The Demon Beside Me (13 page)

“But if they’re at war, they’re leaving us alone.”

“Bullshit and wishful thinking,” I said. “We’re both high priority targets and you know it. If a real war kicks off between the Choir and Host, not one of us in this room will survive the first month. I think I’d be lucky to survive the first week.”

“Even discussing this is probably going to get you both in shit,” Tink said. “You know there are about a hundred imps and archons listening in on us here.”

“There are four,” War said. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be dozing off. Even so, his hand pointed at four different places in the room. “Two imps, and two archons. As this is a most momentous occasion, they restricted access to their Chairmen and one aide each. I’m sure they are thoroughly bored by your discussion so far, as am I.”

“Well, we humans actually have a conscience,” Tink snapped. “I have to live with the results of this decision.”

“As do I,” Caleb pointed out.

“My esteemed colleagues will undoubtedly point out that being half demon means I may only have half of a conscience,” I said. “But even that’s enough to make me want to consider this very carefully.”

War flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture. “You have five minutes.”

“What?”

“Four minutes, fifty eight seconds. No amount of discussion will change your decision in the end. The events are already in progress.” He covered his mouth and yawned. “Pray continue.”

“Demon!” Tink snapped. “We need to figure out what to do!”

“I know,” I snapped. “Let me think!”

From what War had said, this needed to be at least a moderately serious conflict. I didn’t want to see a war at all. There wasn’t anyone I could think of who deserved something like that. The only one who came anywhere close was Victor, but that was a personal problem. I wasn’t going to commit anyone to a war against the Choir if I could help it. Even so, it was tempting. If I could cause them some sort of damage, that could slow down their preparations for war, which would give the Host more time to prepare.

I growled in the back of my throat and rubbed my face. I was acting as if war between the Host and Choir was inevitable. True, the Choir was pissed off, but as long as I avoided the bulk that maintained a xenophobic hatred toward demons, I could just pass the key to Heaven off to Caleb once the Gates of Ascension opened and be done with it. All I needed to do was survive and make sure the Choir didn’t get any angrier than they already were.

That would be a tall order. If I triggered any sort of war involving the Choir, it could backfire. If they discovered that I had invoked a war, they’d immediately go for the Host. Even if they didn’t figure that out, it’d easily backfire. If they won, it would be easy for them to let the war machine keep rolling. The inertia of peace was one of a few things in our favor.

The only way to slow the Choir down would be to start a war that they would lose. “Easier said than done,” I said out loud.

“What is?” Tink asked.

“A very stupid idea,” I said. “Caleb, got anything?”

“Not a thing,” he said. “Equally stupid ideas. Perhaps the same as yours.”

I forced a smile. “Well, I don’t know what to step back to. War, why the time limit?”

“It’s not a time limit I set,” he said, eyes still closed. “It’s when the results of your decision will become apparent. Two minutes and thirty seven seconds from now, by the way. Better get cracking.”

I clenched my fist and pounded it on my thigh. There was no way I could take advantage of this to slow down the Choir. I wouldn’t involve the Host in a war if I could help it. I didn’t want to involve anyone if I could help it. What would be the most limited war I could think of? A war that would result in the fewest lives lost as possible.

“Demon, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You need to figure something out!”

“No shit, Tinkerbell!”

“Caleb, you’ve got to have something figured out!” Tink was starting to sound stressed. “What can we do? I don’t want to start a war!”

The angel shook his head. “I don’t want to, either. It seems that we don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always some sort of choice to be made,” I said. “And I’ll be damned if I can think of a good choice here.”

“One minute, fifty seconds,” War said.

I looked to Caleb. “I won’t create a war between the Host and the Choir. I will be damned before I start another Celestial War, regardless of what happened last time.”

He nodded. “I never had any doubts of that.”

I then looked to Tink. “I’m half human, Tink, and I don’t want to start any wars involving humans either.”

“But you will,” she said.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“You don’t have a choice!”

