False Gods (Sins of the Father 2)

Raziel gulped.

31

Just some cheesy snacks, Artemis said. That was all she really wanted, a proper offering each time Raziel crashed the party. I thought it was amusing that she didn’t demand any such sacrifices from Sterling, but they knew each other through their encounters with Dustin Graves.

That counted for something, I suppose, but it was far likelier that Artemis just didn’t like Raziel very much. He’s like that one guy who always shows up unannounced, then drinks all your beer and stays around too long, even after the seventh hint you’ve made about having work in the morning.

Granted, Raziel didn’t drink beer or truly overstay his welcome, but you get the point. I only found it frustrating that his little information excursion didn’t really help us in any meaningful way. Sure, I guess it was good to know that Quilliam was this weird, dichotomous reflection of who I was. I appreciated getting a better understanding of why he was such a giant cockhole. That aside, though, we still had no leads for finding Laevateinn.

“We’re stumped.”

I sighed, resting my chin in my hands, my elbows on my knees as Florian and I sat on the sidewalk just outside the Nicola Arboretum. It was late the next afternoon, nice and balmy out in Valero, though gloomy for me on the inside, because despite the lighthearted sort of celebration we had in the domicile the night before, we were still pretty stuck as far as Loki’s sword was concerned.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Stumped. Is that supposed to be you ripping on me for being a plant perso

n? Because I can’t decide if it’s offensive or not.”

I shrugged. “Bad choice of words, I guess. No offense meant. Though I’m not sure how offense could be taken in that situation, either.”

“Wow,” a third voice added. “Oh wow. Do the two of you always have such scintillating conversations?”

Our heads turned at about the same time. I frowned, then openly groaned when I found Belphegor standing behind us.

“Ugh. What do you want now?” I made sure to roll my eyes as I looked away from the demon Prince of Sloth.

“Is that any way to thank the guy who led you straight to Mistleteinn? Where’s the gratitude? Where’s the respect?”

Florian ignored him and joined me in solidarity, facing the street in silence. But Belphegor started squeezing himself between us, trying to get his own little section of butt real estate on the sidewalk.

“Scooch over,” he whined. I glowered at him as he pressed in, his clothes smelling of weed, the air surrounding his body way too warm to be human. He wriggled his way into place, sighing happily as he stretched his arms out and draped them across our shoulders. I shrugged, but Belphegor was blessed with unholy strength, even in the guise of a scrawny, pot-smoking teenager.

I smacked my lips, already annoyed. “And to what do we owe the pleasure? How can we help?”

Belphegor grinned widely, a worrisome expression considering he was normally so relaxed, more like apathetic. “But you’ve helped so much already.” He turned to Florian, gripping him by the shoulder and rubbing vigorously. “Look at all that you’ve done for our flowery friend over here. Florian’s a functioning member of society now. You’re really living up to your end of the bargain, Mason.”

Florian scratched at his hair, and I got the distinct impression that he was trying to avoid my gaze.

“Well, almost.” Belphegor scratched the end of his nose. “Sorry about all those bottles of wine you made getting blown all the way up.”

“Right,” I said, watching him warily, removing his hand from my shoulder. “Which is why we really need to get this business with Loki and Laevateinn over and done with. The sooner I get paid, the sooner I can vanish into the cracks. What can you tell us about the sword?”

Belphegor’s face dropped, and he gathered his arms into himself, crossing them and sulking.

I blinked at him, confused. “Was it something I said?”

“Come on,” he moaned. “I’ve helped the two of you so much already. Do you realize how little I actually do? You measure your time in days. I do one thing a month. Okay? One thing. And that was my quota.” He folded his hands behind his head, sighing as he stretched. He lifted off the sidewalk, brushing off the underside of his jeans as he continued to give me a long, drawn-out sulk. “Now it’s time for me to relax. Besides, it’s not like I know anything about the other sword.”

I stared at Belphegor long and hard, waiting for a subtle shift in his expression, but there was nothing there. Granted, demons were mostly liars, demon princes being actual professionals at it. And this was one of the Seven, no less.

“You know the worst thing about this?” I rubbed the bottom of my chin as I watched him. “Whether or not you’re withholding information, it sucks that there really isn’t anything we can do about it.”

Belphegor shrugged, his mouth hitching into a little grin as he winked at me.

“Don’t buy the act. He doesn’t know anything.”

I turned my head towards the direction Belphegor bared his teeth, only to find the last person – well, angel that I was expecting. “Sadriel? What are you doing here?”

She tapped her pen against her clipboard, walking in a slow, deliberate circle around Belphegor, who stood there wrinkling his nose at her and seething. “Trying to prove my worth, perhaps. No, I suppose that’s an exaggeration, Mr. Albrecht. I’m here to help where demonkind clearly cannot.”