Not Quite Human

Chapter 11

Salazar found the boy.
Despite how hopeless it had seemed, despite every dead end and wasted hour, he found him — which was nothing less than expected from someone whose pet spirit was Maze, demon of roads less travelled, the wicked spirit that led people astray. Maze could find anything that existed. It was simply a matter of time.
Damien and Nerezza allowed themselves one shared breath of relief before getting to work, layering protective spells into their stones in preparation. Alaster hummed with quiet anticipation in the back of Nerezza's mind. He had a particular dislike of Veilas. He was already entertaining various thoughts about what he'd do with this one — none of them quick, all of them satisfying.
They followed Salazar's trail with Abbadon in tow, Hissana the only one who stayed behind. It led them to a crumbling building in the middle of nowhere — the kind of place that looked as though a firm breeze might finish it off entirely. The nearest settlement was a small, cut-off town so removed from the outside world it hadn't seen a newspaper in years. Without Salazar, they would never have found it.
Inside, they were met by an Ork — a large, blunt creature, essentially conditioned to follow orders. It made sense, on reflection. Orks couldn't speak, which meant no loose talk. They followed instructions precisely and without question, and they were powerful enough to serve as effective muscle. A perfect tool. The Veila, characteristically, had left no trace of itself behind.
Bringing the Ork down took considerable effort. Abbadon had them take it alive — a creature like this could prove useful later. Once it was secured, they split up and began working through the building room by room. Alaster grumbled steadily in Nerezza's head, irritated that whatever had arranged all this had been careful enough to cover its tracks so thoroughly.
It was Salazar who found the right door. It carried the heavy, rust-like smell of magic — two spells layered on it, one preventing pet spirits from breaking through from the inside, the other a barrier against entry from without. Salazar pressed against it and stopped. His eyes went wide. He couldn't break the second spell. Whatever spirit was on the other side of that door was extraordinarily powerful if it could keep Maze out. He went to find Nerezza and Damien. The only way this particular door was going to open was if the boy on the other side wanted it to.
They got a message to Neil. A moment later, the door opened.
His spirit took up a defensive position at his side immediately — and then Damien saw who it was.
Loki. Demon lord of mischief, pranks, and spells. No wonder Maze hadn't been able to get through.
Loki's eyes found Maze immediately, and a slow smirk spread across his face. "I did wonder whose hand I felt at the door. You've improved quite a bit, Maze." His voice was smooth and unhurried, almost musical.
Maze inclined his head with genuine respect. He felt rather foolish for not having recognised his lord's magic sooner. He had served him for several eons, after all.
Neil looked at Damien and Nerezza, and his face crumpled entirely.
"I th-thought I'd be stuck there f-forever," he managed, his voice breaking on the words.
Damien pulled him into a hug without thinking about it — holding him close, saying quiet, soothing things until the shaking in the boy's shoulders began to ease. Neil went still against him, then heavy, then entirely limp. He'd fallen asleep. Just like that — one moment present, the next gone, as though his body had simply decided that the danger was over and shut everything down at once.
Damien looked down at him and felt something loosen in his chest.
The boy had made himself comfortable, tucked against him with the complete, trusting bonelessness of a sleeping cat. Damien chuckled quietly and adjusted his hold, carrying him carefully as they made their way back to the palace.
Hissana was waiting anxiously in the entrance when they arrived. Abbadon noticed something flicker across his face — a strange, unreadable expression, gone almost before it registered — before Hissana's features settled back into their usual gentle warmth. Abbadon told himself he'd imagined it. He was exhausted, and his imagination had no business inserting itself into the one part of his life that was going well. He had the Ork transferred to a high-security cell — the Veila was still unaccounted for, and a creature like this was too useful to waste. Then he went to find Salazar, an old acquaintance with whom he maintained a long and pleasurably combative history of traded favours. Sending him off always involved some degree of bickering. Abbadon was already looking forward to the next debt.
Damien carried Neil to one of the guest rooms. He had no intention of waking him — there was nowhere safer right now than the palace, and the boy had earned the rest. He changed Neil out of his ruined clothes and into a clean robe, pulled a pair of socks onto his feet, and drew a blanket over him. Neil burrowed into it immediately, still deeply asleep.
Damien watched him for a moment, then made himself look away. He was aware of Loki leaning in the doorway behind him, smirking with the expression of someone assembling information they intended to use later. Loki wasn't malicious exactly — not by the standards of the Abyss — but he was deeply, cheerfully manipulative, and Damien had no interest in giving him anything to work with.
He didn't have a pet spirit himself. His heritage made that particular bond complicated, and if his grandfather was any indication of what that world produced, he had no desire to get closer to it than necessary. He'd never fully trusted any of the lords of the Abyss, and he wasn't about to start now — not even with one who had, admittedly, just kept his librarian alive.
He turned off the light and left Neil to his dreams.