Eyes still closed, I shook my head. “Then you tell me. Who shall we kill, Tink?” When she didn’t respond, I opened my eyes and stared at her. Her lips were pressed tightly together. As soon as I made eye contact, she looked away. “You feel it too. We’re not sociopaths, we value life. All three of us value life. None of us are willing to simply trigger a war at the whimsical demand of this being!”

“It’s not whimsical, nor is it my demand,” War said. “It’s to fulfill the terms of a contract that involves forces beyond your control. One minute, eight seconds.”

“Demon!”

“You’ve got to pick something, Zay.”

“Do I?” I asked. War lifted his head, opened his eyes, but said nothing. “Is there something in the contract that requires us to make a decision of this sort? Yes, if we are all dead and there is no one to make a decision, the contract breaks in your favor. But we’re all alive, we’re all here. We’re simply not ready for this. What happens if we’re at an impasse?”

The Horseman wheeled himself closer to me. There was no physical way he could move his wheelchair like that, I realized. “You will make a choice,” he said. “You’ll make it in the next forty one seconds, Gatekeeper.”

“No.”

“No?” He smiled.

“No, I won’t. This is absolutely ridiculous. I’m not going to start a war. I’m not going to cause hundreds, thousands, who knows how many deaths just to fulfill some contract that I was roped into!”

“The contract binds you, Isaiah Bright,” War said. “Just as it binds all of you. It’s bound with your blood.”

“Our blood? That was to prevent House Lucifer from forcing the Gates open! You’re telling us that by saving millions, we’re being forced to kill millions in turn?” Tink was on her feet, her knife in hand. “I should just put this through your eye and save us all of this trouble.”

“You’d not survive the attempt,” War said. “Twenty three seconds. Last call.”

“No. I refuse to make this choice.” I stood as well, looming over the Horseman sitting in his wheelchair. “Understand something, Horseman. I will not call down a war. I will not have the blood of innocents on my hands, not like this. This isn’t a power I asked for, this isn’t a game, this isn’t anything I want. I will not be the tool of a contract I have not agreed to. I have the freedom to choose, and my choice is to refuse that choice.”

“You refuse to choose?”

“I do. End of discussion.”

War smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then by the terms of the contract, a choice will be made for you, Gatekeeper.”

“Wait-”

The wheelchair burned. Fire rose from the wheels, roaring flames that forced both myself and Tink to jump back, over the back of Caleb’s couch. As we watched, the fire consumed the chair, forming legs, a body, head and mane and tail. The second Horseman looked down at us from astride his fiery red horse, armored with an enormous greatsword slung diagonally across his back. His legs had returned with the transformation, and he held the reins with his one good hand. The other arm terminated in a stump at his wrist. From behind his helm’s visor, his gaze caught mine. “I resisted them,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the fury of the transformation. “I fought, the only one of us. I fought the gods, and the gods won. Believe me, Gatekeeper. I fought for what I believed in as well. There is no shame in this defeat. Your strength honors me, and I will seek to honor you with this war.”

“No!”

The horse reared and War whipped his greatsword out from its harness, holding it in front of himself, the blade as fiery as his horse. He touched the blade to his helm in salute, then the horse sprang forward and upwards, passing through the wall and ceiling as if they weren’t even there. All that was left of him was a hint of sulfur in the air.

I slumped back against the wall. “Shit.”

“It was a good try,” Caleb said. “I just hope this isn’t the start of something awful.”

Tink laughed harshly. “When has anything like this ever been the start of something good? I’m sure we’ll be getting a message shortly. Of course this will be our fault.”

“I’m pretty sure that with both the Consortium and the Syndicate watching, we’ll be off the hook as far as direct blame is concerned,” I said.

“Still, I wonder what he meant when he said he would honor you, Zay.” Caleb stroked his chin.

Any thoughts I had about that went sideways as soon as two imps and three archons phased into sight. “Confirm that,” the Chairman of the Consortium said in his raspy voice. “Out loud, for the Gatekeepers.”

The third archon spun in agitated circles. “There are reports that multiple Choir holdings have been attacked by unknown forces. Reports of casualties are still filtering in. The Choir is calling for the Chairman to immediately report with all available information!”

