Thicker Than Water

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Not yet awhile. You’re as safe as if God himself had gathered you into His embrace, my little doves. And Castor - Castor has even less to worry about. Like he said, we’ve got a deal. Even the meanest little lick-spittle in Hell will tell you that Asmodeus keeps his word.’

Finally his head swivelled round to bring me into his field of vision. ‘How did it go again, Felix?’

Meeting that pitch-black gaze was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but there was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of blinking or looking away. ‘You said if I gave you a taste of the thing that’s haunting the Salisbury, you’d tell me how to fight it,’ I said.

Asmodeus nodded, scratching absently at his chin - at Rafi’s chin - and leaving blood-red runnels in his wake - because his fingernails had extended into two-inch talons. ‘That’s what I said,’ he agreed. ‘So. Is it Christmas?’

I nodded towards Bic, who was curled up in a foetal position at the pentacle’s nadir. Ever since Asmodeus had made his eerie appearance the boy had fallen still, all his mumblings and muscular tics abruptly stopped. He was like a statue now: a study for the starring role in a pietà.

‘There,’ I said.

‘That little morsel?’ Asmodeus snickered nastily. ‘I need enough to get the taste of it on my tongue, Castor. You want to take advantage of my judgement; my fine discrimination. I can’t make up my mind on the first bite, can I?’

‘The demon at the Salisbury touched this boy first,’ I said, cutting through the bullshit. ‘And it put its hand more heavily on him than on anyone else. Trust me, there’s enough there for you to work with. What I need from you is a promise - a binding promise - that the boy won’t be harmed.’

‘Ah.’ The demon’s gaze flicked back to me, an ironic smile tweaking the corners of his lips. ‘We might have a problem there.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Oh yes indeed. A binding promise? What in all Creation could bind me against my will?’

‘Then the deal,’ I said, climbing to my feet, ‘is off.’ I unshipped my whistle and put it to my lips, sounding a chord tha»ingm" t Asmodeus would easily recognise: the same tune I always played when my goal was to push him back down into the depths and give Rafi a little respite: a little time alone inside his own head.

‘No.’ Asmodeus and Trudie Pax said the word at the same time. I watched him and I put out a warning hand to tell Trudie to keep out of this. She was here because Gwillam wouldn’t have let me take Bic without her, but that was as far as it went - and it didn’t give her a voice in the negotiations.

I lowered the whistle. ‘Go on,’ I said.

The demon bared his teeth in what could equally well have been a grin or a threat display. ‘I have to admit,’ he said, ‘that my indifference was feigned. I want this. It’s been a while since I tasted another demon’s substance. A pleasure too long denied. So I’m inclined to . . . unbend a little to make it happen.’

He paused, staring at me through narrowed eyes. I waited him out.

‘Your circle,’ he said, ‘already binds me in certain ways. If I add the sigils of my own name - my true name - to those already present, then your hold on me is that much stronger. You could cripple me if I broke my word to you. If you’re strong enough, you’d even have a shot at destroying me.’

‘Nice,’ I said. ‘Except that I’ve only got your word for it what your true name is, and I can’t read your symbols. You could write George W. Bush down there and I wouldn’t know any better, would I?’

‘The law of analogues—’ Trudie Pax began.

‘Trudie,’ I snapped, ‘I swear if you open your mouth again I’ll put you outside the door until we’re finished.’

She gave me a long, narrow-eyed stare, but she fell silent.

‘The lady is, however, entirely right,’ Asmodeus said. ‘A false name would make your circle convulse and the space within it rupture. We’d all suffer - and I, being inside it, would suffer most of all. You’d know whatever I wrote was truth because I wouldn’t be screaming.’

I shook my head. ‘I’m not into all this black-magic gubbins,’ I said, ‘and I’m not taking your word for anything. Try again.’

We locked stares for a moment longer.

‘I’ll set it to music for you,’ Asmodeus snarled.

‘Done,’ I said at once. Because that was what I’d been hoping for all along.

‘Close your eyes,’ Asmodeus instructed me. ‘And cover your ears. They may bleed slightly, but that can’t be helped.’

I put my hands to my ears but kept my eyes open: you can say what you like about my table manners and my love of my fellow man, but Mrs Castor didn’t raise any stupid children.