Devil Take Me Page 2

  “She and Bloodfang have a nice little cottage overlooking the River Styx,” Ralgath said, still wondering what any of that had to do with him. “But I’m not an Enforcer.” He’d followed his father’s footsteps to the crossroads. For all of one night, anyway.

  “This isn’t work for an Enforcer. They track escaped souls. This… is something else.” Gizrun’s expression grew grim. “A few nights ago, a crossroads demon by the name of Zemael failed to come back from her assignment. She’s one of our best, been doing the job for years, so at first I didn’t worry. Sent a rookie up to take a peek, see what was keeping her. The rookie, Muzzaxin, didn’t come back either.”

  Gizrun paused and fixed all of his eyes on Ralgath. “Someone up there is trapping crossroads demons. That’s bad enough as it is. What’s worse is that Zemael had her quill and parchment with her. I don’t think I need to tell you how bad it would be for something that powerful to fall into the hands of a mortal sorcerer.”

  A mortal who could draw up whatever contract he wanted? No, that wouldn’t be good for either the Living Realm or the Underworld.

  “So why do you want me? This is a matter for IA, and I’m in Intake now.”

  Gizrun snorted out more steam. “Your name came up. Or rather, your mother’s name came up, but she wouldn’t leave retirement.” Gizrun waved a dismissive hand. “I asked them to bring in the Enforcers, but their expertise is with escaped souls, not living mortals.”

  “So why not send some crossroads demons to handle it?” Ralgath asked, suspicion growing in his gut.

  “The higher-ups want this to stay quiet until it’s done and over with. They don’t want demons quitting in a panic, or mortal sorcerers getting the wrong idea if rumor starts to spread. We want it under wraps until we can say, ‘See? Mess with us, get dragged screaming into Hell.’” Gizrun flapped a stubby pair of wings in agitation. “My bosses have agreed to let the Enforcers try, but not until I’ve exhausted all possible avenues.”

  Ralgath’s shoulders sagged. “So if I disappear too, you can tell them you tried. They bring in the Enforcers, and you avoid losing a valuable employee.”

  “Look, kid, you might be able to pull this off.” Gizrun tried an encouraging smile. “Your mother was a great tracker. Maybe that’s where your real talent lies, right?” He grabbed a sheet of parchment and scribbled something on it. “Here, take this permission slip to the hellhound kennels. Go upstairs with a dog and a pitchfork and give it a shot. If you can’t find who’s doing this in a week, come back and that’s the end of it. You can return to Intake, and I can tell the big bosses I did what they wanted, and can we please have some Enforcers.”

  Ralgath turned the offer over in his mind. He could refuse, go back to his desk in Intake right now.

  And spend day after day in Customer Service, dealing with the deceased public—and not the saintly ones either.

  Compared to that, even a doomed-to-failure mission sounded good.

  “Two conditions,” he said. “One is I want my old job back if I succeed.”

  “You’ve got it,” Gizrun said immediately.

  “As for the second… I’ll need the contract that got me fired.” Ralgath grimaced. “Chess’s contract.”

  III.

  RALGATH APPEARED in a flash of flame in the middle of a crossroads. A few hundred yards away lay an abandoned warehouse.

  According to Infernal Affairs records, this was the crossroads Zemael had been summoned to before her disappearance. It was only a few miles from the crossroads where his disastrous encounter with Chess took place. Even if he didn’t find any clues here, with any luck he’d be able to locate Chess before whoever had made the other demons disappear did the same to him. Ralgath took a step forward—

  —and almost had his arm jerked out of the socket as the hellhound on the other end of the leash flopped onto the ground and began to roll around.

  “Get up,” Ralgath hissed. “Fluffpaw. Heel, girl. Sit!”

  The beast gave him a doggy smile and lolled out her tongue. Ralgath had asked for the best tracking hellhound to be found in the Underworld, but he was beginning to suspect the kennel master hadn’t taken his request seriously.

  “Come on,” Ralgath pleaded as he tugged ineffectually on the leash. “I’ve got treats.”

