Deadly Sin (Cassandra Farbanks) (12 page)

“The second one I can’t answer, but I know someone who may. We’ll deal with that momentarily. The power over sin is usually something they would use in their own realm. Up here they are mostly deal makers. You can’t make a deal with someone if your power kills him first.” I leaned forward on my chair.

“Do they really try to get you to sell them your soul?” Truth blinked and nodded.

“Yes, the soul is very much a commodity, its currency. I am sure that I have told you this before, so stop me if you recall it. The soul is an untapped well of energy. It makes it very attractive, though I am not quite sure as to why.”

“But Lillith took the souls out of people.”

“Yes and no. Lillith got the souls because her power is so irresistible to most that the victim let it go. They gave it up. Every creature is susceptible to desire.”

I leaned back in my chair, pushing my half empty cup away from me. When I’d met Lillith she kissed me and tried to pull my soul out through my mouth. It hadn’t worked. I was beginning to suspect that I’d not actually put a block up to stop her, but for some reason her power hadn’t quite been able to overwhelm me. Although, the people it had overwhelmed gave me delicious ammunition to tease a very snotty, Victorian vampress with later. Since I hadn’t been overwhelmed, hadn’t wanted her to take it, she couldn’t. She’d been the first and last demon I’d come across.

Truth held out a piece of paper to me, wafting it back and forth in front of my face until I noticed it. I took it and was unable to read a single line of the scrawl that was written there.

“With penmanship like this you should have been a doctor. What is this?”

“It’s a summoning rite. Burn it and it will call Lucifer to you.”

“Lucifer? You want me to summon and talk to a demon.” Truth did that long look around the room again, waiting for someone to jump out and arrest her.

“Yes. If there are any more of his brethren roaming around up here, he’ll know. They all keep track of each other to some extent. You are not bound by council law, so you can summon him directly. Best I could do would be to leave him a voicemail and wait for him to check it, which could take days.”

“You know Lucifer?” Her cheeks flushed slightly again and I shuddered. “I don’t want to know.”

“He’s a fairly nice guy,” she said in her own defense. “Not nearly as bad as he’s made out to be. Just be cautious. Do not make a deal with him. He will try to talk you into plenty, believe you me. And do not go to bed with him.”

“Don’t worry. If he’s behind any of this, the only thing I’m going to want to do is kick his ass.”

Chapter Eight

I hadn’t stepped foot in the Trolls Head in nearly a year but it was quiet and out of the way. This particular pub was owned and managed by the man behind the bar, Garrick, who himself was part rock troll. The building is a large L shape with a white and black Tudor exterior, and an interior that was classic, if not authentic, to the time period. The interior had seen some remodeling since I’d last been in. No major changes, most of it had been restoration work. He’d taken out one side of the booths in the back and refitted the chimney of the old fireplace. Now a roaring fire sat in the hearth. The floor and ceilings were both uneven, but the place had character, which was why I liked it. The only problem I had with the place was the smoke smell. This side of the veil hasn’t placed a ban on smoking in enclosed spaces yet. Legislation, I figured, had bigger fish to fry. I’d also chosen this place for that reason, because no one would think twice about me lighting up (a spell or otherwise) in here. It also helped that the place was practically empty. I could only make out about four customers in its entirety.

One man sat at the bar. He leaned his head against the wood, watching the ice in his glass melt. I recognized that he was clearly drunk, and given the time of day, an alcoholic. He was scraggly and his clothes looked worn, so I guessed lady luck was not on his side at the moment.

There was another male at the back and around the corner playing one of the quiz machines. I couldn’t be sure he was a man. The other two patrons were not entirely the weirdest pair I’d ever seen but they were certainly odd. They sat at a very low table in the corner playing what looked like mahjong. One was a dwarf. This was evident by his plentiful beard, short stocky build and the leather padded clothes he wore. It was his partner I found fascinating. He was a great deal smaller than the dwarf and sat on an empty beer crate to reach the table. The smaller man had very sinewy arms, longish fingers and slightly pointed ears. He had a shock of red hair under a flat cap that like the rest of his outfit, was entirely green. He had a long stemmed pipe in his mouth that produced quivering rings of smoke as it dangled against his bottom lip.

