Queen of the Damned Page 9

  I counted three doorways and stood in the opening, looking at the demon inside. Oor was bipedal with short tree-trunk thick legs that ended in stubby feet with long yellowed claws that clacked as he tapped them. He had four arms, longer than the legs and thinner, also ending in those long yellowed claws. He turned to face me, his hair like Medusa snakes swaying with a life of their own. He had tiny little eyes, nostril slits for a nose, and a mouth that pointed outward like a broad beak.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he snarled.

  “I’m the Iblis, and I’m here to discuss some missing members of my household.”

  He looked up and spat, making me realize where the ceiling decorations in the foyer had come from. “Do I look like someone you hire to investigate missing household members? Because that’s not something I do. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

  “Three Lows were taken from my household.” I stepped into the room. “Now some people might not give a shit about Lows, but I’m rather possessive when it comes to mine.”

  “Ain’t got em’.”

  “I know you don’t ‘got em’’.” I rolled my eyes. “You were there during the kidnapping—you and this Cheros demon. I just want to know where you took them so I can go and retrieve my Lows.”

  “Kidnapping?” He snorted. “Who the fuck kidnaps Lows? There’s nobody to ransom them. Lows are fair game. Just grab them off the street, and go have some fun. It’s like a smorgasbord.”

  “Well the smorgasbord doesn’t include Lows that I’ve marked as part of my household, you sack of dicks. Take mine, and feel my wrath.”

  He nearly fell over laughing at that, so I summoned my sword. Evidently he couldn’t see my impressive weaponry through the haze of hilarity, so I poked him in the belly. His skin puckered and blistered, but the blade didn’t penetrate the skin.

  “Hey! What the fuck? You’re cruising for some serious smackdown, assaulting me in my own home, imp.”

  I’d had it. There were zero fucks left for me to give. Outside of Doriel and her household, no one in Hel took me seriously. There was a time when being discounted and underestimated was very useful, but that time had passed. I was done wasting time trying to prove I was someone who should be, if not feared, at least respected.

  “I’m the Iblis, you motherfucker! You took three members of my household,” I yelled. “You took what is mine, and when I muster up the considerable patience to stand here and calmly demand information, you laugh at me. Tell me right fucking now where my fucking Lows are, or I will skin you, slice the guts from your belly, and dump your weighted body in the Maugan Swamp for the bitey fish to feast on.”

  Just to illustrate how very serious I was, I jammed my sword into the floor. The sound of thunder rumbled through the house and an eight-inch crack shot where the blade impacted the stone. I stumbled as my sword sank through the hole, quickly gaining my balance and trying to regain some semblance of badassery.

  “Okay, okay.” Oor held his hands palms-out toward me. “Just don’t fucking destroy my house. I don’t have your Lows. I didn’t even take them. Some dude named Birch hired me to watch Cheros, just to make sure she wasn’t skimming off the top—you know?”

  No, I didn’t know. “Why does this Birch care about Cheros skimming, and what does that have to do with my Lows?”

  He eyed my sword. Deciding that I’d made my point, I dismissed it.

  “Cheros takes Lows. She likes them, so she takes them, plays with them, and lets them go when she’s done.”

  “Yeah, I already know that.” I made a rolling motion with my hand to hustle the story along.

  “Evidently she has a reputation for Low-catching, so someone hired her to catch him or her some Lows. I don’t know who, but seems she was claiming she was delivering more than she did and keeping a few. Skimming, you know.”

  That sort of thing got a demon killed. Cheros must be of more value alive than dead for someone to overlook this sort of betrayal and violation of a contractual agreement. Either that, or whoever hired Cheros didn’t feel confident that they’d win in a fight with her, and graciously forgave the behavior with a stern warning.

  “So I’m assuming that Birch is the one who hired Cheros to get him some Lows? Then this Birch hired you to make sure she actually delivers as promised?”

  Oor scratched the spot of skin between the spikes jutting from his forehead. “Don’t think so. Birch isn’t very powerful, and he seems to think Lows are kind of yucky. Maybe he’s the Low-collector’s steward? Or in his household? I got the feeling that whoever wants them doesn’t like to deal with any of us directly.”