  Fluffpaw sat up, but not because she seemed to understand the promise of treats. Still grinning happily, she stared in the direction of the warehouse, head cocked as though something about it deeply puzzled her. Maybe it was just the world in general.

  Parked in the otherwise deserted lot in front of the warehouse was a very familiar pink convertible. And from inside the warehouse came the faint sound of fighting. With a gasp Ralgath tugged on Fluffpaw’s leash. When she refused to follow, he muttered a curse and secured her to a section of chain-link fence. Then he hurried across the cracked pavement toward the warehouse.

  The setting sun cast long shadows over the property. The doors were ostentatiously padlocked, but a broken window offered an easy entrance. Ralgath squeezed through and tumbled onto the filthy concrete inside. He hopped to his feet, dusted off his trousers, and followed the shrieks and thumps deeper into the vast structure.

  The smell crept up on him and grew stronger the farther he went from windows and from sunlight. The dust and mold of an abandoned building slowly gave way to old blood and decomposition mixed with copious amounts of perfume meant to hide the stink of unwashed bodies.

  Vampires.

  He found them in a clear space amid a tangle of girders and support beams. Three vampires circled, their gaping jaws revealing fangs like daggers. A mismatch of unwashed clothing, taken from their victims, covered their spindly forms. Their inhuman thinness belied their strength and speed, and three of them closed fast on the person in the center of the room.

  Chess.

  Ralgath had told himself firmly that he was not going to be dazzled by Chess this time around. Chess had tricked him, used him. As long as he kept that in mind, he wouldn’t be remotely attracted to them.

  Unfortunately his body had other ideas.

  Chess almost glowed in the darkness of the grimy warehouse. They wore a pair of tight pink pants, a cream turtleneck, and boots with chunky heels. Seeming unconcerned by the charging vampires, Chess tossed back their hair, pivoted effortlessly on one foot, and threw a wooden stake with tremendous force.

  One vampire’s shriek ended as it exploded into dust. The second closed on Chess, who ducked beneath its swinging fist. They pulled a second stake from the belt slung low around their hips and stabbed upward. In a moment the second vampire was dust as well.

  Without missing a beat, Chess tucked into a roll, only to come up with the stake they’d thrown earlier in their hand. The final vampire stared in fear—then spun and ran.

  Straight at Ralgath.

  “Going somewhere?” Ralgath asked.

  He grabbed the vampire by its throat and heaved it off its feet. Like all demons, Ralgath was hellishly strong. The vampire tore at him with its dirty nails, but he ignored it to look at Chess, who was standing frozen and staring at Ralgath in shock.

  It was nice to turn the tables on Chess for a change.

  “I think this is yours?” Ralgath said, and he shook the vampire for emphasis.

  “Oh… right.” Chess stepped forward and finished it off.

  Ralgath made a show of dusting the vampire from his sleeve. He’d made certain he looked damned—pun intended—good for this second encounter. He wore his scarlet-lined cape, a suit fitted to show off the breadth of his chest and shoulders, and had his horns polished to a sheen. “Hello, Chess,” he purred.

  Chess blinked and then strove for a cocky smile. “Miss me?”

  “Only because I wasn’t trying to hit you,” Ralgath replied coolly. Was it his imagination, or did Chess deflate slightly at the chill in his voice? “What are you doing here?” Finding Chess so close to the crossroads where Zemael had disappeared seemed an unlikely coincidence.

&n
bsp; “Following up on a rumor, actually.” Chess crossed their arms over their chest. “Some people in the area have dropped out of sight recently. All of them were involved in underground fighting rings, so they were big, tough, and mean enough to handle just about anything human. I came to find out if their disappearance involved the supernatural. The vamps might have been responsible, but I’m not sure. They tend to pick on easier targets. What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to make you an offer.”

  Chess eyed him warily. “I’m satisfied with our previous arrangement, sugar. No need to renegotiate.”

  “I find myself in need of a favor.” Ralgath produced Chess’s contract from inside his coat. “Help me… and I’ll return your soul.”

  “YOU DIDN’T seem too concerned about the vampires,” Chess said as they made their way out of the warehouse.

