Dark Gods Rising (27 page)

Athos glared at his father, barring serrated teeth. “He is a mixed breed, a cur child from a defective mother. I hear his brother, one of your castoff sons, is just as bad.” Athos stared at Sulya, as if challenging her to say something.

At first Phrandex thought the insult would go unanswered, but in a red blur of motion, Sulya hurled her battle-ax at Athos’s head.

Athos’s eyes narrowed, and his upper lip curled with contempt while he watched the ax fly toward him. He gestured, and the ax dissolved into vapor three feet from his nose. Athos gave Sulya a contemptuous smile, but his eyes blazed fury.

“You would dare attack your god,” he said, low voiced. A new ball of crackling energy formed between his horns.

“I have only one god,” Sulya snapped. “He is far grander than you can ever hope to be.”

“You have death,” Athos said. He gestured. The ball of energy dancing between his horns crackled and shot toward Sulya. Sulya started to stumble back but was stopped by Zorce’s grip on her arm. When the energy reached them it fizzled into harmless sparks.

Disappointed, Phrandex frowned. He would have been glad to be rid of his mother.

“Have a care, seedling,” Zorce admonished his son. “Sulya is my most prized possession. In fact, she’s currently doing better than you at furthering my plans. She practically delivered Anithia and her daughter to your door, but you bungled their capture without even an apology. Worse, even after we spoke on the matter, you took less than adequate care of the hook, one of our most potent tools, my gift to you as a sign of trust.” Zorce’s smile seemed almost friendly, but foam spilled from his lips. “Now I find you not only let the hook slip into the hands of a lousy fucking spawn, you allowed the spawn to escape. On top of that, you have kept two devils in the nursery during a time when they should have been preparing for the invasion, one of them my son and your brother, all because you feel petty? These games might have been acceptable in the past but not now. Tell me, how many more of my subjects aren’t allowed to grow because you value your pride more than your position in Hell?”

The air around Zorce seemed to fill with a hot, prickly, suffocating power. Phrandex wanted to cringe but didn’t wish to appear weak. Besides, Berferd still stood his ground, and he was much closer to the action. In fact, Berferd didn’t look like he was having any trouble being near the center of attention, a strange thing considering Athos had a reputation for killing off siblings who pissed him off.

Throwing his head back, Zorce screamed his rage into the cavernous hall. Solid rock trembled, split, and crumbled, making Phrandex fall when he lost his hold on the pillar. Around him, hundreds of other hellborn dropped to their knees. Delicious fear tingled in Phrandex’s veins when he pulled himself erect. Zorce’s black skin boiled and rippled like lava. The dark god’s muscles bulged, popping with the strength of his fury. Holding tight to his delicate courage, Phrandex climbed back on his now insecure pillar.

Athos didn’t appear affected in the least by Zorce’s display. Phrandex knew the lesser god dared not show fear to his father or to any of his subjects or slaves. Any weakness on his part would put his position in jeopardy from devils like Belsac or Mercktos, who were almost his equal.

Zorce quieted, smiled, and stepped down from his chariot. Looking toward his mother, Phrandex saw she also remained unaffected by Zorce’s rage; irritating woman.

“You are out of time,” Zorce told his offspring.

Zorce walked toward Athos. The underworld shuddered with each step. Castoff diamonds and solid rock exploded beneath his heavy tread. Stopping in front of his son, Zorce stood a head taller, exuding an aura twice as evil. Casually picking up the lesser god by his neck, Zorce shook Athos like he was a recalcitrant hellhound. Even so, Athos refused to yield. His face, petulant and angry, turned a unique shade of purple.

“You have tried my patience for the last time,” Zorce growled, giving his son’s neck a hard squeeze. Phrandex heard tendons pop.

Zorce contemptuously tossed Athos to the floor and strode forward to strike Belthethsia with the back of his hand. Bending beneath the blow, her body sailed six feet backward before she hit the ground in a loose heap. Left behind, the singer, still in a huddled mass on the ground, looked up into Zorce’s horrible face and whimpered. He grabbed her.

The woman tried to pull away. She whimpered again when his grip visibly tightened. “Please— please let me go. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll sing any song. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Can you turn back time?” Zorce demanded. “Can you remove your gifts from the spawn?”

