TWO

DAY 161

Harvest Time

“M y lord.” Camio, my best friend since baby spritehood, made the sort of bow where you basically kiss your knees, a full-on bow with hints of genuflecting around the hips. Given that she was currently in a female human form—Cam favored girl forms, not being at all distracted by her upper story—the bow was impressive. Enough that I decided not to let the Court down, even though I’d been out of it for almost half a year. “May I present to you Effrijim, the one who was recommended to you.”

A man with the short hair and bare face of the recent Norman invaders stopped in front of us, shooting Camio a sharp glance, one that had her flinching. “Recommended?”

“Aye, my lord Ariton thought you would enjoy adding this one to your legions. Effrijim is free of all ties and bonds, and I do fervently swear he is known for his tenacity, dedication, and cunning.”

The demon lord’s look became sharper when he snapped out, “Who are you ?”

“Camio, my lord,” she answered, making another of those knee-kissing bows. “Member of the seventh legion, and faithful servant of your brother, Lord Ariton.”

“Ah. Yes. So this is the demon no one has claimed. Ariton said something about finding one, but not wanting it.” Amaymon eyed me. He was half a head shorter than Camio, fairly broad across the chest and belly, with the skinny legs of a man who didn’t do much but storm around his palace. “Its appearance is not impressive.”

I tried to square my shoulders, but it was difficult, since my dog form was currently a low-slung rabbit-hunting model with powerful legs, but with a distinct lack of height. “I am happy to change to a different dog, if you like. I’m trying out a bunch to see what feels right, but if there’s something in the hound or lurcher range that you like, I’m all ears. Well, not all ears—”

He interrupted me in the middle of my ear joke by curling his upper lip and gesturing toward me, before striding past, followed by four wrath demons. “It can join the twelfth legion. See to it.”

“Is that a good legion?” I asked when the wrathies marched past, scattering scornful looks hither and yon. Wrath demons always did act like their shite smelled like flowers, which was ridiculous, because everyone knew demons smelled only like a nasty, oily smoke. “Like, one that sees a lot of action? Because I was promised all sorts of adventure and thrilling times if I took chances.”

“Dammit, Jim!” Camio choked, and hauled me backward at the same time she murmured a bunch of platitudes. She waited until everyone was out of earshot; then she grabbed my little front legs and more or less shook me. “I’m a demon, not your keeper. You need to be more circumspect if you want to be here. The most important rule, which I have told you three times now, is that you can’t speak to the princes like that! Fires of Abaddon, why did I ever let you talk me into joining our ranks? This is going to end up with you dying horribly, I know it will.”

She’d let go of my legs as she spoke, sinking to the floor of Amaymon’s palace deep in Abaddon, and grasping her head like she was going to pull out all her hair.

“Yeah, this form just isn’t doing it for me, either.” I thought for a moment, then decided I’d go back to the greyhound form I’d used to travel most of the way from the south of Scotland to London. “I’ll go with this one. It’s pretty good, and I need something that I can live with if Amaymon doesn’t let me change forms often. Hey, you have a pain in your head or something?”

“I have a pain in my arse, and its name is Effrijim,” she said, but smiled when I sat next to her and leaned against her. She sighed, and leaned into me, too, one arm around me. “Your form is not what I’m concerned about, and you know it.”

“Nothing is as important as getting your form right,” I said, looking with satisfaction at my long legs. This breed of dog was definitely an improvement. I looked up to catch an expression of concern in Cam’s eyes and butted my head against her leg. “You know better than to worry about me. I always land on my feet. That’s the one benefit of being my parents’ child.”

She covered her eyes and gave a brief shudder. “By Saint Peter’s thumbs, I can’t imagine what Parisi would have thought of you becoming part of Abaddon.”

“Eh. Everyone says my mother was goodness personified. Also, you forgot about my father,” I reminded her, peering over my shoulder. The tail on this form was nice, but felt a bit lightweight now that I wasn’t traveling. I needed a form with more substance. “Maybe I should tell your boss who he was?”

Camio seemed to go pale at the thought. “Fires of Ab—you wouldn’t! Jim, swear to me that you will never mention your father to anyone in Abaddon.”