Garrick heard the door and looked up at me. He followed my eyes and put down his book.

“Miss Farbanks. What can I get you?” His deep, gravelly voice turned my attention to him just as both heads of the mahjong players turned to the sound of my name. I continued my progress towards the bar.

“Coffee?” I asked, unsure whether or not I could get such a thing here.

“No problem. White? Latte? Cappuccino? Espresso?” I blinked, amazed at my choices.

“A latte, a large one.” He nodded politely, a man of few words.

“Go sit. I’ll find you.” I indicated I would sit around the corner, away from prying eyes that I realized were still on me. I took a seat in one of two large, comfy chairs by the fireplace with a small table between them. It was more private back here with the one man that I confirmed was not a man at all. His baggy pants tried hiding his bowed legs in a way distinctly not human. Although he too had a flat cap and wild, curly, dark hair, it couldn’t hide the spiral horns growing out over his ears. I dropped my eyes to the floor and saw his pant legs ended with no shoes. I brought my eyes back up to his face, which was fairly young, with a little tuff on his chin like a Billy goat. I was two for two on rarely seen creatures as he was most definitely a satyr of some kind. I beamed with the pleasure of seeing one. Once the vampires, werewolves and witches stepped into the spotlight, other creatures slowly started appearing on the fringes of it. Creatures of myth, fantasy and lore emerged from the shadows and became part of the norm. Sometimes this side of my world fascinated me more than it frightened me.

I took the piece of parchment from my pocket and dragged the ashtray closer with my other hand. Truth told me all I had to do was burn it, and it would summon me a demon. I flipped it between my fingers, marveling at the words that were in a script I didn’t recognize, let alone able to read. I trusted Truth to give me something that wouldn’t blow up the pub. I dropped the parchment into the ashtray and used my thumb like a lighter. The paper caught fire, turning crisp and black at the edges before curling back on itself. I expected it to flash, not this slow, sensuous, mesmerizing burn.

I jumped when Garrick put my latte down on the table in a tall, pristine, white mug.

“All on your own?” he asked, putting a bowl of snack mix down with his other hand. Garrick was a sharp man and knew I didn’t patronize his pub for my alone time, usually.

“Actually I’m expecting someone but I don’t know what they’ll want…”

“I’ll have a double shot of espresso please, and a bag of pork rinds.” I blinked and looked at the man who was now sitting across from me. He wore a dark blue suit. The pants were brushed by tiny plumes of twisting, gray smoke that I imagined he appeared in a puff of it. Even Garrick was surprised by my guest’s very sudden appearance. His eyes widened, he nodded and trotted back to the bar. I lifted my coffee to my lips and examined my companion. He was in his early thirties, with blonde hair growing out of a shorn, summer style and going every which way it could. His shirt was black and his tie a blood red. He was very handsome – somewhere in the range of a young Brad Pitt in the sphere of male beauty. His eyes were the color of pitch, which gave away his otherness. He looked down at the ashtray, the spell in it all but flaking away to ash.

“Now where did a little girl like you get a spell like that?” he asked. His voice was charming and a little winsome.

“Less of the little if you please, and isn’t it polite to introduce yourself first before sitting down with a lady.” He had an excellent smile full of perfect white teeth, like a dentist’s wet dream.

“I am Sam.”

I couldn’t help bursting out laughing. I expected a big, long speech as, “I am Lucifer, the dark fallen prince…” He wanted to be called Sam, no doubt a shortening of Samiel, his name before the fall.

“I am Sam. Sam I am,” I giggled. “That’s like a demonic Doctor Seuss book. Black eggs and deviled ham.” I took a deep breath trying to center myself and push my giggles away. His gaze narrowed.

