to have very violent sex with him, as my kind does. I missed him, and I missed home.

  “Could use some help here, Sam,” Wyatt snapped as he staggered into the stable loaded down with saddles and bridles.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, honey.” Out of habit I went to help him and mentally kicked myself as I saw Dar stare in astonishment.

  “Mal, you have a toy! A human toy, just as disrespectful as that horse. And here you are jumping to his command. What has happened to you?”

  I ignored him and gave Wyatt what I hoped was a significant look. “That’s my brother Dar from back home. Just dump the tack here and go on home. I’ll call you later.”

  Wyatt frowned at Dar, clearly not getting the message.

  “Oooo Mal, he is cute. And feisty, too. I want to play with your toy.” Dar took a few steps toward Wyatt and I moved to stand between them.

  Crap. Hospitality with demons demanded sharing, and it was typical to pass around a human to close friends. Sometimes they didn’t come back, but it wasn’t any big deal. There were billions. Easy to replace a broken toy. I’ve never been one to share anything, though. And especially not Wyatt.

  “I have every intention of welcoming you personally, as I always do. I would never shuffle that off onto a mere human.”

  “But I haven’t had a human in a long time Mal. He looks reasonably sturdy. I would not Own him or kill him. I won’t break him beyond what you can repair. I simply want to enjoy his company for twenty minutes or so. No longer.”

  Wyatt, thankfully, was remaining silent.

  “No Dar. You know I don’t share, even with you. And you may not break him, but you’ll damage him in ways I cannot fix. I like him how he is. Believe me, you will be more than satisfied with my personal welcome. I haven’t been home in over forty years and I have missed my kind. I have missed you.”

  That seemed to have struck a chord with Dar, who was actually rather sentimental about our relationship. He turned from Wyatt and grabbed my hair again with purpose, yanking me to him.

  Unfortunately, that action kicked in Wyatt’s knight-in-shining-armor impulse and he reached out to intervene.

  “No,” I told him sharply. “This is not what you’re thinking Wyatt. This is part of my culture, and it’s very much a give and take. Go home and I’ll call you later.”

  Wyatt hesitated, his jaw set in that stubborn way that foretold an argument.

  “He can watch.” Dar’s suggestion was halfhearted. His attention was completely on me at this moment, and I intended to keep it that way.

  I didn’t want Wyatt to see this side of me, and I was worried that he might somehow get hurt in the fray. Demon affection was violent and collateral damage was common.

  “Go home,” I told Wyatt, trying to put my fledgling suggestion skills into the command. The only thing I’d been practicing was creating intense food cravings, so Wyatt promptly left to go find hot wings. I hoped he had some in his freezer or he’d be driving his rickety old truck all over the countryside to find them.

  Dar and I got down to the business of welcoming each other properly with fangs, claws, tongues and bolts of energy. Diablo was a voyeur, watching from his stall, and I hoped the display would make it easier to train him this afternoon. By the time Dar and I were satiated, both of us were torn and dripping blood, saliva, and other bodily fluids. My left shoulder was literally hanging by a tendon and Dar’s ribs glistened white among torn flesh. The pain and the pleasure were equal between us. We’d taken care to make this a peer-to-peer welcoming. Casual acquaintances would not have gone so far or for so long, but Dar and I had history. We both basked in the warmth of a deep friendship avowed and renewed. I felt a twinge of guilt over what I was about to do to him. I wondered how much shit he’d be in with Haagenti over this artifact.

  “I take back all the derogatory things I was thinking about you, Mal,” Dar teased. “I do think you’ve changed though. I can’t tell if it’s just the long time you’ve spent here, holding yourself tight into a human form and human behaviors, or if it’s something else. You seem different.”

  “Trust me, the moment I’m back home, back in a more traditional fo
rm, all this will fall away,” I assured him.

  “And when will this homecoming be?” I could tell my extended vacation hadn’t escaped his notice or curiosity.

  Before I replied, I fixed myself by whole body conversion. With a crack and a pop, I flew apart all the molecules of my form, holding my personal energy and my store of raw energy close, then collapsed it back using the DNA pattern of Samantha Martin to create a totally uninjured and naked form.

  Dar yelled and flung himself across the room panting and looking about wildly.

  “What?” I stretched my arms upward to flex the muscles. I was perplexed at his reaction. We did this sort of thing all the time at home and he’d never freaked out before.

  “Fucking balls, Mal! You’ll bring every angel within a hundred miles with that kind of display. We’ve got to get out of here right now.” His voice trailed off as he stared at me. Stared at a specific part of me. “What in hell is that on your arm?”

  Damn. I’d forgotten about the tattoo. And I’d been so free with my energy usage the last few months that I’d forgotten how impossible that would normally be for a demon over here.

  Dar was suddenly before me grabbing my arm and peering at the tattoo. “It’s a brand,” I told him reluctantly.

  “I can see that.” His voice rose with a note of panic. “You told me you weren’t bound. Why would you lie about something like that? What bound you? Angels just kill us. Did a sorcerer bind you into service? How long are you to serve him, and what price did he pay? Is Owning him really worth this?”

  I relaxed a bit. It would be so much better for Dar to think I’d worked out a deal with a sorcerer then him thinking I was two steps away from enslavement to an angel. I quickly thought about how to work this story, but before I could reply Dar put his finger on the tattoo and pushed his personal energy down into the red purple.