Devil's Business by Caitlin Kittredge

were the demon in Mayhew’s office.”
    “’Course I was,” Belial said. “You think a stain like Ben Mayhew’s capable of getting in touch with your caliber of mage and…” he flicked a black nail at Pete, “whatever you are?”
    “I’ll ask once more before I stop being nice,” Pete told him. “What do you want?”
    “The same thing you do, I expect,” Belial said. “To find the villains who hacked up this nice little family. I may be a demon, but I do have feelings. All right, not feelings, but desires. And I desire them caught and delivered to me.”
    This was rotten. Demons didn’t just pop up and start demanding favors. They hung back until you were bloody and desperate, and then they showed up to listen to your screams for mercy. That was how it had worked last time, between Belial and him.
    “Forget it,” Jack said. “If this whole trip was your doing, then piss off. We’re done, and I’m not your rent boy any longer.”
    “You’re not,” Belial said when he turned his back. “But your little woman is.”
    Pete grimaced when he turned on her. “It happened when you were … away,” Pete muttered. “I needed his help to get you out of the nuthouse and shut down Nergal.”
    “For fuck’s sake, Pete!” Jack shouted, because shouting was the only thing he could do. He couldn’t very well haul off and punch Belial in the face, not unless he wanted his limbs in new and different configurations.
    “Don’t scold her,” Belial purred. “She did right to cut the bargain she did. Saved the world, properly, because of it. And she—and you—do this for me, and we’ll be square.”
    “I know what you are,” Jack snarled. He didn’t know who to rage at—Pete for being so monumentally stupid or Belial for the smug look on his face. “I know demons. She’ll never be free of you.”
    Belial moved like ink through water—one fluid second and his hand was around Jack’s throat, Jack’s skull making a dent in the dark wall. “I honor my bargains,” Belial snarled. His teeth were pointed, each filed to a perfect razor point, and a little blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he bit his own tongue. “I am a Named demon of Hell and I do not deceive, lie, or employ trickery.”
    Jack’s feet were off the floor, and a black border encroached rapidly on his vision. A smug demon was bad enough. A slagged-off demon was lights out for all humans concerned. He should just learn to keep his trap shut, but it was never a life lesson that had sunk in.
    “Yeah,” he choked. “You’re just a warm fuzzy life coach, ain’t you?”
    “I am something much, much higher in the food chain than you,” Belial said. “And you’ll live a lot longer if you learn to show me a little fucking respect.”
    He dropped Jack, and Jack didn’t bother to try and stay upright. He sucked in air, tile digging into his knees.
    “Supposing we do pretend to trust you at face value,” Pete said. “What the fuck is going on here?”
    “Excellent question,” Belial said. “Suffice to say that you’re the hunting dog, and your man here is holding the leash.” He nudged Jack’s side with the toe of his shoe. “Come on, Winter. Where’s that fighting spirit I saw in Hell?”
    Pete took a step. “Don’t touch him.”
    “Be a luv and give us a moment alone,” Belial told her. Pete started to protest, but Jack waved her off.
    “Go. Nothing he can do to me he hasn’t already.”
    “Wrong again,” Belial said, crouching next to Jack. “Now, I’d hoped you’d cling to your dignity, but I can see I was setting my hopes much too high.”
    Pete clearly wanted to stand over him, but Shavers shouted at her from the front hall, and she worried her lip. “I’ll deal with him. If you hurt Jack…”
    “I assure you,” Belial said. “I only hurt Jack for the fun of it. This is serious.”
    Her footsteps retreated and Belial stared after her, shaking his head. “Going to be a crying shame when she bulks