Chapter Four
Four
Of course he could say that, but he was a demon. Demons weren’t generally known as the most forthright and honest creatures, what with living in Hell and cavorting with evil and such.
I wanted to believe him, but I had to remind myself that just because he looked good did not mean he was good. In fact, I knew quite well that he was bad.
But it was most definitely not in my job responsibilities to interrogate him about what had just occurred. I figured Mr. Connors or Lord Hennawi would handle that.
“We should collect ourselves and return to Clarence House,” I said, adjusting my hat, which had gotten askew in the fracas. He gave me a questioning look, then reached out and pulled my hat over a few inches to one side.
“That’s better,” he said, nodding in satisfaction.
“Thank you, Lord Marcellus, sir,” I replied, feeling my cheeks heat. I did not need him fixing my appearance, not with everything else going on. “Clarence House?” I prompted. “I imagine this has been an ordeal for your father.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m certain the Devil will be famished after this episode, and he said he wanted most particularly to get”—and I held my breath, hoping it wouldn’t be anything too gruesome—“a treacle tart.”
I gasped in relief. “Yes, of course.” A treacle tart.
Not what I would have expected, but then again, nothing was what I would have expected.
Which was what I should have expected—somewhat contradictory, of course, but the point was that I wasn’t going to be able to anticipate anything in the upcoming month, so I might as well just accept it with as much diplomatic grace as I could.
If the Devil wanted a treacle tart, so be it.
I might even be so bold as to recommend he get an Eton mess.
That thought made me start to giggle, and then I found myself unable to stop, my laughter taking on a frantic edge.
“Hastings, are you all right?” the marquis said.
I waved my hand to indicate it was nothing, but he was not to be dissuaded. He withdrew something from his pocket and held it up to me. “Drink this.”
It was a flask, and he unscrewed the cap, unleashing the powerful aroma of liquor in the air, which made me choke, and I hadn’t even taken a sip.
“No, I don’t—” But I couldn’t finish speaking because he’d grabbed hold of my chin and poured some of the liquid down my throat, which made me cough and sputter. It burned, appropriately enough, like hellfire going down, and my eyes watered as I swallowed.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, forgetting for a moment I was supposed to be polite and respectful, for fear of being roasted.
“Calming your fit of hysterics, isn’t it obvious?” He nodded toward the absolute wreckage in the church. “It’s natural for someone with your experience. I doubt you’ve ever seen either a humbeetle or a lesser demon before.”
“Those creatures—they’re called humbeetles?”
“Yes, that’s what we call them. Human faces, beetle bodies: humbeetles. I don’t know what they call themselves. I’ve never bothered to ask. Nuisances, they are. They usually stick to themselves. I don’t know what they wanted here.”
“Perhaps some overly dry Swiss roll,” I said, nodding to one of the few undisturbed tables. “What about the lesser demons? What do you think they wanted?”
“They just like being around greater demons.”
“Like you?”
“Who else?” he said smugly. “In fact, I might be the greatest demon.”
“Of course you are,” I replied, unable to resist rolling my eyes.
“I didn’t realize your cane was so destructive,” he continued, gesturing to it. I’d sheathed the blade, but there was still some humbeetle goo clinging to the bottom. I wiped it on the hideous tablecloth I’d thrown on the floor earlier.
“I haven’t had cause to use it for defense purposes until now, but it did come in handy,” I said. “I was startled to see you were carrying a weapon. Did you pick that up here?” He hadn’t had it when we’d arrived; that was for certain.
He shrugged. “One makes use of what one can.”
Well, that was maddeningly obtuse.
“Your father has something similar,” I observed.
“His has been used far more often,” the marquis replied, his mouth curling into a faintly menacing smile.
Right. I couldn’t forget who or what he was. We weren’t making conversation like two acquaintances or even work colleagues; he was a demon, and his goals were demonic. I didn’t know what those goals were—beyond treacle tart—but they were likely not made with the goodness of humanity in mind.
“Where are you?” A plaintive voice rose above the general noise, and then the marquis’s expression changed to one of exasperation. Good to know being frustrated with one’s parents was universal, regardless of the type of power one had or what region one inhabited.
