The Parisian Codex

29 - What Demons Want

"Is that girl really a demon?" asked Romane.

"That guy," I amended. "Zagan is currently in a woman's body, but he talks about himself in the masculine."

We sat on either side of the kitchen table, which I had summarily uncluttered and wiped clean. The bandages I'd wrapped around Romane's hands prevented her from helping me tidy up, but not from reaching for the mug of coffee I'd prepared for her. A glass of strong alcohol might have been preferable, but alcohol thins the blood, and I didn't want her bleeding all over the place. I know how to behave, but the smell always distracts me a bit.

"What about you," she asked, "what are you?"

"A private detective who practices a little magic in his spare time."

She frowned. She didn't believe me. This kid was ready to accept the existence of a transgender demon, but not that I was a private eye.

"The dangerous object we were talking about," I said, "is a book."

"Magical?"

I nodded.

"How dangerous?" continued Romane.

"Very. It could trigger the Apocalypse."

Her eyes widened. "Holy cow!"

"That's why we wanted to destroy it."

"Wanted? Past tense? Have you changed your mind?"

I ran my hand through my hair. "Zagan's still looking for a solution. But in the meantime, we've decided to hide the book and put it in safekeeping. And for that, we need your help."

"Me? You want me to keep it?"

"No. We want to entrust it to an army of incorruptible keepers. For that, we need a necromancer. And you're all we've got."

Her jaw hung in the air for several seconds before she swallowed and managed to stammer out. "You want me to create an army of undead guardians? What if I'm wrong, like I was with the pigeon?"

"Aggressive as he is, your pigeon would make a good guard."

"But what if my guardians would rather cuddle thieves or go on adventures than do their job?"

"We'll look into it together. And I'll help you train."

"I thought you didn't know anything about necromancy?"

"I've just started. I don't seem to have any practical gift, but I'm unbeatable at theoretical research."

"Is Zagan going to help us? He said he could.." She waved her bandaged hand in the air.

"No," I said in my firmest voice. "Absolutely not. Demons only want one thing in exchange for their services."

"A soul?"

I nodded. "Once you promise them your soul, they start playing with you like a cat with a mouse. Your life becomes a living hell."

Romane contemplated the contents of her mug for several long minutes. Was the kid scared? I hoped so. I couldn't afford to drag her into this affair if she kept up her usual attitude, an explosive mix of recklessness and impetuosity.

"But..." she started. "If we're talking about the end of the world, maybe my soul isn't so important?"

I was speechless.

Not because Romane had shown unprecedented courage and selflessness—young women have a habit of surprising me. I've got used to it.

No, if I remained silent for long moments, it was because Romane was right.

"We're not there yet," I said. "Our goal should be to prevent the Apocalypse without sacrificing your soul, okay? I'll head downstairs to get the grimoire, and we'll study it."

***

I went down to my office and found Mathieu and Zagan outside my new door, deep in conversation. "Row" was perhaps more apt.

Zagan towered over Mathieu by half a head. The demon was coolness incarnate, while the mobster had lost his usual composure. Scarlet complexion and clenched fists, he was shouting macho insults.

Zagan turned a weary gaze towards me. "Germain, is this guy important to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I end him, will you miss him?"

A few seconds late, Mathieu noticed my presence. His screams then changed target: "Dupré! I demand to know what's going on! What have you two been up to...?"

"Nobody'll miss him," I said. "But be discreet: I can't afford to attract police attention. What's he doing here, anyway?"

Zagan shrugged. "No idea. I just got here myself."

"Let's go into my office," I said.

I unlocked the door and motioned for them to follow me. The shouting resumed as soon as the door was closed.

"My men have followed you here several times, Tamara!" spat Mathieu. "If you think you can leave me for a sub-shit like Dupré..".

I protested, on principle.

In reality, I didn't give a damn about the opinion of a psychopath like Mathieu.

"For the last time," sighed Zagan, "I'm not Tamara..."

Mathieu interrupted the demon with a wave of his hand. "I've already told you: 'Olga' is over. Nobody wants a girl with a name like that."

Something sparkled in Zagan's eyes. If he had been human, I'd have said 'contained fury.' But with a demon, anything was possible. As proof, he suddenly planted a kiss on Mathieu's cheek and, in a playful voice, declared: "You're right, sweetie. I do owe you an explanation."

The demon put his arm under Mathieu's.

Mathieu pushed Zagan away and turned to me. "You've failed, Dupré. No one can take from me what is mine."

He grabbed Zagan's wrist and dragged him outside. Just before crossing the threshold, the demon pointed to my desk with his chin and winked at me.

A sheet of pink paper lay on my desk pad. Ornate handwriting had traced a few words: "Attempted robbery at my bank. The enemy is closing in on the book. Hurry up."