Thicker Than Water

Then finally, after what might have been the better part of a minute, the demon drew in a breath both long and deep, his eyes almost closing, and he tilted his head, first to the left, then to the right, his teeth still bared in a terrible rictus.

He held the pose long enough for the ringing in my ears to die down, and the air in the room, which had seemed to chill precipitately, came slowly back to normal. The goose bumps that had prickled our flesh lay down again, and the cat out in the alley - or perhaps another cat - made a miauling sound that was almost like the cry of a human baby.

Bic still hadn’t moved in all this time.

‘Are you done?’ Imelda demanded of Asmodeus, her voice thick with disgust.

‘Oh lady,’ the demon murmured, ‘I am done, and I am satisfied. You cannot know how long it’s been since I enjoyed so rich a meal. Small, undeniably, but choice. Very choice.’

‘Then give me the goods, you evil bastard, and let’s get this over with,’ I said.

Asmodeus straightened as slowly as he’d bowed, and then he massaged his right shoulder as though ironing out a cramp.

‘The goods,’ he repeated softly. ‘Oh yes, Castor. I have what you need. I’ve tasted the part, and so I know the whole. I can give you a nostrum so potent that this new-dropped little runt that dares to call itself a demon will melt away under your ministrations like water drops on a hot iron skillet.’

He held my gaze.

‘But you have to say please,’ he announced, in a tone that was openly mocking.

‘Don’t piss me off,’ I warned him grimly.

‘I’ve got your number.’

‘Because I gave it to you,’ Asmodeus agreed. ‘But I still feel entitled to a touch of respect, because without me what are you? A dumbstruck cunt-whisker trapped on stage without anything to play for an encore.’

‘I can still play your exit music,’ I reminded him softly, and my whistle was in my hand again.

‘No,’ Asmodeus said. ‘You can’t. Not yet. Because if you do that now, you won’t have what you came for. Ask me for the ammunition, Castor.

You have the tune that means me: ask me for the tune that means this other one.’

‘Give me the tune,’ I asked him.

‘Please.’

‘Give it to me, please.’

‘Inscribe it in my mind,’ Asmodeus coached.

‘Inscribe it in my mind.’

‘So deeply that it may not be forgotten.’

‘What?’

‘Say it!’

I swallowed. ‘So deeply that it may not be forgotten.’"

"‘It’s yours,’ Asmodeus whispered, smiling a smile so wide that it almost cracked Rafi’s face in half.