Satan's Sword (Imp Book 2) (38 page)

Fuck
, I thought as I felt myself falling and coming apart.
It’s not supposed to end like this.

The body was dying, and I would go with it.
Consolidate,
I thought for some reason. And I saw myself standing at my kitchen sink, pulling drops of water into globes with Gregory’s arms around me, his power pouring through me as he showed me how to freeze the globes.
Pull back.
I should be able to exist within energy, within an inanimate object, within any matter. This body was dead, but it was still matter.
Consolidate.
I pulled back, safe within the dying flesh. I was a corpse. Too bad I couldn’t seem to figure out how to animate the dead flesh, because that would freak Wyatt out completely. Pay him back for killing me. Unable to do anything else, I recreated my entire form with a pop.

“Sam, Sam,” Wyatt sobbed. He was holding me, his face buried in my rain-slicked, naked chest.

I reached up and twisted my fingers in his wet hair. “It’s okay, honey. I’m fine.”

Wyatt made a choking noise and grabbed me so hard I thought he’d pop my head off.

“I thought the dragon thing was you. I thought he’d murdered you and I just started shooting. I’d already fired when you changed into human form. I killed you. I shot you right in the head.”

“I know. It’s okay. Really.” I pulled loose enough to kiss him. “Honestly. Dar has done worse to me many times. And I did encourage you to be a little trigger happy, so it’s kind of my fault anyway.”

I knew he needed me to be there, to hold him close and assure him I was okay, but I couldn’t comfort him when my dog was injured and in pain. I pulled free from Wyatt’s arms and walked over to fix Boomer, who was whining and squirming in a pool of blood with his three legs.

“You were a good boy,” I told him as I repaired him. “Diablo was good, too, even if he was a total shit for running away. I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from a horse.”

I turned to Wyatt. “We should be safe, at least for a few days. I need to call Dar and then get some sleep before sending this carcass back to Hel.”

“Should I stay with you?” Wyatt asked. He needed me, I could tell, but I was just too tired. I’d never get sleep if he was in bed with me. If it wasn’t sex, it was his bondage spooning. Later tonight, we’d cuddle and I’d reassure him all was okay. Now I just desperately needed sleep.

“Give me six hours to call Dar and get some rest, and then I’ll call you. Sobronoy’s elf button went back to Hel with a lounge chair, so we’ll need to take this up to Columbia. Maybe we’ll get some dinner after I lob his head through the gate.”

He hesitated.

“Wyatt, we’re fine. I know you’re freaking out about shooting me, but it’s okay. You’re stressed from this whole weekend, and so am I. Trust me, I really, really want to cuddle up with you and have the kind of make-up sex people only have when one has killed the other, but I need to call Dar, then get some sleep. We can talk about this later, please?”

He nodded, kissed me, and headed back to his house. I felt like a total jerk, but I just wanted to wrap this up and go to bed.

Dar was so agitated that I could barely understand him. I wished I’d had slept first and called him after. Maybe then he’d make sense.

“Calm down and speak slowly,” I shouted at him.

“Mal, the shit has totally hit the fan. Haagenti is on the verge of an aneurism. Labisi’s corpse shows up at Haagenti’s place looking like a house fell on it. Then the elves find Busyasta’s head on the border of their woods with a ‘fuck you’ note stapled to it. How did you manage to kill Busyasta? She’s five levels up from you. Five.”

“I’m sending Sobronoy’s head over just as soon as I get in a nap,” I warned him. “Has Haagenti been able to recruit anyone else to come get me? I need to know what I’m going to be up against and have some idea of when.”

“Mal, no one is really sure where your level is right now. You fucking took out Busyasta! The pros are weighing the risks. None of them is jumping to take this job until they can figure out what your power degree is. And Sobronoy, too? For fuck’s sake! There are some lower demons eager to make a name for themselves that Haagenti might be able to recruit, but the heavy hitters are all taking a pass.”

Thank the fates for that one. I was grateful everyone thought I’d taken out Busyasta solo. Maybe this would do more than buy me time to get out of this mess. Maybe I could put enough fear and uncertainty into them all to stop this madness.

