Fourteen

“So, this is the delicious Eva, hmm?”

Groggily, I shook my head and got to my knees, looking upward at the man who stood next to me. He was about my height, with black hair that was slicked back and a face that looked strangely familiar. He also had a leer that instinctively had me reaching for Kostya. “It’s Aoife, not Eva. Kostya, are you all right? Where are we?”

Kostya lay facedown next to me on asphalt. Judging by the debris, water-stained cardboard boxes, looming large trash receptacles, general smell, and dimness of light, I judged us to be in an alley of some sort. I scooted over to him, ignoring the pain as small pebbles and a plastic bottle cap dug into my knee, and rolled Kostya over.

His eyes opened, but they were unfocused.

“Holy crapballs, what did you do to him?” I snarled in the direction of the black-haired letch. “Kostya, my darling, are you all right? It’s me, Aoife. Do you recognize me? Did you hit your head? Is anything broken?”

Quickly I felt my way down his body, but nothing seemed harmed.

He said something I didn’t understand and blinked at me. His hair, normally swept back from his brow, looked rumpled, as if someone had ruffled his hair and left it standing on end. His black eye was already fading, allowing him to squint at me and say, “Aoife?”

“Yes, it’s me.” I smoothed his hair down. “Did you hurt yourself? I think I blacked out going through that tear thingie, but I didn’t feel sick like I did when Jim and I got dragged into hell.”

“Abaddon,” corrected the man next to us. “Wyvern, the Guardian told me to instruct you to return to her home. You will tell her that I have completed the tasks she has given me, and thus you are to give me the location of your mother, as agreed.”

Kostya sat up, shaking his head a little, obviously to clear it. He frowned, then glared up at the man. “Who… oh, it’s you. I forgot Aisling had to use you.”

“Use me! I am used by no woman, unless she has a donkey rig and several small, barbed whips.” Even as I helped Kostya get to his feet, the man hitched his leer up a notch and waggled his eyebrows at me. “I don’t suppose you care for barbed whips, my delectable little wyvern’s mate?”

“Who the hell—”

“Abaddon.”

“—are you?” I asked, brushing off first Kostya, then my own jeans.

“Magoth, former prince of Abaddon and ruler of more legions than you could count, demon lord extraordinaire, and star of stage, screen, and soon a highly anticipated series of erotic webisodes. I believe that’s the correct word. My people would know.” He waved a hand in a vague manner. “You may call me ‘my lord.’ Or perhaps ‘master,’ although that tends to be overused these days.”

“How about neither,” I grumbled, glancing up and down the alley. “Where’s Jim?”

“The demon went off to find transport.” Magoth pulled out a cell phone and read some messages. “The location of the wickedly inventive Dona Catalina?”

Kostya straightened up, finally getting himself together. He gave Magoth a long, long look before shaking his head. “She is well able to take care of herself, so I don’t know why I hesitate to tell you. She is in Aruba. Recently, she began a bondage club there and has expressed her intent to stay on until it bores her.”

“Oooh, bondage club,” Magoth said, a little ripple of pleasure visibly affecting him. “What a delightful notion. City and address?”

Kostya told him.

“I shall look forward to offering her my expert advice on the best way to add a little extra sado to her masochism.” Magoth gave us a little bow, tried to catch a look down my shirt, and when I crossed my arms, heaved a huge mock sigh and toddled off.

“That was a former demon lord?” I asked Kostya when he, without even a glance my way, turned and headed in the opposite direction. “Why does he want to know where your mom is? And while we’re on the subject: you have a mom?”

“Of course I have a mother. Everyone does.”

I glared after him for a moment, then broke into a trot to catch up, taking his hand when I did so. “Yes, but not all of them are alive, especially not if you’re several hundred years old. Aren’t you a little bit worried about sending a demon lord her way? One who clearly has some sexual deviancy issues?”

His fingers weren’t at all their usual pleasant selves. He didn’t so much as rub his thumb over the back of my hand. Nor did he look at me. Rather than being a man who, according to Jim, had missed me greatly, he had the appearance of one who couldn’t bear to have me around.

I was far more hurt than I wanted to admit, but I was unsure of whether I should just ask him what was wrong or give him the space he was so obviously signaling that he needed.

“Unfortunately, my mother spent some time enjoying Magoth’s company. It drove Drake mad, but our mother has long made her own choices, and she little heeds our advice. Besides, the last time she and Magoth got together, he was out of commission for a good three days.” Suddenly, he smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “There are few who can best Mother, especially when it comes to dubious sexual practices.”

“Great. I’m marrying into a family of bondage fans,” I said lightly, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze.

He dropped my hand, striding across a narrow street into another alley.

I stopped, wanting to cry, and hit him, and run away and hide for a few years. I did none of them.

Kostya must have realized I wasn’t with him, for halfway down the alley he stopped and turned to gesture me forward.

“This is not the time or place,” I told myself, hesitating a few seconds before I crossed the street and entered the alley. “There are better times to deal with whatever bee is up his butt.” As I approached him, he turned, obviously not even able to stand looking at me. “To hell with the right time—what is the matter with you?”

He had started to walk on, but when I didn’t follow, he half turned back toward me. “What?”

“That’s what I want to know—what’s wrong with you? Have I suddenly turned into something repulsive that you can’t even brace yourself to look me in the eye? Do I smell like something horrible? Are you pissed at me?”