Kingdom of Lies (Imp Series Book 7) (23 page)

Ancients. I thought about the cat. Lasers shooting from eyeballs wouldn’t do much more than piss an ancient demon off. Shit, that probably wouldn’t do more than piss
any
demon off who was higher than a Low. But if a kitten went from painful bites and scratches to wrecking a mall, then I could expect a mid-level greed demon to jump pretty high up the power scale.

Enough to go against an ancient? Eh. I wasn’t sure about that one. And I was going to take that as my excuse to put the three ancients at the bottom of my visitation list. That left me with four demons. Figuring I needed to look my most impressive, I stretched my wings to their full width and summoned my Iblis sword.

I suck at swordplay. In fact, it shouldn’t have escaped anyone that I sucked at a lot of things. I am, however, reasonably accurate with a shotgun. Anyone can be reasonably accurate with a shotgun. Just point it in the general direction of what you want to hit, and the big-ass spray of shot is bound to hit something. No one besides a handful of elves and demons had ever seen a firearm of any kind in Hel. Demons tended to spend short amounts of time among the humans, punctuated by lengthy stays in Hel, so their remembrance of guns would be foggy at best. Plus human guns, outside of the occasional lucky shot, don’t often kill us.

My Iblis sword in the form of a gun could—kill, that is. Even if my aim sucked.

I pursed my lips and regarded the sword. Did I need the ceremonial weapon that other demons would recognize, or a weapon I could actually defend myself with? That was the million-dollar question.

Sword. Yes, Alex, that’s my final answer. Probably stupid, but impression is nine tenths of how demons perceive each other, and how much respect they show in interactions. I was an imp. My level wasn’t particularly high. The things I had going for me was a sentient sword that chose me as the titular leader of Hel, and a big fucking pair of black, feathery angel wings. I was counting on the two of those to override the rest and gain me entrance.

Ose was first. He was a bit of a purist when it came to demon forms. Leopard. Not leopard with a snake head, or leopard with insect legs and the back end of a bull. Leopard. It was kind of refreshing actually. Beyond that, I didn’t know much about him. Well, other than stories of how he loved to drive humans to insanity by ‘gifting’ them with visual hallucinations. He sounded like a pretty cool guy, actually.

And he wasn’t home. His steward wasn’t a cool guy; she was a complete asshole. According to her, Ose had never stolen, claimed, borrowed, or had any dealings whatsoever with a greed demon of any level.
That
I found hard to believe, but when she started waxing poetic about the demon’s accomplishments, that his level was so high I would get a nosebleed just tilting my head to look there, I got the picture.

“I wanted to discuss the breeding petition he sent me.” For emphasis, I shook my wings, letting a black feather drift gently to the floor.

The steward’s eyes bugged out. She had the head of a dragonfly, so that was saying quite a lot. “I didn’t... he never... I don’t—“

I stood with a smug smile. “I was concerned he had unfinished business with a greed demon, because that would be a bit of a deal breaker on my part. That’s one demon type I just can’t abide. I’ll definitely consider his petition now I know that isn’t true.”

“Wait, he... Plurius. Plurius stole some scrolls from Ose a few centuries ago, and my master infested his dwelling with scale biters. They’re best friends now, though. Plurius is over all the time. They even have some business dealings in the Shorelands together.”

One of the bennies of my Angel of Chaos transformation was that I was pretty damned good at spotting lies. Psychopaths notwithstanding, I could detect a fib from a mile away. Demons were generally psychopaths, so you’d think my lie detector skills wouldn’t work on them, but I seemed better at sniffing out falsehoods among my own people than I did with humans or other races. This steward told the truth. And based on this, I strongly doubted that Ose was the target, and Plurius probably wasn’t the demon with the gem.

“Ugh. Well, I will definitely send my rejection.” I spun around, knocking several tables over with my wings as well as sweeping a large portrait askew.

Ose’s steward showed me to the door as fast as her little spindly legs could move, and I was off to the next demon on my list—Malphas.

This was another demon I’d long admired. Malphas liked to fly around in the shape of a crow. Given my new feathered appendages, I could appreciate another demon who was confident enough in his evilhood to sport feathers on a regular basis.

And Malphas tossed me out on my ear, informing me he didn’t have any dealings with greed demons or with imps, no matter how interesting their wings were or what type of ceremonial weaponry they carried.

