Demon and the Fox - 17. Give and Take

Nick woke up in darkness. He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping. No way to tell time. He sat up, taking in the thin black winter trees surrounding him. His back hurt from sleeping on the harsh, uneven ground. He shivered even though there was no wind. The forest was eerily quiet, as always; no birds, no animals. Nick realized he was still clutching his shirt in his lap. The black long sleeve shirt Cyan had given him. As Nick shrugged it on, he felt a sting in his shoulder where Devin’s dagger had grazed him. He ignored it, and pushed himself off the ground.

He gathered up his sword and started to walk. But he didn’t go very far. After shoving his way past a couple of trees that all looked the same, Nick stopped short, the leaves crunching under his boots. He didn’t know where to go. And even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to find his way out of those damned woods. The first time he’d tried to make any sense of this forest, he hadn’t even been able to find his way back to Cyan’s training grounds, or the crypt. Just black trees upon black trees upon black trees.

Nick found himself thinking about Cyan; how Cyan hadn’t looked well during the tournament, and had left before the end. Nick figured he could at least check up on him. Well, that, and also he didn’t have a better idea of where to go. He had been wanting to try teleportation. It seemed now was as good a time as ever.

All the details of Cyan’s crypt came rushing through his mind: the arrays of candles that littered almost every piece of handcrafted furniture, the alcove with all the weapons, the stacks of blankets that made for surprisingly comfy beds, and of course the mini bar. Nick focused on his breathing. He closed his eyes and thought only of Cyan’s crypt, and then Nick visualized himself in it. His nostrils picked out the pungent scent of aromatic candles.

And when Nick opened his eyes, he stood in the middle of Cyan’s crypt, on one of the Turkish rugs. The candles were all lit, and he saw that he was not alone. Jun and Cyan were sitting in a pair of dark wooden chairs, in between two stone columns. Cyan was drinking; red wine, it seemed. Jun wasn’t drinking anything. She had a black furry blanket draped over herself. Cyan’s crypt was kinda cozy. All that was missing was a fire place. And maybe a cat.

They didn’t look too shocked when Nick just teleported in the room out of nowhere. It wasn’t easy to surprise people who had lived in Hell for a while.

“Hey, Nick,” said Jun.

“Please knock, next time,” Cyan advised. “What if I was having a wank?”

“Did it all really happen? Or am I crazy?” Nick asked before he could stop himself.

“You mean the tournament?” Jun tilted her head, pulling her blanket closer against her chest. Her hair was untied and it spilled over the blanket—black against black. She said, “Of course it happened. You won.”

Nick pulled himself a chair and sat with them. He leaned his elbows on his knees.

“But that was crazy. When it was over… People were coming after me.” Nick shivered as he recalled all those angry faces. “And then the door reappeared.”

“Of course it did,” Jun said. “I put that door there to get you in and out of the tournament.”

Nick stared at her. “Then why didn’t you tell me about the door?”

“I didn’t think I had to.” Jun stared back. Her eyeliner was a bit smudged. She looked tired. “Cyan knew about it, and I thought you’d be with Cyan.”

An awkward silence followed.

Nick looked over at Cyan. “Why’d you leave, anyway? What was wrong?”

Cyan was nursing his glass of wine with two hands. “I’m sorry, Nicky… I really wanted to be there for you. I tried.” His eyes were a little red.

“Have you been crying?” Nick asked incredulously. When he got no answer, he flicked his gaze back to Jun. “Has he been crying?”

“The tournament,” Jun said quietly, “may have stirred some traumatic memories for our friend.”

“I have not been crying, and I don’t want to talk about it,” Cyan snapped before Nick could say anything.

Nick raised his hands in surrender. “All right. Fine. Hey, I’m glad it’s over too. I hated it out there. But… what happens now?”

“Now,” Jun smiled, “you become a Reaper.”

“The other judges didn’t mind?” Nick asked. “What about Louis?”

Jun waved it off. “Oh, he had no choice but to agree. You won. And you didn’t kill any of your opponents. We see value in that.”

Nick felt a burst of excitement. “So if I’m a Reaper, that means I can to go New York with Cyan?” He could go see Sasha.

Jun didn’t answer right away. She crossed her legs, readjusting the blanket. Cyan drowned himself in his wine.

“Actually,” Jun said, “I wanted to offer you Chicago.”

