Devil's Paw Page 8

  Close enough. I relayed the news, and Amber beamed.

  Walking them to the door, I kissed Wyatt and watched as they strolled, happy and cheerful, down my driveway toward Wyatt’s house. Crickets chirped in the warm June evening, the scent of honeysuckle filled the air. Amber’s laughter danced across the breeze as they filed in through the front door of Wyatt’s decrepit Cape Cod. Hesitating a few minutes, I reluctantly closed my front door and pressed my back against the solid wood. I was alone. Alone. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but the very thought sent a chill down my spine.

  ~7~

  Four reports and you’ve not even been the Iblis for a year. That has to be some kind of record.” Dopey’s voice was snide as he paged through the stacks before him. Actually, it was three reports and one appeal, but I figured it was in my best interests not to correct him.

  “Wow, you truly are the demon of death,” Sleepy chimed in. I’d quickly realized this angel was as far up Dopey’s ass as he could get. Grinding my teeth, I forced myself to remain silent. Dopey threw a few more barbs my way with Sleepy as back up before giving up and turning to my appeal.

  “You claim you were visiting this Joseph Barakel to enquire about the location of a young woman. You believed he was in regular contact with her, and during your visit, he dropped dead of natural causes?” Happy asked.

  I nodded. Yep. That summed it up. The six angels lined up before me stared in disbelief. Well, five of them. Gregory didn’t appear to be paying attention. He’d heard the story before, so I’m sure whatever incredulity he originally had at my excuse, he was well able to hide by this point.

  “Why were you seeking this young woman?” Sneezy asked.

  Happy paged through the paperwork, looking for the answer. It wasn’t there.

  “Just some private detective work for her family.” It wasn’t really a lie. “She was last seen in the company of a man named Joseph Barakel, and I thought this might be the man.”

  Bashful looked up. “Was he?”

  “No. Turns out he didn’t know the woman at all.”

  Dopey pushed the papers aside. “You killed him. You obtained illegal entry into his house, jumped out at him when he arrived home as if you planned to do him harm. You pulled out your mean, threatened and bullied him. These ‘natural causes’ were the direct result of your presence.”

  “I didn’t! I was polite and respectful. I even tried to revive him when I noticed he was having a medical emergency.”

  “His impact analysis doesn’t reveal any issues,” Happy said. “He killed a young child, committed several crimes. His golf scores were unremarkable.”

  “He had several unpaid parking tickets,” I added helpfully. “And he had a predilection for elastic waist pants.”

  Happy nodded in sympathy, curling his lip at the mention of elastic waist pants.

  “Let’s just vote and move on,” Dopey said. “We need to review the three four–nine–five reports, and I, for one, don’t want to be here any longer than is absolutely necessary.”

  I sighed in relief. For once, I agreed with Dopey.

  “All in agreement with the Iblis?”

  Sneezy nodded. Happy nodded. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Including me, that was three of seven, and I wasn’t sure I got a vote. “All in agreement with the need for the report?”

  Dopey. Bashful and Sleepy. Gregory gave me an absolutely wicked grin that sent a wave of heat right down between my legs. Then he nodded. Asshole. Guess he’d forgiven me my transgressions yesterday, as he was clearly flirting in his own way. In a Ruling Council meeting, too. He should be ashamed. He didn’t look ashamed though, and my mind detoured from four–nine–five reports to visions of Gregory and I tumbling naked across the conference table.

  “Any abstain?” As if there were any left. They’d all voted.

  “Well.” Dopey looked smug. “That’s four against and two in favor. Four–nine–five repot for Joseph Barakel due within forty–eight hours or punishment.”

  “Censure,” I corrected.

  “No, punishment. I think we’re beyond the point of censure.”

  I looked at Gregory in mute appeal, but he refused to intervene. I knew he’d come to enjoy this whole punishment thing. Having me up in Aaru, without corporeal form and at his mercy for approximately thirty–six hours seemed to be an ideal scenario for him.

  “So, let’s review the report from the alleged serial killer this fall. Any questions or comments?”

