Tamar was the first to speak. ‘Hey,’ she cried, apparently to the empty air. ‘A deal’s a deal.’
For a moment, the room chilled again, and from the empty air, it seemed they could hear the sound of cold laughter. Then it was gone. Tamar sagged.
* * *
It had happened like this –
‘I want to make a deal,’ said Tamar.
Satan cowered. He recognized her as a demonic entity, yet alien, not of his kin and, as such, she was a powerful threat.
‘Oh yes?’ he managed. It was usually he who offered to make demonic deals; to have someone come to him in this way was a novel and unnerving experience.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Two souls for one.’
Satan leaned forward interestedly. ‘Go on.’
Tamar grinned. ‘Well, to begin with, if you accept I want him back.’ She pointed to Stiles.
Satan inclined his head noncommittally.
‘No, I need an answer,’ she insisted.
‘So, lay it on the line for me.’
‘Okay, I have a soul for you, that I think hasn’t even crossed your radar, even though he belongs rightfully to you. He’s an evil sod the likes of which you have never seen before in this place, I guarantee it.’
Satan looked dubious.
‘Seriously,’ Tamar insisted. ‘He’s the business.’ She looked at Eugene for confirmation. He nodded. He was waiting to see where this was going; he had a horrible feeling about this.
‘You’ll want him, I guarantee it. Otherwise I wouldn’t be willing to throw myself in on the deal.’
Satan frowned. ‘So, let me get this straight. You’re offering me yourself and this character here,’ he indicated Stiles. ‘Against this soul that I know nothing about as yet, is that right?’
‘I’ll convert, or whatever it takes, yes.’
This was too good to miss. Barely hesitating Satan put out a hand to shake and Tamar extended hers more slowly. But before they could grasp hands, Eugene dashed Tamar’s hand away.
‘What are you doing?’ she gasped crossly.
Eugene ignored her. ‘Take me,’ he addressed Satan.
‘And why you?’
‘Look at me,’ commanded Eugene. ‘Really look. Compare me to her. I’m no hero. I’m a miserable craven coward.’
Satan looked. Eugene shivered as that piercing gaze stripped him down to his bare naked soul and beyond. ‘Hmm.’
Eventually Satan shook his head. ‘I don’t see …’
‘My real name might change your mind.’ Eugene told him.
Satan laughed uproariously ‘What’s in a name?’ he demanded. ‘I have seen who you really are, you have never done evil, nor do you have the courage to do so. Not like her.’
‘You’re wrong,’ said Eugene quietly. ‘In fact, we’ve met before Lucifer.’ Satan started. No one had used his real name to his face for centuries beyond count, and never in that familiar way. ‘Who are you then?’ he asked with a weak pretence at indifference, although it was clear that his whole being was vibrating with curiosity, and not a little fear. Tamar leaned forward, her eyes intent on Satan’s face.
‘Let’s just say, you are not the only angel of your rank to fall from grace, although I did not fall as far as you. I never suffered from your pride.’ As he spoke his face changed – became so bright that it defied the gaze and his eyes burned, until his glance was like a bolt of lightning, yet stern and cool and full of ancient pity.
Satan shied backwards, his hands over his face. ‘Ahhh.’
The vision shrank, dimmed and became Eugene again. ‘I was punished for my sins, and that punishment I accepted with good grace, content to serve my sentence on earth. I was banished, and my very name was forgotten by all but the very few. Even I forgot who I once was, until now, for the slate was wiped clean and I became only what you see now and no more. Immortal I remained for the nature of a thing cannot be changed except by the will and death frightened me, because of my sins, although I did not remember them. And now it comes, and I am not afraid. Will you take me in her place now?’
‘Yes.’ He had a greedy look on his face.
‘Be careful Lucifer, by your own greed you may yet be undone, and the soul we offer in our place is more to your taste than a thousand fallen angels. Only Judas was more evil by your lights, and yet not by ours, for he was but a man, and men are weak, and we pity them.’
‘Show him to me.’
‘Seal the deal,’ insisted Tamar. She would deal with the fact that Eugene was a former angel later, when she had time for a fit of hysterics – she did not now. ‘And I want Jack’s soul back
and
his life if you take the other.’
‘Agreed,’ said Satan after some hesitation. He produced a scroll. ‘Standard deal with the Devil form,’ he said, ‘just need to change the wording a bit.’