“I-I can’t.” The woman hung her head and silently cried. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Zorce tilted her chin up with an inexorable finger. He gave her a gentle smile. “Of course I’ll hurt you.” He struck her with a casual flick of his hand. She fell to the floor and lay unmoving, though Phrandex saw she still breathed. Better yet, he smelled her blood on the cavern floor.

Effortlessly lifting the singer, Zorce gestured toward his general. “Sulya.”

As if by magic, Phrandex’s mother stood by her god’s side. Taking the woman from him, she threw the singer over her shoulder.

Zorce turned to Belthethsia. Panting, she knelt on one knee, having enough sense not to rise. Fresh blood dripped from a wound in her head, staining her dark green hair black. Her wound closed slowly, until it was gone.

“And you.” Zorce did not look as unhappy with her as with his son, but he was obviously angry. “The singer has displeased me by aiding the spawn. She is now mine. You will go to the surface and join the search. If you value that blue skinned body of yours, I suggest you don’t come back empty handed.”

Sulya smiled wicked glee at the sight of her most hated foe’s humiliation. Phrandex suspected the look on his mother’s face didn’t bode well for the succubus. Any time Sulya looked devious, she had something unpleasant planned.

“As you wish, my god and father,” Belthethsia said.

When Athos growled low and deep, Zorce smiled. Phrandex shook his head at Belthethsia’s stupidity. It was a mistake to try and serve more than one god, and she had just declared Zorce her second master. Her blue skinned ass was in deep trouble now.

Zorce walked back to his chariot. His hellhounds snapped and clacked their teeth together while eying the unconscious Maggie hungrily.

“Turd, you have my permission to leave Hell and search for the spawn,” Zorce said to Berferd.

Berferd scowled. “My name’s Berferd.”

Stopping, Zorce turned his head to glare at Phrandex’s brother.

“But turd is fine,” Berferd hurriedly said.

Sulya’s smile oozed wicked pride when she looked at Berferd. With the human still draped over her shoulder, she stepped onto Zorce’s chariot.

Pulling his whip from his belt, Zorce snapped it in the air above his hound’s heads. They leapt forward, snarling and snapping at the air. The god did not spare a glance to his shamed son as he rode away.

Disappointed, Phrandex sighed. Nobody had died. He almost climbed down from his vantage point, but stopped when he saw Berferd try to leave. Athos stood before Phrandex’s half-brother like an angry dark cloud. His bone white skin pulsed with lines of grey.

“You will not claim my realm, turd. I’ll find the escaped spawn and regain my father’s blessings.” He turned his head slowly to take in the crowd. “Do you hear! The spawn will be found! Every one of you will search. None will reenter Hell until the spawn is returned to me. I’ll flay and spit any being who tries to give the spawn to my father.”

“I’ll find the spawn,” Berferd insisted. “I’ll give it to Zorce.”

Athos nodded. “Goodbye, turd.”

Energy shot from his horns. Berferd exploded.

Phrandex waited until the god turned and disappeared into a tunnel before wiping gore off his face.

“Disgusting,” he heard an older demon say as it licked a bit of Berferd from its chin. “Why does Athos always have to explode them when he’s pissed? Wastes good food.”

Phrandex climbed down his pillar and started to leave when he found his way blocked by Belthethsia. She wore a curious smile on her face, one which made Phrandex acutely aware neither of them wore clothes. She stepped closer. He stepped back. She stepped closer. He tripped and landed on his butt.

“Your brother is dead.”

“Half-brother,” Phrandex corrected. “We have different fathers. I never liked him much.”

The succubus’s smile widened. “I have a proposition.”

Phrandex thought about getting up, but staring into her big beautiful eyes and looking at her big beautiful dusky-blue breasts made him not want to lose his vantage point. Things definitely looked better from where he sat.

“I want to gain
one
of the gods’s favor— I don’t care which— and so do you.” The succubus walked closer. Standing directly before him, she planted her feet on either side of his legs.

Phrandex had the terrible urge to lean forward and run his tongue along the inside of her thigh, but he resisted. The succubus was trying to seduce him, her own half-brother, and that would not do. The last thing he needed was another woman giving him orders.

