Kingdom of Lies (Imp Series Book 7) (2 page)

I swore. This dead guy was not my fault, but the way things had been going lately, I’d probably wind up having to do a four-nine-five report on him anyway. What the hell was I supposed to do with this body? Or the fact that some cropped-tail lion monster was running around the city?

I had no time for this shit. Ever since the last Ruling Council meeting, I was either racing around playing the demonic equivalent of a skip tracer, or I was dealing with the werewolves and Nephilim, or I was over in Hel smashing elven heads together. And now I was late—late to meet a sorcerer and a mage. I owed a considerable debt to Gareth and a few favors to Kirby. They’d been patient, but even humans had a limit to their willingness to wait. Not that I blamed them. If I only had a life span of eighty years, I’d be in a bit of a hurry too.

T
he human world seemed to change right before my eyes, but Hel was a constant. Heat scorched me as I stepped through the gate. Red-orange sand danced before my eyes, reflecting the brutal beams of the sun in bright waves. Dis stood in the far distance, black towers rising far above the occasional boulder. To my right, the elven forest glimmered green. I turned away from the verdant foliage, knowing I’d need to deal with those fucking elves eventually. Right now, it was a human summons I was answering. Gareth had sent two more notes, each increasingly stern in tone. I owed him, and he was calling in his favors. There was no way I could further delay my obligations to him.

Still, dread settled like a lump of bad crabmeat in my stomach as I walked toward the city, one wing partially numb and dragging in the sand. Gareth could pretty much ask anything, and I’d need to do it. Hopefully whatever he asked wouldn’t wind up killing me. I was really starting to dig my life, Ruling Council meetings aside. Dying wasn’t on my agenda for a few thousand more years, at the very least.

Gareth’s shop was right in the heart of Dis, convenient to his demon clients. It was also heavily warded, unlike the last time I’d visited. The sorcerer had always exhibited the ultimate in professional behavior, so I was sure it wasn’t unhappy clients he was guarding against.

“Theft an issue?” I asked once he unlocked the five layers of wards to let me into the shop. I’d had to ring the magical equivalent of a doorbell then take two steps forward each time he dismissed a ward. They reactivated behind me, sizzling the skin on my back like the shock from an electric fence. Good thing I wasn’t in a larger form or I wouldn’t have been able to squeeze safely between the layers.

“Theft isn’t my only issue.” He gestured toward a blackened wall, the outline of a six-legged lizard a clear spot in the middle. “It’s when they decide to try out the merchandise inside the store that’s the real problem.”

Thankfully it wasn’t
my
problem. Well, unless Gareth decided to make it my problem. “So, I’m here. What’s the scoop?”

Gareth went to adjust a display of wands, putting the large granite counter between us. Runes lit up along the edge as I approached it. “I need to call in a favor. Kirby also asked me to convey his request.”

It would save me a trip to visit Kirby. Oh yeah, I was all about multitasking and efficiency of time lately. I took a deep breath and nodded, ready to get this over with. “Of course. What can I do for the pair of you?”

“Kirby wants you to fix Libertytown.”

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for the rest of his request. Kirby wasn’t stupid enough to use a favor on something as vague as “fixing” a village full of freed human slaves. “Fixing” to a demon could involve razing the town, encasing it in a block of ice, submerging it twenty feet under water. It’s the way we rolled.

“The humans there will soon be forced to go back into slavery with the elves or die of starvation. Crops are failing now that the elven weather modifications have stopped. Kirby wants you to ensure they have viable food crops and the necessary soil and weather conditions to support agriculture.”

Shit. I’d been joking when I’d told Gregory the sorcerer probably wanted me to end world hunger. He
did
want me to end world hunger—this world’s hunger.

“Gareth, I might be the Iblis, but I’m still an imp. The best I can do is arrange for regular Peapod deliveries.” Actually, I probably couldn’t even do that. Getting a box truck full of groceries through a gate and across a few hundred miles of unflinching desert would be a miracle. Doing it weekly would be impossible.

“Food deliveries would be acceptable while you’re working on the actual solution, but they’re not a replacement for the service Kirby is asking. He wants them to have sustainable agriculture—crops they can eat as well as trade or sell for other commodities.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then find someone who can. You owe me over a dozen favors, and you owe Kirby more than just this one. We both have your vow.”