  Ugh. That worried me. That sort of behavior sounded like something an Ancient or high-level demon would do, and as much as I wanted my Lows back, I really didn’t want to have to get into a life-or-death fight for them.

  “So Birch pays you, and he pays Cheros when she delivers the Lows?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, she’s got to deliver them somewhere, doesn’t she? Where does she take them? Does she do the hand off with Birch in the middle of the street?”

  “No idea. Ask her.”

  I thought about stabbing more holes in his floor to help jog his memory. As if he read my mind, Oor backed up a few steps. “I swear I don’t know. I just go with her when she grabs the Lows, then she takes it from there. Her house is three streets down, turn left, first house on your right. Go ask her ‘cause I don’t know anything else.”

  I summoned my sword once more, just for effect. “If I find out that you’re lying, I’m coming back, and your floor won’t be the only thing with a six-inch crack running down the length of it. Understand?”

  He nodded frantically. “Yes, Iblis. I understand.”

  I headed out past his buddies on the porch who eyed me warily, then followed Oor’s directions to Cheros’s house. The sword stayed out because it had been very cooperative lately and I didn’t want to push it. I never knew what it would appear as, and I’d discovered that repeated summoning in a short time period tended to piss it off. I was trying to build some street cred here, and having my sword fail to appear, or show up as a butter knife wouldn’t help my cause at all.

  I climbed the steps of the first house on my right and banged on the door with the pommel of my sword, noting that Cheros didn’t have any physical or magical barriers in place to prevent entry. She was either really confident in her ability to take care of intruders, or she didn’t give a shit if anyone snuck in and trashed the place or stole her furnishings.

  A tall, thin demon with rough leathery skin and compound eyes answered the door. “Yeah?”

  “You Cheros?”

  Her eyes zeroed in on my sword. “Who wants to know?”

  “The Iblis. I’m looking for some Lows.”

  She grinned. “Well, you’ve come to the right place, then! If you want a Low for the evening’s entertainment, Cheros is the demon you want to hire. She can get any Low to suit your needs, and deliver promptly.”

  “That’s not what I heard.” I wasn’t about to correct this woman regarding the purpose of my visit, but I couldn’t help the dig about Cheros’s habit of skimming.

  Her narrowed bug-eyes jerked to my face, then back to my sword. “Well, you heard wrong. Cheros is out right now on business, but she’ll be back soon if you’d like to wait…and keep your sword outside.”

  The sword in question was glowing and sizzling, so I understood her reluctance to allow it past the doorway. “Business? For that Birch guy?”

  “Uh, he’s a client.” Bug-eyes was clearly not sure whether Birch was a reference she should leverage on behalf of her mistress or not.

  “Is Cheros out getting Lows?” I demanded. Mine were all safely in Patchine. I thought. Hopefully they were safely in Patchine, but I got the weird feeling I should accost Cheros in the middle of her business, just in case.

  “She’ll be back soon, if you want to wait inside—without your sword. She’s just picking up some product a few streets over�
�”

  I spun around and headed back down the street, forgetting to ask her what Cheros looked like, or exactly which street she was picking up her “product” on. Product. It pissed me off that she was referring to Lows as product. All my life I’d been one step above a Low, degraded and mocked, spat upon and kicked around. I’d turned that around to my advantage. I’d learned that power and energy signature weren’t always the best indicators of a demon’s—or angel’s—ability. And I hated that the Lows I’d found to be loyal, gutsy, and brave were treated as “product”.

  I was going to find this Cheros. And when I did, I was going to make her return Sinew, Booty, and Lash, or I was going to make sure every demon in Dis knew the folly of fucking around with those the Iblis called her own.

  Chapter 10

  I wasn’t a block away when I saw her dragging a screaming and thrashing Low by the tail as she strode down the street. Cheros was small with shiny green scales on an upright-lizard body. Her eagle’s head had scales instead of feathers, and a whip of a tail curled up from her ass. Since she wasn’t with Oor, I figured this Low she was hauling along must be for herself or a different client.