  The angels paged through their respective reports. Happy shook his head in disappointment, and my heart sank.

  “I can empathize that this individual lacked artistic sensibility, but does that justify an early demise?” he asked.

  “He did kill a large number of humans,” Bashful commented.

  Sleepy waved his hand. “Homeless people. Their impact analysis can’t have revealed anything significant.”

  Bashful shot him an angry look. “An insignificant impact doesn’t justify their murder. This man stole their lives, and would have stolen many more.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Humans killing humans is part of their destiny. We’re only concerned with otherworldly creatures who interfere with human lives.”

  The air crackled with power. Bashful was no lightweight, and she was pissed. “We may not deliver justice in human–on–human violence, but a pattern of demonic behavior in humans doesn’t contribute to their positive evolution. I feel this man’s death probably benefited the human race overall, even if his premature end was at the hands of the Iblis or her agent.”

  My agent. That would have been Boomer, my hellhound.

  Sleepy snorted in derision, shoving his paper away. “Shall we vote then? All for the Iblis?”

  Happy, Bashful, and Sneezy nodded. Crap. I searched my mind trying to think of what my punishment would be for killing a human without what the angels would consider to be proper justification. They surely couldn’t put me to death for such a thing? What would they do to me?

  “All against?”

  Dopey and Sleepy nodded.

  I held my breath as everyone turned to face Gregory. His vote would mean a tie, and I doubted I could serve as my own tie–breaker. What would they do to me?

  “I abstain,” he announced.

  The others continued to stare at him, awaiting elaboration. Gregory remained silent, finally raising his eyebrows at the group. Shifting awkwardly in their seats, the five turned back to their papers. Wow. I guess it was good to be ancient and powerful.

  Dopey’s lip curled in disgust. “Fine. Matter resolved.” He tossed the paper aside.

  “And now Jacob Bara.”

  Moments passed, the silence only broken by the sound of turning pages. I held my breath.

  “I don’t comprehend this one,” Bashful said, frowning down at her paper. “He wanted you to kill him? As a favor because he was too afraid to do it himself?

  I squirmed. “Yes. I told him I didn’t want to, but he begged me. What was I to do?”

  Dopey snorted. “Say ‘no’?”

  Happy held his report closer to his face, as if reading tiny print. “He doesn’t seem to have had any terminal illness, anything that would indicate he was in interminable pain and required a mercy death.”

  “What reason could he possibly have to wish for his own death?” Bashful said, echoing Happy’s unspoken question.

  Damn this whole situation. Amber was having fun with her siblings while I faced punishment, or worse, for protecting her, and I’d originally gotten into this mess by protecting Dar. Why was I paying for everyone’s sins?

  Six pairs of eyes turned to me. Well, five pairs. Gregory was oddly distracted, frowning as he gazed into the distance.

  “Um, it was over a girl,” I stammered. “A girl. He’d had his eye on her for nearly twenty years, and, well …he had to die. And he couldn’t work up the nerve to do it himself, so he asked me. As a favor.”

  Crap. I was in so much trouble. I’d dodged one bullet tonight, but
this one seemed to be speeding to its mark, right between my eyes.

  “Unrequited love.” Bashful sighed.

  “Humans are so dramatic when it comes to affairs of the heart,” Sneezy commented.

  “Still, suicide is a sin. And so is murder.” Dopey glared at me.

  “I’m a demon. Sin is my middle name,” I blurted out before I thought of the ramifications. Silence fell and they all looked at me, horrified. Great. My big mouth had probably cost me any sympathy votes.

  “For the Iblis?” Dopey asked.

  Bashful nodded. Fuck. I was sooo fucked.

  “Against?”

  Dopey indicated his vote.

  “Abstain?”

  The others raised their hands. Well, everyone but Gregory who was still frowning at the wall.

  Dopey hissed, and the room sizzled with tension. Bashful ignored him, while the other three looked worried.

  “Are you so afraid of her that you won’t vote? This is clearly an unjustified kill. The man wished to commit a sin and she assisted! How is that a matter that warrants a supportive vote, let alone three abstains?”

