Haunted (34 page)

Once we’d taken our leave of Aratron, we returned to Amanda Sullivan’s cell and I made my confession to Trsiel.

“That’s why she came to Glamis,” I said as I finished. “All along I’ve been trying to figure out what’s motivating her, and it’s been staring me in the face the whole time. She wants what I want. To be able to act within the living world. She’s tired of relying on her partners for her food. That’s why she went to Luther Ross. Same reason I’ve been interested in him, as a way of breaking through that barrier. But that’s nothing compared to what she could do with Dantalian’s Amulet. And I led her straight to it.”

“We don’t know that,” he said softly.

I didn’t argue, but we both knew it was no coincidence. I remembered the young hunter saying he’d seen something move in the woods near where we’d landed, and I remembered the creak in the hallway before Trsiel arrived. She’d been following me, and I’d rewarded her efforts beyond her wildest dreams. As soon as she’d heard of the amulet, who’d made it, and what it did, she’d headed straight for Glamis, where she’d know Dantalian had been exiled.

“If she gets the amulet, that’ll make our job tougher,” Trsiel said. “But I doubt that will happen. Dantalian isn’t about to tell her where it is.”

“No? He may not like her very much, but how long do you think it’ll take before he decides that telling her—and watching the havoc she’ll wreak in human form—is more rewarding than turning her down? We need to find it first.”

He nodded. “But the only one who knows where it is—”

“Is the only person we can ask.”

“We are
not
bargaining with a demon.” He glanced over at me. “And don’t tell me I already have. My deal with Aratron was one-sided. I did something once that, unintentionally, benefited him, and he promised me a favor in return. It wasn’t a bargain.”

“We aren’t going to bargain with Dantalian.”

“Good, because—”

“Kristof is. He’s a skilled demon negotiator.”

Trsiel rolled his eyes, as if this didn’t come as a surprise.

“It may not be your way, but we use whatever—and whoever—proves useful.”

“If you’ve done it before, then you can do it. No need to bring in anyone else.”

“I said I’ve dealt with them. I’ve never negotiated with them. For that, I hired professionals. If you do it right, it’s an honest transaction. If you do it wrong, well, then you’re screwed, because there isn’t a demon alive who won’t take advantage of stupidity or naivety. Kris can do it right.”

Trsiel leaned against the wall, arms crossed. After a few minutes, he shook his head. “Go and find him, then.”

34

I FOUND KRISTOF IN HIS OFFICE AGAIN, THIS TIME
alone and hard at work, which seemed the perfect excuse to slip off and find another demon mediator. But, as always, the moment I arrived, he knew I was there, and when I tried to retreat, he called me back. His welcome cooled when he realized I was there on business.

Of course, I had to tell him everything, and this confession was ten times tougher than it had been with Trsiel. As much as it hurt to admit to Kristof that, after everything he’d said, I’d turned around and gone back in to ask about the amulet, what hurt worse was the look on his face: raw pain, but not a trace of surprise.

When I finished, I stood there, mouth still half-open, wanting to say so much, but unable to form the thoughts into words. Instead, all that came out was “I fucked up, Kris.”

For a minute, he just looked at me, eyes searching mine. Then he gave a tiny nod.

“Let’s see what we can do to fix it, then,” he murmured.

Dantalian was somewhat put out that we’d engaged professional negotiation services. It’s so much more fun dealing with amateurs.

“So you want to know what the Nix was after,” he said, his tone bordering on bored.

“We know that,” I said. “The amulet you made for Lord Glamis.”

A moment’s pause, then he continued, sounding a bit more interested now. “Clever whelp. You did your homework. Then you know who I am?”

“Dantalian, Master of Transmigration, Duke of Baal.”

A warm breeze encircled my legs, wound up my body, around my neck, then slithered away. I knew he was still there, probably hovering right in front of my face.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

“Dantalian, Master of Transmigration, Duke of Baal.”

