Imp Forsaken (Imp Book 5) (21 page)

I swallowed, wondering how I was going to explain this to Wyatt. “It’s a demon. Remember that breeding petition I showed you? The one from Ahriman?”

“Your top contender? Yeah. Gregory didn’t approve. Not that it mattered. You said you weren’t going to accept any of them.”

“Well, as they say in the mafia movies, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Wyatt was silent for a moment. “Did he threaten you? Us? Your household?”

“All of the above. I figured I’d have time to weasel out of it, but then everything happened in Alaska and Washington. Now I’m here in Hel, and there’s not much I can do but make the best of a bad situation.”

“Can Gregory…?”

“No!” I panicked, just thinking of his reaction. “Don’t let him know. There’s nothing he can do, and I don’t want him to worry.”

“I’ll never see you again, will I?” His pain came through the mirror like a tangible thing.

“I’ll be allowed some physical freedom, and regular visits through the gates. It won’t be much, and I’ll understand if you don’t want—”

“Stop it. Don’t even think that. I know we had our rough spots, but there isn’t a day I don’t regret not making things right between us—especially after I thought you’d died. I love you. I’ll always be here for you. That’s all you need to know.”

I couldn’t see from the tears in my eyes. “Wyatt, I have a horrible choice. Ahriman has forbidden me from interfering with the elves. If I do and he finds out, I’ll not leave his dungeon for a thousand years—maybe longer. If I don’t interfere, innocents will suffer and die. Low demons, the most vulnerable among us, will be dissected, and no one will care. The humans will be tortured and played with, killed when they are too broken to serve.”

“It seems like you’ve made your choice, Sam.”

I thought he’d be sad, but underneath his sorrow, he sounded proud. I didn’t want him to sound proud. I wanted him to beg me not to do it, not to risk myself on this fool’s mission. I’d already sacrificed enough. Let someone else step up to the plate.

“I don’t want to,” I whispered. “I’m afraid of what Ahriman will do to me.”

“So, you’ll just be a good little consort, obey the powerful demon and defer to him on all things? How long do you think that’s going to last?”

I winced. I was an imp. “Probably about three days, if I’m lucky.”

“Yeah. And even if you do manage to stay on his good side, how long do you think it would be before Gregory found out?”

I looked down at the black smudge on the underside of my arm with a sick feeling. “The moment he saw me, he’d know.”

“How will you feel when you’re under Ahriman’s thumb, watching Lows systematically killed, humans tortured and tossed to the side? What happens to your household when Gregory grabs you on your first visit and refuses to allow you to return?”

I was damned either way. There were no good choices.

“Make the choice that will let you sleep at night, Sam. Make the choice that will console you when it’s your darkest night.”

I heard his unsaid words—make the choice that would make him proud, that would make Gregory proud. And work my ass off to make sure Ahriman never found out I’d disobeyed him.

“I may never see you again, Wyatt.”

There was a few seconds of silence. “You will. I know you will. Before the end of the year, you’ll be jogging with Candy, mixing it up with those angels, naked with me on a blanket in front of a roaring fire. Oh, the things I intend to do to you.”

Now this was a far more promising conversation. The dark clouds around my heart lifted somewhat. “Please tell me about these things you intend to do to me while we’re naked on a blanket,” I teased.

“First, I’ll take off your clothes, slowly easing them down and kissing every square inch of your skin as I go.”

“Mmm, do I get to take your clothes off too?”

“Only when I’m done. I want my hands and mouth on every inch of you.”

I smiled, touching the mirror as if I could reach through it to him. “Me too. I’ll drink vodka shots from your belly button. Find something delectable to lick off your cock.”

“No hot sauce,” he interjected.

I laughed. That had been rather disastrous. Poor Wyatt. “Chocolate?”

“Whipped cream, honey, strawberry sauce.” I could hear the heat in his voice.

“With a cherry on top?”

“With you on top.”

Top was my favorite spot. “I love you, Wyatt. I’ll call you every night, and if there comes a time when I don’t call, know that I’m thinking about you.”

“It will be okay, Sam. And I love you, too.”

I turned away from my mirror, hoping that Wyatt was right. I’d made my choice, but I still had to talk to Dar and Leethu, to make sure my household was safe no matter what went down.

