Good Intentions 3: Personal Demons (48 page)

Even with the battle tilted her way, Azazel’s natural talents still made him dangerous. Perhaps it was time for her to rely on her own.

It wasn’t as if she had to be nice about it.

Lorelei dragged her talons back along Azazel’s scalp, drawing long red wounds in his skin. Her lips came close to his ear, hot with the threat of flame. “
Submit
,” she demanded.

The supernatural command sent a shudder through his body. She offered no hint of seduction, nor any chance of pleasure. The power of her crown made up for all that. Azazel struggled to block out her insistence.

Her enemy thrashed and strained against her. Lorelei focused her will, calling upon everything the crown had left to offer. She pushed it further. “
Submit
!”

Azazel let out a wail of despair. His crown dimmed.

Lorelei’s cracked. One iron spike tumbled from her head onto the floor.

“You can’t hold this realm,” Azazel protested, though with none of the defiance he’d shown before now. “Not after you emptied your own to seize it. You’ll lose them both!”

“Who said I intend to hold any realm at all?”

Azazel gasped with pain and desperation once more. “What do you want?”

“
Close the portal
,” Lorelei demanded.

Another iron spike fell from her head. She felt the grip of the crown slacken as its heat diminished. She didn’t care. Its power served a greater purpose. “
Close the portal and open another to Evelyn. Now!
”

Though he wailed and thrashed, Azazel reached out with one hand to the vortex looming above. The portal’s end came suddenly, yet without ceremony or a great display. Lorelei saw a flash at the center of the vortex of clouds, and then the spot became no more interesting than the rest. The swirling mists reaching down toward the staircase scattered and drifted away.

“And now Evelyn,” commanded Lorelei. “
Do it
!”

“My power is weak,” Azazel complained. “I can barely feel her presence…but I shall…I shall obey.”

A shimmering light appeared along the floor just outside his reach. It spread into a circle of radiance matching the glow of his crown, though the gold atop his head no longer shined with its former brilliance. Soon the portal stretched out to a few feet in diameter, then a little more.

Lorelei decided it would have to be good enough. She slammed Azazel’s face down into the floor again, dragging her talons through his flesh before pushing herself to her feet. Azazel didn’t move.

Her crown fell apart as she stood. Iron spikes and bits of the broken circlet at the crown’s base trickled from her head to the ground at her feet.

Mandah stood before her. Even with the unnaturally smooth, almost featureless shape of her face, anyone could have recognized her shock. Her black gaze held Lorelei’s. Only the sound of rushing footsteps and rasping breath nearby broke their stare.

Lorelei ran her fingers through her own hair as she turned to face the commotion. When her warriors burst through the entrance, they saw her standing with Mandah over her vanquished foe. The crown they saw atop her head looked every bit like the real thing.

“More enemies await in the mortal realm on the other side,” said Lorelei, pointing to the shimmering portal in the floor. “Go now! Slay every demon you find.”

They never doubted her for a second. The demons rushed for the portal, perhaps slightly more than a dozen in all. Already filled with bloodlust and the rush of victory, every one of them leapt into the portal with “Yes, mistress,” or Lorelei’s name on their lips.

That left Lorelei alone with Mandah and her defeated enemy once again.

“Yes. You are free,” Lorelei said in the face of Mandah’s unasked question. “This is how it feels.” Lorelei picked up a few shards from her crown. As she straightened once more, she stomped harshly on Azazel’s back. “If you are willing, I would ask one final task of you.”

The taller demon tilted her head in response. She no longer bowed or knelt. “What would you have me do?”

The story took only a couple of hours. At first Zafirah’s questions and active commentary frustrated the storyteller. Eventually, though, Alex understood the level of detail she wanted. He learned to accommodate. As much as he dearly wanted to get back home to Lorelei and his friends, he found himself able to entertain with the tale.

Alex had to concede Zafirah was charming. He enjoyed her company.