“Hmmm, yes, I suppose that will do. Lacking the proper degree of respect, yet not
dis
respectful. At least it’s better than fawning. That’s what she tried when she returned.”

“The Nix? She came back?”

“Of course she did. After she amended her attitude.”

“Uh-huh.”

He laughed, blasting me with heat. “My reaction, precisely, whelp. The only thing worse than fawning is fake fawning. As if I were some vain fool of a potentate, willing to grant any wish in return for a few strokes of my ego.”

“So you sent her away again? She’ll be back, then. All we have to do is wait—”

“Oh, I didn’t send her away. What would be the fun in that? Far better for me to set her on the trail…and then set you on it after her.”

“Great,” I muttered. “How long of a head start does she have?”

“A half-day. Which would be a problem…had I sent her to the right place. A little lesson in humility for an imp in sore need of it.”

“And now you’ll tell us where to find her.”

“Certainly…but I believe there was mention of a bargain?”

“Not now,” Trsiel said, stepping forward. “You just admitted you intended to set us on the trail, so we certainly aren’t about to bargain for—”

I lifted a hand to cut him off, then looked at him. “I’d
rather
bargain. Otherwise, I owe him a favor.”

Kristof then went through the formal rituals that tested a demon’s sincerity, to ensure Dantalian wouldn’t do to us what he’d done to the Nix. Dantalian suffered through this with the exasperated patience of someone having a grocery clerk examine his cash to see if it’s real.

“I want two things,” Dantalian said when Kristof was finished. “First, you will ensure that your Nix knows I intentionally set her on the wrong path. If she doesn’t, then the lesson is incomplete.”

“Done,” I said. “And part two?”

“Hmmm, part two…I’m still working on that one. Give me a few moments.”

I sighed.

“Impatient…or eager to get back on the trail?”

Dantalian’s voice seemed to come from all sides. I looked around, trying to track it, but he only chuckled. Neither Trsiel or Kristof seemed to notice.

“They can’t hear me,” Dantalian said. “This part of the negotiation is for you and me alone. I must admit that seeing a half-demon has reminded me of at least one of the pleasures of freedom I’ve been missing. It’s been over five hundred years since I fathered a whelp myself.”

“Uh-huh,” I thought the words, as I had with Trsiel. “Can’t help you there. No babies coming from this shade.”

“Oh, but it’s not entirely the passing on of my genes that I miss.” Tendrils of heat slid along my bare arm, like hot fingers stroking my skin. “The process of doing so wasn’t entirely unpleasant, either. Of course, I’d need to inhabit a more hospitable form. Perhaps your lover wouldn’t mind taking a more…active role in negotiations.”

My head jerked up. Kristof looked over at me when I jumped, but he said nothing, just lifted his brows.

Dantalian laughed. “Your relationship is obvious to anyone with eyes, and most without. How is that for a bargain, then? Allow me to take over his body and reap the benefits of a more corporeal form.”

“Moving right along to option two…”

“Well, there is another option standing alongside the first. The angel. I could—”

“No.”

He chuckled. “Not even going to hear me out? Or afraid, if you do, it might prove a more enticing offer than you’d like to admit? He is an intriguing one, isn’t he? So old and yet, in so many ways, such a child, a sweet, confused, beguiling child. How much of a child is he?” Another chuckle. “I’m sure you’ve wondered that as well.”

“Are you trying to lead me into temptation?” I said. “Or just annoy the piss out of me?”

Kristof glanced over at me. “Has he gotten to the sex part yet, or is he still working up to it?”

I sputtered a laugh.

Trsiel strode over, eyes going wide. “What’s going—”

“Dantalian is attempting private negotiations with Eve,” Kristof said, stifling a yawn. “Private negotiations of a private nature, I’m sure.”

Trsiel’s cheeks reddened. “That’s not—he can’t—”

“Oh, he could, but he won’t. And before you take offense, Dantalian, that’s no reflection on you. Many have tried. None succeed. Eve doesn’t whore herself for any cause.”

