Hell's Pawn (27 page)

R immon stumbled back, but the woman followed, not allowing his fist to leave her mouth and taking in half his arm. He began struggling to dislodge her, but the woman sank her fingers—now pointed claws—into his sides and pulled him close. R immon howled as the lips around his elbow began inching forward like a caterpillar, progressively taking in more and more of him. A horrible sucking noise came as wisps of light were pulled from R immon’s arm and into the creature’s mouth. The woman was eating him, absorbing his life force.

Fire exploded from R immon’s mouth, both figures lost in the inferno, but when the torrent of flame cleared the woman was left unscathed and determined to finish her meal. J ohn rushed forward and grabbed R immon’s shoulder, hoping to help pull him out of the creature’s mouth, but the incubus shrugged him off and ordered him to back away. As soon as he did so, R immon lifted his legs and braced them against the woman’s torso. The scene was ridiculous: the entire weight of a large, muscular demon hanging off a slight woman who wasn’t even struggling to support him.

R immon groaned and strained before a loud popping noise sounded and his arm pulled free. From the elbow down it had lost all form and color, a gray mass of dead material. R immon didn’t hesitate; he leapt off the ground and threw his arms around the woman, whose huge, gaping mouth was gurgling in anticipation of more. To J ohn’s horror, R immon shoved his nose, mouth, and chin into this inverted face like some sort of disgusting kiss. Then the demon’s fire roared down the creature’s throat.

The woman’s eyes bulged outward, lights playing behind them before they exploded and streams of flame poured out the empty sockets. S oon the entire body exploded into flaming chunks that were quickly reduced to ash and disappeared.

“Are you all right?” R immon panted, his eyes wild and proud as they looked him over. Then he collapsed onto the grass he had so recently created.

J ohn fell to his knees, rolling the demon over on his back while saying R immon’s name over and over again. There was no response. Normally R immon’s skin was warm, steadily radiating the gentle heat of a blush. There was comfort in this aura of heat, but now the warmth was gone, his body as cold as the grave, his skin color washed out.

J ohn’s mind warred between panic and indecision. C hecking for a pulse, mouth to mouth, all of the emergency protocols J ohn had been taught in life were meaningless here. How did one heal a soul, if that’s even what R immon was? Was there such thing as a soul who had never lived a physical life? J ohn knew so li le and feared his ignorance would cost R immon his existence. Panic won. J ohn began pounding on Rimmon’s chest.

“Wake up! Wake up! God damn it, wake up!”

The demon groaned. His eyes flu ered open, looking lost and confused before steeling over with determination. J ohn laughed, pounding him a couple more times for good measure and near tears with relief, even if R immon was glaring at him. The incubus pushed himself up, his right arm still a malformed, colorless stump. J ohn did his best to help him rise, wincing at his body’s frigid temperature. I f a hot demon was a healthy demon, then something was still very wrong.

“You need to rest,” John said. “Let’s get you inside the coach and comfortable.”

“No,” Rimmon grunted, pushing John away to show he could stand on his own. “I’ll be fine. We should continue on.”

“You’re not okay!”

“I ’m fine!” R immon snarled. The fury in his eyes shifted to hunger, bestial and urgent.

“The woman who a acked us, what was she?” J ohn hoped the question would reach Rimmon, kick-start his intellectual processes again, but the demon responded by grabbing John by the arm and pulling him close.

“A vampire. The truth behind the legends.” R immon’s answers had an edge of a growl. “A creature that feeds off souls, feasting on their essence until they are lost to oblivion. E xceptionally rare. An honor… to… kill one.” R immon’s eyes lost their focus as he swayed. His flesh was the pink of new skin rather than its usual ruby tone, the hand that gripped John as cold as ice.

J ohn thought of vampire stories, of how one bite could change someone into a pale, hungry version of their previous selves. “Is that what you are now? A vampire?” R immon’s laugh was cruel. “O h, I feed! I love to feed, but not on souls. O nly lust can satiate my craving. The crashing wave of climax, the slapping together of sweaty flesh. That is my banquet and I am hungry. I ’m always so damned hungry! O nly with him did I have my fill, stuffing myself to contentment on his sighs.”

“L et me be him,” J ohn said, clenching his jaw. “That’s what you need, right? You want to eat? Then let me be him for you.”

