The Living End (Daniel Faust #3)(13)

Bentley blinked at her, aghast. His talisman’s chain hung knotted in his fingers, like a hand grenade suspended by a cat’s cradle.

“You came all the way here just for that?” he said.

“No,” she said, “and not just for the kiss, though it was delicious. I am here on a diplomatic mission, with a request for aid that’s covered by the treaty between our courts. I need a boon, a very small and simple one.”

“Name it,” Caitlin said.

“No. Not you.” Naavarasi pointed her finger toward me. “I want him to do it.”

Caitlin shook her head. “Daniel isn’t a member of my court. He’s not subject to our rules or our customs.”

Naavarasi’s eyes, still a tiger’s, glittered.

“Oh. So that means he’s not your consort?” she said. “Because…that would mean he’s anyone’s meat, wouldn’t it?”





Six



Caitlin let go of my shoulder and stepped forward, standing in Naavarasi’s way.

“Whatever you’re thinking, rakshasi…stop thinking it.”

“What? Me?” Naavarasi pouted, all mock innocence. “The only thing I’m thinking is that I need a boon. And you are treaty-bound to deliver. You can go with him, if it makes you feel better. In fact, I request it.”

“What’s the job?” I said. I pretended not to notice the sudden looks of concern from Bentley and Corman.

Naavarasi favored me with a smile. “A member of our court was summoned by a foolish pair of amateur magicians, not far from here. We know that he possessed one of the summoners and likely killed the other. However, he’s been bound in place somehow and hasn’t left the house where he was invoked. I need you to go in, erase any binding sigils, and exorcise him from the idiot’s body so he can return home. I’d do it myself, but my particular style of magic isn’t conducive to such work. Yours is.”

It was a simple job. I’d done plenty of exorcisms in my day. If the demon was trapped in a botched summoning circle, it’d be safe enough. If he was actually cooperating, even better. I’d be in and out in fifteen minutes.

Which was exactly why I smelled a trap.

“What choir does the target belong to?” Caitlin said.

“Right,” Naavarasi said. “I forget you people have that cute little system. Isn’t it stifling? Being locked into a tiny box, your emotions and powers restricted like that? I can embody any sin or virtue I like. Often several at once.”

Caitlin’s eyes melted to the color of molten copper. Her voice went lower, slower, her Scottish brogue more pronounced. That was always a bad sign.

“It’s more of a guideline. Some people say I’m more wrath than lust. Push me just an inch further, baron, and you’ll find out why.”

Naavarasi caught the tone and waved an anxious hand.

“All right, all right,” she said. “Malphas told me that he’s a fledgling of the Choir of Envy. Is that a problem?”

Caitlin shook her head. “Not remotely.”

“Delightful! I’ll send you the address. Shall we meet again tomorrow evening and talk about your brilliant success?”

“Not here,” Caitlin said. “There’s a nightclub called Winter. You’ll meet me there. You will never come to this address again. Under any circumstances.”

“But why? I like books.” Naavarasi glanced over at Bentley and Corman. “And snacks.”

Corman patted Bentley’s back. Then he came around the counter, toting the shotgun loosely at his side. He walked right up to Naavarasi and stood close enough to feel her breath on his weathered cheeks.

“Lady,” he said calmly, “I don’t know what rock you crawled out from under, but I do know this: you came in here under false pretenses, then you scared my husband, and you hurt our boy. That puts you about two notches lower than dog shit on the list of things I’m scared of. You’re gonna leave now, and if you ever set foot on my property again, I’ll end you.”

Naavarasi’s eyes widened. Her lips curled as she said, “You impudent little—”

Corman swung up the shotgun, racked the pump, and pressed the barrel under her chin.

“You should probably listen,” Caitlin said.

The rakshasi slowly backed away, glaring. She swept out of the store without another word and slammed the door behind her. The bells clanged crazily, bouncing off the shuddering glass.

“Guys,” I started to say. “I’m sorry—”

“No.” Caitlin cut me off as she turned to Bentley and Corman. “I am sorry. That was inexcusable. Court business should never have been allowed to cross your doorstep.”

I shook my head. “She came tracking me down, not you. It’s my fault.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Corman said, leaning the shotgun back against his shoulder. “Both of you stop apologizing. Shit happens. She got the message.”

Bentley lowered his talisman, exhaling slowly as a stream of pent-up power dissolved into the air. He leaned his palms against the counter and took a deep breath.

“So that was a rakshasi,” he said. “I’ve never encountered one outside the pages of a book.”

“I think she might be the last one on Earth,” I said. “Hope so, anyway. You okay?”