15 NO REST FOR THE WICKED #2
“Or maybe I don’t have to void the contract.
Instead, I could use one of Belial’s favors to …
” He paused for effect, tapping a claw on his chin as he searched for inspiration.
“Well, the possibilities are endless. I could order him to pay a visit to Lucifer and bring back one of the High Lord’s horns as a souvenir.
It’d be interesting to see how far he’d get. ”
Raum’s jaw shifted.
“Or I could order him to burn your human city down in a five-kilometer radius around your lair, so the angels would have an easier time finding your hiding spot.”
“I know Bel put a clause in the contract that you couldn’t use the favor to endanger or expose us, so cut the shit.”
Murmur smiled. “Alas, you are correct. He was very careful. But I am just as careful as he. And remember: Thanks to you, I can void the entire thing if I want. I wonder how much Lucifer would pay to find out where his nemesis is hiding?”
“You won’t. Bel’s favors are too valuable to you.”
“Maybe true. I haven’t decided yet. But either way, I have the power to make your lives very difficult, and I will do it if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
Silence. Again.
“I’ll give you one more chance. What were you doing outside my territory?”
“I was spying. I came to make sure you kept your end of the deal. I don’t trust you.”
“And I don’t trust you, and I know you’re lying. Try again.”
“It’s the truth.”
“And I’m a soft little human with an eighty-year lifespan. Try again.”
Silence reigned as the two demons stared at each other. His prisoner’s stoicism was admirable, but at this point, he was just wasting both their time.
“You don’t want to cooperate? Fine. I have other ways of getting what I need.” Murmur lifted a palm. “For the record, I tried to play nice first.”
Raum continued giving him that bored stare, and Murmur smiled in anticipation.
He waved a hand and immediately, a small swarm of his ghostly servants rose from their incessant spiraling at his feet.
They crawled over Raum’s body, causing the demon to recoil, jerking in the chains.
Murmur knew well how unpleasant the icy touch of the dead was.
He exercised his control over the spirits briefly, giving them the strength to restrain Raum’s legs. It took great power to allow that which was spirit to affect physical matter, but Murmur had that in spades. And right now, he only needed the demon to hold still for a second.
He approached and flexed his tail. It reared back behind him and then shot forward, the sharp barb on the tip stabbing into Raum’s neck. Murmur released his hold over the souls, who returned to his feet.
“What the fuck?!” Raum growled as blood welled where he’d been struck. He jerked on the chains again and then tried to lift his shoulder to the wounded area, but he wasn’t able to stem the trickle of blood.
He gave up soon after. Already, his eyes had begun to cloud, and Murmur could see the confusion and alarm quickly fading into a drunk compliance.
“What the … fuck …”
“That’s better,” Murmur said as Raum sagged in the chains once more. It was all he could do not to cackle like a storybook villain. But this was just too good. A powerful prisoner bound on his wall, succumbing to the effects of his venom … Was there anything more satisfying?
Murmur lifted Raum’s chin with his foreclaw and thumb, peering into unfocused golden eyes. “Hello,” he said with a grin.
Raum just blinked, so slowly it took several seconds for his eyes to reopen. His features were slack, a relaxed acceptance settling into his muscles. In small doses, Murmur’s venom was euphoric. In high doses, it was a paralytic. Raum had received something in between.
“Let’s try this again, shall we? You were snooping around my territory, and I want to know why.”
“Can’t …” Raum slurred, trying to pull his chin out of Murmur’s grip.
He held him in place and forced their eyes to meet.
“You were correct in assuming Belial protected his precious brothers in our bargain. But he didn’t protect anyone else.
Your brother Meph … He’s fond of a certain witch, isn’t he?
Blue hair, feisty attitude? I wonder how he would react if she were to, say … die in an unfortunate accident.”
Even through the venom’s haze, Raum’s eyes flared.
Gotcha , Murmur thought. Demons weak enough to develop emotional bonds were the easiest to manipulate.
It was a lie of course. Belial had very clearly stated that he, his brothers, and those deemed important to them could not be endangered by Murmur or any favors he might ask Belial to perform.
But Raum was high as a kite at the moment, and he wouldn’t be able to think clearly enough to figure that out. “If you tell me why you’re here, your brothers will be safe, and so will their precious humans.”