“Yusuf is not a demon,” corrected Zafirah as he concluded the long tale. “He is an ifrit—a kind of jinn, like myself, though the ifrit are generally unpleasant. Many live independently, but I believe Yusuf serves Moloch, another of Hell’s princes.”

“Ugh. Moloch is so gross,” Rachel added for Alex’s benefit. “He’s got all kinds of yellow boils and puss all over his body. And he drools.”

“Thanks for that image,” Alex grumbled. “So why did Yusuf back off from me?”

“As I said, your hands are stained with immortal blood. It is as plain to the jinn as the color of your hair. Yusuf may have thought you came for him, or he may have recognized the potential danger of tangling with you and saw no benefit. Even if he did not know who you are, the risk of the unknown is a powerful deterrent.

“The ghuls, by the way, are not zombies as you keep saying,” she went on. “They are a lesser type of jinn that inhabit the bodies of the dead. It was not always so. For a long time, the ghuls merely wandered the desert giving out bad directions to travelers.”

Alex blinked. “Wait, what?”

“It’s true,” said Zafirah. “I blame Western imperialism for the change. Such a bad influence on everyone.”

“Okay, focus,” said Rachel. “Storytime is over. Obviously we’re in a hurry. We’ve got people to help and fuckers to stomp. You can send us home, right?”

“I can, yes. Alex has paid his price. You have not.”

“What do you want?” Rachel asked, immediately wary.

“One day and one night of your service.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Rachel protested. “You know damn well I can’t promise that! You see what’s at stake here. We’re all on the same side.”

“Are we?” Zafirah asked, still calm but now a little less warm. “You have seen the suffering in this region. Do not let the nightclub and my good cheer deceive you. I am quite invested in the welfare of the people hurt by these wars. You ask me to expend great power to help you. What do I get in return?”

The angel’s jaw dropped. “When did you become a philanthropist?”

“When the bombs started falling. It is not all that I do. Sometimes I am here. Sometimes I am elsewhere. My life and pursuits do not go on hold for every mortal disaster, yet I am here, and I am involved. I have always been on the side of good, Rachel. You know this, or you would not have come to me.”

“Then why charge us payment?” asked Alex.

“Do not the doctors in your country require payment for their aid?” countered Zafirah. “Your firefighters and police don’t work for free, do they? I do not exist only to aid random heroes on their quests with no agenda of my own. I will gladly help Rachel in exchange for one day and one night of her service, at a date I shall name in the future.”

“You’re out of your fuckin’ mind, Z,” Rachel fumed. “You know I can’t do that.”

“She can send me home, though, right?” Alex pointed out. “You can catch up. Look how fast you got here. It’s only a few hours, isn’t it?”

“Lots of shit can happen in a few hours, especially when things are this fucked,” said Rachel. “Z, you gotta help me out here.”

“I am,” said Zafirah. “What you ask of me is no small thing. And in doing this, you put me in conflict with Azazel
and
Sammael. The danger does not deter me, yet what happens to those I look after if something happens to me? I sympathize, Rachel, but I need more for this than a warm feeling in my heart.”

Rachel vigorously rubbed her face as if trying to scrub away frustration. If that was her plan, it failed. “I can’t work for you, Z. I can’t cut deals with you. I’m an angel. It doesn’t work like that. Heaven—”

“
‘…needs to pull its dumb-fuck head out of its stupid, stubborn, goat-weasel ass?’”
Zafirah interrupted. “Isn’t that what you once said to me? Besides, aren’t you already compromising on all that by being here with Alex?”

“It’s not the same,” Rachel argued. “I didn’t choose to be bound to Alex. That choice was made for me, against my will. Obviously it worked out great in the end, but it’s not like I chose to go against Heaven’s will for it.”

“Except the part where you fell in love and jumped into bed with him.” She glanced to Alex with a smile. “My heart swelled at that part of your story. I like a good romance.”