R immon’s frozen lips slammed into J ohn’s mouth, but they soon thawed as they slid down his chin to his neck, where teeth scraped against his skin teasingly. C lothes disappeared into the ether in response to their mutual desire.

“This might hurt,” R immon whispered, before he spun J ohn around. The demon’s bare chest was cool against J ohn’s back, but warmed gradually as R immon slid inside of him. Had this been physical reality, J ohn would have been in the greatest of pain.

R immon’s desire manifested in size, and right now the demon was bigger than J ohn could normally handle. B ut here, in this strange world of form without physical limitation, all John felt was pleasure.

R immon growled into J ohn’s ear as he pumped, a beast driven by heat and instinct.

J ohn let him take everything he needed, which was more than just pleasure. J ohn could feel the energy draining from him and into R immon. At first this frightened him, but when R immon’s other arm came around to embrace J ohn, no longer was it colorless and misshapen. The arm and hand had grown back, fully restored, which meant that J ohn was healing R immon. The last of his resistance faded as J ohn poured everything he had, every emotion he felt, into their love-making.

S oon R immon began to reciprocate, his tail sliding up J ohn’s leg before wrapping like a spring around his cock. J ohn moaned in pleasure as their union became what he had known the first time with R immon—intellectual, a transcendental voyage across higher planes of the spirit and mind. No longer was R immon feeding. Now they were sharing their energy, passing it back and forth in waves of pleasure, the emptiness inside replaced by utopian totality.

W hen they finished, arms the color of ripe cherries gently lowered J ohn to the ground before wrapping around and holding him. They lay in fields, warmed by a sun created from a shared dream, J ohn resting his head against R immon’s chest. His thoughts were formless, his mind fuzzy as he basked in an opiate haze of endorphins.

I f this was how you saved the life of an incubus, J ohn was determined to become a doctor.

“Feel be er?” J ohn murmured, his cheek pressed against R immon’s skin, which now held the reassuring warmth of an incubator.

“Much,” Rimmon said and chuckled, “but I wish you hadn’t seen me like that.”

“No regrets here. I ’d buy the vampire a drink if you hadn’t killed it.” J ohn shifted.

“The Ministers must have sent her.”

“I have no doubt.” R immon sighed. “A being with so much power, and its only instructions were to speak to you. This worries me. I f the enemy knows your secret, then it’s only a matter of time before they find a way of telling you.”

“And then I go poof,” John said.

“And then you go where you belong, which isn’t so bad. You’ve done so much for Hell already that I think it would make li le difference. The enemy either doesn’t realize this, or they fear you for reasons we haven’t yet considered.”

“S ounds good to me,” J ohn yawned. “J ust get me some earplugs until this whole ordeal is over.”

“There may be something we can do. I ’ll consult with Asmoday once we’re done here. Perhaps he will have a solution.”

“J ust as long as we get Dante back first,” J ohn reminded him, feeling guilty for taking an after-sex nap in the sun while his friend was still held hostage by a previous life.

The sound of galloping paws fast approached them, accompanied by happy panting. J ohn sat up, tense until he saw it was only B olo returning from his run. At least he’d had the good sense to disappear while they were ge ing it on. He even managed to find a ball of some sort.

“Hey, boy! Watcha got? Watcha got?”

The dog tro ed up to J ohn and dropped it next to him. The small head rolled a few times, but when it stopped, its eyes were staring up at John. And they blinked.

Chapter Thirteen

The head was made of terraco a, its worn face defined by shallow lines. I ts expression was rather pensive as it stared up at J ohn, unmoving. Had he only imagined the eyes blinking? The head was much smaller than he expected, small enough to pick up and hold in one hand. J ohn turned it, taking in the two twisted braids on top of its head and the tidy li le mustache. His fingers traced the uneven base where the neck had been broken off from the rest of the body.

“You did it!” Rimmon exclaimed, looking over John’s shoulder. “Good boy, Bolo!”

“Good boy! Good boy, Bolo!” the head parroted.

John almost dropped it. He turned it upward again but the face was still.

“I t looks like a terraco a figure,” J ohn said, “but how did B olo know what we were looking for?”

“I asked him to find the terraco a warriors,” R immon explained. “We’ve been following him the entire time.”