“If you know what I am then you should know I do not appreciate levity at my expense.”

“Yes,” I said sobering. “I’ve noticed that with your kind.” I let him absorb that tidbit of information while Garrick returned, putting down a cup of espresso so small I wondered how it hadn’t broke in his large, rough hands, and a bag of the highly salted pork snack. Sam produced a ten pound note between his fingers and made a gesture that circled the entire table.

“For everything. Keep the change.”

Garrick nodded his acceptance and strolled back to the bar to immerse himself in his worn novel,
Of Mice and Men
. He was ten times smarter than he looked. Once we were alone again, save for the
who wants to be a millionaire
playing satyr, he carefully opened the bag and offered it to me. I shook my head and watched him devour the whole bag in seconds.

“So, do I get the honor of your name my dear?” He leaned forward, stroking the rim of the table in a very intimate gesture.

“I’m not your dear. Don’t try any of that endearing seduction crap with me, and my name is Cassandra,” I said warning him. Sam leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“That name sounds familiar.”

“Does it?” I asked, sipping my coffee and suddenly wary. I’d only met one demon before – a succubus – and we didn’t get along. His spine stiffened as he seemed to latch onto where he knew my name.

“You’re the little witch who sent Lillith packing back for home,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “She still curses your name daily, I hear.”

“It was my body,” I started defensively.

“And what a body!” I chose to ignore his leer and continue.

“She had absolutely no right to it. Are you a friend of hers?”

“Hardly,” he replied with a laugh. “Lillith’s always been a holier than though, for lack of a better term, pain in my ass. I would personally thank you for sending her off this plane if it wouldn’t be considered tacky by my peers.”

“I don’t think a demonic fruit basket is to my taste anyway.” Sam smiled and went into some kind of still contemplation of my face.

“Lillith describes you as plain, but I think you’re rather lovely,” he said, reaching out and taking a lock of my hair in his fingers. I didn’t pull away. That would be admitting fear, and you do not admit fear to an opponent, demon or not. “Yes quite enchanting and powerful. So terribly powerful.” He licked his lips and his teeth visibly sharpened, like he wanted to take a bite.

“Do you think we could possibly get down to why I called you here?” Grinning at me, Sam knocked back his espresso, crossed his legs and clasped his hands over his knee.

“Alright my dear. You summoned. I can at least let you get why off your chest.” I took a long sip of my coffee. I was curious about something, so I asked that first.

“Truth told me you come from another plane, Balmoria?”

“You got my name from Truth Mallory,” he said smiling a little broader. “How is the old girl?”

“She’s very well, thank you. Could you not avoid the question please?”

“Our realm, as it is, does not have a combined name, but our section of it is referred to as Balmoria or Hell as mortals prefer.” I nodded my head slowly taking it in.

“Is it such a bad place? I mean you all seem to want to come here.”

“Balmoria is a barren waste where us outcast battle for supremacy. Power is key to that, and we collect power from the spirits of other races.”

“You make deals?”

“I do.”

“Do you wait for them to die, or do you use them like Lillith did? Like a pair of shoes, walking around in them until they are worn out?” A look of indignation crossed his face but he smoothed it out.

“I do not waste life like that. To take over a body completely you must push out the other essence and cannot utilize its strength. Lillith is an amateur; I am not. My host is a spawn of an incubus and he was willing. We have lived in symbiosis for years with no ill effect.”

I gaped at him, staring him up and down and wondering how long he’d been walking the earthly plane and what the hell ‘spawn of an incubus’ meant.

“So you don’t get a kick out of killing?”

“Murder can sometimes be necessary and the act does appeal to some primal thing in me, but I do not engage in slaughter for slaughter’s sake. Killing someone before you make a deal is pointless, and afterwards, makes the energy harder to utilize.” Sam leaned forward. “I feel that you are slowly making your way to a point. Could we get there? Foreplay is over rated.”