“Dar, please just lay low for a while, okay? Once Haagenti finds out I kept the sword, he’s going to be even more pissed off. I don’t want him taking it out on you.”

Dar snorted. “I’m under your household, Mal. He has to go through you first, and you killed Labisi, Busyasta, and Sobronoy. Unless you fuck up and show an Achilles heel, I’m fine.”

I disconnected and staggered up to bed.

Chapter 30

I
opened my eyes, sleepy from my nap, and saw an angel watching me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked him.

It was rather disconcerting to wake up to someone staring at you. Rather like that creepy, teenage vampire from the movie.

“Waiting for you to wake up. Why are you sleeping in the middle of the day like this?”

He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, which was even more disconcerting.

“If you weren’t so committed to your corporeal form, you wouldn’t even need to sleep. You could get a lot more done.”

“I like to sleep,” I told him, rubbing my eyes. “I like to dream, and it feels nice to be drowsy and tired with soft sheets and fluffy pillows. Sometimes Wyatt sleeps with me and wraps me all up in a straightjacket of arms and legs. His skin is smooth and warm, and I can feel his breath in my hair.”

Gregory’s eyes narrowed at my mention of Wyatt. Yep, no love lost there.

“Here’s the weekly kill report.” He handed me a paper with his swirled writing on it.

I looked at him nervously. “I killed another human last night. Well, Boomer did actually, but on my command. Do I need to do paperwork for that? Am I allowed a certain number of kills as the Iblis? Do I have a maximum?”

He sighed. “Yes, there’s a form. You need to justify the kill, and then the Council reviews it at the next meeting to ensure it complies with the regulations. Before you became the Iblis, I had to report on any of your kills as the one who bound you. I’m relieved that you now have that responsibility. I’ve got enough paperwork to do.”

Fuck. I looked at the paper. It detailed each demon killed this past week for violating the treaty, who had killed them, how they were killed, a physical description of them. It was quite a report. Four demons turned to dust. Gregory had killed three. Busyasta’s name was at the bottom of the list.

Level four–dot–two–point–eight–six demon, known as Busyasta. Removed by AA One. Raw energy absorbed by sword. Decapitation and transmutation. Violation of treaty concerning trespass in the realm of humans. Violation of statute one–four–nine–five–point–six–three regarding assault on the property of an angel.

Property of an angel. I guess that was me. I looked around for a pen.

“Am I supposed to sign it in blood or something?” I asked. “I’m not really sure the protocol here.”

Gregory handed me a pen from the dresser and sat back down on the bed, disturbingly close. I could feel the power flowing from him in hot waves. Again, I thought of myself at the sink, with his arms around me, creating the water globes.
Stop it
, I thought and shook my head to clear it of the memory.

“Ink is ok for these, although there are some reports that require special signatures.” He watched me sign the document and took it from my hands.

“What happens if I don’t do a report on my kill?”

“You’ll be reprimanded. If you still don’t report, you’ll be disciplined.” He smiled at me. It was a gloating sort of smile that held a hint of intimacy. “You really don’t want to be disciplined. I’ll personally take care of the matter, and you know how thorough I am.”

“I don’t know the forms or the statues or anything,” I told him in frustration. “I can’t believe the old Iblis did this sort of thing. I can’t see any demon doing this sort of thing.”

Gregory’s smile vanished.

“What happened to your old Iblis? Do you know? What happened after the banishment?” he asked, his voice strained.

I looked at him closely. He’d fought the guy hand to hand. The Iblis had cut his wings to ribbons, had probably been the one to kill his beloved youngest brother. Even millions of years later, he still should be in a fiery rage over it. He should want to descend into Hel and take off the guy’s head.

“I don’t know. The sword and the title were lost right after the fall. The vampires said you can’t give up the sword, so I assume that it abandoned him or he died. I’m sure he’s dead by now,” I reassured him. “There are very few demons still alive from the wars.”