J ohn looked at B olo, whose a ention was fixed on the head, as if it were a tennis ball for him to play fetch with. “You can talk to the dog?”

“So can you,” Rimmon replied.

“Right, but can he understand you? Aside from ‘sit’ and ‘wanna treat?’ I mean.” R immon nodded. “Animals have their own means of communication, a mixture of body language and telepathy. R eaching through to them is much easier on this side of the veil. You should try it sometime.”

J ohn looked back at B olo, who met his eyes. The dog’s expression was frank, as though he were open to the idea of polite conversation. “How did he know where to find the terracotta soldiers?”

“The same way he managed to find you in the Norse realm, even though he left you in Hell. Like the vampire that tracked you here, he has the gift of the seeker.”

“But he’s a dog.”

“A dog with the gift of the seeker,” R immon said patiently. “I ’m just pleased that it worked, although I thought the soldiers would be larger than this.” The terraco a head spoke again. “You’re thinking of Q in’s army. Tall fellows, heavily detailed, outfitted in armor and accompanied by great chariots, yes?”

“Precisely,” Rimmon said. “Do you know where they are?”

“O h, no, you don’t want them.” The head smiled. “M y brothers are closer and don’t take up nearly as much room. We’re much more economical.”

“I have no doubt that your family is charming,” R immon replied, “but we have specific instructions to seek out Qin’s soldiers, not an army of dolls.”

“None of us can help how we’re made.” The li le head frowned. “Had I known that my destiny after centuries of being buried was to be dug up and insulted, I would have remained a lump of clay.”

“Sorry,” John began, but the head cut him off.

“O h, it isn’t you! I like how comfortable your hand is. I haven’t felt this cozy since my po er fashioned me. I t’s him—” the head glared toward the demon, “—who is obsessed with size! Well I ’m sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations! You might as well bury me again so I don’t cause you any further disappointment!” Rimmon shrugged. “Bury it.”

“Don’t listen to him!” the head pleaded with J ohn. “I ’m still a soldier, and I ’m still made of terracotta. That’s what you were looking for, right?”

“True,” John said with a nod, “although I hope your brothers have been better cared for. What happened to your body?”

“Somebody dropped and broke me long ago. What happened to your clothes?”

“W hoops!” J ohn turned the head away from him, and hastily conjured up his clothing. This time he left off the suit jacket, opting instead for a tightly cut, forest green dress shirt, a charcoal tie, and gray slacks. I f he had time later, he would put some effort into creating a mirror, but from what he could see, J ohn felt like he was getting the hang of this.

“Very nice,” R immon said, filling out a white bu on-up shirt with brown tweed slacks.

“C ongratulations!” the head said. “You have found some clothing! Now we find my body. It’s not far from here, not far at all. Bolo, find my body!”

“Wait!” Rimmon protested, but Bolo had already barked in agreement and run off.

“Well, let’s go find Asmoday’s army.” John laughed as he ran to follow.

W ithout lungs or blood that needed oxygen, J ohn could run as far as he liked without becoming winded. He felt like a kid again, full of infinite energy. R immon kept pace as they chased Bolo over the green hills.

The landscape began to change, the hills becoming steep, the grass making way for more rugged plants and weeds. O n the horizon lay a village, and behind it a tomb built into a large hill. They stopped before reaching these landmarks and watched as B olo circled the ground and began digging.

“You didn’t create all this, did you?” John asked.

“No. We must have finally reached the Taoist realm.”

“O h, yes,” the head confirmed. “We are home. O h, it will be nice to have a body again! I barely had a chance to enjoy it before I was broken.”

“What happened?” John asked.

“The family went into a panic after the king killed himself. There was very li le time, you see. He wasn’t really supposed to have an army.”

“Maybe you’d better start at the beginning,” John replied. “You belonged to a king?”

“O h, yes, L iu W u, king of the Chu state, the largest of seven territories.” The head beamed up at him proudly. “He was a wonderful king! His reign was prosperous and peaceful. Everybody loved Liu Wu. I love Liu Wu. Do you? Do you love Liu Wu?”

“O f course!” J ohn said, trying not to laugh. “I haven’t met him, but you don’t have to meet the king to love him, do you?”

“Oh, no, not at all!” the head agreed.

“So why would such a universally loved king kill himself?”