“If you help me,” the succubus said, wrapping her hand around one of his horns and gently stroking it. “I’ll help you. All you have to do is tell me what your mother knows.”

Phrandex shuddered. Belthethsia’s voice caressed like sweet blood being rubbed all over his body. He tingled, and things down below started to react. In sheer panic he scrabbled backward and staggered to his feet, determined she wouldn’t use him in her games. Besides, he was still a young devil, relatively powerless when compared to most of those around them. Nothing he could do would give her an advantage so she spun lies for something else— something harmful to his mother. Not a bad idea, in itself, but he doubted Belthethsia’s plan included the possibility of Phrandex continuing to breathe.

“No, I’m leaving here of my own accord and of my own free will. Besides, the last thing I need or want is to be caught between you and my mother. That
is
a fate worse than Hell.”

Brushing himself off, Phrandex turned to leave. He wouldn’t venture out into the world on his own until he completed the unnamed chore his mother wanted to saddle him with. Afterward, before his leave-taking, he would make sure his nanny was still armed and capable of caring for the children. After all, an armless ninny wouldn’t survive long now that the children were teething and Berferd was dead.

Chapter 14
—
Thief’s Trap

Selnac crouched in the pristine alleyway and watched his partner’s glowing jade green hook slice through the building’s mortar like it was soft cheese. Jolson’s lines were perfectly straight and exactly square. When the first cut was finished Jolson twisted his hand so the buried hook’s point turned inward to catch upon the center of a block. He drew his arm back, and the block slid out of the wall. Moving forward, Selnac grasped the square section and moved it out of the way while Jolson’s hook plunged through the wall once more. Inside the building, guard dogs growled.

“One more of those and we can crawl in,” Selnac whispered.

“I won’t crawl,” Jolson replied, “not anymore.” He pulled another block out.

Selnac continued accepting and moving blocks until the hole became large enough for them to walk through without crouching or twisting to the side.

After setting aside the last block, he straightened, coughed twice, and wiped a small spot of blood from the corner of his mouth while wondering how much longer he could live this life. Though he was not yet old, he was no longer young. Some of his limberness was gone, and his muscles were no longer resilient. Age and illness had crept up on him, and this meant he was no longer as good a thief as he had once been when he taught Harlo, Simta, and Glace the trade. Of late matters had become so bad he had actually considered asking Glace or Del to take on his duties for Mother Brood. He would eventually have to ask, but Jolson’s advent meant the time was further off and besides, Glace still needed convincing along those lines.

Selnac coughed once more and grinned at his new partner’s back. This job was easy money, and it was all because he had taken pity on the hellspawn’s attempt to feed and clothe itself. He had originally thought Jolson would be dull-minded and easily biddable like all spawn, but this was not the case. Jolson’s mind had frequently proven to be sharp, but he lacked the experience to go with it. The spawn had only the vaguest idea of how to make his way in the world, and this vagueness had slowly starved him until Selnac’s pity bid him to take Jolson under his wing. It hadn’t been an easy decision. The spawn was an uncomfortable being to be around. Its soul was dark, and so far as Selnac could tell, it possessed nothing resembling a conscience, but he was willing to chance Jolson’s presence if the spawn made jobs this easy.

Once inside, Selnac followed Jolson into the jeweler’s back room. He drew his knife when Jolson cracked open the connecting door, but the knife proved to be unneeded. Mouths agape and foaming, two growling hounds pushed the door further open. When they saw Jolson, they stopped. Their mouths closed. Their tails drooped, and they cringed upon the floor.

Contemptuously kicking them out of the way, Jolson led Selnac into the showroom. Their bodies low to the floor, the dogs followed, crowding as close to Selnac’s legs as they could.

Selnac glanced down at the dogs, shrugged, put his knife away, and studied the room. He liked what he saw. Half a dozen filled jewelry cases sat on the floor, but those cases and the jewelry they held didn’t fill his interest.

He looked to Jolson. “Diamonds are worth more, but take the rubies because they’re easiest to fence.”

Apparently uncomprehending, Jolson shook his head. “What are diamonds? What are rubies?”