  I noticed they refused to call Gregory to task for his lack of vote and inattention to the matter.

  “He clearly lived with his sorrow for an unacceptable period of time,” Bashful protested. “Was he supposed to pine away for another ten years, depressed and in emotional pain?”

  “Sin,” Dopey shouted. “What part of ‘sin’ do you not understand?”

  “So, is assuming an unacceptable level of risk to the point where death is a strong statistical probability a sin?” Happy asked, a very un–angelic smile lurking at the corner of his mouth. “Mountain climbers, space travelers, women who choose to get pregnant even though it endangers their life — are these suicides?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. This man would have continued on his normal lifespan had the Iblis not interfered.”

  Bashful shook her head. “Don’t discount the emotional pain of unrequited love. Would you deny someone who was suffering terribly from a disease the mercy of death? We’ve permitted this. Many human laws now permit this.”

  “Sin!” Dopey shouted. “I don’t care how despondent he was over this woman, he wasn’t at the edge of death, or in agonizing pain.”

  “We can heal virtually every human condition that exists. Does our refusal to do so constitute murder by failure to attend? Should we angels be brought up on charges for every human death?”

  Dopey balled up his agenda and threw it at Bashful as he stood. I thought, for a second, there would be a fight, but he kicked his chair over and stomped from the conference room, slamming the door. Everyone looked around in an embarrassed fashion while Happy cleared his throat and straightened the papers before him.

  “Well, let’s move on to the last report, shall we?”

  I breathed out a sigh of relief. It seemed that any tie vote would be in my favor. That was very welcome news.

  “Tyrone Cochran.”

  The angels flipped through the report, tracing my writing with their fingers as if they were in some sort of synchronized dance.

  “What exactly does ‘involved in the sale of recreational substances’ mean?” Sneezy asked.

  “Drugs. I’m not sure what kind. Probably not pot as he didn’t seem to be bulging with huge bags of leaf when I saw him. Probably heroine or crack. Oxy is popular, but that section of town usually goes straight for the hard stuff. The controlled–substance pills are more in the suburbs with the soccer moms.”

  Bashful wrinkled her nose in disgust. She and Happy were my aces in the hole. If I could sway them, I’d be good. I wasn’t sure about Sneezy, and Sleepy seemed uncomfortable without the support of his buddy, Dopey. Gregory was still lost in thought. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  “There are large sections that appear to have gibberish as answers,” Sleepy mentioned, eyes darting in search of a powerful supporter to back him up. I wasn’t about to let him sway the others.

  “I’m sorry my handwriting is so poor,” I tried to compose a regretful facial expression. “Which section are you referring to?”

  Over half of the report was crap. With mine and Gregory’s activities, and Wyatt’s party, I’d had scant time to prepare this thing. And it’s not like I knew anything about the asshole who’d assaulted me in an alley.

  “The impact analysis,” Sleepy said, pointing to his paper.

  “Well, the Taco Bell burrito scale of immense magnitude returned an ‘r’ factor of point eight six. Then when I applied the nose–picking coefficient, I discovered a multivariate numeration of nine dot oh sixteen on the Richter scale.”

  Sleepy’s eyes bulged; his mouth gaped. “That …that makes no sense whatsoever.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Bashful said cheerfully. “All in favor?”

  “Wait,” Happy interjected. My heart sank. “I think we need to ask for a revision of this report. Some additional information is needed. I’m just not comfortable voting on it without documentation on the methodology regarding the Taco Bell burrito scale.”

  “If you didn’t mean to kill him, why didn’t you render medical attention after you blew his leg off?” Sneezy asked. Crap, I was rapidly losing my supporters. I hadn’t mentioned the mage’s net, figuring that bringing elves and their nefarious activities into the picture would do my cause nothing but harm. Likewise about the angel that chased me all over downtown Frederick.

  “I’m not very good at fixing injuries. I can’t heal. Demons don’t have that skill.”

  Bashful nodded, but Sneezy looked unconvinced. “There’s no reason you couldn’t have provided a tourniquet.”