A third imp phased into view. “Chairman, the Council is demanding your immediate presence, as well as that of Baronet Isaiah Bright.”

“Initial report?”

The imp paused, swallowed hard. Other archons and imps were starting to phase in, all bearing their own reports, no doubt. Caleb and Tink were listening silently. As the imp started to speak, a chill ran down my spine. “Initial reports indicate that the Choir was attacked by human mages. In at least one of those attacks, there was unauthorized usage of hellfire amplification magic.”

The imps escorted me to a nearby motel, one of the more interesting places where hourly rates were prominently advertised and housekeeping services were not. Instead of paying at the front desk, they simply led me right to a room, unlocked the door, and told me to walk into the bathroom. I followed their instructions and found myself in Purgatory.

I was instantly on guard. Souls in Purgatory were not consistently friendly toward the living. The fact that the imps had brought me here meant that I needed to cover some ground in a hurry. Two imps phased into view, hanging right over my shoulders. They triangulated a path and I followed their directions through the featureless mists, counting my steps. I made it to eighty-seven before the mists cleared and I found myself face to face with a demon in his native form. Hellfire snapped between his fingers.

I held up my hands as the imps appeared just behind me. “Easy there.”

“Identify yourself,” he rumbled. His features were flat, teeth pointed, long arms and legs. He was most likely House Leviathan, though it had been a long time since I had met one of them. If this was House Leviathan territory, I was a long way from home. Their main sphere of influence was southeast Asia.

“Isaiah Bright, Baronet of House Asmodeus,” I said.

He sized me up. “You are the halfblood Lord of Heaven.”

“I’m not really used to that title yet,” I admitted.

He laughed and the hellfire vanished. “The Council is expecting you.”

I forced myself to smile and walked past him, only staggering slightly. If he meant the High Council, I was just a little out of place. The High Princes of each House, various other dignitaries, the Chairman of the Consortium, all sorts of demons would be there, now including one halfblood with a ludicrous title. Another Leviathan guard waved me on to a closed door, reached out and opened it. I took a step in.

The first reaction was silence. Dozens of eyes tracked me through a dimly lit chamber. The presence of so many demons set my ichor on edge, threatening to overwhelm my human side. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, settling myself. Working with Prince Opheran had raised my resistance. Even a Prince would find it difficult to force my control.

I opened my eyes and took a step in from the door, unsure of where I needed to go, and was summarily saved by a familiar figure. Opheran strode toward me with his hand outstretched. “Isaiah, thank you for joining us.”

“My Prince,” I said, shaking his hand. “I am here to serve.”

He gave me a quick smile and guided me toward another figure who was vaguely familiar, but who I had never met before. “My Prince, I present to you Baronet Isaiah Bright, my aide for this meeting.”

“High Prince Harax.” I dropped to one knee. Even I knew the protocol required when a simple low ranking halfblood met the ruler of one’s House: abject submission.

“Baronet,” Harax said. His voice was a quiet baritone, almost inaudible over the murmur of other voices in the room. The rumor had it that High Prince Harax had an injury to his throat, caused in a fight against a Cherub or Seraph, which rendered him incapable of raising his voice. I didn’t give a lot of credence to the rumor of the injury, but it was well established that he let Opheran do all of the yelling. “Your reputation precedes you, young halfblood.”

I remained on my knee, eyes averted. “My reputation pales in comparison to yours.”

He laughed. “By Lucifer’s snarled chest hair, I should hope not. I certainly hadn’t conquered Heaven at your age, nor had I fought and defeated two Dukes of House Lucifer, nor opened the Gates of Purgatory.”

My cheeks burned. “I had a great deal of help with all of those.”

“But you were the center of events, Isaiah.” Harax tapped my shoulder and I looked up at him. His face was only slightly lined, giving him the appearance of a human in his mid-thirties, but I knew that he had been a contemporary of Lucifer himself. Harax was the blood brother of Asmodeus himself, taking the reins of the House after Asmodeus’s death during the Celestial War. “Audacity and strength are not the only measures of a demon, you know.”