  I walked up and stopped about fifteen feet in front of the demon. “Drop the Low,” I commanded.

  She ignored me so I waved my sword in her general direction and repeated myself. Then I slammed it into the ground with both hands. I’d expected that the ground would quake, my voice would echo menacingly, bushes would burn and fire would rain from the sky. Instead all that happened was the tip of my sword broke off, clattering across the uneven pavement.

  Guess I’d pushed my sentient weapon too far.

  “I hate you,” I told the sword. Stupid fucking thing wasn’t really broken. I wasn’t sure if it was protesting my treatment with this lame-ass display of weakness, or if it didn’t really give a shit about my mission here. Probably a combination of both.

  “Out of my way, imp,” Cheros commanded. Her voice didn’t echo either, so I felt a bit better about the whole thing.

  “Let the Low go.” The rhyming wasn’t making me seem any tougher, so I waved my broken sword at her. It was still glowing and sizzling, and I hoped that the jagged edge still looked dangerous.

  She stopped, eyeing the weapon. “Fine. I’ll share him with you, but only because I like imps. You guys are pretty creative. Could be fun to share a Low with an imp.”

  I put the sword away. “Look, I’ve got a lot of Lows in my household. You took three of them, and I’m pissed. I don’t want to share this one with you. I want you to let him go and tell me what the fuck happened to my three. And stop taking Lows that have my household mark, or I’ll kill you.”

  “You can’t kill me.” She laughed. “You’re an imp. Granted, you’ve got a scary-ass broken sword there, but you’re still an imp.”

  “I killed Haagenti. I killed Ahriman. I just killed a fuck-ton of angels in Aaru. I’m the Iblis. And I’m sure I can take you out without either breaking a sweat, or using my sword.”

  She eyed me. “You’re that crazy bitch that’s fucking an angel and thinks she’s the ruler of Hel. The one who devours.”

  “Yeah. That’s me. Now let him go, and tell me what you did with my Lows. I want them back. Sinew, Booty, and Lash. They had household marks. They’re mine.”

  Cheros dropped the Low, who scampered off, then she waved at me. “Come on. I really don’t feel like standing in the middle of the street arguing with a crazy imp.”

  I followed her to the edge of town and into a squat stone dwelling. This wasn’t the house I’d just been to. Maybe she had a second? Although why someone would need two houses in Dis was beyond me.

  I knew the moment I got inside that it wasn’t a house, it was a torture chamber. Racks, spikes, whips, paddles with nails embedded in them.

  “And you’re calling me crazy?” I fingered one of the paddles, noting the buildup of dried blood on the nails.

  “Hey, a girl’s gotta have her hobbies.” She hopped up on one of the stools, her scaled feet dangling just above the cuffs. “There’s this Ancient, see? He’s one of the ones who just woke up a year or so ago, and I guess he’s got similar interests to mine. He’s paying me to bring him a bunch of Lows. I don’t know why all of a sudden he wants them. Maybe he’s bored, or he suddenly has a taste for Lows or something. All I know is he pays me for each one I bring him.”

  “Birch, right?”

  She blinked in surprise. “Well, Birch pays me, but he’s not the Ancient who wants the Lows. I don’t think Birch wants any Lows. He’s kind of a prude.”

  “And Birch also pays Oor on behalf of this Ancient, right? To make sure the Lows actually get to him?”

  She looked sheepish for a second. “I liked a few of them and kept some for myself, so he wasn’t getting as many or the ones he wanted.”

  Weirdo.

  “Why not just fire you and let Oor bring him the Lows?”

  “Because Oor couldn’t catch a Low if his life depended on it. They’re quick and clever and he’s not. I know how to grab them and bring them in in one piece. Oor keeps me focused on the task at hand.”

  “So this unnamed Ancient has my Lows? I want them back.”

  She chuckled. “Well, you’re probably not getting them back. They’re gone. Probably dead. Just forget about them, and get some new ones.”

