Hellhound

Page 18

Axel grunted, but he didn’t look convinced. I smiled weakly and picked up my club soda.
“Mmm,” Butterfly said. “Embarrassment—tasty.” The demon had slithered closer to me. Now its second mouth sucked at my arm. I yanked away and grabbed some cocktail napkins to sponge off the slime where it had touched me.
Axel turned from the television to watch me flailing around. I picked up my glass and wiped away the water ring beneath it.
I thought about explaining to Axel that I was dealing with a giant invisible maggot sitting on the stool next to mine. The guy’s a troll; he’s probably seen weirder things. But I couldn’t think of any way to phrase it without making myself sound pure batshit crazy.
“Maybe that’s because you are pure batshit crazy,” Butterfly said. “Calling a terrifying demon B . . . Buh . . . some silly pet name is proof of that.”
Of course. Eidolons can read their victims’ thoughts. That’s how they get access to a person’s deepest, darkest secrets to exploit them. I didn’t have to talk to Butterfly; I could just think at it.
Okay, Butterfly, listen up. The fact that you haven’t gone away suggests one of two things: (a) you’re willing to share some information or (b) you’ve got a death wish. If it’s b, I’m happy to oblige. I’ll pull out my gun and pulverize you with bronze bullets until there’s nothing left but a puddle of demon goo for Axel to mop up. He won’t ban me after I’ve explained—he’ll congratulate me.
“Such a charmer. No wonder you’re a failure at relationships.” A pointy black tongue snaked its way from the second mouth toward my arm, eager to taste the feelings that jibe brought up. I leaned back and twisted away, out of reach. Butterfly heaved a put-upon sigh. “By ‘information,’ I’m assuming you mean the latest goings-on of Pryce and the Destroyer, since that’s what you asked me to watch. I might know a thing or two, but I’m too hungry to remember it, so—”
No. You’re not snacking on me. The only thing you’re making me feel right now is pissed off, and you don’t like me when I’m angry. Remember what happened on top of that mountain between the Darklands and Uffern? I was referring to a time when I’d opened myself fully to the Destroyer’s rage. I’d been so brimming over with anger and fury and lust for destruction that my own personal demon had jumped out and run away from me in terror.
“All right, all right. But I am hungry. At least push over that bowl of peanuts so I can reach them.”
Anything to keep that disgusting belly-mouth away from me. I grabbed the bowl of peanuts that sat on my left and dragged it over so it sat in front of the stool on my right. The Eidolon fell into it face-first, looking like the most disgusting pig at the trough.
“I heard that.”
Sorry. I’d have to work at shielding any thoughts I didn’t want the demon to overhear. Like the thought that I wasn’t sorry one bit.
I glanced at Axel, but he didn’t seem to notice the peanuts magically disappearing. In fact, he was conspicuously not looking in my direction.
Butterfly straightened, smacking its lips. “Better.” The demon belched loudly. “But physical food gives me heartburn.” A nauseating stench of peanuts, bile, and sulfur wafted through the air. Axel didn’t notice, not even a twitch of his nose, but I was tempted to put a cocktail napkin over my face. I settled for propping my elbows on the bar and resting my chin in my hands, steepling my fingers over my nose.
You’d better have something useful for me.
“How ’bout this: Pryce and the Destroyer have been fighting each other for dominance.”
You told me that weeks ago. When Pryce had resurrected Difethwr in his quest to regain his shadow demon, the Hellion had been furious to find itself bound to someone it considered a lesser being. I’d been hoping they’d stay locked in that struggle—fighting each other kept them both out of the human world.
“‘Have been,’ I said. Things change. They’ve come to some sort of agreement. I mean, I’m not privy to their terms—personal demon like me, either one of ’em would just as soon step on me as look at me—but they’ve stopped fighting.”
The Destroyer has agreed to be Pryce’s shadow demon? That surprised me. The leader of the Hellions bowed to no one. I couldn’t imagine it was content with being Pryce’s sidekick.
“Difethwr isn’t a shadow demon. It’s more like a partnership. They’re bound to each other, thanks to whatever happened inside that cauldron thing.” Pryce had resurrected the Destroyer by trapping hundreds of demons in a magical cauldron. As those demons merged into a Hellion, Pryce bound that Hellion to him by jumping into the cauldron himself. “They’ve accepted they’re stuck with each other—for now, anyway. Neither is subordinate to the other. But they hate each other. You ask me, I think each one’s waiting for the chance to gain the upper hand.”
Well, there was a little bit of comfort. Although they’d been allies in the past, being bound together changed everything. One or the other would make a power grab, and they’d start fighting again. It’s hard to wage war against humanity when you’re locked in a battle for supremacy over your other half.