Murmur shook his head, thinking of the shamefulness of some of the most feared demons in history allowing themselves to be tamed like horses by mere humans. “I’ll ask you one more time—”
“Mine,” Raum mumbled. “Sunshine.”
Murmur made a face. Great. He’d obviously given Raum too much venom. He was delirious and spouting gibberish about sunshine and rainbows.
This was what happened to demons who left Hell. Their minds were truly addled.
Raum’s eyes were open, but he wasn’t aware of anything. Who knew what words would come out of his mouth now. Doubtful any of them would have much meaning.
“Mine,” the demon mumbled again. “She’s mine.”
“Who is yours?” Murmur asked just to keep him talking. Maybe he’d mumble something of value and this whole thing wouldn’t be a complete waste of his time.
“Heaven …”
Murmur stiffened as his last vision suddenly returned to him, the muddled images disentangling until it became crystal clear why Raum was here. He saw the book in his mind’s eye and remembered his conviction that someone was coming to steal from him.
The goddamn angels were after Gamigin’s grimoire.
How? How had Heaven learned of the importance of this grimoire?
Surely they hadn’t discovered what Murmur was doing with it.
No one else knew of its true value or his plan, he was certain.
Not even the witch he’d stolen it from knew, though there was information within its pages directly pertaining to her.
“Heaven wants Gamigin’s book,” he guessed. “And you’re here to steal it for them, aren’t you?”
It was rare indeed for angels to have voluntary association with demons, but they weren’t above binding them into service with a careful contract when it suited them. And no angel in their right mind would come to Hell without backup.
Raum and his brothers were especially easy to manipulate due to the bonds they’d formed. Murmur had determined this within minutes of their meeting—an angel would likely discover such a glaring weakness just as quickly.
This was why Murmur abhorred personal attachments. The day he allowed himself such a vulnerability would be the day he was finally destroyed.
He dropped Raum’s chin suddenly and stepped back. All the enjoyment of harassing his prisoner had suddenly left him, and instead he felt vaguely depressed.
Raum had once been a worthy adversary. In the height of his day, no underworld treasure had been safe from his rampant thievery. The two of them had crossed paths, and swords, more than once, and Murmur had always respected him—coupled with the distaste he felt for everyone, of course.
But now … Raum was likely bound in service to an angel. He was worried about others because he cared about them.
It was sad, really. Pitiful.
But Murmur didn’t have time to feel sorry for him, and he couldn’t be bothered either. Heaven wanted his book, and he needed to make sure they never got it. He needed to double down on his defenses and accelerate the speed of his experiments.
A wave of exhaustion crashed over him so intensely that he swayed. When was the last time he’d slept? Not since that last cursed nightmare. Doesn’t matter. There’s no time for rest.
He gripped Raum’s chin and lifted his head again, but Raum’s eyes stayed shut. Unconscious. If he wanted any more information, he’d have to wait until he sobered up.
With an exasperated sigh, Murmur spun on a heel and strode from the cell into the low-ceilinged tunnel, slamming the bars to Raum’s cell shut behind him.
“Master,” the two gargoyles on guard duty said as he passed the dungeon’s entrance. They bowed deeply, but Murmur swept past without a backward glance.
On second thought … He stopped and spun around. “I have much work to do and require privacy. You’re not to disturb me except for the direst of emergencies. If anyone comes to my tower unnecessarily, I will put them on the spikes to rot for the next century, do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.” The eager bowing and scraping continued, and Murmur’s lip curled. The subservient were useful but distasteful.
Spinning forward once more, he began the long climb to his tower. A yawn tried to escape, but he stifled it by clamping his teeth together so firmly, his fangs pierced his lower lip. The blood that filled his mouth tasted like death. Bitter and rotten.
Fitting, since he was pretty much the walking dead at this point.
He never slept, and he had so imbued himself with necromancy, he looked more like a corpse than a demon. The visions of his own death ceaselessly haunting him only stoked the fires of his obsession and paranoia.
He was fully aware he was losing his mind, but there was nothing he could do about it. At this point, everything was riding on the success of his master plan. If he failed, the loss of his sanity would be the least of his concerns.