Good Intentions 3: Personal Demons (27 page)

The big man brightened at that, almost looking like an overgrown puppy before he trudged across the snow-covered compound.

Evelyn sighed. Aaron was a decent minion. In truth, he was outstanding, and on the whole so were the others. How often did she find over a dozen Practitioners all in one place, open to corruption and even further use, right along with their own mundane thugs and hangers-on? This mission had already been the most fruitful in centuries. She could hardly remember the last time she’d so greatly pleased her master.

Unfortunately, she wanted to please one other tonight. Apparently her apprentices failed at that task. Pondering how to address this failure, Evelyn walked into the cabin set aside for her personal use. The only light in the cabin came from the embers of the fireplace, still glowing despite being left untended for hours. It was more than a demon needed. She closed the door without bothering with the light switch.

“So how was your night?” asked a low, weary male voice.

He sat in the plush chair by the fireplace, slumped back with his legs lazily stretched out rather than his usual good posture. His clothes were matted, burned, and torn. His left hand bore an awful black scar running down below his middle and ring fingers. She couldn’t tell whether the ugly black marks all around his right temple and scalp were burns or bruises, yet they weren’t the worst of it all.

Sammael sat with his eyes closed. Closed, and still dripping blood.

“What happened to you?” Evelyn asked with concern. She walked over to him, but thought better of reaching out to touch.

“A careless misstep, followed by an avalanche of angels.” His words came with a morose grin. “It would appear I am unwelcome in these parts.”

“Does this explain the fire alarm in the casino?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

Evelyn folded her arms across her chest. She knew Sammael well enough to expect half-truths rather than outright lies. Everyone had their style. “I know many healing charms for mortals and demons, but I don’t know if any would work upon you,” she said.

“Time and rest will remedy this. Any other options would require unnecessary sacrifice from your mortal associates. Best not to expend them carelessly. On that note, I see our plan to capture Alex did not play out as we’d hoped?”

She tilted her head curiously, then gestured to his face. “You…see?”

“Ah. Yes, darling. The scars beneath my eyelids run all the way up, but I have other ways. Again, my wounds will heal.”

“Then I wish you a rapid recovery.” She knew any ploy at feigned compassion would be pointless. Sammael surely knew better than to believe that from a demon. “Yes. He bore protective trinkets to disrupt or at least mitigate magic. Aaron caught him with the spell, but he didn’t appear here. That means he is
somewhere
, though I am unsure where.”

“Unfortunate,” said Sammael. He took in a slow, frustrated breath. It was the only sign of displeasure he let show. “What of the other goals?”

“A mixed result. The Light killed many, but we met with greater resistance than expected. Several fell to blades and magic. Your Alex pitched our summoner through the portal to the Pit. I must assume he perished, since that complication closed the gate. At that point, Leon decided to quit while he was ahead. He’d already inflicted much greater losses than he suffered.

“For a mortal, this Alex seems quite proficient at fighting demons,” said Evelyn. She let the statement hang in the air to watch him carefully. “Is there anything you wish to tell me?”

“We need to find him,” Sammael seethed. “I must know if he lives, at least, and how far he has gone.”

“Very well. I have some thoughts on that. I will see to it after I report to my master.” Evelyn turned toward the fireplace, intending to kneel before it. Sammael’s hand on her arm stopped her—firmly, for an instant, then gently. Even without his eyes, he could apparently “see” quite well.

“Please, Evelyn,” said Sammael. “It is important. His…guardian is a concern. She may be a problem for our plans.”

“I saw no sign of a guardian,” said Evelyn. “He bore no trace of Heaven’s light. Nor did anyone in that room.”

“He is a special case.”

Evelyn noted the tension in his jaw. Though his eyes were closed, he still turned his head slightly as if he didn’t want to look at her. She already accepted how he would often tell her only half-truths. Yet why this trouble in speaking to her now?

Unless he was telling her the truth. Or admitting it to himself.

His hand slid up her arm. He stepped slightly behind her, remaining close enough that she felt his breath upon her neck before the caress of his fingers arrived. “Do you believe you can find him?” he asked.

She enjoyed his touch despite knowing it for what it was. Why shouldn’t she? “If he still bears protective charms, I may only discern a vague location,” she said, her voice dropping to match his. Sammael’s other hand came to her hip. Wounded or not, that hand could still stroke her to great effect. “We may at best see a choice of possibilities.”

His lips brushed against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “Would it take long?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I cannot say.” He kissed her neck. His hands roamed her body. She leaned back into him, allowing him to persuade her. “I like it when you ask nicely.”

“Please, Evelyn,” he whispered. The hand on her hip moved around her belly and downward. He held his tongue until his fingers slipped between her legs in an intimate stroke. “You know I will make it worth your while.”

“Mmh. Will it be worth Azazel’s displeasure?”

“If you find him impatient when you speak, blame any delay upon me. I will make it up to you both.” A kiss on the nape of her neck coincided with another stroke between her legs. “Have I not always made you happier than he?”

Evelyn’s breath grew heavy. He had indeed been better to her than Azazel, yet that was not a difficult standard to match. Azazel made demands. Sammael cajoled and seduced—which still showed more respect for her than she received from her master, and more appreciation. Azazel only demanded servitude. Despite his half-truths and hidden agendas, Sammael earned and rewarded loyalty.

“Tell me again your price for aiding Azazel here,” Evelyn whispered. “Tell me what you will ask of him.”

He kissed her neck again. His fingers nearly lifted her off the ground with pleasure. “You.”

Evelyn smiled. Even if it was a lie, at least it was a good one. “If I find him, you will go?”

“I must.”

“Then you owe me when you return,” she dared.

Despite his greater power and station, the lord of the Pit entertained her demands with a grin she could feel against her cheek. “Agreed.”