Leragie’s house was equally a bust, as was Isacaaron’s. I was summoning the courage to visit Pamersiel, one of the ancients, when I heard an explosion. I hauled ass, keeping my wings tight to my back to reduce drag. Rounding the corner, I saw Pamersiel’s dwelling, pointy spires of ruby red glistening in the fading light. It was like a gigantic cluster of bloody stalagmites. And one lay in ten-foot shards on the ground. A demon stood in front of the gates, just outside the ring of molten lava that served as a moat. He had tattered leathery wings, the head of a wasp, and a muscular body with four arms—arms surprisingly devoid of any weaponry.

“Pamersiel,” the demon shouted. “Get your fat ass out here right now.”

“He’s not here, you fucking idiot.” The steward swayed to the left as he spoke, his antennae trembling. He had cause to be nervous. Two other demons lay at his feet, their entrails spread across the white walkway. Body parts littered the courtyard.

A hand tugged mine, and I spun about, nearly chopping Snip in two with my sword.

“Hide, Mistress,” he hissed. “Avarnak. He’s pissed, and he’s a whole lot more powerful than he was last time I saw him.”

Yeah. I noticed. Hiding sounded like a really damned good idea right now. It was definitely an option I wanted to keep in my back pocket. Likewise, I had no immediate intention of rushing into the middle of this like a complete fool with wings flapping and sword ablaze. Better to hold back, let the cards fall where they may, then figure out a way of getting the gem from this Avarnak.

Leader of the demons didn’t mean I was the local sheriff. I just spoke for our interests on the Ruling Council, not intervened in disputes. For all I knew, Avarnak had a legitimate beef with Pamersiel. I was only here to get the gem. That’s all.

Fuck. Who was I kidding? I took a step closer, trying to determine which side of this brawl I was going to weigh in on.

“Well get him here, you troll-fucking Low.”

The steward hissed, sparks dancing between antennae and his clawed hands. Then he took a look at the bodies near his eight hooked feet and stiffened. “He. Is. Not. Here. And Pamersiel does not take kindly to being summoned as if he were a common imp.”

Yeah, imps got no respect. Even with angel wings and a sentient sword.

Avarnak lifted two arms toward the sky, and another crimson spire cracked. The sound was deafening, and I instinctively covered my head as huge chunks of the tower crashed onto the ground. Luckily none hit Snip or I, but several bystanders were crushed.

“Summon his ass now, or I’ll take this castle apart spire by spire. Maybe he’ll kill you for disturbing him, but he’ll definitely kill you once he sees the wreckage he used to call home.”

The steward tapped a hand against one of his legs then nodded. “It is done.”

I knew how quickly an ancient could move from place to place. Ahriman had seemed to be everywhere at once, and if I could ever get the knack of teleporting myself around, I might appear the same.

“Go back to the house, Snip. I’ll follow in a moment.”

I didn’t want the little guy anywhere near when this went down. The Low bolted, and before I could take another breath, the temperature shot up at least fifty degrees. Dis was hot enough, but this was skin-blisteringly hot. I contemplated shifting into my dragon form, but a dragon with black feathered wings holding a sword seemed a bit over the top.

Pamersiel appeared in a twenty-foot flame of deep red, rising from the moat of steaming lava. He hovered above it, a humanoid shape of flame with yellow eyes and a black slash of a mouth. With a flick of a hand, he motioned the steward back into the building.

I didn’t know him at all, but he’d sent one of his household back to safety the same as I had. It was a mark in his favor.

“You burned down my home, killed my household, stole everything I owned,” Avarnak shouted.

Okay. Been there, and it really sucked. At least when Ahriman had torched my place, my household had survived.

“Oh, get over it. That was fifteen-hundred years ago. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you too. Clearly my mercy was misplaced. It won’t happen again.”

A stream of profanity poured from Avarnak.

“Such a lack of respect towards your elders.” Pamersiel seemed pretty mellow given the tense situation. “I fought in the Great War, I—”

“I don’t give a shit.” Two spires shattered. Avarnak was engulfed in flames. Then everything cleared. Flames died, glittery red dust settled. The two demons stood right where they had been before. Unharmed. Avarnak didn’t have a smoke smudge on him. A three-foot radius around Pamersiel was pristine and clear of any debris.