The scroll was duly signed – in blood. An affectation which Tamar regarded with barely concealed scorn.
Eugene turned to Tamar after it was done. ‘You won’t tell the others, will you?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Tell them what?’ she said, her face blank.
‘Ah!’
* * *
‘What the hell just happened?’ Denny was the first to speak, but Tamar hushed him.
‘It’s not over yet,’ she told him. ‘At least, I hope …’
The door on the other side of the room opened, not the one Stiles had blown through but the one leading to the garden. Tamar raised her head hopefully.
It was Cindy who came through. ‘I thought I’d better …’ The words died on her lips when she saw their faces. In the silence, there could be heard an occasional muffled sob from Hecaté.
Cindy went toward her and tentatively put an arm around her. ‘Of all the things,’ she found herself thinking, ‘I never expected to find myself comforting a god, least of all my own god.’ It was an uncomfortable feeling. If the gods we pray to are subject to pain and grief – what are they to us?
She raised her head and caught Tamar’s eye. ‘What happened?’ she mouthed. ‘Where’s Eugene?’ Tamar bowed her head, her impression of what exactly had happened was fuzzy, but she was certain that Eugene had offered his soul in exchange for hers and was in Hell now and forever. Satan had managed to cheat her. Why had she allowed him to do it, she could not think, and what was she going to tell Cindy?
Denny put his arm around her. ‘It’s over,’ he told her gently ‘Time to tell us what happened.’
* * *
When she had finished her story her eyes went to Cindy pleadingly ‘Hate me,’ they said. ‘Blame me, anything but that terrible pity.’ For Cindy looked indeed as if she felt terribly sorry for Tamar.
Then she smiled distantly. ‘Who would have thought he had it in him?’ she said. ‘This is all your fault,’ she told Denny.
Tamar was outraged. ‘How can you say that? It was
my
fault.’
‘No, no, dear,’ smiled Cindy, ‘I didn’t mean it, it was a joke. It was nobody’s fault. But Denny knows what I mean, don’t you?’
‘He was trying to prove something,’ said Denny. ‘He picked a hell of a time I must say. I don’t know if I could have done what he did.’ Denny looked quizzically at Tamar, she seemed to have been deliberately vague about the details of Eugene’s sacrifice. But now, he deemed, in front of Cindy, was not the time to press her about it.
Hecaté spoke then. ‘Perhaps all things have a purpose after all,’ she said ‘I have never suffered grief before. Perhaps now I shall understand better the grief of others.’ She smiled wanly at Cindy. ‘You and I understand each other better now, do we not? As could never have been had I not also lost my Jack.’
Cindy wept.
Denny fingered the Athame with a grim look on his face. He looked at Tamar, but she shook her head slowly. ‘Perhaps I’m selfish,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want to lose you too. I don’t want to feel like that.’ She indicated the weeping Cindy and Hecaté. ‘Besides … it – it’s not like that, you can’t just …’ she broke off suddenly and gave a cry of surprise. Denny spun. Cindy and Hecaté followed his gaze and stared open mouthed.
‘What’s up?’ said Stiles. ‘You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Well, you at least, shouldn’t be surprised,’ he said, meaning Tamar. He nodded at Eugene coming up behind him from the garden.
‘I have a message for you,’ Eugene said. ‘“A deal’s a deal,” he said, “but it will have to be paid for.” I promised to tell you, but I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s all brag and bounce that one. Besides, if I’m any judge he’s got his hands full now.’
Tamar stared at him for a second filled with wonder as she remembered, briefly, all that had happened.
Eugene put his fingers to his lips with a conspiratorial smile and then she forgot again. Then he turned to Cindy, who looked slightly ashamed.
‘I – I …’ she began. But he hushed her. ‘It doesn’t matter now.’ He said with the air of one who had given the final word on the subject, although this was doubtful. However, it hushed her for now.
Stiles managing to break free of Hecaté’s fervent attentions for a second looked around the room perplexedly, the others broke into a jabber of explanation none of which he followed. But, as it turned out, it wasn’t Askphrit’s fate that interested him. ‘Where’s that little bastard Peirce gone?’ he asked when he could get a word in.
‘Peirce?’ said Denny, wheeling sharply, and fixing Stiles with a glare, ‘He was here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not when I arrived.’
‘And there’s no need to look at me like that’
‘Sorry.’ Denny adjusted his face.’
