Demon Singer II by Benjamin Nichols

I have to waste a lot of manpower watching them so they don't try to eat the other workers. The advantages to having zombies around in war time tend to disappear when the war does."
                  "I'm sure Gar would love to have them returned. Problem is, he'd also love to have my head... on a pointy stick." The mercenary grimaced at the thought.
                  Sabre nodded, unsurprised that Lich would seek retribution.  The zombie boss had a reputation for what he liked to refer to as “public displays of correction”.  Noale didn't like Fugue's chances if Gar got his meat hooks into him.
                  "If I see him, I'll make sure he knows you're on your way south, hunting chupacabra. Want me to send one of the Lux to escort you?"
                  "I appreciate the offer," Fugue answered, "but I intend to disappear. Once I hit the east coast I think maybe I'll head across the pond for a while."
                  Sabre made use of his napkin and folded his hands in front of him.
                  "So then, what can I do for you, Fugue? I assume you didn't seek me out to share sandwiches and travel itineraries."
                  "Gar is many things, general, all of them awful, but stupid is not one of them. He won't trust your information, he'll have sources here in the city that will help him find me much quicker than I'd like. I wouldn't object if you found a way to slow him down."
                  Sabre nodded and stood, offering his hand.  Fugue shook it as he stood as well.
                  "I haven't forgotten your service during the war.  I'm sure I can manage something.  Travel safe."
    *   *   *   *   *
                  Trytohn sat on the bank of the boiling  river Acheron, the hellish manifestation of his favorite demoness where she ran along the border of Hell and the Verge. He quietly caressed the burning waters with his fingers. Genuine sadness plagued him over having to handle his beloved Acheron so roughly, but gentler means had yielded no results. She wouldn't last long in her current form without her magic, so he was confident he'd have her back soon.
                  He admired the tree he was leaning against.  He'd only just grown it. The Thunder Monks who had delivered Acheron's magic to him hung from its branches, gently swaying back and forth.  
                  The Fairy King had guaranteed their safety. He would be annoyed that Trytohn killed them. Oh well, part of the thrill of doing business with the Prince of Darkness was knowing at some point he'd surprise you.
                  It didn't matter. By the time the Monks  learned who they were bringing the magic to it was too late. Trytohn was expecting them and didn't give them an opportunity to escape.
                  The king of hell wasn't worried about reprisals. The offer Oberon had made them was too sweet to pass up, even at the cost of their brethren.  A cure existed for their daughters and he had it.  No longer would they father girls who died before seeing sixteen years.  They could keep their dancing as well as their children.
                  Then there was the deal Oberon made with him. Oberon himself, who for centuries had avoided significant involvement in celestial politics, promised to remove Acheron's magic and deliver it to Trytohn. All he asked for in return was a few runes from Trytohn's personal alphabet.
                  Trytohn was no fool.  He knew the Fairy King would use his runes to attempt some foolishness down the road.  He was also quite certain it would fail as had countless others before him.
                  Trytohn had weathered so many attempted coups he considered them mere exercise these days. Though he had to admit he didn't see this current attempt by his lovely Lisian coming, it was more a