chapter
SIXTEEN

It wasn’t such a bad afternoon, all things considered. The cleaning crew had removed the last traces of Lawrence’s tantrum. Smoothing out the crumpled pages of my savaged notebook, I found that I could re-create most of the work in the new, elegant, large-format journal I’d picked up earlier in the week. I liked the new book. The heft of the paper, the flecks of flower petals and silk fibers appealed to my aesthetic.

As I added pages of notes, sketches, and clips from photo shoots I found that I had relaxed. No thoughts about doormen or demons or magicians or gorgeous ex-boyfriends intruded. I was in my element, and the work was meditative. It was six thirty before I knew it, and then it was time to go home.

Sybil was waiting for me in the lobby of my building, pacing up and down in front of the reception desk. She kept raking her fingers through her hair, and her soft blond curls were ragged.

“Where were you? I’ve been waiting since six, don’t you finish at five? Weren’t you supposed to be here an hour ago? Where’s Nathan? What’s he doing?” she shot at me before I could even say hello or get my mail.

“Let’s talk upstairs,” I said, and laid a gentle hand on her arm, which seemed to settle her a bit. I got my mail, which consisted mostly of offers for more credit cards and pleas from a slew of charitable organizations. I dumped them all into the incinerator before I got to the elevator.

Upstairs, Sybil dropped her coat on the floor and pulled me over to the sofa. “I’m sorry, Lily, but I’m just so scared. Vincent is in danger,” she sputtered between choked sobs. “Look at this.” She handed me a printout of an e-mail.

Vincent is with us, it began. If you want to see him again, you will meet us at midnight at the Carousel in Central Park. You are to bring Lilith Al-Hazar to us in exchange for Vincent. She will not be harmed if you turn her over to us. Vincent is unharmed and if you follow our directions he will remain so. It is in your hands.

“Did you call Nathan?” I asked her. “When did you get this? Have you told him yet?”

She shook her head. “He’s your boyfriend, he’s not going to trade you for anyone,” she said timidly.

I sighed. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my ex-boyfriend. He dumped me, remember. But he’s also our PI and you’re supposed to call him first. When did you get this?”

“Somewhere around four. I was trying to do some work from home, and I checked my e-mail, and there it was. So I came over here hoping that you’d be home from work. Look at this stupid typeface! Does that give us a clue? It looks juvenile.”

“Did you call Eros or Desi?” I asked.

Sybil shook her head. “I think I was hoping this would all be a joke and I’d be here and Vincent would come on duty and tell me that he’d spaced out or had an emergency with a buddy in New Jersey or something.”

“We have to call Nathan,” I said evenly. “If you won’t, I will. He’ll be angry that you didn’t tell him immediately.”

“Do I have to call?” Sybil said.

“It might be better coming from you, but if you can’t, I will,” I reassured her.

She pulled out her cell phone, hit two digits and was connected; she had Nathan on speed dial. “Nathan? Sybil here. I’ve gotten some communication from the kidnappers. No, I’m at Lily’s. Could you meet us here?”

I wandered into the kitchen. There were three Ben & Jerry’s cartons in the freezer, none of them full. And there was no Vincent to send out for more. I scooped what I had (Chunky Monkey, Cherry Garcia and Chocolate Brownie) into two bowls, and gave the one with the largest serving of Chocolate Brownie to Sybil. I assumed she needed the extra calming effects.

“What are we going to do?” she asked over and over as she ate the ice cream. I didn’t know. I was afraid, but I had absolutely no intention of turning myself over to kidnappers to save her boyfriend. This was getting out of hand. Vincent is my doorman. He’s supposed to provide security for me, not the other way around.

“I think we should call Eros and Desi,” I suggested finally, after the last of the ice cream was gone and the bowls were deposited in the kitchen sink. “If they can get here before Nathan, then we won’t have to bring them up to speed.”

Sybil nodded blankly. I made the calls, and Desi, ever thoughtful, volunteered to bring Chinese takeout for dinner.

The three arrived at the same time. The Chinese food smelled good. Desi set it out on the coffee table while Nathan studied the note.

“May I see the original e-mail?” Nathan asked.

Sybil sat down mutely at my computer and called up her e-mail. The entire apartment smelled of Orange Beef and Shrimp Lo Mein and I was hungry. Nathan and Sybil were busy at the computer so I served myself a healthy plateful and sat around with my friends and speculated.

“It’s them,” Eros said with certainty. “Branford and his crew. He must have reorged and he’s got some heavy backing. How could they have nabbed Vincent? He’s a demon, and Branford is mortal.”

“I think you’re assuming too quickly,” Desi contradicted her. “I mean, I think it’s clear that there’s someone in the Hierarchy who is making trouble for Meph and for Marduk. Branford is one of his tools, but there could be others.”