  Ralgath shrugged. “Vampires aren’t the jurisdiction of the Underworld. Their souls have already departed.”

  “Oh. I assumed… puppy!”

  Fluffpaw bounded to greet them in the parking lot, dragging approximately twenty feet of chain-link fence after her.

  Chess let out a squeal of delight and dropped to their knees for a hug.

  “Don’t,” Ralgath exclaimed. “That’s a hellhound!” As though anyone could mistake a solid black dog with glowing orange eyes who slobbered green slime all over the landscape for anything else. “She’ll tear you to pieces!”

  Fluffpaw flung herself into Chess’s arms, butt wriggling and stubby tail wagging.

  “Aww. She’s just a sweetheart, aren’t you?” Chess asked as they scratched her ears. “Who’s a good omen of doom? Is it you? Is it?”

  Fluffpaw barked happily to indicate it was indeed her.

  Ralgath pinched the bridge of his nose. In Gizrun’s office this had seemed like such a good plan—make the instrument of his downfall into his salvation. He’d somehow forgotten how overwhelming Chess was, and how quickly good sense went out the window around them.

  “If you can stop playing with my dog for a moment,” Ralgath grated out, “we have things to discuss.”

  “Right. Your offer.” Chess gave Fluffpaw a final pat and rose to their feet. “Sorry, but no take-backsies.”

  Of all the developments Ralgath had envisioned, that hadn’t been one of them. “Wait. I’m offering you the chance to escape the Underworld after your death, and you’re… turning me down?”

  Chess hopped onto the trunk of their car and patted the space beside them.

  Ralgath folded his arms over his chest. “Oh no. I’m not falling for that a second time.”

  To his surprise a light blush darkened Chess’s brown skin. “Not what I had in mind… though I’ve got to say, I’ve thought a lot about that night in the last three years.”

  “So have I,” Ralgath said icily. “Especially as it cost me my job in Infernal Affairs.”

  Chess’s eyes widened in dismay. “It did? Oh hell. I’m sorry. I didn’t think….”

  “That there wouldn’t be serious repercussions?” Ralgath shook his head angrily. “Maybe for you there weren’t. But this is my chance to put things right, to get my old job back. I’m not letting you ruin it for me a second time.”

  Chess winced. “Please, just sit while we talk. I promise to keep my hands and everything else to myself.”

  Telling himself he wasn’t disappointed, Ralgath perched on the trunk beside Chess, so close, he could smell traces of night-blooming gardenia and myrrh rising from Chess’s skin. It wasn’t anything a human could have perceived, but every mortal bound to the Underworld—and every Chosen One granted Celestial gifts—gave off a scent that marked them to other demons and angels. Mixed with Chess’s natural musk, it was strangely heady, and Ralgath had to resist the temptation to lean closer.

  Fluffpaw flopped on the ground and began to chew on the steel fencing. The setting sun limned Chess’s profile in gold, and the light seemed almost to cling to their long lashes. They leaned forward, planted their elbows on their knees, and stared at the warehouse.

  “Thing is, I’ve done a lot of good over the last few years,” Chess said. “And I know that’s not really your department. But no Celestial beings popped by, handing out prophecies, and I sure as hell wasn’t anyone’s Chosen One.”

  “Celestial Affairs does tend to have a stick up their ass about that sort of thing,” Ralgath agreed. “But that’s beside the point.”

  “It isn’t, though. This is the only way I can do what I want to do, what I need to do.” Chess lowered their gaze to their clasped hands. “I’m not giving that up.”

  Ralgath quashed the urge to ask Chess why they were so Hell-bent on their quest to fight evil. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for the mortal who had cost him his job, and he definitely didn’t want Chess to talk him into letting them off the hook. “Let me paint a picture for you, Chess. Do you know what we do with those souls we collect?”

  Chess cast him a nervous glance. “I’ve heard the stories.”

  “You think you have some idea of the horrors awaiting. You don’t.” Ralgath leaned forward and fixed Chess with his red gaze. “Infernal Affairs is the Underworld’s HR department. Once you die, you work wherever they assign you. I’ve spent the last three years in Intake. Have you ever worked with the public, Chess?”

