Mongrel

Mongrel and Number Three walked on either side of an exhausted-looking Will with the girl in his arms. They shot menacing glares at anyone who tried to get close, toting drawn weapons. Any drunken idiot who looked about ready to take them up on their offer of violence quickly thought better of it once they noticed the one-eyed man heading up their little trio. With Sam covering his left arm, there was no way for them to know exactly how run-down he was, reduced to just 2 AP.

If a fight did break out, Mongrel wasn’t sure how much help Will would be at this point. The way he staggered along, twitchy and stiff, Mongrel wasn’t even confident he’d stay mobile for long.

Luckily, the thinning fairground crowds did not appear keen to test that theory, and reluctantly parted for them as they made their way south toward Darkside proper.

And the rain had stopped. So that was something.

There was nothing to be done for the chimps they’d left behind; their bodies had already demanifested and been sucked back into his body, where they would gestate there until they had recovered enough to be resummoned in two or three days.

“I can’t believe you’re actually this stupid, Matt,” Will growled, jaw muscles working as he ground his teeth. “You have no idea how badly you just fucked everything up—and things were plenty fucked-up already.”

Oof, we’re in ‘Matt’ territory, are we? Kid only calls me that when he’s pissed.

“What the hell did I do?” Mongrel asked. “Because of me, your girl is already Level 5, and she won that whole damn tournament. How about you stow away the attitude and start over with a ‘thank you’, instead?”

“All right. Thank you for fucking everything up. Really great job all around. I’d clap if my hands weren’t full.”

“Pfft. No need to get all testy.”

Will spun around. Sam’s head rolled against his shoulder, and the one wide eye he fixed on Mongrel was as mad as a cow in heels, only a tad more frightening. “Mongrel, you realize I was trying to keep Sam out of the spotlight, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” Mongrel muttered, uncomfortable at being forced to stand around while people gawked at them.

“Come morning, everyone in the city is going to know what happened here. They’re going to know about Sam, and about you, and about my intervention. Which, of course, means that Lord Brimstone will hear about it. And once he learns I’ve been raising a fighting ace Laborer behind his back, he’s going to have some interesting questions for all three of us, you can be sure of that.”

“Sure, but…” Mongrel fumbled for an excuse, sniffing at his pursed upper lip. “That’s only because you stepped in. If you hadn’t shown up, no one would know you two were connected.”

“No, of course not,” Will shot back. “You’d just be dead, the both of you—that’s all.”

“Well, I…” Mongrel shrugged. “Maybe I did mess up a little. Sorry, I guess.”

Will snorted, and turned to keep walking. “I don’t give a shit about your apologies. Right now, I need you to help us get out of the city as quick as possible. And in case I have to make it abundantly clear to a mental vacuum such as yourself, it’s your neck on the line, too.”

“All right, slow your roll, kid. I get it already, so let’s just keep moving.”

Will did not argue.

They continued making their way through the fairground. As though by magic, Nyx was suddenly at Mongrel’s side, and he nearly jumped out of his own skin when he heard her sultry voice in his ear.

“Matthew,” she said, as serene and composed as ever, “you are headed for the farm, yes?”

Mongrel grunted to the affirmative, slipped in some mud, and swore as he fought to stay upright.

“Very good. In that case, I believe I will stay in the city to oversee our interests.”

‘Our’ interests, is it? Mongrel thought, but let the comment slide, as he did not have the energy to argue about it. A woman could end a man with words faster than a fella with a sword. “Do as you like,” he said, mean-mugging a Builder whose hand was drifting dangerously close to his dagger.

“Good!” Nyx said in a bright voice. “And of course, I will also ensure that your money stays safe.”

“What the fuck was that, now?”

“Think about it. Do you really think that Golden Boy will be happy to provide your winnings if you’re tardy in collecting?”

“Uh…”

“In short, there’s a good chance he’ll conveniently ‘forget’ about the whole affair and lose any paperwork to the contrary. And without the backing of a major organization, you have no leverage to force him into anything.”