“Chicago?” Nick sat back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. “Why Chicago? Who cares about Chicago?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Jun’s dark eyes. “Chicago is my city. But I’m involved in Raven’s political campaign now, and I’ve been meaning to find a replacement. I would give you a bit of training, and then I would entrust my city to you. And you—”

“No offense,” Nick threw in, “but I’m not interested.”

Cyan sat up straight, almost spilling his wine. “Listen to what she has to say!”

Nick went quiet. He could hear the subtle hiss of the candles burning.

“You would be alone, Nick,” Jun said. “The sole Reaper of a city. It’s nearly unheard of, for a beginner. If you prove yourself, if you do well, then your possibilities of advancement would be far greater. You could become a Dark Angel in a record time. This is what I’m offering. You can’t expect me to do better.”

Nick suddenly felt very tired. He wondered why. He had slept in the forest earlier. And yet he felt so drained. His eyes glanced longingly to the far side of the crypt where Cyan’s stacks of blankets suddenly seemed to Nick like the most comfortable thing in the world.

Despair clenched at his chest.

“That would still take too long, though.” He glanced back at Jun, and their eyes met. “I thought you understood. Malachy is messing up my life as we speak. I have reason to think my boyfriend isn’t doing too well.” It took all the self-control Nick had not to throw an evil glare at Cyan right now, but he managed. He thought he should try to stay mature, at least. Jun already looked like she was starting to hate him. Nick went on, “He needs me. I need to be in New York. I need to kick Malachy out of my body and get my life back as soon as possible. That’s all I care about.”

“I’m trying to explain to you how this works,” Jun replied dryly. She was getting angry, Nick could tell. Her accent laced her words more thickly. “I’m supporting Raven in his political campaign. I can’t afford to make reckless moves like promoting someone to Dark Angel before he has even worked as a Reaper. If Raven wins the election then he’ll make me a Higher Demon, and then I might have more freedom. But right now my every move is being watched. I’m showing my faith in you by giving you Chicago and offering to be your mentor.”

“But that means I can’t show up in another city. I can’t see Sasha,” Nick said stubbornly.

Jun said, “You can’t, not yet. I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Nick snapped.

Cyan started to speak. “Nicky—”

“Shut up Cyan.” Nick shook his head. “Or do you want me out of the picture, too? So you can fuck my boyfriend some more while I’m gone?” Cyan flinched, and Nick regretted his words as soon as he said them. But it was too late to take them back now; so much for maturity. “You people are so silly. This is nonsense. I hope you realize that. I played along. I played your games. And now you’re telling me about what can and cannot be done, because of politics? This is Hell, for fuck’s sake. Who cares about politics? This is bullshit.”

“You know who you remind me of right now?” Jun spoke very quietly, her dark eyes like icicles piercing through his soul. “Malachy. You sound just like him.”

Nick’s heart dropped. “I…” But he didn’t know what to say.

Jun looked down at her wrist. Her thin blue bracelet was glowing.

“I better go see Raven soon. I’ll tell him that you won’t do it,” she said without looking at Nick. “I’ll need to find somebody else.”

Cyan held his glass of wine close to his lips, also averting his gaze.

Great. The only friends I had in this god forsaken world. And now they loathe me.

Nick rose from his chair in silence, grabbing his sword by force of habit, and he stalked toward the stairs. The two others didn’t try to stop him as he climbed up the narrow staircase and found his way out of the crypt.

In the forest, it had started to snow. Nick looked up at the myriad of soft, pure-white flakes. It was the prettiest kind, with the big snowflakes that you could admire when they fell in your hand. The kind of snow you wished for on Christmas—if you were into the whole Christmas thing, anyway.

The cold hit Nick at once, and a violent shiver ran down his spine. He looked over his shoulder at the stone door that gave to Cyan’s crypt. The skull head in its center stared back at Nick with big empty eye sockets. Nick turned away. He didn’t want to go back inside, no matter how cold it was outside. He didn’t want to talk to Cyan and Jun anymore. He knew they were trying to help. But it wasn’t enough. Nick didn’t want to play this game anymore. The whole demons-and-reapers-and-dark-angels-and-whatever game. He hated everything about it.

He just wanted to be alone. As he dug his way deeper in the forest, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the crypt, Nick’s shoulder started to get all itchy. And when he scratched it, he winced as a sharp, nasty pain exploded across his arm.

Stupid shoulder. He wasn’t so quick to brush it off this time, though. Nick leaned back against a large tree trunk, letting the snow fall in his raven hair and on his black clothes. The snow seemed to glow in contrast with the blackness of the forest. It was slowly piling up into a shimmery white veil blanketing the leafy grounds.