Rachel’s retort caught in her mouth. “Okay, fine, there’s that. Whatever. Point being there’s a reason I get away with as much shit as I do when it comes to him.”

“Your bond is not the only reason,” Zafirah replied calmly. “Your transgressions gain results. How is this any different?”

“It is. Working for someone else—anyone other than Heaven—is different. It just is. Even if it’s only temp work.”

“What if I pay?” Alex spoke up. “For both of us?”

Zafirah turned to him with her bright smile creeping back into place. “Perhaps.”

“Aw, fucking hell,” Rachel groaned.

“You are not an angel, but…” Zafirah considered it. “Yes, Rachel. I think I might be satisfied if I can borrow Alex. Three days and three nights of his service should be fine. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to call in your debt.”

“Three? Wait a sec,” Alex objected hesitantly. “What do you want out of me?”

“Nothing evil. Nothing that would violate Heaven’s light or put Rachel in a bad spot. I am no evil spirit. But for three days and three nights, you will do my bidding. A mortal man of many skills, experienced with the supernatural, bound to an angel and under a mitigated succubus curse? Yes, I can think of uses for you.”

“Er…?” Subconsciously, Alex leaned back away from her in his seat.

Zafirah rolled her eyes. “Oh, I won’t demand
that
. Come now.” She paused, grinning more. “We’ll let that happen naturally. Clearly your lovers don’t mind.”

Rachel folded her arms across her chest almost forcefully. “Y’know what? This time, we actually might.”

“Then have we a bargain?”

Alex looked to Rachel. The angel fumed, glared, huffed, blew a lock of her blonde hair out of her face, and eventually nodded. “Okay,” said Alex. “Deal. How does this work?”

“Magic, of course,” Zafirah explained. “I have never been to Seattle, and thus I cannot send you there specifically. However, if you concentrate upon those you love, I can send you to their side. It sounds as if you have plenty of connections to guide you.” She rose with a welcoming gesture. “The spell itself will take almost no time at all. Best we do this on the roof, though. Such magic is much easier under the open sky.”

Alex and Rachel stood. He glanced to Rachel, who grumbled, “Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.” The angel followed Zafirah to the door with Alex close behind. Music and flashing lights washed into the room again as their hostess stepped out of the lounge.

In a single, swift move, a man in a black blazer slipped between Zafirah and her guests at the door and shoved Zafirah hard out onto the dance floor behind him. Though Rachel reflexively rushed forward, the attacker was still fast enough to plant one fist directly into her chest and send her flying back into the lounge. She struck the mirror that lined the wall above the couch with a loud crash.

Much like Rachel, Alex found his reactions came up short, too. He promptly reached over his shoulder to snatch the sword from its sheath along his back, moving to one side to get some room. The intruder took both legs out from under Alex with a low, sweeping kick. Then the intruder grabbed the door without looking and closed it behind himself. Ice quickly covered the doorknob under the attacker’s hand.

Alex recognized the attacker’s face despite the ugly scars that almost split both of his bloodshot eyes.

“So I’m having what you might call a relationship problem,” Sammael began. “Plenty of fish in the sea, as they say, but there’s always that
one
, you know? And we’ve been on and off again for ages. She used to
beg
me to stay with her, but there was always something in the way.”

Rather than listen to the rest, Alex tore the gladius from its sheath and swung for Sammael’s thigh. He didn’t get there. Sammael caught the sword in his right hand—letting the blade cut right into his flesh—and held it there. “Now here we are with all the old obstacles finally behind us,” he seethed. “No more work commitments, no need to hide anything from anyone. Boundless opportunities ahead…”

Sparing a glance toward Rachel, Alex saw the angel pick herself up off the floor—and the crater she’d left in the concrete wall behind the shattered mirror. Sammael seemed to notice his look, but he only smirked. “She can’t save you,” he said, interrupting his monologue for a matter-of-fact warning. “She needed four of her friends the other night just to keep me busy. And that was in Seattle. As it happens, an angel in dominion isn’t so strong when she’s not actually
in
her dominion.”