I took a breath, and then everything exploded. Crimson flames roared up from the ground, the moat surged, flowing over the banks and incinerating everything in its path. Every remaining spire blew outward, sharp projectiles that looped around like guided missiles to their target. It became a blur of action, red dust and fire. I didn’t know how to intervene, who to attack, so I held back, frustrated and trying to keep my hair and skin from burning to a crisp.

When the dust cleared this time, Avarnak stood alone in a sea of destruction. I approached, fully aware that if we went mano-a-mano, I’d probably lose. Brute strength wasn’t my skill. Deception was.

“Damn! You took out an ancient. That was truly the fight of the century pay-per-view style. Greed demon prevails.”

Avarnak spun around, and I swear to fucking all that is unholy, he shot a laser beam at me out of his beady little eyes. My first thought was to protect my wings, so I snapped them tight against my back. My second thought, which actually happened simultaneously with my first thought, was that I really didn’t want to get sliced in half by some blue light. I swung my sword upward to block the hit, hoping it absorbed lasers as well as it did electricity and demon-energy attacks.

It didn’t. The sword deflected the beam, which slammed into one of the red crystalline shards that had formerly been a tower. It ricocheted around a bit before sputtering out into the sandy ground.

“Nice sword,” Avarnak commented.

“Nice... eye lasers,” I replied.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“The Iblis.” I didn’t really feel like reciting all my names. Besides, he could see I was an imp; I figured the title was the most impressive thing about me.

He grunted. “What the fuck do you want?”

Phew. I was taking this as a don’t-startle-the-juiced-up-greed-demon lesson. Avarnak didn’t seem all that inclined to kill me out of hand, which gave me a few more minutes to figure out how to get the gem.

“I want the gem.”

I wasn’t feeling especially creative, and I’d run out of time. Might as well try the direct approach.

“You’ll need to pry it from my cold, lifeless hands—all four of them.”

I had a feeling he would say that, so I readied my sword and rushed him. In its shotgun form, my Iblis weapon had a tendency toward overkill—emphasis on the kill. I didn’t have any beef with Avarnak. He’d bought a magical item and used it, and so far he hadn’t done anything that would have gone against our, admittedly loose, moral code. I only wanted to beat him to a pulp and take the gem.

Ten feet from the other demon, his arm extended like Elastagirl on speed and grabbed my wrist with force I hadn’t felt since my time in Ahriman’s dungeon. He twisted. Bones snapped, and the sword clattered embarrassingly to the ground. Pathetic, but I’d been fighting without this sword for nearly a millennium, and I had other tricks.

Sword on not, I kept going, plowing into the demon and twisting my legs around his as I dropped my weight to the ground. His eyes registered surprise right before I smashed a fist into them. That was the only chance I had to land a blow. Avarnak grabbed that arm and pulverized it as he had the other, then twisted to flip me onto the bottom.

Greed demons aren’t usually very creative. Avarnak mirrored my attack, releasing my arms to lay a steady stream of blows on my head and upper torso. I let him, taking a quick second to repair my arms so I could wave them around ineffectually and try to push him off as he beat my face to a pulp.

At least that’s what it looked like. In reality, I was busy searching pockets and pouches for the gem. The thing was fucking huge. Unless he’d shoved it up his ass, I should be able to get my fingers on it, especially since he was focused on turning my head into a crushed, overripe melon.

Got it. My fingers closed around something big and hard with sharp edges. I palmed it, pulling it from the demon’s pocket just as he gave up on my face and yanked me up from the pavement. I was upright, gripping the object in my hand securely as I tried to repair my head injuries enough to see and hear.

My eyesight cleared just in time to feel myself launched through the air. I mean launched. It was like being thrown by a trebuchet. My back smashed into something solid, and I heard a crack. Scrabbling one-handed, I tried to find something to grab onto so I wouldn’t plunge fifty feet to the sharp broken bits of Pamersiel’s home that littered the pavement below. There was another loud splintering noise. The section of building I held onto jerked downward, and I realized that more than my bones had broken when I hit this wall.

Don’t drop the gem
was my only thought as I fell. Well that and how much hitting the ground was going to suck. It did suck. I landed on the only clear place of pavement then bounced, coming down to impale myself on a foot-long spike of rebar. The section of tower that had been following me to the ground landed on top of me. And just to add to the Wile E Coyote-esqueness of the situation, I dropped the gem.