That was a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one. Chance’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t protest as I hurried alongside the neighbor’s house and out the unlocked courtyard door. I emerged onto a different street. From here, I looked to Greydusk for leadership. He could decide where it would be best for us to hide in plain sight and plot our next move.
“One thing.” The demon touched the corner of each of my eyes, and it stung. The feeling spread, leaving my irises prickly.
Chance drew in a sharp breath. “What did you do?”
“Camouflage. While you can pass on your own, she needs a little help.”
“What?” I demanded, seeing the anxiety he couldn’t hide.
“Your eyes are bloodred.”
“Like the Dohan,” Greydusk said, unconcerned. “It will wear off in time.”
The Dohan were the Drinkers, if I recalled correctly. Which meant I had to feign a yen for human blood. Awesome.
“Thanks.” I meant it.
“It falls within the agreement, Binder. I pledged to serve your interests. It does not benefit you to be captured by your enemies.” He turned to Butch, just barely peeking over the edge of my bag. “Now something must be done about your mammal.”
“Like what?”
By his worried yip, Butch shared my concern and curiosity.
Greydusk didn’t reply. He merely whispered in demontongue until my ears burned with it. Magick built around us and Butch tried to hide. But he couldn’t. Because in a swirl of darklight, he turned into something else.
And he had wings.
After a moment, I recognized what the demon had done. He’d turned Butch into a quasit. It was a revolting but sensible choice, as an imp might serve a demon, but any self-respecting Dohan would eat a Chihuahua, not lug it around and pet it. Butch couldn’t even whine over his fate; his vocal cords were shaped differently now. A muted chir came from his throat. He flapped his wings in agitation.
“Don’t be dramatic,” the demon told the dog/quasit. “This wears off too. It is best for your mistress. Be brave.”
That actually seemed to work, as the quasit settled, still in my purse, but you know, you couldn’t build Rome in a day. Time for us to move. It was odd because we didn’t gather a second look from passersby. Well, Chance did, from time to time, but that was due to his beauty, not anyone’s suspicion. Some glimpsed my red eyes and gave us a wide berth. Apparently the Drinkers didn’t limit themselves to human sources. Which made sense. So they could live on the blood of other demons, but maybe humans tasted like a really nice Shiraz, a treat they couldn’t pass up.
Greydusk led us through winding city streets. In place of the split-faced sun rose a breathtaking moon. It was whole and haunting, larger than any moon I’d ever seen on earth; the edges burned with silver, softening all the ugly lines and imbuing Xibalba with alien beauty. For the first time, this land was not merely strange and terrible, and the dark queen in my head rejoiced.
“Is it not lovely?” Greydusk whispered, following the trajectory of my gaze.
“Gorgeous,” I admitted.
“There was a well-known poet here who wrote, Night in Sheol steals the soul. I have forgotten the rest, but each time I see the moon, I remember that one line.”
“For obvious reasons,” Chance said softly.
I put my hand in his. For long moments, I just stared up. I didn’t care about finding Shannon. I felt warm and languid, as if my skin soaked up that lunar light. I wanted to take Chance somewhere dark and private and spend hours— No, that wasn’t me. The demon queen craved those things. The flavor of her desire differed from mine; it was deep and sharp, like a rapier lodged in my rib cage.
“I understand the land was not always so dark and cold. Barren,” Greydusk observed.
Raising a brow, I prompted, “Oh?”
“There was a civil war. Our records are incomplete.…It was so long ago. But I imagine how majestic it must have been, before our forebears broke the world.”
Damn. I’d assumed—wrongly—that Sheol was ugly because it was full of evil beings, but that involved a logical disconnect. Places weren’t inherently bad; sometimes people populated them who did terrible things and it scarred the land.
“You have a destination in mind,” I said to the Imaron, making a mental note to consider the implications later.
He nodded. “I know of a club where we won’t draw attention. Mixed-caste parties often venture there for a night of carousing.”
Demons, carousing. My spirit recoiled, and my instincts screamed this couldn’t end well. “Take us there.”
Greydusk did.
The walk took a while. I felt we couldn’t afford to flag a cab and leave someone with a clear memory of us. I chose not to use my forget fog again because I didn’t intend to use more demon magick than I absolutely must. Each spell gave the demon queen more purchase in my head, and she was already fighting me for control. Though I hadn’t confessed as much to Chance, I feared how this would end.
I could lose myself here, forever. There might be no avoiding it.