“I have two weeks,” I told the pair of them after finding them squabbling over who could insert a chair leg furthest into another demon’s ass. “Two weeks to do this thing with Feille and report to Ahriman.”

Dar caught his breath, and Leethu’s lovely eyes widened in alarm.

“Forget about the elves, Mal,” Dar urged. “You need to focus all your attention on regaining your strength and lost skills. What if he wants thing’s you’ve lost? You need to make sure he’s happy with the bargain he made. Let the elves deal with their own shit.”

“I can’t forget about it. I nearly died trying to escape these guys. I know what Feille plans to do, and I’m not going to let him go through with it. Too many demons and humans will die if he does.”

Leethu tilted her head, looking oddly bird-like in spite of her tiny scales. “Is Ahriman in favor of this? We need to have his approval before going forward.”

I didn’t blame either of them. Ahriman was powerful, and all of our futures depended on retaining his favor. I hesitated, realizing that it wasn’t just me I was risking, it was my whole household. So I carefully skirted the truth. “Are you kidding? An elf assassination and a chance to kill a bunch more elves? It’s a dream come true.”

Dar raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. I saw him waiver, torn between his love of a good fight and fear that we’d wind up worse than dead at Ahriman’s hands. I knew he was dying to get in some action. Like me, he’d always enjoyed messing with the elves. “How many of his household is he sending along?” he asked, his voice full of suspicion.

I squirmed. I was a terrible liar, and I didn’t want to get my household in trouble. Technically, our contract didn’t take effect for two weeks, and I fully intended to be back at Ahriman’s door on time. Hopefully he’d never know. If he did, I was counting on my taking the heat since he’d agreed any transgressions from my household would fall on my shoulders. Even with our contract, I planned to make sure all of them were far away for the next thousand years.

“I’ll coordinate with Ahriman’s household,” I lied. “Can one of you approach Taullian and arrange a meeting? I’m sure he’s pissed about my rescue, so we’ll need to assure him that we still want to fight under re-negotiated terms.”

“I’ll do it,” Dar chimed in. “Leethu is still on his shit list. Not that he likes me any better, but at least I’m not suspected of fucking elves and knocking them up.”

“Just the one,” the succubus protested. “Although I have gotten to third base with quite a few.”

It’s a wonder Leethu was still alive. If she was so good at tempting the stoic elves to sin, then she might be able to do the same with angels. I eyed her, thinking I needed to get her alone and see if she could give me some pointers. I’d happily take third base with Gregory. For the time being, anyway.

“I also need one of you to go to Eresh to find a sorcerer. His name is Gareth. He’s one of Feille’s runaways, and he’s somehow managed to carve out a place for himself among us.”

Dar blinked in surprise. “Gareth? He’s in Dis. That’s who Ahriman got the elf buttons from. He’s been selling magic items and scrolls to the demons. Got quite a nice little setup.”

“I’ll go,” Leethu announced. “Do you want a meeting with him, or to purchase something in particular?”

“A meeting. I’d go myself, but I’m limited to this human form and it would take me precious days to get to Dis. Can you have him come here in the next day or so?”

Leethu nodded and I turned to the rest of my household. They’d begun smashing various bits of furniture over each other’s heads, some jumping on top of others and choking them. It was like a pay-per-view wrestling free-for-all.

“Hey! Everyone! Pay attention!”

“We’re going to continue celebrating in just a few minutes but first I want to let you all know of an upcoming opportunity to go to battle.”

The demons looked at me blankly, a few of them whispering to each other. Demons hadn’t fought together in an organized group since the wars two-and-a-half-million years ago. I had a sinking feeling they’d become incapable of any kind of organized, team activity. That’s okay. There were other ways to fight.

“We’re gonna go kill some elves,” I said, with a fist pump. The room erupted into cheers.

“This is completely optional. There’s a good bit of danger involved and a chance that you might not make it out alive. If you don’t want to take the risk, it’s fine. You can stay home.”

I faced thirty-seven perplexed faces. Demons love to fight, gladly risking their lives for a good brawl. We were always aware that every moment could be our last, but self-preservation was at the bottom of our priority list.