My words didn’t seem to lighten his mood. He sat for a while in silence, looking with unseeing eyes at the kill report.

“Why did they all die?” he asked, his voice flat. “There’s no reason that demons shouldn’t live as long as angels. Did someone kill them? Do you all go on murderous rampages?”

“Not really. We do sometimes kill each other by accident, or if we have a feud, like this thing between Haagenti and me, but it’s not like we’re constantly murdering.”

I looked at him closely, not sure what he wanted me to say. “We’re not really stable beings. Eventually we run out of interesting, new things to do and experience, and we become bored and depressed. The day comes when we just convert out our bodies and allow our spirit selves to splinter and disperse into the universe.”

Gregory looked horrified.

“You commit suicide?”

“Eventually, yes.”

He grabbed my shoulders. “Vow to me that you won’t attempt such a thing,” he commanded in that arrogant, imperious way of his.

I was perplexed. Why did this bother him so much? I couldn’t believe he really cared whether I lived or died. If I committed suicide, it would save him the trouble of killing me.

“I can’t make that vow. This is who we are, what we do, and sometimes the call is too strong to resist. It’s not a bad thing, really. Not from our point of view.”

He looked furious, the hands gripping my shoulders tightened painfully. “Then you will summon me if you feel that you want to do this thing.”

That was a really odd command. Was this like some kind of intervention? Was he a sponsor that I would turn to when I was feeling down and blue? And how the hell was I supposed to get a hold of him anyway.

“With a cell phone? How do I call you?” Was I supposed to pray or something?

“Not call me,
summon
me,” he said. “This brand binds both ways. You don’t need to know my names, or my titles. You don’t need my sigil or anything. Just pull on the ties between us and command me to you. I’m compelled to come to you no matter where you are, or what realm you are in.”

Wow, he must have been really angry over the thought of my suicide to reveal that to me. I had the power to command an angel, to summon him to me. What a novel idea. Life just got more interesting.

“Ok, I will summon you if I ever feel like I want to off myself, or if I’m feeling that level of desperation where death seems like a pleasant alternative.”

He let go of my shoulders and sat back.

“Is this because I’ll kill a part of you too?” I asked, half afraid of the answer.

He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t thought of that.

“No,” he said before turning away to look down at the paper again.

“Then why? Why do you care?” I pushed for an answer.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m simply indulging in reckless fantasy.”

I looked back at him. I had no idea what my possible death had to do with reckless fantasy.

Gregory got up to leave.

“See you soon?” I asked.

“Hopefully not too soon,” he said sternly, waving a finger at me. He was smiling. “Behave yourself. I’ve still got a leash with your name on it ready and waiting.”

I pretended to look horrified as he vanished.

Clipping the Barrette of the Iblis into my hair, I dialed Wyatt.

“Hey, let’s go deal with a corpse and grab some hot wings.”

About the Author

Debra Dunbar primarily writes urban fantasy, but has been known to put her pen to paranormal romance, young adult fiction, and dark fantasy on occasion. She lives on a farm in the northeast section of the United States with her husband, three boys, and a Noah’s ark of four legged family members. When she can sneak out, she likes to jog and ride her horse, Treasure. Treasure, on the other hand, would prefer Debra stay on the ground and feed him apples.

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Also by Debra Dunbar

A DEMON BOUND (Imp Series, Book 1)

Samantha Martin is an imp. She throws her gum on the floor of five star restaurants, bounces inflatable holiday decorations down the highway at rush hour, and clip jaywalking pedestrians with her car. Sam also likes to kill people and keep their souls inside her for all eternity, but acting on that particular urge will get her killed by the angels, who are determined to rid the world of her kind.

Sam works hard to keep her human identity realistic: she owns slum rental properties, and she is trying to get her hot neighbor into the sack. When she kills a werewolf in an act of self–defense, his pack leaders blackmail her into helping track and kill a rogue angel. The very actions she must take to appease the werewolves put her at risk of being discovered and killed by angels.

SATAN’S SWORD (Imp Series, Book 2)