The club was nothing like I’d expected. For one, the building was made of metal, which must create a hellacious echo inside. The segments looked to have been fused together with incredible heat; other plates had been riveted in place. It looked like a drunken remodel of a battleship, turned on its side so the stern pointed straight in the air. Over the door, someone had scored CLUB HELL into the rusty steel.
“Seriously?” I said.
“What?” Greydusk shrugged. “The locals like it. They think it’s kitschy.”
Well, it was that. Shaking my head, I followed the demon to the door, where he paid the cover charge for all of us with more of those ivory disks. Inside, it wasn’t as noisy as I’d expected. Sure, there was music, but it was more the torch variety. An enormous red-skinned Hazo female crooned from the stage in a surprisingly lovely voice. Which went to prove, you shouldn’t judge by appearances.
Just inside, the demon whispered with the host, and then he showed us to a private room. More accurately, it was a round niche with a booth in it, covered by a folding screen. I slid inside and Chance flanked me. The Imaron chose to slide in the other way, leaving plenty of room between us. In contrast, Chance settled against my side, an arm around me, and Butch flapped his brand-new wings. He made a delighted noise when he discovered they would, in fact, lift him off the ground. Soon we had a quasit-Chihuahua swooping around our heads. Which was just what the day needed.
“Come here often?” I joked.
“Sometimes,” Greydusk replied. “This is a good place to do business.”
That didn’t make a lot of sense. At first. But when the demon lit the taper on the table, all sound from the outside ceased, one of the coolest tricks I’d ever seen.
“Magickal?” I turned the fat white candle in my hands. “How’s it made?” Then I read his expression and supplied, “Let me guess—I don’t want to know.”
“You catch on quick.”
The demon ordered drinks using a magickal panel on the wall. By tacit consensus, we waited until the server had come and gone. It hit me then. With this illusion, Greydusk had answered the question I had about the caste with red eyes. I looked like one of them. Quickly, I filled the Imaron in on what I’d learned from handling Shannon’s things, including the detail about her red-eyed captors.
“This helps immeasurably,” the demon said, once I finished.
Chance frowned. “Were they manifested Dohan who took Shannon or—”
“Spirits who had been summoned in a blood ritual?” Greydusk completed the question. “Since the Drinkers look human in their natural form, it’s hard to say. It would take a soulstone to transport them, and those take an incredibly long time to manufacture.”
“In a factory?” Chance asked, aghast.
The demon shook its head. “In a magickal lab, though we have factories for mundane goods. At one point, the Birsael owners tried to enslave the Noit to work in them, but they only broke the machines and ran amok.”
“So they were probably humans, possessed by Dohan?” I guessed, steering us back on track before Chance pursued the idea of that goblin creature working an assembly line. I sympathized; I was intrigued too.
Pondering, I remembered that Greydusk had said Maury was Birsael, of the Bargainer caste. Coupled with this new information about factory ownership, did that mean he came from the merchant class? And perhaps, despite parental objections, he’d run away from home to lead a more glamorous life. Despite myself, I smiled at the irony. Some things were constant, even between disparate species.
“I suspect so. They would have taken her to the nearest natural nexus.”
I nodded. “To draw me here.”
“Precisely so.”
“At least we have a place to start,” Chance put in. “If the Dohan took Shannon, you can check into their holdings, places they’d hide a hostage.”
I flashed him a grateful look, glad that his methodical mind was still ticking over the angles. He’d always been good at that.
“That presumes they still have her,” Greydusk replied.
Toying with my drink, I asked, “Why wouldn’t they?”
“I wonder if when they moved her, it was more along the lines of a trade.”
“Someone else has her now?” Chance asked.
“Perhaps. The lead that I ran down this evening suggests as much. If the Dohan took Shannon, they received a better offer today and handed her off.”
“To whom?” Panic clutched at me with spidery fingers.
Greydusk looked grave. “The Hazo.”
That struck me as a worst-case scenario. Their knight had reason to hate me more than most. Caim was nursing a grudge, and now he had my best friend. Squaring my shoulders, I told myself, You beat him once. You can do it again.
But this is his home ground. I recognized the voice, so smooth and seductive. The demon queen had found a way to get her thoughts outside the mental prison I’d built for her. Free me, so I may raze your enemies. We are one, Binder. The Knights of Sheol have been permitted too much freedom for too long. They grow impetuous and insolent. They need a queen.