Selnac gestured. “Diamonds are the clear stones over there. Sapphires are blue and emeralds are green. You won’t find many of those last two here, and that’s just as well. They’re too rare and too expensive to suit our needs. Rubies are red. You’ll see them set in rings and necklaces and other things. Take the finished pieces if you must, but I’d rather you looked for loose stones, and let’s not take more than a couple dozen. Jalem has done us no harm. I see no reason to ruin her.”

“Why not?” Jolson asked.

“I own an overdeveloped conscience for a thief,” Selnac answered. “I steal because I’ve lives to care for. I don’t steal to cause other people lasting harm.”

Jolson peered into a case containing diamond bracelets and grunted. “These clear stones can be traded for the coins that purchase food? If I had known this I would have brought a sack of them with me. Hell’s roads are paved with these— diamonds?”

“Diamonds,” Selnac agreed. “Leave them alone.”

Since the store was not large, its stock wasn’t extensive. The nineteen loose rubies they found in a small drawer were all the store’s owner possessed. Most of the stones were small, but three were a respectable size. Selnac poured half of them into his belt pouch. Jolson grabbed the pouch and spilled in the rest before handing it back. Frowning, Selnac led the way to the hole Jolson’s hook had created. The dogs followed on his heels all the while, casting nervous looks at Jolson. Selnac pushed them back into the main showroom, but they crowded back in on him, refusing to leave his protection until Jolson walked up and kicked each dog in the side.

With the dogs contained, Selnac closed the connecting door and led the way outside. Once there, he bent and picked up a block.

“What are you doing?” Jolson demanded.

“This place will be stripped bare before morning if we leave it open,” Selnac explained. “I want to put the blocks back in so the wall at least looks solid.”

Jolson’s hook glowed briefly. He idly cut a deep groove into the wall. “Why should I care?”

Selnac breathed a heavy sigh. “If the woman stays in business we can burgle her several more times before she packs up and leaves.”

Shrugging, Jolson held out his hand. “Give me the block.”

Selnac handed it to him. Using one hand, Jolson handled the heavy block with an ease belying his thin frame. After he set the block in place, Selnac handed him another. When the last section was in position, Jolson’s hook glowed once more. He slid the hook into the small cracks separating the blocks, ran it the length of every seam, and pulled his hook free. The wall before Selnac appeared whole, complete and flawless.

“Handy,” Selnac said, rubbing at the strained muscles in his arms. Jolson didn’t reply.

In the distance, a faint howl sounded in the still night air. Jolson jerked, and his elbow connected with Selnac’s chest. The blow wasn’t hard, but it staggered Selnac, stealing away his breath. His chest grew tight— too tight— before it relaxed.

“Krastos hunts,” Jolson said.

Pulling himself together, Selnac rubbed at his chest. “Lots of things hunt at night. We hunted rubies, and now we’re hunting for a fence. It’s best we do it quickly. A job like this will raise a stink in the morning so a fence will offer us only five to seven percent instead of the usual ten if we wait too long. Problem is my regular contact is a fat slug who goes to bed early and doesn’t wake up before noon. Means I’ll have to use Mathew Changer, and I don’t like doing that.”

Jolson nodded. “I’ve seen these transactions before. I’ll take you to the tavern.”

Selnac coughed and tasted blood. Maybe he should see a physic, but physics cost money, and he had people who needed rugdles more than he did.

* * * *

When they pushed past the doors of the Hellhole Tavern, Selnac and Jolson found it filled to capacity. Selnac knew four of the patrons by name and recognized a few others, but the rest appeared to be strangers. Three drunks, apparently stripped of their goods, lay piled in the center of the floor. Near the bar, Tessla, Trelsar’s Assassin, calmly sucked cirweed smoke from her long stem pipe. Mathew, the half-were fence, drug lord, and sometime assassin, sat at the rough-hewn bar. Although his features were furred and wolfish, his hands and arms remained human. Nobody stood near him.

The crowd shifted, opening a momentary lane, and Selnac saw pooled blood near Mathew’s feet.

At least half a dozen people served drinks from behind the bar, but no money changed hands. The dark miasma which constantly filled the tavern felt like a heavy blanket threatening to press him into the floor.

