Page 20 of The Morning Star
Caramort. That was the warmonger whose household the fire demon said he was a part of. Best to start with him. I had no idea who Basilisk was, and Popiel was an Ancient. It would probably take me two weeks to get an appointment with him if I was lucky.
And the significance of that didn’t escape me. I was the Iblis. I should be able to walk up to his house, pound on the door, and get an immediate audience. One more bit of proof that I was not the right demon for this job.
“Snip, go find and meet with Caramort and Basilisk and see if they really did kill angels or not. Then track down who paid them the bounty. Set up an appointment for me to meet with Popiel as soon as possible, too. Oh, and ask Mestal to come see me.”
Mestal was my snitch. If there was something to this tale of a bounty on angel wings, he’d know. Or not. Sometimes his information wasn’t the most reliable. Sometimes it was a whole bunch of stupid stuff and he was ignoring the important things going on right under his nose.
“Yes, Mistress. Do I do that after I arrange for Doriel’s visit or before?
Crap. Snip was better than most Lows at multitasking, but I’d clearly reached the limit of his abilities. I looked around the Lows and felt my heart sink. The only one here who was close to being at Snip’s level was the one who technically wasn’t in my household. The one I really didn’t trust.
Keep your friends close and your not-sure-if-they’re-an-enemy-or-not close enough to smell the grilled salmon on his breath.
“Barf, you…” Wait a minute. “Barf, did you find Leethu? I sent you to find Leethu. Why are you back here?”
The Low cringed. “I thought she was in Texas, but it was some other demon. I’ve been looking forever, Mistress. I can’t find her. I can’t,” he whined.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Barf was totally worthless.
“Rutter! You go find Leethu. If you can find her within the week, I’ll buy you a Vespa.” The Low had been obsessed with motorized scooters ever since he’d come from Hel, and I knew he fancied himself tooling around on a powder-blue Vespa.
The other Lows suddenly started clamoring that they all wanted Vespas as well. Barf was particularly pissed, and commented that if he’d known there was a Vespa in the offering, he would have tried harder.
I silenced them all with a wave of my hand.
“Gimlet, you meet with Caramort, Basilisk, and Popiel and find out if they really killed angels or not, then track down who paid them the bounty. Barf, you go find Mestal and tell him to come see me.”
“Do I get a Vespa?” the Low interrupted.
“No, you do not get a Vespa. You do, however, get to keep all of your limbs attached to your body. Mestal is probably at the casino. He likes to hang out there and work. Says the noise of the slot machines is soothing or something like that. Tell him I need info on these angel killings, and I need it fast. Snip, you do all the other stuff. Good? We good?”
“No, we are not good.” Gimlet glared at me. “I’m not in your household. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Did you just fucking eat the salmon I bought?” The Low squirmed under my stare. “Did you not just eat the cookies I bought? Did you just drink the beer I bought? Have you not been sleeping in my motherfucking guest house, availing yourself of my hospitality for the last few months off and on? Time to pay the hotel bill, asshole. Do as I say, or I’ll cut that half-digested salmon out of your gut.”
“She will too,” Snip whispered to the Low. “With that sword. If you’re lucky, it will just disembowel you and not turn you into a pile of sand.”
Gimlet ignored Snip and continued to have a staring contest with me. I forced my eyes to stay open, feeling them burn and water. Just when I felt like they were about ready to fall out of my head, the Low blinked. Then he grinned.
“Yes, Mistress.”
There was a hint of mocking in his voice as he said the title. I ignored it. This fucker was the least of my problems right now.
“Good, now everyone out of here and back to the guest house.” I stood up and headed for the kitchen, Lux in my arms. I had half an hour before I need to return to Hel for my meeting with Doriel, and my kid just drank my beer. There was nothing I wanted more than to relax in front of the television with a fresh cold one and pretend that I wasn’t about to spend the evening kowtowing to some fucking Ancient.
The chatter of my Lows faded as they headed back to their guest house. I plopped Lux on the counter and turned to open the fridge.
“Want another beer?
The young angel was angling his wings to keep himself balanced on the counter as he poked a stack of dirty dishes in the sink. He held up his other hand and gave me a peace sign.
“You’re not having two beers. I’ve got to go to Hel in a few hours and I’m not leaving Nyalla with a drunken baby angel to take care of.”
He huffed, then went back to poking the dishes. I grabbed two Bud Lites and twisted the caps off. By the time I turned around, the dishes were squeaky clean, dry, and neatly stacked on the counter.
“You’re hired,” I handed him a beer and scooped him up off the counter. “Do the bathrooms and dust and I’ll let Austin come over for a playdate tomorrow.” Actually I’d already invited Harper and Austin to come over. I had something to discuss with the woman, a sort of business proposal, something I was pretty sure she’d be thrilled to take on.
“Kar-ay too,” Lux replied in between swigs of the beer.
