Devil's Punch by Ann Aguirre Page A

change. “You are familiar with our lore, then? I would take nothing uninvited.”
    â€œWhere’s Shannon?” I demanded.
    On second glance, I saw that the broad pads of its fingertips were curved, almost like little suckers. They appeared perfectly suited for draining…something. Best I’d opted not to touch it.
    â€œI am Greydusk, here as guide only. To survive the descent, you must do precisely as I instruct.”
    The…descent? That did not sound healthy. I glanced at Chance, who stepped forward, both fists clenched. “Where’s our friend? I won’t ask again.”
    â€œSheol,” Greydusk answered. At my blank look, it added, “The other side of the gate, where you must also go, if you would ever see her again.”

The Descent
    â€œYou want me to cross over?” Fear clamored in my head.
    As if in response, Butch whined. I knew the feeling. I should’ve left him with Tia, but there was no chance he’d behave himself. For good or ill, he was
my
dog. If he couldn’t talk me out of an adventure, then he always accompanied me. So I settled him in my purse and crossed the strap over my body.
    â€œWhat I want is irrelevant,” the creature said. “But if you mean to save the girl, you must follow me.”
    I remembered how Jesse said Shannon was so far gone as to be beyond his range entirely. Or dead. If they’d taken her to Sheol, that explained why he couldn’t sense her. That seemed to bear out their claim, but I needed proof it wasn’t a wild-goose chase.
    â€œHow do I know you have her…or that she’s still alive?”
    The demon offered me a small circular object. “This token will function but once. Are you certain you wish to use it now?”
    On closer inspection, I saw it was a mirror. “Yes, show me Shannon.”
    He whispered a word in an unfamiliar language I guessed was demontongue and a magickal glow kindled within the glass. It was dark and shadowed; I couldn’t seewhere she was being held, but that was definitely Shannon. Her breath sounded quick, distressed with fear, and she was curled up, arms about her knees.
    â€œYou bastard.”
    â€œI am not responsible for my employer’s actions, Ms. Solomon. Will you come or not?”
    â€œLet’s go,” I said.
    Greydusk turned and climbed a few steps, its movements too limber and loose, but when Chance followed me, the demon stopped. “My contract provides only for the Binder.”
    That was a name Kel had given me, and then the Knight of Hell I’d defeated in Peru had echoed it. Supposedly, I came from King Solomon’s lineage, which gave me power over demons. I didn’t scoff at that notion as much as I once did. Too much had happened to make me believe.
    â€œIt’s not negotiable,” Chance said before I could reply. “You take both of us.”
    In the glow from my witchlight, his features were fixed, determined. It would come to violence if I tried to hand him my keys and send him away. And with his luck, there was no telling what might happen. If the demon was more ferocious than it looked, and Chance’s life was in danger, we might trigger an earthquake.
    Greydusk considered, weighing factors to which I wasn’t privy. At last, it replied, “The godling may come. I agree to the new terms.”
    Godling?
Wide-eyed, I stared at Chance. He lifted a shoulder in a shrug that claimed he didn’t know either. But it opened the book on all kinds of questions, the one foremost in my mind:
Who the hell
was
your father?
Stunned, I hurried to keep up with the demon already moving up the mountainside.
    It was a long, steep climb, with less oxygen as we went up. Eventually Greydusk reached a plateau that ended in a sheer rock wall. Above, the trees grew spindly, thinning with the altitude. Below, everything was lush and green, with a blue thread of a brook running through it—or I imagined it