“Why?” I asked, scratching behind my left ear. I wondered if I’d picked up fleas from somewhere. “He’s one of the men who started the whole shebang. That has to be worth something.”

She breathed heavily at me for a few seconds. “Considering your father almost single-handedly destroyed Abaddon in his desire to be with your mother, the only thing your connection will bring you is endless torment. The demon lords have long memories, Jim. Three of them were with your father when Abaddon was formed. They will not ever forget how he tried to obliterate them and it just to be with the Sovereign.”

I thought of rolling my eyes, but decided that look did not fit my current face. “Fine, I won’t say anything. I’d much rather earn all the honors and accolades on my own, anyway.”

“Honors?” She stared at me with eyes that almost bulged out. “Accolades? Oh, Jim, what have we done? This is ludicrous! You’re a sprite.”

“Former sprite. One that has a great future in front of him, but who has to go through lots of peril and stuff like that. Hildegarde said so. You don’t get more peril and possible death than working for a demon lord, eh? What I can’t figure out is why your lord wouldn’t let me join your group. Is he against dogs?”

“Despite your father, you don’t know the first thing about being a demon,” she continued, like I hadn’t spoken, although her voice was strained with stifled laughter. “You’re going to end up either running the place or dead within a week.”

“I’d pick the former, but, eh.” I wrinkled my nose, wondering how that looked. I had a whole new face to try out expressions. “I’m happy being the dashing demon. So what happens now? Because I just changed forms, which means I’m not under Amaymon’s thrall, or spell, or whatever it is they do to keep all the legions in line.”

She sighed heavily, kissed me on the top of my head, and got to her feet. “Why you feel this of all paths is the one to lead to your happiness is beyond me, but since it is the choice you have made, I will do everything I can to make the transition from your former location to Abaddon as painless as possible.”

I followed when she led me through the corridors in Amaymon’s palace, built of black stone into which runes had been set, and lectured me about how to behave around the princes who ruled Abaddon, their elite guards (the wrath demons), and all six classes of demons who served the individual lords.

“You’ll start out as a demon sixth class, since you are coming in as a non-Abaddon recruit.” We wound our way through a narrow cobbled street that led from the palace to a number of outbuildings, dodging demons running hither and yon, a variety of livestock being herded amongst a number of crude pens, and a bunch of horses wearing black-and-silver barding. “The twelfth legion is always the support legion, so I can’t imagine it would be any different for Lord Amaymon. You must swear fealty to him, and after you’ve done that, you will become a demon.”

“Got it. Can do.”

She stopped and gently buffeted my shoulder. “And after that, there’s no going back. So, for the love of Saint Peter, make sure you want to do this, because once you swear your oath, you’ll be a demon to the end of your days.”

“I got this,” I reassured her, lifting my nose to follow a particularly succulent smell of roasting ox. “Yum! I get to work in the kitchen? Sweet!”

“There is nothing sweet about Abaddon. Oh, Jim. Are you sure? Are you really sure? This is a life of indenturedom and servitude, neither of which you’ve embraced.” She held my head in both her hands, her fingers rubbing the always-itchy spot behind my now-greyhound ears. I gave her a quick lick on the cheek before cocking an eyebrow at her doubt. “I would not for the world want you unhappy. You are dearer to me than even the sun in the heavens.”

“Love you, too, sweeting. And you know me better than anyone—I’m not the type to cause trouble or draw attention. I’ll be fine, although I appreciate your concern. I swear I won’t tell anyone about my parents. Ever. Besides, I’ll have you to guide me if I have questions, right? Let’s get to the kitchen before they send that roast ox up to Amaymon. I hope they have crackly bits. I love the crackly bits! Maybe they have more than one ox going. I could eat a leviathan and still have room left over for some bread pudding.”

That’s how it started. One minute I was a hungry and footsore former sprite, and the next I was a demon bound to Amaymon, and part of a legion responsible for domestic stuff. I had a feeling Camio had somehow worked my position into that particular legion, since it was one that seldom ran into any of the top demons, let alone Amaymon himself.