“This is going nowhere,” Trsiel said. “Asking for sex…? If he can’t come up with something better than that—”

“There
is
something better than that?” Dantalian said. “My dear boy, your innocence is showing. Surely you—”

“Ignore him,” I said. “This isn’t about sex. It’s about causing trouble. Sex is just a tool for achieving it. If I were a man, he’d ask me to go out and lop off a few heads in his name. Same destination. Different path.”

“Would you prefer lopping off heads?” Dantalian murmured. “I hadn’t considered that, but, yes, now that you mention it, I see how my request could be considered quite inappropriate for a woman of your nature. Lopping off heads would be more your style, so perhaps—”

“No lopping heads. No giving head. I’m not doing anything that would get you off…in any way.”

A moment of silence. “Well, that limits things, doesn’t it?”

“Eve…” Trsiel said.

When I looked at him, he jerked his head toward the door. I glanced at Kristof. He discreetly lifted a finger, telling me to wait.

“Those are her terms,” Kristof said. “She will do nothing to cause chaos. If that is unacceptable, then I’m afraid our negotiations are—”

“She will visit me,” Dantalian said.

I cast a frown in the direction of his voice.

“I have but a few years left on my sentence. She will visit me for a half-day each month until it ends.”

“If this is heading back to the sex thing—” I began.

“It’s not. I ask only for a visit.”

Trsiel wheeled as Dantalian’s voice glided past. “So you can spit poison in her ear? Try to turn her to your—”

“Evil ways?” Dantalian laughed. “Such melodrama. You do like your stories, don’t you, Trsiel? The virtuous angel warrior and the nefarious demon battling for the soul of the innocent. Yet she’s not so innocent. And you’re not so angelic. Perhaps I’m not so demonic. But that spoils a good story, doesn’t it?”

“He’s not going to woo me over to the dark side, Trsiel,” I said. “No more than you can bring me over to the light. I like it right where I am.” I glanced back in Dantalian’s direction. “Once a year.”

“Every two months.”

“Only an hour, then. An hour every two months or a half-day every six.”

“A half-day every six, then.”

I looked at Kristof. He nodded and I waved for him to begin the binding ceremony that would tie us both to our sides of the bargain.

35

“
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW FIRST?” DANTALIAN
asked. “Where the amulet is? Or where your Nix thinks it is?”

“Back up,” Trsiel said. “This amulet. If by some chance she gets it, will it work?”

“Of course it will work. I designed—”

“I meant will it work for
her
?”

“For anyone with demon blood.”

“And if she fails to get it, is there any other way she can achieve her goal and take on human form? Some rite or mystical object she can use? When she first made the leap, she used a witch spell—”

I interjected, “Which will no longer work or she’d have used it long ago. Likely a side effect of her now being a ghost.”

“Yes,” Dantalian said. “As a ghost, she is restricted to ghost methods of possession. Without the amulet, she could only use full spiritual possession, through a necromancer.”

I nodded. “Which any necromancer who’s powerful enough to perform is also smart enough
not
to perform. So she’s stuck with the amulet. Good. Well, then we should go after the amulet…” I hesitated. “No, the Nix is our primary target. If we get her, we don’t need to worry about her getting the amulet or finding some other way to dimension-jump. We’ll get her, and then…” I steeled myself, knowing what I needed to say, but having to force the words out. “And then Trsiel can retrieve the amulet and put it away for safekeeping. I—we don’t need it.”

I could feel Kristof’s gaze on me. I didn’t look, but knew that if I did, I’d see not relief, but skepticism, as he searched my face and tone, trying to figure out whether I was telling the truth or saying what he wanted to hear. I wasn’t sure which it was, either.

“Okay,” I said, facing the demon—or his direction—again. “So where is she?”

“I sent her to a building, one that once housed half a million scrolls, which later were said to have fed the fires at the public baths; a thousand years of knowledge destroyed to keep bathwater warm. And one wonders why humans—”