Selnac shook his head and pushed the feeling away. The Hellhole depressed him, but many of his acquaintances loved the place.

Oblivious, Jolson pushed through the crowd and worked his way to the bar. Once there, he moved to stand beside the half-were, not seeming to mind that he stood on the splattered edge of the spilled blood.

“Idiot,” Selnac muttered, but he wormed through the crowd to reach the bar so he could stand beside his new partner. Mathew, the half-were, glanced at him before turning his attention back to Jolson.

A dull pain clenched Selnac’s chest. Clutching at the bar’s front rail, he tried to breathe. After a few uncomfortable moments, the pain dissipated and faded away. Worms, he thought, knowing the thought for a lie.

“The smell of sulfur and brimstone,” the half-were mused to Jolson, “but more. You smell of dung, cedar, and dog. You smell of granite. You even smell a little human.” Its mouth opened in a wolfish grin. “You are hunted, but the hunter searches for a scent purely from Hell. Only luck will lead Krastos to you this night.” Its grin grew wider. “Don’t leave before I’ve placed a few bets. Most odd makers believe you’ll be dead before dawn.”

Mathew chuckled a series of short barks before changing the direction of his yellow-eyed stare. “Hello, Selnac. Have you finally brought me something interesting?”

Two wooden cups plopped down on the bar before them.

“Drink up,” said Glace. “Everything is free tonight.”

“Carrid won’t be happy,” Selnac observed. As a rule, when Carrid became unhappy people tended to break.

The liquid in his cup was amber hued so it had to be one of Carrid’s rare purchases instead of the piss ale he normally brewed. Selnac picked up his wooden cup, swirled the liquid within, tried a careful sip, and almost gasped with pleasure. This was the first time he could remember actually enjoying a drink in the tavern, but it was also the first time he’d tasted something Carrid hadn’t brewed. The state of Carrid’s mood suddenly seemed less important.

“He won’t care,” Glace said, pointing at the pool of dark blood. “Krastos came up from Hell to fetch your friend. When the demon discovered Carrid had allowed the spawn to walk out his door, he wasn’t too happy, and since it was hungry...” He laughed. “For a little fellow, the thing could sure eat. We didn’t have to toss but half of Carrid down the Hell hole. Drinks have been free ever since. Lots of people have been popping in and out for the last couple hours.”

He pointed to the drunks lying on the floor. “We even had a few respectables stop by, but I doubt they‘ll return. Getting beat up and rolled tends to make respectables nervous.”

“Cute though,” a street whore piped in. “The little fellow was sure cute.”

“Who’s Krastos?” Selnac asked, remembering Jolson speaking the name.

“A minor demon,” Mathew answered. “He’s been up to collect escaped spawn several times before.”

Frowning, Glace carefully studied Selnac. “You don’t look so good, my friend. You need to stop giving most of your money to Mother Brood. Use a little of it to see a physic.”

“Them kids she takes in have to eat,” Selnac replied. “The money has to come from somewhere.”

“Well, she ain’t getting any more from me. From now on, what I steal belongs in my pockets and no place else.” Glace looked to the half-were. “Mathew, do you want another?”

“Later,” Mathew answered. “I believe I’m about to do business.”

“I’ll just drop a bottle down here. Fill up when you feel the need.”

Appearing concerned, Jolson rubbed the toe of his shoe in the congealing blood. “I have to leave Yylse. I don’t know of anyplace else to go.”

“Try Grace,” Mathew suggested. “Most anybody can get lost in the king’s city. That place is huge, and nobody pays much attention to anything there except whether the king will ever produce an heir.”

“I’ve rubies for you,” Selnac broke in. “Mostly common baubles but a couple are interesting.” Fishing the pouch out of his front pocket, he opened its draw and spilled its contents into Mathew’s outstretched palm. After dumping the jewels on the bar, Mathew did a quick sort. When he finished, six rubies, including the three largest, sat in a separate pile. He gestured at the bigger group.

“Those are mostly junk. They’ll retail for about seventy rugdles. I’ll give you seven for the lot. The others,” he pointed a finger at the smaller pile, “are worth more. The best one is the little fellow. Altogether, I’ll give you three hundred, and I won’t haggle.”