“Yeah, except for one thing,” Butterfly said, and I realized my private thoughts were leaking into its hearing. I concentrated on shielding them better. “I mean, far be it from me to be the kind of demon who dashes people’s hopes”—Butterfly paused to snicker, since dashing hopes is one of the things Eidolons do best—“but Pryce and Difethwr are united in their ultimate goal.”
Which is?
“To rule the three realms, of course. To make the Darklands and the Ordinary part of Uffern.”
Part of Hell, in other words.
I bet you’d love that. The human world would become your playground.
“Well, that’s a bet you’d lose, sweetheart. Pryce isn’t what you’d call fond of personal demons. He calls us ‘puny’ and ‘weak.’ He wants to build a mighty demon army, and he scoffs at using personal demons as foot soldiers. Fine with me—I don’t want to be a foot soldier. I mean, can you imagine this body in uniform?”
I tried. I failed. I was glad.
“Yeah, exactly. So before Pryce attacks the Ordinary, first he plans to conquer the Darklands. He wants to use that cauldron of transformation, the one that brought back Difethwr, to create an army of Hellions. He’ll round up all personal demons, march us into the Darklands, and force us into the cauldron to be transformed. I don’t want to be transformed.” The maggot looked at me, and I couldn’t help thinking that any transformation would be an improvement. “I don’t figure you’ve got much chance of stopping him, but who knows? You might get lucky.”
Thanks for the vote of confidence.
“Hey, I can read all your doubts and fears. I’m just echoing what worries you, deep down.” Butterfly paused to scarf some more peanuts. “Anyway, for some reason, Pryce sees you as an obstacle to his plan. He’s all obsessed with some old prophecy or something. He believes he has to get rid of some lady before he proceeds.”
Some lady? That sounded nuts. Unless . . . Wait, do you mean the Lady of the Cerddorion?
Butterfly belched again. “I dunno. All he says is ‘the lady.’ Anyway, that’s why he’s working with that wizard.”
“Myrddin?” Oops. Hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but if Axel noticed, he didn’t let on. That’s Pryce’s father. When the old man died, his life force became part of Pryce.
“Yeah, Myrddin. In Uffern, the wizard can detach from Pryce, float around on his own as a spirit. But when Pryce crosses the border into the Ordinary, the old man has to reintegrate. You know, cram his spirit back into Pryce’s body.”
So Pryce has been entering the human realm. Do you know what he’s doing here? This was what I wanted to know—whether Pryce was somehow binding the Morfran to the possessed zombies.
“You think I tag along, like a little lost puppy looking for a home? I told you, I do not want to get on that demi-demon’s radar. All I know is it’s got something to do with zombies.”
Bingo. Drawing on Myrddin’s vast knowledge, Pryce was making the Morfran possess zombies, turning them into killing machines. It occurred to me that the Morfran-possessed zombies we’d seen so far were guinea pigs. Myrddin and Pryce hadn’t found the right spell to make the Morfran fully inhabit the zombies. Instead, the Morfran turned on its host, feeding on the zombie’s body and destroying it.
So where is he, do you know? When he comes into the human plane, I mean.
“Spying on you, sometimes. Thanks to that demon mark on your arm, the Destroyer always knows where you are. And the Hellion’s not shy about sharing that information with Pryce. I’d watch my back if I were you. Could be you’re the lady Pryce wants to get rid of.”
No. Not me. I was not the Lady of the Cerddorion.
“Yeah, I tend to agree,” Butterfly sneered. “As someone who knows you, mind, heart, and soul, I’ve gotta say lady ain’t the word that comes to mind.”
Damn. My private thoughts were slipping out from behind the shield again.
“But Pryce doesn’t always tail you,” Butterfly went on. “There’s another place he goes. He goes there a lot.”
Where?
“Beats me. Like I said, I keep my distance. I got no ambition to be the first demon he tosses in that cauldron.”
The only thing worse than being saddled with a personal demon was being saddled with a cowardly personal demon.
“Now you’re back to insulting me. After I come at your beck and call and do you a favor.” Butterfly eyed the half-empty bowl of peanuts on the bar, then gave me a sidelong glance. “Bet that makes you feel guilty, huh?”
Not in the slightest. I made a mental note: Practice shielding my thoughts.
“Hah, good luck with that.” Butterfly sniffed in my direction, searching for any palatable emotions. Then it sighed and buried its face in the peanut bowl. Soft, wet, smacking sounds filled the room. Gross. As the Eidolon fed, its body faded. It looked up at me, semitransparent, peanut crumbs coating its chin. “I’ll let you know what I find out. In the meantime, try to calm down a little, okay? All that anger isn’t good for you. Not to mention me.” Smacking its lips, Butterfly faded to a dirty smudge on the air. Then the demon was gone.