Alex yanked the blade free from Sammael’s hand, pulling more blood out with it. Drops fell across his legs and chest. The fallen archangel’s blood felt so cold it hurt, even through denim. Then Sammael pushed him to the floor with one foot on his chest, keeping Alex pinned. He wasn’t gentle about it, either.

“Anyway,” Sammael continued, “here we are, everything finally in place for things to work between us. Except, of course, that now she’s hung up on some stupid—”

Rachel swung the couch into his back hard enough to knock him over, freeing Alex from that powerful foot. The couch’s frame broke in half on impact, but she kept her grip on the flopping furniture, swinging her improvised weapon down on her enemy.

“Go!” she shouted at Alex.

He didn’t argue. Teamwork was more important here than gallantry. She couldn’t run until he did. Alex sprang up for the door, but promptly jerked his hand back from the doorknob before it froze to the metal. “Shit!” he hissed. He tugged the sleeve of his leather jacket over his hand to protect it before trying again.

“Is it stuck?” Rachel asked right before Sammael kicked her into a glass coffee table.

“I suppose I’ll cut straight to the point,” he sighed, crossing the room with murder in his scarred eyes. “I could say my problem is you, but that’s ridiculous. Just look at you.”

Alex backed up along the wall. Though he focused on Sammael, many of his previous lives had taught him to maintain his peripheral vision and to listen in a fight. He tracked his surroundings well. Alex only backed up to play for time. Rachel tore herself free from the wrecked table, but it wasn’t as if Sammael didn’t notice.

What he didn’t see was the way the doorknob now behind their enemy lost its covering of frost as it quickly turned red hot.

“No, the problem is that ritual bond keeping you together,” Sammael continued. “It’s clearly interfering with her judgment. She’ll get over you as soon as she’s no longer affected by that nonsense.” He laughed bitterly. “How could she want you over me?”

“I’m guessing it’s a problem with your personality,” Alex suggested.

The taller man flashed him a condescending smile, then swung a low, wide blow against Rachel as she lunged up at him. Alex moved at the same time, stabbing forward with his sword while Sammael bashed Rachel away once more. The sword barely cut him. Sammael effortlessly shoved Alex back.

“You had to know she’d be the death of you,” said Sammael.

“I keep hearing that and yet I’m still here,” Alex replied.

Sammael’s eyes flared. So did the bit of metal behind him. With a loud crack, the door flew open. Zafirah stepped in with the momentum of her forceful entry, wielding the entire red-hot doorknob assembly like a weapon. She struck Sammael across the face with it, searing his flesh and forcing him back from Alex. A second such blow bought them both a little more space. The disgraced angel staggered away, clutching a wound on his face that gave off a faint trail of smoke.

“Stupid fool of a jinn,” Sammael spat, pulling his hands away from his face. The burns left by the metal were already healing. “You don’t have the sense to run.”

“You do not understand hospitality,” said Zafirah over the loud music spilling into the room. “I would protect any guest, even from the likes of you.”

“Took you long enough,” grunted Rachel as she picked herself up off the floor.

“He turned two of my security people against me,” said Zafirah. “And mortal witnesses always dampen the power of magic.” Without looking, she waved a hand at the door. It swung shut and held as if it still had a latch.

Alex looked at the door, blinked, and said, “No, wait—”

She didn’t listen. With her hands now spread wide, Zafirah brought them together in a dramatic motion. Virtually everything in the room from furniture to debris flew up and slammed together around Sammael.

He stepped through it all like a ghost. Zafirah reached backward, producing a ball of flame in her hand out of thin air. In the heartbeat of time she needed to throw it, Sammael’s sword of ice grew from his own hand. He whipped it up in a simple, swift motion to block the little fireball, which fizzled out of existence as quickly as it appeared.