“There will be some elves we can’t kill.” Groans of disappointment from everyone. “But they’ll be easily identifiable. I’ll let you know—a color or possibly an item they have. Those elves are off limits, but others are fair game.”

The demons cheered again, and I tried to think of a way I could structure this to limit civilian casualties and keep it from turning into a sea of carnage—demons don’t always know when to stop.

“Rules.” More groans. “There will be a certain area where killing is allowed, and a time limit. Stay within the rules of time, killing area, and allowed targets, and the demon with the most kills gets a prize. Break the rules, and face the punishment of my choice.”

There was some grumbling, but it was respectful. Everyone knew how creative I could be in my punishments. More than one demon had been sentenced to spend a week in the muddy swamps, living off bitey fish and rushes while being mercilessly stung and bitten by various insects. The swamps were my favorite place, but few demons shared my love of muck.

“What prize? What prize?” one of the demons squeaked in excitement. I looked and saw it was the little Low I’d taken in after killing Haagenti, the one who couldn’t do much more than change colors. I hoped he stayed behind. I didn’t want to see him dead. I didn’t want to see any of them dead, but for demons, this war would be an especial treat.

I ran though my inventory in my head, trying to find something suitable. “Scroll of invisibility.”

Again the room erupted into cheers, demons bouncing up and down, smacking each other with any available furniture.

“Wow, I want that,” Dar said.

I laughed. “You’ve probably got four of your own already. You’ve got more shit than any demon I know. Plus it’s a bit unfair. You’re the best fighter in a hundred miles.”

Dar puffed out his furry chest in pride. It wasn’t idle flattery—he was the best fighter I knew. Sneaky and strong, with a great sense of strategy. I had no idea why he stuck with me for all these centuries. He could have probably amounted to so much more on his own.

“So, who’s with me?” I asked.

Dar and Leethu shot up their hands, and the room was filled with waving limbs. There was no turning back now. I only hoped I could do what I needed to while keeping them all safe.

18

G
abriel stood on the bridge overlooking the Chicago River, car-clogged streets flanked on both sides by walls of skyscrapers. A promenade full of joggers hugged the riverside below him, the only thing of nature besides the sluggish green-brown water. The river seemed subdued as it made its circuitous route past the buildings on its way to Lake Michigan, but Gabriel knew better. Water. It was persistent, flexible but strong. Given enough time, it would break any opponent, breach all attempts at containment. It was the only thing that made this oppressive city of humans bearable.

“My Sovereign.”

A figure knelt on one knee before him, golden-brown hair sliding across her bent shoulders to curtain her downturned face.

“Rise, Asta, lest the humans wonder why you are on your knees in the middle of a walkway.”

She jumped to her feet, golden skin nearly hiding the blush that flushed her cheeks. In her enthusiasm, the angel had clearly forgotten she was fully visible while Gabriel was not.
At least she’d had the presence of mind to hide her wings
, he thought as he glanced at them, visible to his eyes—an intricate pattern of shades of brown, the long flight feathers startling white in contrast.

“Sorry. So sorry,” she stuttered breathlessly. “I haven’t seen you in almost a century, Ancient One, and I forgot myself in my excitement.”

She
was
excited, the white of her wings twitching against the pavement, her eyes, the same color as her hair, lifted to his in respect. A century was nothing to an angel, but time always seemed to slow when one was among the humans. Gabriel could understand her joy in seeing him, the head of her choir. It must have felt like an eternity since she had been in Aaru.

“Asta, you have been Grigori for nearly two centuries now. I have some questions to ask you, and a task to request of you, but I must first know if your loyalty is primarily with me, or with my brother?”

She caught her breath, her eyes wide. “With you, Ancient One. As always.”

Gabriel couldn’t help a rare smile. Her voice rang with truth, her aura a clean, shining white. Asta was one of the youngest angels, created barely before the wars began. It wasn’t unheard of for angels to petition to change choirs, to shift their allegiance to another. Knowing that she’d remained one of his even after reporting to his brother filled his heart with gladness. Loyalty was a highly prized virtue.

“Then what can you tell me about Vaol’s murder? I was informed you found the body.”