I struggled with a sharp bite of irritation, took another swallow of coffee. "I mean it. I promised Doreen I'd save Eve; I won't hunt her. And I was bamboozled into this Right Hand thing, fine-but my promise to Doreen predates my promise to Lucifer. He can…" He can go to hell, I meant to say, realized how absurd it was and swallowed the rest of the sentence. "It's not like it matters," I continued, bitterly, forgetting to pitch my voice low and soft. The cups rattled on the table. "He's sent others to hunt her down. I'm just another game piece."

Not to mention the fact that Eve asked me not to look too hard for her. Simply asked. No manipulation, no lying, no trying to twist me into a game I'm bound to lose. I had to admit she was the demon I was most likely to feel good about helping.

He set his wineglass down and laid his hand over my left wrist. Incredibly gentle, his warm skin against mine; he could have crushed the small bones if he'd wanted to. Instead, his thumb stroked the soft underside of my wrist. Fire spilled up my arm, through my shoulder, made the mark burn again. I had to catch my breath, biting the inside of my cheek savagely. The pain reminded me again I was a Necromance, that I didn't respond sexually to Power.

Though I'd responded to Eve, hadn't I? And Japhrimel knew me, we'd shared a bed for a long time. It's hard to fight someone who knows your body that intimately.

"You are not simply a game piece, Dante. You are my hedaira, and you must trust me to do what you cannot."

What the hell does that mean? "What does that mean?" I cast a quick glance around-the garden was empty, the waitress leaning in an arched doorway and exchanging soft laughter with an invisible someone I guessed was the cook. The pilot folded his newspaper, tucked it under his arm, and tapped at his datband to pay his bill.

Japhrimel smiled. It was a sad smile, his eyes flaring with laser-green intensity; another human expression. There was a time I would have been glad to see any feeling on his face, especially his rare smiles. But this expression made cold prickles ripple down my back. I don't get goosebumps, but it felt awfully close. The breeze from the garden filled my nose with green sweetness, overlaid with demon musk. "What you cannot do, I will. Don't trouble yourself. It is, after all, what I am meant for."

After facing down the Devil, I never thought I'd be frightened of anything else again. I was wrong. I stared at him, my pulse beating thinly in my throat. When I could speak, it was no more than a strangled whisper. "You leave her alone. I swear, Japhrimel, if you-"

"Do not." His voice cut through mine, he shook his head. "You know better than to swear such an oath. You must live to your word, Necromance."

I tore my wrist out from under his hand. He let me. I rocketed to my feet, the chair scraping along tiled floor, my sword in my left hand. My fingers tightened on the scabbard. Our waitress stiffened, looking back over her shoulder, the dark sheaf of her ponytail contrasting with the cotton of her shirt.

I leaned forward, my hair falling over my shoulders, inkblack as his. "Don't push me on this, Japh. That's Doreen's daughter." My tone, flat and cold, rattled the entire table. It might be an empty threat-he was, after all, so much stronger and faster than me, and had proved it too many times.

But by my god and my sword, I didn't care. She was Doreen's daughter, most of all. But maybe she was mine too. If she was, it was my job to protect her. My duty to protect her.

He had nothing to say to that. I straightened. My bag lay heavy against my hip, I still had my guns and my knives. And my sword, the blade that bit the Devil.

I wasn't able to hurt Japhrimel, not in a fair fight but if he killed Doreen's daughter or tried to return her to the Prince of Hell we were going to see just how sneaky and inventive I could get when facing down a demon.

A Fallen demon. A man I happened to love, even if he wasn't strictly a man. Wasn't it less than an hour ago I'd promised myself I would give him the benefit of the doubt?

"I swear it, Japh." My right hand closed around my sword hilt. He was too damnably quick-I knew from sparring with him. Even though he sat at the table, looking down at his wineglass, I still felt the nervous urge to back up, get some distance in case he decided to move on me. "By all I hold holy, I will."

A fluid shrug. He rose slowly to his feet, his chair scraping more quietly than mine had. "What is it you want me to say?"

I don't know. "I'm going. With or without you, I'm going." Goddammit, Danny, he dangled you up against a wall once before. You keep pushing him, he's going to do it again. Or worse.

"You will not leave my side until this matter is finished. I thought I explained as much in words even you could understand." How could he sound so calm? As if it didn't matter what I said or did, he had spoken and that was that. A breeze drifted through the garden outside, filled the cafe suddenly with the scent of growing things and the cinnamon-musk of demons; it was the psychic equivalent of static, dyeing the air around us both. I was radiating again. If I wasn't careful I would start affecting the sloe-eyed waitress and any other human in the place, flooding them with pheromones I couldn't fully control.

I tensed, my left thumb ready to click the blade free of the scabbard. Eyed Japhrimel. Don't push me. We were just doing so well; don't push me on this.

His gaze moved over me, from the top of my tangled black hair down to my scuffed boots, the loose easy stance I dropped into, though I didn't draw just yet. "Ever a battle, hedaira," he said quietly. "I will go with you, to see what has befallen your fellow Necromance."

Thank you, gods. Thank you. My breath came harsh and hot. I stared at him. "You mean it?"

Did I imagine the shadow of pain that slid over his face? Probably. "I prefer you where I may see the mischief you intend. I see no reason why we may not stop in Santiago City."

I couldn't help myself. "Really?"

He moved, a single step. Another. Closer, but he didn't look at me. Instead, he looked over my shoulder. His fingers closed around my right hand, the sword kept home in the sheath. "Save your blade for your enemies, Hedaira."

I do. Oh, I do. Closed my lips over the words. "Japhrimel?"

"What?" He still looked over my shoulder, a muscle flicked in his golden cheek. As if he expected me to yell at him, maybe. His fingers slid up my arm, cupped my shoulder, tightened but didn't hurt me. I swallowed dryly. He was so close the heat of him blurred through my clothes, less intense than the sun outside but scorching nonetheless. "Explanations. Remember?" This is going too well. We're going to hit a hitch soon.

He still didn't look at me. "When we are finished with your business in Santiago City, I will give you all the explanations you are ready to hear."

Goddammit, Japh. I knew you were being too reasonable. "You promised." I heard the hurt in my voice, couldn't help myself.

"You accepted a bargain with the Prince. That is a promise too."

"It's not the same thing." It's not. Goddammit, you know it's not.

He switched tactics. "What did the Androgyne tell you, Dante? She is in rebellion, she has no hope of winning. I will not allow you to be dragged down with her." He waited for me to speak. When I didn't, he tried again. "What did she say to make you so stubborn?"

I set my jaw. I knew you'd ask sooner or later. Said nothing.

His fingers tensed, hard iron against my skin. "Dante? Tell me what she said to you."

Silly me. I should have known. "Does it fucking matter? You aren't going to explain anything to me. You make promises you never intend to keep." The words were flat, final, and terribly sad. Am I really standing here in the middle of a Cairo Giza café, trying to persuade a demon to explain something to me? How do I get myself into these things?