Eros gaped at Desi. Usually it’s Eros who is the strategic thinker and Desi who is the doomsayer. I was so stymied that I had another Peking ravioli.

“That’s entirely wrong,” Eros said. “I talked to Beliel, and he is the head of Security and he knows something about these things. He believes that the Burning Men are an aberrant splinter group, possibly with ceremonial magical training. They certainly know a lot about magic for a pack of fanatics.”

And why Vincent? I wondered. What did the demon in charge want? We were being destabilized, and suddenly I wondered about others in the First Rank of Hell. Damn. I was going to have to ask Azoked, and I hated that.

“Can I use my e-mail?” I asked, interrupting Nathan and Sybil at the computer. They moved toward the food without stopping their conversation. I took over and sent Azoked an e-mail, marked urgent, through priority channels. If she got it in time, she might actually be of some use.

After I sent off the e-mail I couldn’t resist taking a quick look on MagicMirror. Demons have just started using tags on entries, but I just played around and queried “trouble” and “enemies” and “attack” just to see if there was anyone else who had experienced similar problems. It didn’t take long to confirm that there had been an unusual number of posts on attacks, muggings, burglaries, and a general atmosphere of fear among demonkind. I knew that I didn’t have the time or the access to find a real pattern in the attacks—surely there were many more that weren’t reported on MM. It would be embarrassing for a minion of Hell to report being attacked.

“You don’t have any Shrimp with Cashew Nuts,” a loud, catlike voice announced. “That is my favorite. If you are going to request me on an urgent basis, and I must drop the important research I am doing immediately, the very least you could do is have my favorite dish.”

“I thought you said Crispy Orange Beef was your favorite,” I said, remembering another night with Azoked and takeout.

“There’s Shrimp Lo Mein, you can pick out the noodles,” Eros said in that tough voice that permits no argument. “We’re demons, not mind readers.” Eros shot me a look that made clear that she didn’t know what I was doing and wasn’t all that pleased with Azoked’s arrival.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” I said to the Librarian. “I’ll even call out for a delivery if you don’t like the Shrimp Lo Mein.”

“I prefer fish. Maybe some sashimi?”

“It’s a critical situation,” I interrupted. “A young demon is in danger, and we’ve been attacked fairly regularly in the past few months. Something is going on.”

Azoked licked orange sauce off her paws. “I have told you, we do not have Akashic records on demonkind. Only the living leave records.”

“But you have other records,” I said. “I know that Admin reports attack activity on us as well as Upstairs and you’ve got the archives. I want to know if there’s a pattern. Are there really more attacks on demons, or is it just us? Is it happening all over the world? Only in New York? Only in a few cities? Is there anything the demons attacked appear to have in common? We need to see if this is part of a larger conspiracy or if we are particular targets.”

“And what do I get for doing this?” Azoked asked.

“Well, it is your job, and Satan did contract for your services,” I began, but Eros cut me off.

“You get to serve Satan, which is reward enough. And you may be able to help Mephistopheles, and if you do he’ll be grateful.”

Azoked looked interested. “Mephistopheles is known to be very generous when he is grateful,” she purred. “Can you guarantee that?”

Eros’s pale skin glowed an unearthly color and suddenly it was obvious she had never been of humankind. “No one can guarantee Mephistopheles’ gratitude,” she countered, her voice commanding and cold.

“Except Mephistopheles,” said Satan’s Second in Command himself, appearing in a whiff of sulfur next to the window. “I will guarantee that I will be very grateful indeed.”

“I didn’t get enough food,” Desi said in the background. “Maybe we can order a second round?”

My living room was getting rather crowded and overly hot. Nathan was blinking at the new arrivals. Today Mephistopheles appeared different, more threatening, more powerful. More protective if you are me and Meph wants to protect you.

“I’m going to call in an order,” Desi said too brightly. “What do people want? We’ve got one Shrimp with Cashews. How about more Peking ravioli and some Mu Shu Chicken?”

“Um, fine,” Nathan gulped.

“How’s the Hunan Pork?” Meph asked.

“Not bad,” Eros said. “But not as hot as you might like it.”

“I’ll take an order of Firey Twins, then,” Meph said, and returned his attention to Azoked.

“I see precisely what Lily is asking for, and I applaud her for thinking of the larger picture and calling you in on the case. So, Azoked of the Akashic Library, I am asking you myself to undertake this project. It could prove vital in the history of Hell, of the entire Hierarchy. And we shall all be most grateful.”

Azoked got up and nodded to Mephistopheles. “Indeed, I shall be happy to do this research. This is the kind of analysis that a Librarian lives for, that does not come so often to those of us who labor among the records. And, of course, it will be my honor to serve Mephistopheles.”

