Page 31 of Far From Center
Beings of spirit were different. Demons’ and angels’ thought processes were a speeding train that hit her brain with their weight. There was no way she could even begin to read their thoughts, and their motives and emotions were a swirling mess that made her feel like she’d just plunged down the first drop at a roller coaster ride. She could completely block them out, or manage to sometimes read their heart if she opened her walls just the smallest bit.
Even that was difficult. Demons were amoral beings. It was difficult to judge evil in someone’s heart when they viewed dismemberment on the same ethical scale as slicing into a medium-rare prime rib. If she wanted to get to the intent of a demon, she needed to brave the painful rush of thoughts and emotions, and try to pick out the few threads that would let her know if she could trust or not.
Angels were worse. They did have moral fiber, but it wasn’t what she, or any other human, would necessarily call angelic. And they were all so old that their speed of thought made her want to vomit. No, it was best to keep the walls strong, know that this was a demon coming through the doorway, and let the human senses that had kept her alive as a slave to the elves for nearly twenty years make the judgement call instead.
This demon made her slide one hand into her purse, ready to defend herself if need be. It wasn’t there, and the empty space where the wand should be made her feel sick. All she had was the collar, and it would be darned hard to get that on a demon if things went wrong. The one bright spot in all this was that the demon approaching her table didn’t seem to be all that powerful. In fact, from what she could tell, he wasn’t a Gormand. Not that she’d fare all that well against a lesser demon, or even a Low.
She’d flee if things went wrong, but demons were fast. And if one got his hands on her, there was a good chance she’d be dead before she could pull a weapon from her bag anyway. With demons, it was best to throw the first punch, but she had no punch to throw. Nyalla had never felt so vulnerable as right now.
But hopefully it wouldn’t come to that with this demon. He looked harmless, a skinny dark-haired man with a long nose that had been broken one time too many and teeth too large for his undershot jaw. Nyalla took a calming breath and pulled her hand from her purse.
He caught her eye and slithered over to the table, sliding into the chair beside her and scooting it uncomfortably close. “You must be the Iblis’ toy.”
Nyalla stiffened. She regarded Sam as a sort-of adopted mother. A demon’s toy was one step above a slave, and that title was a painful reminder of how she’d spent most of her life. But the past was gone, and she was a slave no more.
“I’m Nyalla, and I’m here on behalf of the Iblis. Where’s the Gormand?”
The demon turned his head and nodded. A group of people entered the bar, among them another demon. This one was about as wide as he was tall, walking with a confident swagger as he pushed past the humans. He had power. He was scary. And he was the Gormand, of that she was sure.
The other demon sat down across from Nyalla.
“All clear,” skinny demon said. “There’s a Low and a Noodle back by the restrooms. Other than that, everyone here is human.”
“Do you have the item?” Nyalla asked the Gormand.
The demon shook his head and pulled her plate over, stuffing food into his mouth. “Nope. I’m here to check you out and make sure we agree on my fees. After that, I’ll set up a day and time for the exchange.”
She wasn’t sure what irritated her more, the delay in getting business done, or the demon’s appropriation of her dinner. And additional fees? Nyalla flagged down the waitress, still followed by Snip. She’d need more food if she expected to get anything useful out of this guy.
“There are no additional fees. Sam — the Iblis took care of the deal. I’m strictly the courier, exchanging one item for another. No additional fees.”
“Therearefees. Pay them or no deal.” The Gormand belched. “Nice piece of tuna. Could have used a tad more garlic and less of the lemon butter. And the fries were obviously frozen. How’s their grouper?”
“We’ll find out once they bring it.” Nyalla nudged the remains of Terrelle’s food over toward the demon. “It would be a shame if this deal fell through. The Iblis will be quite angry. I’m sure your client in this exchange will be, too. I get the feeling that he really wants this item I have.”
The demon didn’t seem bothered by the thought of Sam being angry, but he blanched at the mention of his client. “The artifact is mine to sell or trade as I see fit. There is no client. And if the Iblis has changed her mind, I can always find another buyer. There are a dozen ancients in Hel that would love to get their hands on this thing.”
This was the greed demon version of chicken. As much as she didn’t want to give in to this Gormand, he had the advantage. Therewerea dozen ancients, probably more, in Hel who would want whatever this artifact was. And although his angel-client might beat the snot out of him for the delay or for not getting the collar, it was possible that an ancient demon might have something better to offer. Sam might be the Iblis, but she was still just an imp, and not particularly respected in her infernal home, even with the title and the sword that came with it. The Gormand’s claim might not be the bluff it seemed.
“What’s your additional fee?”
The Gormand’s eyes raked over her, and she shivered.
“I want a fee too,” the skinny demon complained. “And do I get fed? You’re hogging up all the food. At least let me order a burger or something.”
“Shut the fuck up.” There was a sizzle of electricity and the skinny demon yelped. Nyalla caught her breath, feeling trapped. Where were Snip and Terrelle?
Someone slid into the chair beside the Gormand and leaned tanned, muscle-bound arms on the table. Gabriel glared at the greed demon, and even as a human, his scowl was intimidating.
“Cut it out. If you want to discipline your lackey, do it elsewhere. This place is filled with humans, and you’re scaring Nyalla.”
The Gormand blinked at him in surprise and started to laugh. “Is this your boyfriend, girl? Does he know who he’s dealing with?”
Gabriel’s face darkened. Skinny demon began to laugh, then reached over to grab a handful of Nyalla’s hair. Gabriel came out of his chair. His hand shot out to grab skinny demon by the back of the head and slam his face onto the table. The demon squealed, letting go of Nyalla’s hair. Blood dripped from his nose, spreading in a pool around his smashed face. Nyallla wondered if that was how he’d broken his nose previously.
“Touch her again and I will kill you,” Gabriel proclaimed. He might be human at this moment, but his voice carried all the authority of someone who could face down an army of demons and walk away victorious.
The entire bar was silent. The skinny demon lifted his face, his blood-streaked nose sideways. Nyalla held her breath.