“Here,” he said. He jerked his chin at me. “We should go—he’s bored. You won’t like what happens when he’s bored.”
My eyes widened, and I found myself scurrying along behind him, wondering what the Devil might get up to in his boredom.
Worse than treacle tart was something I did not want to think about.
“So the Devil wanted to ride a dandy horse?” Hannah sounded as incredulous as I was when I first heard the idea.
“I was able to persuade him that that would be safer than trying to roller-skate,” I replied.
I never thought my current assignment of escorting the Prince of Darkness around town would have me attending church bazaars, debating the merits of various types of wheeled transportation, and purchasing pastries.
I thought there would be many more dark and dangerous activities as opposed to all this.
I was almost wishing we were going to one of those unmentionable clubs.
“Indeed,” I replied, shaking my head at the memory. “First we had to get him a treacle tart, and then he wanted to go to Hyde Park and go tooling about on one of those contraptions. Ouch!” I said, as Hannah’s hairbrush snagged on a snarl.
“If you could just get through a day without somehow ending up fighting with a gust of wind, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” my friend observed in a tart tone.
I had returned home to prepare for dinner that evening, having been informed that afternoon that as part of my duties, I was to accompany the Devil and his entourage to a dinner hosted by the Queen to welcome her guests.
I hadn’t known about the dinner that morning or my stomach would have been in knots all day.
As it was, it was making up for lost time by being especially twisted.
I had only ever seen the Queen at a distance, but her reputation was fearsome; even before she’d revealed her species, she’d been talked about as a lady who did not suffer fools gladly, a far cry from her most recent predecessors, all of whom were her relatives. And fools themselves.
And then after, she’d had to demonstrate what she was capable of because there had been a few disbelieving lords who could not countenance the idea that a female was as powerful as they had always assumed themselves to be, and tried to test the notion.
Those lords were now resting quietly in their respective family plots, and their successors wisely did not question anything the Queen might do.
There was a knock on the door, and both of us turned as Lily—short for Lilith—another boarder in our rooming house, entered. She didn’t live with us, but she was in our rooms often enough to feel as though she did. She had a gown draped over one arm and a bright, mischievous expression on her face.
Lily was a succubus who worked at Cyder’s, a music hall popular with people from all classes.
She was a dancer in the chorus and also went out into the crowd to encourage the patrons to purchase more alcohol.
The music hall’s owners gave her a percentage for each drink she sold, and she was able to satisfy her needs without too much trouble.
Not that I asked her too much about what those needs entailed; she’d started talking about them once, and I turned so red she couldn’t speak for laughing at my discomfiture.
I’d met Lily when I went to Cyder’s to investigate a complaint, which turned out to be one of Lily’s admirers who was upset he couldn’t have her to himself.
That was not who a succubus was, Lily had explained to me. I had sympathy for her, since her situation was like Hannah’s: a man demanding unreasonable accommodations because she was in service.
Some things never changed, despite the seismic shift that had occurred over the past few years.
Once Lily’s situation was cleared up, I went back to do a final check-in, and she’d insisted on taking me out to coffee.
It turned out we had the same dry sense of humor, and she was as blunt and forthright as anybody I’d ever met, which I greatly admired.
So when there was an opening at our lodgings, I let Lily know.
The three of us—me, Hannah, and Lily—had become immediate friends.
When I discovered I’d need a suitable gown to dine with the Queen, I asked Lily, who had many more fancy gowns than I did.
Since I had none.
One of the unexpected side effects of the Great Revelation was that it tore down boundaries not only between species but also between professions and classes—in the old world, someone in Lily’s line of work would have been relegated to living with women of equally dubious morality (according to the arbitrary rules of society), but now there was so much chaos, nobody much cared anymore.
“Oh, this is lovely,” I whispered as she laid it out on my bed.
It was made of sapphire-blue satin, its full skirt adorned with a few ruffles at the bottom.
The neckline was studded with blue satin rosettes, and the stomacher was stitched with a darker blue thread.
It might not have been a gown actually suitable for court, but it was as close as I was going to get.
