The Devil's Right Hand

Chapter 21

When I woke, the bed was empty. Weak rainy sunlight fell in through the windows, outlining Japhrimel as he stood, hands clasped behind his back, looking out onto the Freetown. The light ran over his long black coat and the darkness of his hair—slightly longer now, falling softly over onto his forehead instead of a flat military cut. I liked his hair longer, it made him look a little less severe.

I pushed myself up on my elbows, the back of my neck naked without the heavy weight of long hair. I gathered the sheet, held it to my chest. Saw the glitter of the wristcuff, my rings sparking as another rushing wave of Power slid over me. It was nice, I decided. Maybe a side effect of him being… whatever he was, now.

Demon. Again. But still Japhrimel.

Still my Fallen.

I scrubbed at my face, my rings scraping. Ran my fingers back through my hair, wincing a little as chopped strands rasped against my skin. It was so silky the tangles would come out fairly easily, but so thick that combing promised to be a frustrating process. I looked at Japhrimel’s back, and the rest of the night crashed back onto me.

As if he felt my gaze, he turned away from the window. I felt the humming in the walls—he’d shielded this room so well it was almost invisible. His eyes scorched green in the gray light, his face was just the same otherwise. Except for the faint line between his charcoal eyebrows, the way one corner of his mouth pulled down slightly, and the odd shadow over his cheeks.

“’Morning,” I yawned.

He nodded. “More like afternoon. How do you feel?”

I took stock. Hungry, still a little shaky from the adrenaline surge of last night, and still not sanguine about getting through Lucifer’s newest game in one piece. “Not too bad,” I lied. “You?”

He shrugged, an evocative movement.

We both studied each other. Finally, I patted the bed next to me. “Come on, sit down.”

He approached the bed soundlessly, dropped down. I touched his shoulder through the coat, rubbed my palm over the velvet-over-iron, trailed my fingers up the back of his neck, slid them through his hair. Touched his face—he closed his eyes, leaned into my fingers with a silent sigh. I brushed his shadowed cheek, smoothing away the wetness.

I hadn’t known demons could produce tears.

I touched his cheekbone, the wonderful winged arch, teased at his lips with a fingertip until the bitter little grimace went away. Then I traced the line between his eyebrows until it eased out. Brushed my thumb over his eyebrow. His eyes half-closed, burning against their lids.

“What does that feel like, to you?” I whispered, my heart in my throat.

There it was, that slight tender half-smile he used just for me. “It’s quite pleasant.”

“How pleasant?” I found myself smiling back.

“Pleasant enough, hedaira.” He submitted to my touch, his face easing. His aura enfolded mine, stroked up my back as I soothed him.

“Japhrimel.”

“Dante.” His mouth shaped my name, softly. He leaned slightly into my fingers, a small movement that managed to make my heart, trapped in my throat, leap.

“Why did you ask Lucifer to give you back a demon’s Power?”

His expression didn’t alter. “It was too good an opportunity to miss. Why did you cut your hair?”

“Camouflage. I don’t think I could use skinspray, and if I used a glamour psions would get curious.” I paused, acknowledging his wry expression. He appeared to find that extremely amusing. “I’m sorry. I was on a hair-trigger last night.” I offered it in the spirit of conciliation. I had to admit, a full-fledged demon on my side dramatically improved my chances of getting through this.

“I am not some faithless human, Dante. I fell; I am Fallen, and my fate is bound to yours. It disturbs me, that you forget it.” His eyes were still closed. He tipped his chin up, exposing his throat, I ran my finger down the vulnerable curve under his chin and he shuddered.

Oddly enough, it was that little shudder of reaction that convinced me. Did I need convincing when I’d slept next to him again? Shared my body with him again? “If you’d just talk to me about this, I wouldn’t get so tangled up. Is that so much to ask?” I think it’s reasonable, Japh. Far more reasonable than anyone who ever knew me might think I was capable of being. I’m not known for forgiving people.

“You promised not to doubt me.” His voice was low, rough honey.

That’s beside the goddamn point. It’s because I trust you that I’m asking you this. “If you’d tell me what’s happening when people are trying to kill me, I’d have an easier time,” I repeated, but without my usual fire. “You just spun a complete one-eighty on me in front of Lucifer—how was I supposed to feel?”

“You had to appear shocked. It was necessary.” He said it so kindly, so reasonably, that I felt like an idiot for still pressing the point. His eyes glowed green, a shade that reminded me of Lucifer’s eyes even though they lacked the inherent awfulness of the Devil’s gaze. I couldn’t say exactly how it was different, but he looked more… human. Even with the glowing force of his eyes and the strangeness of his face, harshly balanced between severity and beauty, he still looked more human than he ever had.

“Necessary.” I didn’t like the way my hand shook. “Gods, Japhrimel. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Can you not simply trust in me?”

I never thought I would live to hear a demon plead. A new experience to add to all the other new experiences. They were coming thick and fast these days. The oldest curse in the book: may you live in interesting times.

“Listen.” I tried another tack. “You’ve got all this power, you can make me do whatever you want. Can you understand that I might feel a little uneasy? I don’t like being jerked around. Being forced. You know that, it’s been there since the beginning. You know everything about me, but you won’t tell me a single thing about what you’ve made me, or about this whole goddamn situation. I do trust you, I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone else in my whole life, but you’ve got to help me out here.”

His mouth turned down at the corners, almost bitterly. If I had to guess at the expression on his face, I would have called it frustration. Why couldn’t he understand something so eminently reasonable?

“Let’s bargain,” I said finally, when I could talk around the lump of ice in my throat. “I’ll do whatever you think’s best if you promise to talk to me. Don’t spring things like that on me. Deal?”

“I cannot, Dante.” He sounded sad, now. Another first. His mouth actually trembled instead of being pulled into its habitual grim line. “There are things you must let me do. One of them is act for your safety.”

“How is asking Lucifer to turn you into a demon again safe for me? How is any of this safe for me?” I kept a firm hold on my rising irritation. The ice slid down my throat and into my chest, like the creeping numb chill of Death.

“I am not demon, Dante. I am A’nankhimel, a Fallen with a demon’s Power. There is a difference.”

If you would just bloody well talk to me, I would know there was a difference. I thought this over, playing with the rough silk of his hair. “Gods.” My breath hissed out. “I’m warning you, Tierce Japhrimel. You pull another one of those and I’ll… ” I wasn’t used to speechlessness. What could I do to him?

Another tremor slid through him, shocking in someone so controlled. “Fearing for your life is punishment enough, hedaira.”

I decided to let it rest and touched his collarbone through the coat, he shivered again. “I suppose you hired all those people?”

“Hellesvront. If we are hunting demons, if makes sense to use the resources available. There will be more if we need them.” He looked like he wanted to say more, his eyes opening wider and a short breath inhaled. I waited, but nothing came out.

I ruffled his hair affectionately, he smiled again. An unwilling smile touched my own mouth. I’d do anything you wanted if you just explained it to me, Japh. It’s not that hard. “I don’t work well in groups, Japhrimel.”

“Neither do I, my sweetness. Neither do I.”

I let it go then. He had never called me that before.