“Hello,” I said nervously, and smiled. I don’t know why.
It didn’t smile back.
Of course, I wasn’t sure it could; I’d never actually seen one of those faces move.
“Uh, look. I . . . kind of have a problem here,” I said, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt. “And I was wondering—you’re a demon, right? A powerful one? I was told that’s the only kind the mages bother to, uh, to trap in one of these things, and—”
It just looked at me.
But it hadn’t looked away, so I floundered on.
/> “Look, I kind of have an alliance with—” I stopped suddenly, because it occurred to me that maybe mentioning the demon high council wasn’t a great idea. Some demons didn’t seem to like them much, and what if this was one of those? It’s not like I could tell. “I just meant that I, uh, respect your kind a lot, and I was wondering if maybe, if I release you—”
Nothing. Not even a nod. I started wondering if it spoke English.
“Look, if I release you, will you help me?” I asked in a rush. “These people, they’re in trouble because of me, but I—I can’t help them right now, and—” And that had probably been a mistake, too, because demons admire strength, and I’d just admitted that I didn’t have any. But I thought that was pretty obvious anyway, and . . . and what had I been saying?
I stared at him, desperate and despairing, and tried to think up an argument that might work. But whatever connection I had to my brain wasn’t functioning too well, or maybe it was my brain that wasn’t. Because my body currently had no soul in residence, so it was in a state we call dying, and—
And—
And—
“Cass!” A stranger’s voice shocked me enough that I jumped and whirled. And saw a dark mage standing behind me, grinning. “Got one!”
It took me a second, but the smile was the same.
Billy, I thought. Gun, I thought, because he had one in his hand. “Shoot,” I said, because that one idea was still clear, clear like crystal.
Billy frowned. “Shoot what?”
“Him!” I pulled back out of the way, pointing not at the golem, but at the guy standing next to it.
“That guy?” Billy said.
“Yes!”
“That guy right there?” he repeated, now pointing with his gun—
In the face of a startled mage, who nonetheless got a hand on his weapon—
“Yes! Shoot him. Shoot him!”
And Billy did.
The blast echoed in my ears, the mage fell over, a look of surprise still on his features, and the man next to him shot Billy—or, rather, Billy’s purloined body.
“Well, shit,” Billy said, looking down at his chest.
I didn’t say anything. Because I was too busy watching the golem. And the little energy crystal in its forehead, which had just cracked, turned gray, and started smoking.
The golem pulled it out and looked at it for a moment. And then dropped it on the floor, crushing it under a big orange heel. And turned those expressionless eyes on me.
“You are Cassandra Palmer?” a deep, gravelly voice asked.
“Yes.”
“The one who killed Apollo?”