Damn it all. I squirmed, knowing full well that I was completely fucked. “Imp, Gareth. I’m an imp. You need an elf, and I’ve managed to alienate every one of them by freeing these humans. It’s not a matter of calling in a favor from one of them; it’s that they won’t deal with me at all.”

“That’s your problem, not mine. I told you Kirby’s favor. He said if you do this; he’ll consider your entire debt to him satisfied.”

I bit my lip. I owed Kirby at least two favors. Maybe more. I wasn’t sure anymore. It was so hard keeping track of all this shit that I’d started putting together a spreadsheet. But whether I owed Kirby two or four favors, having a clean slate with at least one of these two magic users would be a weight off my back.

But crops and weather? I needed an elf. Leethu was the only demon I knew who still counted elves as friends. I didn’t know how good the Kllee elves were at weather and crop manipulation—that tended to be more of a Cyelle and Wythyn thing. Shit, I just didn’t know any elves who didn’t want to kill me on sight.

But I did know a half-elf. And she’d brought my sorry boxwoods back to life after Boomer fried them to a crisp with his hellhound piss.

“This is a significant favor Kirby is requesting,” I told him, playing the game we all played. “Clearly such a service is worth six favors. Perhaps you can throw a couple of yours into the mix. It’s got to be in your interest to ensure the survival of Libertytown.”

Gareth shot me a sour look. “No, Az. All of Kirby’s favors for this one. Although, there is a service I would like to ask of you that would help reduce your debt to me. Nothing too time-consuming. Just a small task.”

Uh-oh. Anything worded so innocuously had to be simply horrible. “I’m always grateful for any opportunity to reduce my debt to you. What did you have in mind?”

He gestured to the rings of wards visible outside his front door. “An item has been stolen from me. I would like it returned.”

Maybe this
was
an easy one, a bone Gareth was throwing me because of our long, mutually beneficial association. I’d retrieved a ton of stolen items for elves and high-level demons over the centuries. Magical items were tricky, but not nearly as tricky as hauling in runaway sorcerers or tracking down half-elf hybrids. Besides, I was an imp. I was reckless and crazy and I never learned from my past mistakes. Ever.

“Sounds good to me.”

Gareth smiled, his shoulders relaxing as tension left his face. “Excellent. Meet me at your home tomorrow noon, and I’ll give you all the details.”

Home? Oh yeah, Ahriman’s home, which was now my home. I couldn’t get used to the thought of that house of horrors actually being mine. Ahriman owned a small dwelling in Dis with a nifty portal that transported residents lickety-split to the monstrous house in Patchine—the one with bone and dried-flesh furniture and blood-spatter wall coverings.

It was now
my
house. And tomorrow would actually work for me. I had a few prior commitments for later today, and I’d need to find time to convince Amber to work her elven magic on Libertytown. According to Gregory, I should be able to accomplish ten times that many things in less than a twenty-four-hour period. I wasn’t an angel, but I could manage this.

“Deal. I’ll see you tomorrow noon,” I told the sorcerer. Then I waited forever while he slowly let me out of his shop so I could start my teleportation to twenty random places before I finally reached my intended destination. All I needed to do was take care of a few things, get Amber on board, then come back to find some stolen item. Easy peasy, and I’d owe a whole lot less favors.

****

My house was full of demons and angels, but this time no one was trying to kill each other—yet.

Raphael smiled encouragingly at the angel beside him, Pasta or Porkchop or something. Her face was the picture of serenity, but the hands knotting the hem of her T-shirt gave her away. Girlfriend was nervous, unlike the three demons behind the decorative screen. They were insanely excited, already betting on who she’d choose this first round.

“No more than six questions. You need to ask each demon at least one question, but the rest are up to you.”

Prosciutto took a deep breath, releasing her clothing to run a hand over her golden curls. “Demon Number One, what is the most important characteristic to you in the formation of offspring?”

“Damn, girl, thought we were going to fuck first, or at least throw down a bottle of whisky and set a few buildings on fire. Baby making isn’t on my agenda for a few centuries at least.”

