Redemption Song (Daniel Faust #2)(52)

“I’d like to buy him from you,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because,” I told her, “my enemies are conspiring, and they seek to snatch de Rais out from under your wing. If he were in my hands instead, their alliance would be an abject failure and they’d suffer a humiliating loss.”

“And you’d have a bargaining chip, to lead them into further ruin,” Naavarasi purred. “Interesting. But I have no want of paper or gold, Daniel. What could you possibly offer me in trade?”

“Status. Something that will put you in Prince Malphas’s confidence and esteem. Letting you get nice and close to him so that one day, you’ll be in the perfect position to bury a dagger in his back.”

“Go on.”

I took a folded piece of paper from my pocket, holding it closed between my index and middle finger.

“Sitri has a spy in Malphas’s court. A highly placed one. I have his name. I’ll give it to you in exchange for Gilles de Rais’s soul and contract. An even trade.”

She thought about it for a moment, her gaze focused on the folded paper.

“Daniel,” she said, “you have a reputation as a trickster. So do I, so that doesn’t affront me, but I need to be clear. If I take that paper, and I discover you’re lying to me? You will never leave this room. I will rend you to pieces, one exquisitely slow, ragged strip of flesh at a time, and devour you alive. I’ll save your eyes for last, so you can watch every second of it.”

I knew she meant every word of her threat. I had only a moment to choose: take a chance, or walk away.

“I think we have a deal,” I said, sealing my fate.





Twenty-Six

“Not yet,” Naavarasi said. “I have a custom and a rule.”

I tilted my head, curious. She slid a heavy plate across the banquet table, moving it to where we could both reach. I recognized the food on sight: roghan josh, a Kashmir dish with chunks of lamb simmered in a brilliant red gravy. The aroma opened my eyes and my sinuses with a mixture of dried chilies, garlic, and ginger, all blending together to make my mouth water.

This being a rakshasi’s table, though, I doubted the meat was lamb.

“I don’t do business with anyone who won’t break bread with me,” she said.

I chuckled nervously. “What if I’m a vegetarian?”

“You aren’t. Besides, if you were, that would make you a prey animal. Are you sure you want to be something so edible, at my table?”

“What is it?” I nodded at the dish.

“Meat.”

“What kind?”

“Delicious meat,” she said. “I have exacting standards.”

Even in my life of crime and sin, there were lines I could safely say I’d never crossed. I protected those lines as best I could. They were the ones that let me look myself in the mirror every morning. Whatever Naavarasi wanted to feed me, I was pretty damn sure it was nothing I wanted to eat.

Was it that big a price to pay, though? I needed to make this deal happen to toss a wrench into Lauren’s plans. She’d already almost brought the world to ruin, and that was by accident. Whatever she needed de Rais’s help for couldn’t be much better. My personal scruples seemed pretty tiny in comparison.

“Just one bite,” the rakshasi whispered, as if reading my mind. “What could one little bite hurt?”

One more lurch forward on my long downhill slide. Just another few inches closer to hell.

“All right,” I said. “One bite.”

She reached out with her bare hand, dipping her fingers into the bright red sauce. I noticed she used her left hand, a taboo in Indian culture. I wasn’t sure why that surprised me. I did the same, plucking a bite-sized cube of meat from the dish. We raised them to our lips at the same time. I held my breath, put it in my mouth, and chewed.

If it had been horrible, I could have endured it. Some kind of rotten, stomach-churning abomination, something putrid and foul. I expected that. I could have handled that.

It was the most delicious thing I’d tasted in my entire life.

The spices were hot, sultry, caressing my mouth like the tail of a silken whip. The meat fell to pieces with every bite, tender and moist and perfectly rare. I didn’t have to force myself to swallow. I did it without thinking, closing my eyes and letting out a faint murmur of pleasure.

Naavarasi giggled softly. I opened my eyes and stared at the dish, wondering what I’d just eaten.

“You are thinking,” she said, “that you want more. You know you do. And yet.”

A skeletal hand clawed at the back of my mind, laden with guilt and dread. I felt like I’d opened a door I could never close again, but I wasn’t sure.

The rakshasi said, “I have a kindness for you. And a cruelty. I am not going to tell you what you just ate. Was it lamb? Or long pig? Did you savor the flesh of a newborn infant? Or a fine cut of meat from the most expensive delicatessen in Denver? It could have been anything. Perhaps you’ll be able to convince yourself it was perfectly mundane fare. Or perhaps the question will keep you up at night.”

I wouldn’t be able to shrug this off. Not until I knew for sure. She knew that as well as I did.

“The day you enter my service,” she said, “that’s when I’ll tell you. And on that day we will feast.”