“Done,” Selnac said because he knew he would get less in the light of day. Besides, Mathew Changer had built a reputation upon his no haggle policy. It was one of the reasons Selnac so seldom used him. Mathew’s first offer was always his last. Sometimes, if you turned him down, you stopped breathing.

Showing no concern, Mathew opened his belt pouch, poured a shower of coins on the bar top, and sorted through them until he had separated out the correct amount. He put the remaining money back into the pouch and put the rubies in another. Selnac split the take, putting his half away before shoving the rest toward Jolson.

Del, a short, clean-cut young man who possessed the bad taste to be Tessla’s lover, separated out of the crowd and moved toward them. Though he stood small, Del’s chest was deep. His shoulders were broad, and he walked with the cocky confidence of a heavily muscled man.

“Better hide your take,” he warned Jolson. “Thief’s convention has it your money is safe in here, but there’s no need to tempt anybody.”

Ignoring Del, Jolson’s narrowed eyes focused on Selnac. Dark shadows swirled within them, and his hook held a faint sheen. “This is only half.”

Selnac nodded and tried not to look nervous. “Half. We’re partners so half goes to each of us.”

“If not for me, you would have nothing. I let us into the building. I subdued the dogs. I brought us to this fence so we could take his coins. Your only contribution was to limit how much we took.”

“Selnac always was a lousy thief,” Mathew supplied. “He has too much conscience and not enough common sense.”

“Leave Selnac alone,” Del broke in. “A lot of kids would be dead if it weren’t for him.” He looked to Jolson. “Selnac never cheated a partner in his life. If you have a problem with him, you better take it up with me.”

Shaking his head, Selnac set a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “This is my difficulty.” He coughed once more and wished the room were not so filled with Tessla’s cirweed smoke. The narcotics in it made his head spin.

“Yeah,” Del said. “Well, starving was once my problem, but you butted in anyway. Go ahead and do your talking. I’ll stand here and watch.”

“This,” said Mathew, “is becoming very entertaining.” He lifted his drink, swallowed half of it down, and parted his mouth in a wolfish grin. “Does anyone care to place a bet on the outcome?”

“Most of my money,” Selnac explained to Jolson, “goes to a woman named Mother Brood. She has nine children to feed, all of them orphans she’s taken off the streets. They’d be dead if it weren’t for her.”

“Children die,” Jolson said. “Their fate is not my concern. Living is my concern. I have learned I need money if I am to live. Most of the work was mine. So are most of the coins.” The swirling shadows in his eyes became darker. The evil aura constantly surrounding him grew thicker.

“I chose the mark,” Selnac reminded Jolson, “and I knew Mathew could be found here, so you can’t take credit for that, but you’re right about the rest of it. I couldn’t have made the hit without you so most of this is rightfully yours. I’ll give it to you, but if I do our partnership is broken. We’ll part ways, and you’ll have to make it on your own. It’s up to you to decide what’s in your best interest.”

Jolson held out his hand. “I no longer need—” His voice broke, and his hand fell when stillness overcame the tavern’s din. He stiffened. Turning his face slowly toward the outside door, Jolson shifted slightly.

A naked creature looking like a miniature sexless human stood in the doorway. The creature was so handsome it made Selnac’s senses reel. Looking innocent and winsome, he wanted to rush over and cuddle it in his arms. The waves of evil emanating off it, however, were so overwhelming they made Jolson’s aura pale in comparison.

With its golden eyes sparkling as it studied the tableau, the thing set one hand on its hip and cocked its head to the side. “Don’t stop the party for me. I only came to collect a package.”

“I’m glad I never had time to place those bets,” Mathew muttered.

Walking to the bar, the demon stood before them. It looked at Mathew’s wolf face and human body, and smiled a bright and innocent lie. “Interesting juxtaposition. Would you like to come home with me? I’ve a wall your pelt would look very good on.”

Mathew studied it with nervous eyes, but his face never lost its wolf grin. “No, but I know of a few people you might be interested in, only I’ll have to charge you certain procurement fees.”