  My stomach twisted at the thought. I honestly didn’t have a huge attachment to Sinew, Booty, or Lash, but the thought that someone casually took what was mine, as well as the insinuation that one Low was easily interchanged with another, bothered me.

  I’d find them, alive or dead, and I’d punish whoever harmed them, but in the meantime I needed to ensure that the rest of my household was safe.

  “From this point forward, you will not take any Lows that bear my household mark. Do I make myself clear?”

  She shrugged. “Yes, but I go where the money is. If my client asks for a specific Low and offers an enticing fee, I’m gonna grab the Low, no matter whose household mark it’s got.”

  Clearly there was only way to counter this, since I wasn’t sure I could depend on my sword right now.

  “How much is this Ancient paying you?”

  “More than you can afford.” She sniffed. “I can’t quit. If he asks me for a specific Low, I need to deliver, although most of the time he’s kind of vague about what he wants. If I don’t do what he wants, he’ll kill me. It’s not just the money, we’ve got a contract. I’m lucky he didn’t kill me when I kept those other Lows. I’m not about to push him by quitting or refusing to get certain Lows for him.”

  I was beginning to wonder about something. “Why does he care if you keep a few as long as you get him his quota? I mean, he shouldn’t care if you divert a Low you really like and just substitute another.”

  She squirmed on the stool. “There are some that are hard to let go. I kinda get attached to one every now and then. Some of them just call to me and I want them for my own. My whole life I’ve been playing with Lows, I never found clients that specifically target this one or that. Shit, I don’t even know their names when I keep them for myself. Most of them all kinda look the same, and clients before never cared if I swapped out one Low for a different one.”

  “But you said the ones you kept were especially appealing?”

  “Yeah. Some have that spark, you know? They fight harder and scream louder and it’s so much more satisfying to hurt them. And those ones don’t die easy, so I can really do some fun stuff and keep them for longer.”

  I didn’t want to think about what Sinew, Booty, and Lash might be going through right now. And my Lows had claimed that Cheros wasn’t all that bad. How horrible were the other demons, when being tortured while you fought and screamed, brought to the point of death before being let go, was ‘not that bad’?

  “And those were the ones this Ancient client asked for by name?”

  “Oh of course. I thought maybe he wouldn’t know, but he did. This guy is pretty smar
t that way.”

  I had a bad feeling about this. “And he asked for my Lows by name? He specified them?”

  “Mostly he just gives me a list of attributes, but a few times he’s specified certain Lows. And I take them, whether they have a household mark or not. Not that many are marked, or even part of a household.” She shook her head in disbelief. “You have Lows that you actually mark as part of your household? As important play toys, right? So none of your other household members break them? Because I didn’t steal any Lows out of anyone’s dungeon.”

  “Two of my Lows you took off the street, and one you dragged away from my porch. They’re marked. They’re part of my household. I marked them. How the fuck did you not noticed that I fucking marked them.” I was starting to get pissed off at her obvious attempts to play dumb. They were marked. How the fuck could she take Lows and not notice they were marked? Idiot.

  Her dark eyes bulged. “Why? Why would you bother to mark your Lows? You give them status in your household? Fuck, you must be really hurting to have to turn to Lows to join your household. Won’t anyone else join? What happened that no one wants to be in your household?”

  I winced, remembering all the demons I’d gotten killed in the elven wars. Life expectancy wasn’t all that stellar for my household members. It was still a longer life expectancy than Lows had on the streets or elsewhere, which is probably why they flocked to me, but outside of joining me for a few special projects, the only mid-level demons I had were Dar and Leethu and Terrelle, and now Mestal. They were all on the other side of the gates. At least, I thought Leethu was on the other side of the gates. Where the fuck was she anyway? If she didn’t turn up soon, I was going to need to track down this sorcerer who kept summoning her and kill him myself.

  “Oh no, I have hundreds of non-Low demons in my household,” I lied. “They’re all across the gates because members of my household get immunity from the treaty.”

  “The angels won’t kill them?” She tilted her head in thought. “Humans are more fun to play with than Lows. Got any openings in your household?”