A thought had been nagging at the back of Nick’s mind. Now it came back louder, impossible to ignore.

The fight against Devin had been too easy.

A cold wind rose and the snow got into Nick’s clothes. He felt a chill down to his bones. Almost afraid to look, he tugged his collar down his right shoulder with trembling fingers, revealing the skin Devin had grazed earlier.

Nick flinched: it was not pretty. It had just been this tiny scratch, but now the skin all around it was swollen and red. And… it was infected. Nick rolled the shirt back up to cover it. He felt sick. His arm was all prickly, his fingers numb.

“Well, fuck,” he said, his voice carried by the wind for no one to hear.

Of course the fight had been too easy: Devin had let him win. Nick recalled the expressions on Lucas and Louis’s faces. They had both seemed very unconcerned that Nick was winning the tournament. It was all part of their plan, wasn’t it? It all made sense now. Devin’s dagger had been poisoned, and all he needed was to graze Nick, and there you go.

Nick straightened up as he thought he saw something moving in the shadows. The forest seemed to be getting colder and colder. Nick clenched his jaw so his teeth wouldn’t chatter. He heard rustling, like quick, light steps across the snowy leaves. And then he saw it again; darting shapes in between the trees. Shadows against shadows.

The black ones.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Nick sighed shakily, his breath coming out in white puffs. He made to unsheathe his sword, but a sudden throb burst through his right arm again as he tried to move it, and he let out a strangled cry.

Shit.

The black ones were coming toward Nick, at least ten of them. They wore black hooded capes that seemed to be made of shadows and their silhouettes were contorted. And they had no faces. But they had weapons. Swords, spears, knives—one of the bastards even carried a goddamn axe. And even though their weapons looked as insubstantial as their flowing capes, Nick knew those could hurt, and kill.

With a groan Nick used his left hand to unsheathe his sword. The black creatures were almost on him. Nick’s right arm was completely useless. And he’d never trained with his left; there hadn’t exactly been time before the tournament to become ambidextrous.

The one with the axe was the first to reach him. Nick merely deflected it with a weak hold on his sword. He stumbled back against the tree as the black shadowy creature got ready to strike again. Nick was paralyzed as he thought that this could be the end. The cold air snaked its way through him and gripped at his pounding heart like a fist.

Survival instincts kicked in at the last instant and Nick ducked the axe, dropping to the ground as the black creature’s weapon instead hit the tree. The axe stuck deep in the trunk where Nick’s chest had been just a second ago. With a loud cracking noise the tree started to tear and fall off.

Funny how he had survival instincts even after dying, Nick mused, but apparently he did. The tree toppled to the ground with an ear-shattering thump. The black creatures moved away from it and grouped back in front of Nick, their shadowy limbs reaching toward him at once.

Nick was about to start running—every nerve ending in his body told him to run away—but he heard a bark.

Then several barks. Angry, loud ones. And then growling. The black creatures seemed to tense as the growling came closer. They backed away. Nick couldn’t help but smile.

This was not Koda’s first time saving Nick from the black ones.

The husky leaped over the fallen tree trunk and advanced toward the black ones, barking relentlessly at them. They dispersed in the night like the shadows they were.

Nick dropped to his knees and hugged Koda as he came closer. He brushed snowflakes off Koda’s fur.

“You’re always saving me,” Nick said as he petted the dog’s soft ears.

When Nick had come to Hell to get Riley so he could bring him back using his necromancer skills, the black ones had gotten in his way. And Koda had barked at them and made them disappear, just like now. Riley had smiled and said that they were stronger together. Together they didn’t have to be afraid.

“No wonder Riley liked you so much,” Nick said.

Koda was sniffing his right shoulder. Nick winced and pulled back.

“Don’t go near that. It’s nasty.”

Koda started to bark again. But this time he wasn’t trying to chase anything away. He was trotting away while barking at Nick; he wanted Nick to follow him.

Nick pushed himself off the ground and sheathed his sword, securing the leather strap around his left shoulder. Koda was already running between the trees, his paws leaving prints in the snow. Nick’s arm was numb, and he was tired and cold, but he started to run after Koda. What else was he supposed to do? Go back and hang out with the black ones? No thanks.

“Where are you taking me?”

Yes, he was talking to a dog. And yes, he knew that the dog wasn’t going to respond. But he felt like talking anyway, so what the hell.