My mouth was open so wide that my jaw nearly hit the coffee table. Azoked certainly knew the polite phrases of the older aristocracy, that was for sure.

Then, even more amazingly, Azoked bowed to Meph and disappeared. Back to the Akashic, I assumed, to start on her new project. But she hadn’t even waited to see if we’d ordered her sashimi. Which we hadn’t.

“Well, the answer to the kidnapper’s request is simple enough,” Meph said as he cast a glance over the debris of our demolished takeout. He must have been hungry. “We take a minor demon, enchant her to look like Lily, and then make the switch. When we do the enchantment we add a marker we can trace in the magic, so we can find where they take her. Then we attack the lot of them on their own territory where they think they are safe. . .”

“Except for the demon you enchant,” Nathan protested. “What happens to her? She could be tortured, or even killed, and you don’t care.”

Eros rolled her eyes, but Meph met him head-on. “No. The demon will be a volunteer, and she is immortal. She can’t be killed. She may suffer a few moments of pain, yes, but she will be serving me and, more important, Satan. She will have my favor and will be well situated to advance. It is a very small price for the potential benefits. I expect that we’ll have a fair number of volunteers.”

“Absolutely not,” Nathan protested. “Even if it weren’t unethical, we don’t negotiate with kidnappers. Ever. We have no guarantee that they actually have Vincent, and if they do we can’t trust that they’ll actually trade him back. We need to track them down, and we should be doing that now.”

“But it’s a good plan,” I said. I think I was pleading.

Then Nathan turned his eyes on me and his look was cold. “Yes,” he said. “You’re one of them. Ethics in Hell, what was I thinking? Of course you’ll let someone else take the fall for you while you go off scot-free and you don’t even care. You know, Lily, until this minute I had almost forgotten what you are.”

No. Oh no. He wasn’t going to blame me for that. That was his problem. I was about to lash into him when Meph held up his hands.

“Nathan, why don’t you pursue your avenues of inquiry?” Meph said diplomatically. “I can certainly get a volunteer and we can be ready to go in case we need to. We have four hours. If you can’t find any leads in that time, we can go with my plan. Unless you have a better one?”

“Lily, where are you in this? Are you going to help Mephistopheles or are you going to try to track down the kidnappers with me?” Nathan pleaded.

He was clearly confused. Meph’s plan was excellent, and would work. And would gain the volunteer a career in Hell that she couldn’t have dreamed of otherwise. Thousands of lesser demons compete every day to come to the attention of the higher circles.

“You think a little bit of physical pain is unethical,” I said to him in a low voice. I didn’t really want all these witnesses to our argument. “But you can torment me, you can throw me out of your life without a second thought and that’s just fine. Because I’m a demon so my feelings don’t count. At least our volunteer will know what she’s getting into and will get some serious benefits in return for her few hours of misery. Me? I’ve been miserable for a month and you think you’re Mr. Nice Guy.”

I turned my back and flounced across the room. I didn’t want to hear his answer, didn’t want to see his face. I was too furious to even think.

Fortunately, the intercom rang just then as a doorman announced the arrival of the second wave of food. I went to the door and Meph met me as the delivery man arrived. Meph pulled out his wallet, which I found strange. I already had cash in hand. Meph slowly returned his wallet to his jacket pocket as I paid for the large bag.

As I cleared away the empty cartons and opened the new steaming ones on the table, I heard Nathan move to the door. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. And then I heard the door close behind him.

Even though my apartment was jammed with people I felt cold and horribly alone. I think a tear rolled down my cheek.

“You’re getting the Peking ravioli soggy,” Eros said. I didn’t care.

It was Desi who came up to me, Desi who led me from the food table to the sofa and sat me down and handed me my own Kleenex. It was Desi who told me to blow my nose and Desi who fed me a Benadryl and a big dish of Shrimp with Cashews.

“You’ve been so brave and caring,” she said as she petted my hair. “You’ve put Vincent’s safety ahead of your hurt at seeing Nathan now, to have to work with him and even feed him in your own apartment. You’ve been so good to all of us, to Sybil, to everyone, and no one has said anything to you at all. So I’m going to say it. You’re the best friend ever.”

And then Eros and Sybil joined Desi hugging me while Meph disappeared into the bedroom.

“I’m sorry,” Sybil said. “I’ve been so scared and worried about Vincent that I didn’t ever tell you how much I admire you being willing to deal with Nathan at all. I’m really sorry about this whole mess and about dragging you into it.”

What can I say? My friends are the greatest.

I was heartbroken and so was Sybil; we didn’t talk much. Meph broke the silence when he came back into the room.

“I have a volunteer,” he announced.