“Enterprising and bold,” the demon noted. “Perhaps another time. I’ve a small task to attend to right now.” It looked at Selnac, and its golden eyes laughed. “You are a very sick man. Lungs, heart, the sickness is all through you. The inside of your body is rot. In a month you won’t be able to walk. In two you will be dead, and the dying will be very painful.”

“I won’t go back, Krastos,” Jolson told it. At his side, the hook glowed faintly.

“I’m not asking you to go back. All I want is Athos’s Hook. You can stay here so long as you are polite enough to die.”

Its hands blurred and became knives. Screeching, it leaped toward Jolson, and then it screeched again when Jolson’s swinging hook banged against its side. A stench unlike anything Selnac had ever smelled filled the room. Krastos cried like a broken child, but its crying didn’t stop it in its task. It landed against Jolson’s chest, knocked the hook away with one casual sweep of its arm, and poised its other knife hand over Jolson’s throat. Tears of pain ran down the demon’s face. Its left side was charred where Jolson’s hook had touched it. The charring bubbled, firmed, and the demon’s side became whole once more.

“Goodbye, spawn,” it gasped, only to scream again when Selnac plunged his temple blessed knife into the demon’s back. Heart thudding heavily with fear, Selnac pulled his blade free to stab it once more, but he was too slow.

Krastos released its hold on Jolson and fell to the floor. Quicksilver fast, it spun to face Selnac and leapt. Its knife hands jabbed out, struck, and the striking sent a fire through Selnac’s body he couldn’t believe. He gasped, gasped again when Krastos knifed him once more. Del held the little demon in the loop of his massive arms, black blood from the demon’s wound oozing over his sleeves. Swearing, Glace leaped over the bar and grasped one of the demon’s arms while Tessla blew out a cloud of cirweed smoke and casually looked on while her lover fought to contain the demon.

“Damn me for a fool,” Mathew growled when he grabbed the demon’s other arm, looking surprised at what he had done. Selnac stumbled back against the bar, weak, hurting, and watched while the three men struggled to control the single being.

Laughing, the demon threw back its head and howled gleefully. Its once innocent face twisted into lines which brought its evil into full view. Mathew and Glace were flung from side to side by the demon’s struggles to free itself. Del’s massive frame shook with the effort of holding Krastos. Del’s face, strained, turned red, and then Selnac heard the crackle of the demon’s breaking ribs, only the breaking seemed to give the demon more strength. Gasping for breath, Selnac tried to bring his knife up so he could stab Krastos once more, only his arm hung heavy at his side. His hand was empty, and his knees sagged. He looked on the floor for his knife but couldn’t see it. The world around him swayed. Dropping to his knees, he grasped desperately at a table’s edge to keep himself from falling to the floor.

“Kill it!” Del shouted to the motionless Jolson.

“I cannot,” Jolson replied. He raised his hook. “Athos’s will wards the demon. I can only give Krastos pain, and pain makes it stronger.”

“You can‘t kill me!” Krastos howled. Twisting its head around, it tried to latch its teeth into Del’s arm. Del dodged, and it missed its hold. “Hurt me! Make me strong!”

At those words, Tessla moved into Selnac’s view. Sucking thoughtfully on her pipe, she blew a cloud of smoke into the air. Stilling its struggles, Krastos appeared alarmed when Tessla pulled the pipe from her mouth to grasp it by the hot bowl.

“They can’t kill you,” she said, “but I can.”

She thrust the pipe’s stem through the center of the demon’s forehead. She studied her handiwork for a moment while Del continued to hold the suddenly still demon upright. Satisfied, Tessla pulled the pipe free and cleaned black blood from its stem. Finished, she carefully refilled the bowl with cirweed before looking at the stunned faces surrounding her.

“Trelsar gave me more weapons than just a sword.” She looked at Jolson. “My god doesn‘t want you to die.”

“Why not?” Jolson asked.

Releasing a narcotic smile, Tessla shrugged. Selnac easily recognized the emptiness in her eyes. The same emptiness resided Jolson. “Ask him sometime because I don’t know. All I know is you’re not the first spawn he’s wanted to save.” She placed the pipe’s stem between her lips and drew. “I’ve always appreciated the smoky flavor of a demon’s soul.”