Reluctantly, Evelyn stepped out of his embrace. She leaned toward the fireplace to breathe a single puff of flame upon the embers. Smoke and ash flew within the hearth. Charred wood reignited. Then she stepped back, elegantly raising her hands as if bringing a symphony to order. The cloud of smoke and embers followed in a thick, sinuous stream.

“He may be anywhere,” she warned. The cloud twisted and rolled under the broad gestures of her hands, swirling into a large orb. “If my suspicions are correct, the spell will seek out a similar expression of magic as that which empowered it. Aaron is not capable of such sorcery on his own. He borrowed much of his strength from me, and therefore from Azazel.”

“Will Alex at least be on this same plane?” asked Sammael.

“Yes. That much is certain. This spell would not send him to the Pit or anyplace else.” Evelyn glanced back to Sammael as the orb condensed and solidified, floating along in the air only high enough that she might raise a hand over the top. Her companion still held his eyes closed. “Will you be able to see details?”

“I can still see when it counts, yes.”

She turned back to the sphere. With another small breath of flame, Evelyn sent a ripple of orange light burning across its surface. The light traced out a swarm of jagged lines, leaving the distinct shapes of continents and islands in their wake. Soon a huge, ashen globe hovered under her raised hands.

Evelyn cut into her wrist with a single talon, grimacing in pain but making no sound. Blood poured from the wound onto the globe, sinking straight through the surface. When she withdrew her hands, she felt Sammael’s touch on her arm once more. He brought her wounded wrist to his lips. The bleeding ceased almost instantly. A second kiss sealed the cut, leaving only a light red line that would heal in little time.

“Benefits of my former station,” he said, leaning in to kiss her lips.

He did not linger in the moment, yet it was enough to make Evelyn smile and to chase away her doubts. She turned back to the orb and blew another puff of fire. This time, the flames sank directly into the ash. In the space of another breath, glowing embers rose all across the globe. Most arose in line with major cities. A few appeared in more isolated spots.

“Behold,” said Evelyn without reverence, “the expanse of Azazel’s power across the mortal world.” She looked to Sammael as he examined the slowly-turning globe. A gasp caught in her throat. His eyes, now open, bore deep, piercing wounds right down the middle. Her hand reached out to take his arm. “Sammael,” she breathed in shock. “No angel did that to you.”

“No. Not an angel at all.” His smile may have been meant to reassure, but it only seemed grim and gruesome when contrasted against his once-beautiful eyes. “I will heal in time. What are we looking for here?”

Evelyn tore her gaze from his face with some effort. “As I said, the spell was completed. It did not follow its intended path. Absent that destination, the spell would turn instead to the strongest expression of the same power. In simple terms, it is like flowing to like. The embers mark Azazel’s holdings and agents across the world.”

Sammael’s grim smile broadened. “Not something he would want me to see, I imagine.”

“No,” said Evelyn, her gaze unwillingly drawn to his wounded face again.

“We’ll have to keep this between us.” He gestured to the globe once more. “Thoughts?”

Evelyn blinked. “The hottest embers will be the greatest and most overt—”

Sparks and ash popped brightly off of the globe. Evelyn turned her attention to the source of the tiny blast. A small spot in the Middle East turned darker and colder than the rest. “I’ve never seen that happen before,” she said.

“The meaning is easy to guess,” said Sammael. His scowl returned. “This boy is troublesome indeed. I believe I now know where to start. Thank you, Evelyn.” He stepped back from her and unfurled his broad black wings. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Sammael.” She reached out to place a hand on his chest. “Will you stay with me while I contact Azazel? The more he sees of you, the less he will suspect you of treachery.”

A wry grin played at his lips. He kept his eyes closed, though the blood that escaped while they were open left a visible trail down his cheeks. “This matter must be resolved quickly. The less Azazel knows of it, the better. For both of us,” he added gently, reaching out to stroke her chin. “I will return as soon as I can, dearest.”

His wings beat once as he soared straight up through the ceiling like a ghost. Then he was gone. Evelyn’s gaze followed his path, leaving her looking at the rafters in a mixture of longing and annoyance.

“Damn him,” she said. A redundant curse, she knew, but he deserved it.

Evelyn stepped to one side of the globe. She reached back with both hands, pulling her creation along through force of will, and then reversed her motion to send it flying back toward the fireplace. The motion tore the globe apart before it hit the wall, sending every ember and clump of ash into the hearth where not a bit of it escaped. Flames roared to life within the cloud, burning without wood to feed them.

She sank to her knees before the mantle, bowing her head and stretching her arms forward. Then she waited.

Slow, rumbling words broke the silence. “I received only a handful of souls tonight, Evelyn,” said her master’s voice from the smoke and fire within the fireplace. “One fell into the Pit while still attached to its body.”

Evelyn grimaced. So much for recovering that one. She expected as much. “Tonight’s actions have secured more for the future,” she said, only slightly lifting her head from the floor.

“You may rise,” said the voice.

She knew better than to stand, but she sat up on her knees. “Yes, master.”

“I expected to send many more of my servants through the portal,” said Azazel. “Only a few made the passage. They soon perished on the other side. A death in the mortal world requires a longer recovery than a death in the Pit. It will be some time before they reemerge.

“Mortal sorcery alone will not empower such a portal. This cost me,” said her stern master. “Why did it close so quickly?”

“The Practitioners marked for sacrifice to ease the portal put up greater resistance than anticipated, master,” explained Evelyn. “Our puppets underestimated the enemy’s knowledge and power. We killed many and weakened the rest. I beg of you the chance to pursue your wishes. I will complete this task.”

“That city is ripe for the taking, Evelyn,” rumbled her master’s voice. “It is open. Vulnerable. I must claim it
now
, before others sense the opportunity. My servants cannot be left waiting.”