“I hope it will fit,” I said, glancing between Lily and myself. She was taller than I, and her bosom was a bit more substantial.
“It will,” she said confidently. “Let’s see how it looks.” She and Hannah undid my gown, so I stood in my corset, stays, and crinoline.
“Do I need anything different underneath?” I said, gesturing to myself.
“You shouldn’t. Here.” Lily picked up the gown and helped me get into it, Hannah twittering anxiously nearby.
They did the buttons at the back and then both came around to see. I had only a small mirror for fixing my hair, so I wouldn’t be able to see for myself; I’d have to trust my friends. But thankfully, I had good friends who would tell me if I looked ridiculous.
“Well?” I said, waiting as the two of them ran their eyes up and down my body.
“You look wonderful,” Hannah said, clapping her hands. “As pretty as a fairy princess.”
“And you should know,” Lily said, sending a fond look toward our friend.
“Really?” I asked, holding the gown out.
“Indeed,” Lily replied. “That color looks so striking next to your dark hair and blue eyes.”
I went to the mirror and twisted so I could see some of the gown. It did look lovely, though that was mostly the gown’s doing and not mine. The neckline was a bit lower than I was comfortable with, so I tried to tug it higher, but it wouldn’t budge.
Lily and Hannah both laughed at my struggle.
“You’re certain I can borrow this?” I asked when I realized the effort was fruitless.
Lily flapped a hand. “Of course! I have so many gowns—this isn’t even my favorite. It looks much better on you.”
“I doubt that,” I replied wryly. Lily was stunning, almost as beautiful as Hannah, but in a much more sensual way. Which made sense, given her species. Her hair was a dark red, the color of a fire just beginning to die down, and her eyes were green, the light green of daffodil stalks.
“Whatever,” she said, waving her hand again. “Actually, you can keep it. I don’t plan on wearing it again. And here.” She withdrew something sparkly from her pocket and draped it around my neck before I could register what was happening. “This was from a special friend of mine, a dragon shifter.”
I gasped as I looked in the mirror again. It was a sapphire pendant that hung in the valley between my breasts, and even in the low light in my bedroom, it sparkled and gleamed like it were ablaze.
“You can’t have that one, but you can borrow it for this evening,” Lily said.
“You shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable with all those other people,” Hannah chimed in, likely knowing the best way to rebuff my objections. “You want to fit in, and you won’t if you appear as you usually do.” She gestured toward me. “You look like them now.”
I took a deep breath and examined myself in the mirror again, a brief thought—quickly banished—wondering what the marquis would think when he saw me.
I looked as beautiful as I ever had, which was to say middlingly pretty.
The blue of the gown made my eyes look especially blue, and its cut was flattering, especially around the bosom area.
All in all, I was nearly presentable for a court dinner, which was the most I could have asked for.
“Gloves, and a reticule, and you’ll be set,” Lily said, fetching the items from my bed. She’d lent me them as well, since mine were not up to snuff for dining with the Queen.
“And my cane,” I said, picking it up from where it leaned against the wall.
She frowned. “Do you really need that?”
“I don’t need it for walking or anything, but it has so many useful tools,” I enthused.
I pulled out the tea strainer. “Look, it’s got this, and a blade at the bottom, and it’s got a compass, and a ruler, and a pen—though it’s a bit awkward to write with but still—and a screwdriver, and a bottle opener, and a universal key.
There is a slot for storage, though right now I’ve just got some tea leaves there in case of emergency. ”
I was then treated to the sight of Hannah and Lily rolling their eyes at the same time, as though they were in some sort of synchronized sarcasm contest.
“You should be on your way,” Hannah said, picking up my shawl and draping it around my shoulders. “You shouldn’t be late.”
I glanced out the window and saw the lengthening shadows and felt my stomach roil all over again. “Right, well, I’ll be off, then.”
“Have fun!” Lily said with a smirk.
I shook my head. “I just want to make it back without committing a serious faux pas or making the Queen want to—” And I pointed at my neck.
“You’ll be fine,” Hannah said in a reassuring voice that did nothing to reassure me.
“You’ll walk Dante tonight?” I asked.
“Of course,” she replied. “Go.”
I went.