‘Tamar sighed ‘Don’t tell me, we’ve got to go and hunt up that little weasel now, haven’t we done enough? I would have thought we’d earned a bit of a rest.’
‘Leave him to me,’ said Stiles, purloining Tamar’s favourite phrase of old. ‘I made him a promise that I’d like to deliver in person.’
‘Fine,’ said Tamar, ‘but we’ve got to find him first.’
‘You’re not serious?’ hissed Denny. ‘He’s a good bloke in a fight and all, but Peirce, well, he’s, well not to put too fine a point on it, if you’ll excuse the pun, heartless. How’s he going to kill him?’
‘Don’t underestimate Jack’ she said, ‘He’s got – ingenuity.’
‘Okay, so how are we going to find him?’
‘He’ll come to us,’ she grinned. ‘That’s quantum.’
It happened so fast that it was over before anyone had time to react. Peirce grabbed Tamar by the hair, and his fangs were in her neck as they rose together off the ground and out of the window and away. They were staggered by the swiftness of it. Denny let out an inarticulate cry and ran forward to the window. But it was too late they were gone.
~ Chapter Twenty Four ~
T
amar lay on the floor of the ancient bell tower, an old hiding place of Peirce’s. Nobody ever thought to look for a vampire in a church even a disused one that had long since been used by nothing but the bats and crows. It hurt a little, the remnants of holiness in the place but not too bad, particularly up here, and it was worth it. He felt totally secure watching Tamar dying on the dusty floorboards, with a gloating expression on his face. Soon she would begin to stir, and then she would be his forever. He preened a little, for the first time in centuries he wished he could use a mirror.
Still he was a handsome devil, he knew that, and she would think so too, without her soul, she would soon forget that mortal and be like himself, bound to nothing but her own lusts, of which he intended to be one.
He was so wrapped up in these pleasant thoughts that he did not notice the figure of Tamar rising up behind him like an avenging angel.
* * *
Denny sat on the floor staring vacantly ahead. Then he closed his eyes and frowned.
Stiles came up behind him. ‘Come on mate,’ he said, placing a wary hand on Denny’s shoulder. ‘Now’s not the time to despair.’
‘I’m not,’ said Denny shortly.
Stiles stepped back and looked at the others, shrugging.
Suddenly Denny stood up in one smooth motion that Stiles would have given his eyeteeth to be able to do, and announced. ‘Got him!’ Then he vanished in a small whirlwind.
* * *
When Denny arrived in the tower, Tamar dropped to the floor like a stone and lay still.
Peirce was a little put out (he had not wanted interruptions) but not really worried. What could happen? It was too late for anything but revenge, and Pierce knew he could not be killed by mortal hands.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said languidly. ‘How on earth did you find me?’
Denny pushed him aside and ran to Tamar.
‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ Peirce told him. ‘She’ll be awake in a minute, and she’ll be very, very hungry.’ Denny stepped back and gave Peirce a horrified glance.
‘Why?’ he croaked, looking back at Tamar’s inert form.
Peirce studied his long, thin, white fingers for a moment before answering. ‘Because I want her,’ he said, simply. ‘I should have thought that was obvious. Once before, you know, I wanted someone, as much as I now want her, but back then I was different, I had only just been made, and she was a woman I had loved as a mortal. Do you know, I can’t remember what that felt like now, so long ago, so long. Anyway, I let her go, I couldn’t do it. A decision I have since regretted. What place is there in my world for pity? I am a vampire. What I want, I take. After many lonely years, I swore that never should I stay my hand again if I should find another woman such as she was. I never thought I would.’ He shrugged. ‘But I did, and now she’s mine.’
‘She wasn’t yours to take.’
‘Yours?’
‘Nor mine, you had no right.’
‘So, kill me then. Ah but you can’t, what a pity, if you could, you might still save her. But one so versed in his vampire lore would know that wouldn’t he?’ Kill me before the dawn, and you’ll get her back, just as she was. But I’m taunting you, how very uncivilised of me.’ Denny charged, blinded by rage. Peirce stepped lightly out of the way, like a bullfighter taunting a maddened bull, right into Tamar’s waiting arms.
‘Maybe
he
can’t kill you,’ she hissed as she snapped his head back sharply, ‘but
I
can.’ And she sank her fangs into his neck and drained him, spitting out the old dead blood before it could poison her. Peirce crumbled to dust before he even had a chance to make a mess of her shirt.