  “Well, I didn’t have an opportunity to do so because someone else had engaged me in combat.” I didn’t tell them that ‘someone’ was an angel.

  Sleepy shifted in his chair, looking at Sneezy and Bashful for support. “I find it difficult to believe that a demon could not extricate herself from a brawl without turning to lethal methods. Even with a gang of humans attacking her.”

  Humans, yes. Humans, a mage, and an angel, no. I tried to look pious. “I’m forbidden from Owning or killing by my master. What’s a bound demon to do when she’s attacked? I merely thought to deliver a flesh wound, not kill the man. I was acting in self–defense, using what I thought was minimal force. His death was purely accidental.”

  “I’m voting we ask for a revision of the report with a forty–eight hour delivery date,” Happy announced.

  “Agreed.” Sleepy and Sneezy chimed in.

  Happy glanced at a disengaged Gregory and grimaced. “Forty–eight hours it is.”

  Well, two out of four wasn’t bad. I had two reports to write, and now that I’d had time to witness the convoluted internal politics of the Ruling Council, I could better make shit up that would get them off my case.

  The angels vanished, leaving me with Gregory. I watched him for a second and wondered whether I should call for a taxi. What was he doing? He’d paid no attention to the majority of the meeting. What was so important that he’d check out in that fashion?

  As if sensing my thoughts, his black eyes turned to me, the grim look on his face deepening into a scowl.

  “Are you going to take me home?” I was uncertain what his expression meant. He’d been downright suggestive when we’d discussed my appeal. What happened?

  Getting to his feet, the angel walked around the long conference table and, without a word, gathered me to his chest. He held me there, tight against him with his chin on the top of my head for a heartbeat before transporting us to my house. Once in my living room, he released me and paced the floor.

  “Do you want…”

  “An angel is dead,” he interrupted.

  I stared in disbelief, at a loss for words.

  “Dead.”

  I wasn’t sure what the appropriate sentiments were to express condolences to an angel, so I just repeated what I’d heard humans say over the decades. “I’m so very sorry for your loss
. Was he a close friend? You must be devastated.”

  “I told you not to do it anymore, not to ever do it again. Are you so far gone that you can no longer control yourself?”

  What did I do? Was he still talking about his dead buddy, or about something else? He was pacing the floor in a controlled rage, the tension in his voice conveying a worry and grief equal to his anger.

  “Is this about Gabriel storming out?” I asked tentatively. “Because I think he was more pissed off at Bashful than at me.”

  Gregory grabbed me by my shoulders before I even saw him move, pressing me against the door, high enough off the ground that my feet dangled in the air.

  “You killed an angel. An angel! Of all the careless, reckless, suicidal actions. Do you know what this means? What will happen?”

  What the fuck was he talking about? I’d been in a Ruling Council meeting all day. Had Dopey stroked out in the lobby of the Marriott or something?

  “I haven’t killed an angel. Ever. I swear on all the souls I Own that I have never killed an angel.”

  Gregory’s eyes searched mine.

  “I swear. You were with me yesterday, then I was with humans and Candy the rest of the time…” my voice trailed off as I realized I’d been alone last night. All alone in my house with no alibi.

  The angel kept a tight grip on my shoulders, but eased me down to stand on the floor. “An angel was murdered last night. Drained. Empty. There is nothing left but the corporeal form he’d inhabited.”

  I caught my breath. An angel had been killed in the same manner as the demons. A devouring spirit, and Gregory clearly suspected me.

  “I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill those demons, and I have never, ever, killed an angel.”

  Gregory’s hands tightened on my upper arms, digging painfully into the flesh. “You said yesterday you were chased by an angel, and today one is found dead. If he attacked you again and you defended yourself the only way you could, tell me. I’ll try to help you if you tell me the truth.”

  I recognized the seriousness of the situation. “I am telling the truth. Maybe someone is trying to set me up. Twenty demons heard me announce I was a devouring spirit and I’m sure that juicy gossip spread all over Hel.”