Mongrel snorted. “I’ve got my ways, darling, don’t you worry.”

The demoness threw him a patronizing smirk that made his face go hot with anger. “I’m sure you do, dearest. Of course, there’s also the matter of the champion’s purse. That’s a lot of money to simply leave floating around without taking proper ownership. If you’d delegate the matter to me, I can ensure that it stays safely stored away for you to retrieve at any time. All you need to do is have a little faith in me.”

“Oh, that’s all, is it? Trust a demoness who’d just as soon lie as take a breath?”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Nyx’s smile widened. “Yes, dearest. That’s all.”

“Forget it.”

She laughed. “You’re cute when you pout.”

“Will, aren’t you supposed to start yelling at her to go away about now?”

“For once, I don’t mind,” Will said, his gaze fixed doggedly ahead. “At least she’s keeping all the people off our backs.”

Mongrel looked about. She was, at that. He hadn’t noticed.

“Well?” Nyx prodded. “What will it be, Matthew?”

“I’ve already told you, woman! It’s a no, and that’s final! Keep your claws off my money!”

“How about we make it a contract, then?”

“Absolutely not.”

“My undying and everlasting loyalty, in exchange for…” She tapped a finger against her chin in an exaggerated show of mulling things over. “...A drop of your blood.”

Mongrel scoffed. “That’s disgusting.”

Will stopped on a dime, nearly causing Mongrel to bump into him, and turned back toward the demoness. “What was that?”

“My offer,” Nyx said with a shrug. “William, dear, I’m very sorry, but it really doesn’t involve you.”

“Take the offer,” Will said curtly, fixing Mongrel with his one sharp eye. “Give her a drop of your blood.”

Mongrel frowned. “But you said—”

“I know what I said! And now I’m telling you to take her offer.”

“Why?”

Will stepped up, bringing his, Mongrel’s, and Sam’s heads all uncomfortably close together. “Didn’t you hear what she just said?” he hissed. “‘Undying and everlasting loyalty’. Demons don’t make those kinds of deals—they just don’t.”

“Yeah, but it’s some sort of trick, right? She’s going to use my blood to…” He shrugged. “I dunno. Whatever demons do. Make a voodoo doll and start twisting my balls in knots.”

Will turned his attention back to the demon. “Is this a formal negotiation?”

“Yes.”

“Then the First Contract compels you to speak no untruth, and omit nothing that is contractually binding.”

“Obviously.”

He nodded. “You would swear undying and everlasting loyalty to this man, Matthew Caldwell? ‘Undying’, as in ‘until the moment of your death’? ‘Everlasting’, as in ‘continually, without pause or cessation for any reason’? ‘Loyalty’, as in ‘ensuring Matthew Caldwell’s interests whenever possible, whether physical, personal, or emotional, based on his own values and frame of reference’?”

Nyx clasped her hands over her ribs and sniffed indignantly. “It sounds boring when you put it like that. But yes, I am willing to proceed under these terms.”

“And in return, you want a single drop of blood? As in, a non-repeated instance of Matthew Caldwell donating his own blood, drawn by his own hand, from a non-specific body part, that amounts at minimum to what collective human reference would qualify as ‘one drop’?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, William, that’s correct.”

“What will you be using the blood for?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“I’m afraid I have to insist.”

“A memento, that’s all. A symbolic payment, since a contract cannot be made without terms going both ways.”

“All right, fair enough.” Will teetered on his feet, eye growing unfocused for a second. To avoid falling over, the lad simply sat down in the mud, ignoring the strange looks it earned him from passersby, and cradled the unconscious woman in his arms, curled over her as though to protect her from the world. “To confirm, you will actively work to ensure Matthew Caldwell’s longevity, good fortune, and personal satisfaction?”

“Yes, yes,” the demon replied impatiently, looking down her nose at the boy.

“Why? Why would you do this? Especially for someone like him.”

“Hey!” Mongrel cut in, then scratched quizzically at his neck. “But, uh, yeah—why?”

