“What do you think?” I asked Chance.
He lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “I don’t know where the hell we are. We could die here before we find Shannon without some help, so it seems better to let him take us to the demons who don’t immediately intend to kill us.”
That summed up the situation nicely. Greydusk had us over a barrel. So I muttered, “Let’s get on with it.”
The Imaron set a small, intricately graven box on the ground. Then it whispered a word in demontongue, and the item responded with an agitated rattle. It unfolded rapidly, assembling into something larger, and when the pieces stopped unfolding and turning, the tiny article had turned into what looked like a mechanical coach. I shared a glance with Chance, brow raised. In reply, he shook his head: Nope, never saw anything like that before.
Next, Greydusk uncapped a vial, and blacklight poured out. I recognized it from Lake Catemaco, even if I hadn’t been able to identify the smell. Panicked, I drew, so that magick sparkled on my fingertips, burning like ten small suns. My spells slipped, so that I couldn’t remember which sigils matched what effects; I was that scared, and without an outlet for the power I’d drawn, I would cook myself alive.
“Calm down,” Greydusk said impatiently. “The Klothod won’t hurt you.”
Except when they possess a bunch of angry monkeys, who then try to eat your face. They killed the boatman in Catemaco without breaking a sweat. “Since when?”
“Since I command them.”
Chance took my hand, even with the energy crackling from it, and it burst away from him, lancing the air in a wild bolt that shook the tree. Overhead, the bird-thing uttered a raucous cry in protest. As I watched, Greydusk whispered orders to the Klothod, and they infused the carriage he’d called. The thing shuddered to life, fed on demonic energies. I swallowed my misgivings, climbed up, and then we were off.
The smell lingered around us, tingeing the air. I couldn’t forget that some of these things had tried to murder me; they had killed Ernesto, an honest boatman from Veracruz. In my heart, I knew Kel wouldn’t approve of this. He’d said I held both heaven and hell in me, and that I had yet to choose my course. But this? No. There was no paradise waiting for me after this. So I’d better make my mortal life count because it was straight down in a handbasket thereafter.
A lonely road stretched before us; there was no other traffic. No signs of indigenous life either. No native flora and fauna. “What is this place?”
“The Ashen Plain. On its other side, we will cross the River of Lethe, and come through the Chasm of Despair.”
“Seriously?”
It ignored my sarcasm. “Once past, we will see the city walls.”
“Xibalba,” Chance said.
“Just so.”
“From there, you’re taking us to the Luren. Tell me about them?” Since Greydusk didn’t seem to be guiding the carriage—the enslaved, formless Klothod appeared to be doing the work—it seemed safe to ask.
“They are the tempters,” the demon said. “Beautiful. Seductive. Deadly. They are…difficult to resist.”
“Is that how you wound up guiding us, against your better judgment?” Chance wanted to know.
Greydusk offered a curt nod. Interesting. So these Luren had incredible powers of persuasion, even over other demons. I’d have to be on my guard. I wished I had some spell to make me proof against mental shenanigans, but off the top of my head, I couldn’t remember anything in either grimoire that would help. Chance’s luck should keep him safe to some degree, but the longer I stayed close to him without a cleansing, the more danger I’d encounter.
“You mentioned taking us to her?” I prompted, hoping the demon would take the hint.
“Sybella,” Greydusk supplied. “She is the patroness of the Luren caste, holding the rank of Ruling Knight.”
Like Caim, I guessed. Time to learn a little more.
“Do you know of a demon named Caim?” I asked.
Greydusk cut me a sharp look. “The Ruling Knight of the Hazo?”
“I guess?”
“They are the warriors, not to be trifled with.”
Shit. What I had done to the demon knight in Peru was way worse than that. I imagined he’d want to impale me on something sharp and rusty, as soon as I hit the city. The news just kept getting better and better. I mean, I’d known Caim was scary as hell, but the fear that laced Greydusk’s expression made my dread worse.
Chance cut in, “Back to the Luren. Do the others take orders from Sybella?”
“Nothing so brutish,” Greydusk replied bitterly. “It is all much more smooth and civilized among the Luren. More accurate to say she has seduced them to the point that most would rather die than displease her.”
More shit. I preferred free will.
“Is there anything we can do to protect ourselves from her?”
The demon considered, and I could tell it was weighing the advantages of helping us. I wished I hadn’t pissed it off so often. “Don’t look her in the eyes. Stay at least two meters away at all times. Above all, don’t let her touch you.”
“Touching is bad?” Chance looked worried.
“For you, yes. If you consent to sexual contact, she’ll steal a year of your life, and once you start down that road, you’ll find it impossible to stop. The Luren are a…lethal addiction.”
Yeah. Bad. Really bad.
“No sex with the Luren. Got it.” I narrowed my eyes. “I thought you said they mean us no harm.”
The Imaron laughed softly. “They need not intend harm to inflict it…as you well know, Binder.”
Ouch. Direct hit.
“I take your point. And we’ll be careful.”
“It is nothing to me either way, once I complete my contract.” But a hint in the demon’s expression told me that wasn’t entirely accurate—or maybe it was a flicker of response from the truth spell I’d cast a while back.
So I called its bluff. “So no matter what we do in Xibalba, it won’t affect your world at all?”
Greydusk angled a cold look at me. “You have the power to level my world, Binder, but I am no kingmaker. I am Imaron—I honor my contracts. And that is all.”
“Would you like to be more?” I asked.
“That’s like asking an eyreet if it wants to fly. Some things can never be.”
I had no clue what an eyreet was, but I recognized stifled ambition when I saw it. “Let me offer you a new deal. Keep your contract with the Luren, but once you deliver us, you come to work for me. I need someone who can explain how things work and keep us from making stupid, terrible mistakes.”
“That could be dangerous—and unwise,” Greydusk said.
“You said I have influence here, whether I want it or not. And it’s always better to have powerful friends.”
“Will you force me to submit to the ritual?” Its tension and word choice gave me insight into its preferences.
I recalled the demon had mentioned how it was compelled to complete its contracts via a blood ceremony—with death as the penalty for failure. So I shook my head. “No. Your word is good enough for me. It isn’t right to force you to keep an agreement in such a way when you have no assurance that I will deal faithfully with you in return.”
Greydusk shifted and offered me its hand, long fingers with those soul-stealing sucker pads. The first time, I’d refused to touch it. This time, I gambled—and as Chance drew in a sharp breath in protest, I clasped the demon’s palm in mine, sealing the bargain. I didn’t know if this was the right move, but it had to be better to have some notion of how to behave and what dangers we might face.