  Chess swallowed. “I… I cashiered at a gas station in college.”

  “Think of your worst customers—not the shoplifters or the kids who dropped their giant soda onto the stack of newspapers. I’m talking the ones you prayed wouldn’t get into your line. The ones screeching for the manager because they miscounted their change and are sure you’re the one at fault. The ones with the racist T-shirts, talking shit at the top of their lungs about how the overworked mom in front of them is taking too long.” Ralgath leaned in farther, so close that he could have kissed Chess if he wanted, which he sort of did. “Now imagine dealing with a thousand of them a day. Every day. For eternity.”

  Chess’s face went three shades paler. “Oh. So… what was that favor you needed?”

  IV.

  RALGATH CLUNG to the door handle for dear life as they screamed down the interstate. Chess had put the top down on the convertible, and the night wind howled around the car, making conversation impossible. Fluffpaw sat in the back seat behind Ralgath and hung her head out to the side. Her tongue flapped in the breeze.

  Chess switched lanes, sliding through a space between tractor trailers that Ralgath would have sworn wasn’t big enough for the car. The demon shut his eyes and silently prayed to the Lords of Hell they didn’t end up smeared across five lanes of interstate.

  “Don’t look so worried,” Chess yelled over the wind. “You can heal from just about anything, right?”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m immortal,” Ralgath shouted back. “And they say regrowing limbs hurts.”

  Chess laughed, wild and carefree. “You need to let go and live a little.”

  “That’s going to be hard to do when you’re trying to kill us.”

  A sudden swerve jolted his eyes back open. Chess crossed three lanes, dove down an exit ramp, and turned onto a two-lane road without slowing the car at all. A few minutes later, they screeched to a halt in front of a roadside bar.

  “See?” Chess asked. “We made it just fine.”

  Ralgath peeled his fingers from the door handle one at a time. “Zemael is being held here?”

  The sign over the door proclaimed in red neon that they’d arrived at JJ’S Place. Cheap plastic siding clad the exterior, painted a dull gray where it wasn’t stained with the green of algae. Beer signs glowed in the barred windows, and the lot was full of oversized trucks. The one they’d parked beside sported a confederate flag, a vanity plate reading GETSUM, and a pair of fake testicles dangling from the hitch in a trifecta of awful.

  “What?” Chess asked, confused. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

  Ralgath ground his teeth. “I came to you because one of the things yo
u negotiated for was the ability to track Otherworldly beings.”

  “Mmm, yeah.” Chess smirked. “I asked for that just as I was getting ready to shove—”

  “I’m sure I don’t remember,” Ralgath lied frantically. “My point is, I need you to help me find Zemael and Muzzaxin, not… whatever this is.”

  Chess checked their wind-blown hair in the mirror. “Maybe I thought I’d buy you dinner first this time.”

  “There isn’t going to be a ‘this time.’ There shouldn’t have even been a first time.” Ralgath’s eyes widened in dawning horror. “This isn’t—isn’t some sort of date, is it?”

  Chess howled with laughter. “Relax, sugar. I’m just yanking your chain. You think I’d bring you to a dump like this? Thing is, I can’t just track your missing demons by thinking about it. I need something of theirs.”

  “And you expect to find something here?” Ralgath looked around. He didn’t know Zemael very well, but he had a hard time imagining any self-respecting crossroads demon hanging out there—maybe a succubus, looking for a quick snack to tide her over.

  “Don’t let the exterior fool you,” Chess said. Then they paused. “Well… no, it’s pretty much what it looks like, actually. But there’s someone here who might know where to start looking. She deals in information—if she doesn’t know who took the demons, she’ll at least be able to point us in the right direction.”

  “Do you think your missing humans have anything to do with my missing demons?” Ralgath asked. “They vanished in roughly the same area.”

  Chess shrugged. “If they do, then finding your demons ought to lead us to the missing humans. If not… I know a couple of Chosen Ones. I’ll put them on the trail of the human disappearances if need be.”

  “Should I glamour myself?” Ralgath asked as he climbed out of the car. “You know, hide my demonic nature?”