“Projectile vomiting!”

“Six eyes! No, seven! Seven eyes!”

The screen looked about to topple over with the scuffle apparently going on behind it. Peanut’s eyes widened, her hands balling up the hem of her shirt once again. Great. Just great.

“Shut the fuck up!” I yelled. “You’re not supposed to answer until it’s your turn.”

The three fell quickly silent, no doubt remembering my threats from earlier.

“Demon Number Three, if you were to take me to your favorite place in Hel, where would that be?”

“Hey, she skipped me! I’m number two; I’m supposed to go next.”

The screen swayed. I gritted my teeth in frustration. “Stop! She’ll get to you. Just be patient.”

Number Two mumbled something about how he wasn’t going to practice a virtue just to get into the sack with an angel.

Three thought carefully then answered. “Probably the lava pits outside Dis. Right after the sun goes down, when the moons are still on the horizon, everything is tinted orange and pink. Dis is like a row of black sentries standing watch in the distance, and the lava swirls in lazy flows of red and black.”

The angel made an “o” with her mouth, her hands fluttering against her chest. Huh. This might work after all.

“We always bring anything we’ve managed to catch—Low demons, runaway humans, animals—and immerse them in the lava a tiny bit at a time. Their screams fill the air like the bestest music ever. If we’re careful and pull them out after a quick dip, we can manage to make them last for hours. After we’re done, we dare each other to jump across the pits. Winner gets to rip the toenails off the losers.”

Or not.

Peanut cleared her throat. “Demon Number Two.”

“Finally! Yes. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“She hasn’t asked the question yet, asshole! Listen up.”

“Demon Number Two, what do you do to increase your vibration pattern?”

“Run really fast. Oh, and shake. I’m really good at shaking, although I tend to fall over afterward.”

“I’ve made my decision.” Pistachio turned her big blue eyes to Raphael.

“You’ve got three more questions,” he urged.

“No need.” There was a hint of despair in the resolute set of her jaw. “I’m going with Demon Number Two.”

The shaker? The one that kept interrupting and thought projectile vomiting was a trait worthy of passing to his offspring? Damn, these angels were more desperate than I’d thought.

Her words set off a duo of grumbles and one excited shriek. “Okay, come out Fang and meet Pepperoni.”

“Petunia,” she corrected, her stiff smile wavering as the demon leapt from behind the screen. Right. As if that were her
real
name. Angels were just as paranoid as demons when it came to letting their names and titles be known. Of course, the three candidates behind the curtain were so low in the hierarchy of Hel that they only had one name—and didn’t care who knew it. It wasn’t like anyone was going to be summoning them anytime in the next few millennia.

Petunia’s date, Fang, was dressed for the occasion in a slightly bloodstained tuxedo complete with top hat. He’d managed a fairly respectable human form aside from the size-twenty feet and hands. And yes, his trouser snake was in direct proportion to his feet. I know, I’d checked. Lucky angel.

“So... what are we doing for our date?” Petunia shimmered a bit, probably not realizing her anxiety was turning Fang on and ruining the clean lines of his neatly pressed black pants.

“Dinner and a movie.”

Sounded innocent, but nothing ever was as it seemed when it came to demons. The angel smiled in relief. “Where?”

“Food is always better if we catch it ourselves. We’ll hunt then find a nice spot to enjoy our meal.”

Her smile faded. “Hunt? You’re going to kill something?”

Fang laughed, revealing a mouth full of jagged, pointy teeth. “Fuck, no. Everything we’re going to eat is already dead. We’re doing our hunting in dumpsters. The ones at the truck stop always have the best food, and we can sit on the overpass and watch the traffic on I-70. The exhaust fumes truly set the perfect ambiance.”

It was better than his original idea. And watching their movie through the Pattersons’ picture window was a better alternative than slaughtering the family and using their corpses as chairs while viewing pay-per-view.

“All right, you two love birds. Get out there and have your date. Remember, we want to hear all about it tomorrow morning.”

The other two demons raided my fridge as Rafi and I ushered our lucky winners to the door.

“Gah.” Rafi stuck a finger in his mouth as if he were trying to induce some projectile vomiting of his own. “That demon was seriously the best you could do?”