“Because I’m fond of you, Matthew. Is it really such a difficult concept to understand?” She spoke with the patience of a school teacher explaining a concept to a particularly dim-witted child, which did not improve his opinion of her one bit. “Humans are fond of their pets, aren’t they? They take pleasure in watching them bumble about, and find their feeble attempts at understanding the world around them ‘cute’. Well, I am no different. Just as people will go to great lengths to protect their pets, I, too, will do everything in my power to keep you happy, healthy, and alive.”

“Did you just call me your pet?” Mongrel asked, rightfully outraged.

“Of course not, dearest—I was making a simple comparison. Don’t be so dramatic; it’s unbecoming.”

“People don’t usually swear fealty… to their pets,” Will pointed out. His head had drooped so that his brow touched Sam’s, and his voice was slightly muffled due to his chin pressing against his collarbone. He looked absolutely wiped out—just what kind of night had he been having?

“Yes, well, the other way around would be more appropriate,” Nyx said, “but I expect it would take a fair bit of wheedling to bring Matthew around to that idea, and we don’t have much time.”

Mongrel felt like a man caught between his wife and his mistress with his pants down, looking back and forth while the boy and the demoness talked around him, bartering over him like he was a leg of lamb.

“I don’t suppose your concept of loyalty would involve taking orders?” Will asked.

Nyx snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, William. Regardless, I am much more effective when working at my own discretion.” She templed her hands before her, clacking sharp claws together. “Well, I believe we have laid out the terms. Do you need that in writing?”

Mongrel opened his mouth to speak, but Will beat him to it. “A verbal contract will do.”

“Excellent.” Nyx turned her full attention to Mongrel, smiling sweetly. “Well, Matthew? It’s rude to keep a girl waiting.”

Mongrel snapped his teeth shut, rolled his tongue around in his mouth, and slowly sheathed his sword. “I…”

“Just give her the fucking blood, Matt!” Will snapped. He shifted his weight onto his left hip, digging a rumpled handkerchief out of his right pants pocket, and threw it over.

Mongrel caught the fluttering ball of linen against his chest, unfolded it gently, and gazed long at the thing.

To bleed, or not to bleed.

He felt the same way he had before his wedding—the first one. That alone should have been enough to make him think better of the idea.

Then again, having a demon on payroll didn’t sound like such a bad thing. The little she-devil could even be moderately useful sometimes, whenever she took a break from blue-balling years off his lifespan.

“Fuck it,” he said, and held out his hand to the side.

A moment later, Number Three deposited his knife into Mongrel’s waiting palm. He tested the edge by shaving away a handful of arm hairs—it was sharp, all right—then put it to the inside of his forearm, digging hard into the skin. He produced a shallow cut, hissing at the sting of it, then pressed the handkerchief against it as he handed the knife back.

The cloth soaked red, and the sinking feeling in Mongrel’s stomach grew into something that greatly resembled a powerful bout of constipation. He offered the handkerchief between two fingers, arm extended to its limit so that he could stay as far away from the demon as physically possible.

“Reckon you got a bit extra, there,” he grumbled, “but you can have that on the house.” He couldn't be arsed to produce exactly one drop, and he figured a couple more couldn't make any difference anyway.

Nyx took her bloody prize from his hand, very gently, in both of hers. The unnatural heat of her fingertips brushed against him for a brief moment, setting his skin prickling with gooseflesh. Nyx looked at the handkerchief for one moment, then folded it neatly and turned her attention away as though it were of no consequence.

“An excellent choice, Matthew,” she said with a dangerous, hungry grin, fangs flashing. “Good boy.”

“Oh, what have I done?” Mongrel moaned. He regretting his decision already.

“Quit whining,” Will grumbled. He staggered to his feet, trousers heavy with mud, though he had somehow kept a single speck of it from getting on Sam. “We’ll untangle this later. Let’s keep moving.”

Mongrel turned his attention back to the demoness, but found that she had completely vanished, even though he’d only looked away for a second.

“Women,” he muttered, and followed Will through the fairground.