“I can’t run that fast, Koda, you crazy bastard.”

But he ran fast enough to keep up with the husky anyway. His right arm hung limply at his side. Nick felt way too warm and freezing cold all at once. A fever, probably. He shook it off and kept running. Branches whipped at him and snowflakes clung to his hair and eyelashes. Nick braced himself; with these endless woods of doom, it could take a while before they made it to wherever—

Actually, it didn’t take very long for them to exit the forest.

The trees became scarce and Koda and Nick broke out into a valley. Koda halted and looked over at Nick, his tongue out. Nick was catching his breath, his boots sinking in the snow, his hand on his thigh.

“How is that possible?”

Nick had tried countless times to get out of that accursed forest, to no avail, and now, all Koda had needed to do was run a few minutes, and here they were.

Where was here exactly, though?

The snow had intensified. Nick shielded his eyes with a hand as he looked straight ahead. In the distance, the valley narrowed into a path that later became a wooden bridge running over a pearly white creek. And beyond the creek was a high wrought-iron fence circling a black tower that reached up in the sky and pierced the dark gray clouds.

And past the tower, more dark forests, more mountains—though everything was blurred by the snow storm.

At first, Nick thought Koda had taken him to Raven’s party tower—he called it that because that was what Cyan called it and Nick didn’t know any other names for it. Upon taking a better look, though, Nick saw that this was not the party tower. Oh, they were similar. They seemed to be made of the same strange crystalline material. Even in the darkness, the tower glittered like mica sparkling in stone. Only this one didn’t have any windows—none that Nick could see anyway. And there was no music coming from it. Only silence.

The brown-eyed husky was staring at Nick, and he barked again. He wanted Nick to follow him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” Nick followed as Koda raced across the valley, like a black streak in the snow, and toward the wooden bridge.

Getting to that tower was yet another memory Nick would not recall with too much fondness.

The bridge was slippery and icy and there weren’t even any railings for Nick to hold onto.

“Who the hell builds a bridge with no railings?” he asked Koda.

Koda did not respond. He skittered across the bridge like it was no big deal, his claws surely preventing him from slipping. As for Nick, he slipped and fell on all fours so often that he may as well have crawled his way to the other side of the river. The presence of water lurking underneath instilled dread in the pit of Nick’s stomach.

He did not want to fall into that freezing cold water.

“I wish I was a dog,” he told Koda. “Or a wolf, or whatever you are.”

At least Koda had claws to secure his grip in the ice, and thick fur to shield him from the cold. Nick was sick and tired of feeling so damn vulnerable.

Koda sprinted to the fence in a flash, and Nick stumbled after him into the storm, holding his right arm. It hurt too much to let it hang loosely at his side. Most of his arm was numb by now, but his shoulder still stung like needles pricked at it.

Nick frowned as Koda reached the wrought-iron fence.

“That’s not where the gates are.”

In fact, Nick couldn’t see any entrance. Perhaps it was on the other side of the tower. But Koda didn’t let that stop him.

He started to dig his way under the fence, creating a small opening in the snow. Koda’s front legs dug and dug, sending the powdery snow into a growing pile behind him. Koda lowered his head, ears plastered to the sides, and crawled his way in. Nick fell in the snow after him. He twisted himself under the fence, thanking God he was skinny. Although by now, he wasn’t too sure God existed. So he decided to thank his mother’s Asian genes instead.

Nick cursed when his sword’s hilt got stuck in the fence’s lowest bar. He maneuvered to get it unstuck somehow, and wriggled his way out. The wind pushed the powdery snow into his face and blinded his eyes. Nick cursed again and blinked it out as he clambered after Koda.

He was cursing a lot lately. But, Nick thought, he was already in Hell, so.

With Koda they reached a metallic door carved in the tower—probably not, Nick thought, the main entrance of the place. This one was discrete and rather small. And there was no doorknob. Nick couldn’t even be sure it was a door. Just like the entrance to Cyan’s crypt. What was it with Hell and all these knobless doors?

Koda held himself up on his rear legs and pressed a paw against a tiny panel at the side of the door. It was no bigger than Nick’s palm and seemed to be made of a soft fibrous material, the same shade of gray as the metallic door it was installed in. Nick hadn’t noticed it before. But when Koda put his paw on there, the door opened with a hushed click. Koda trotted in and Nick stalked after him, eager to get away from the cold. The door shut behind them as quietly as it had opened.

Nick raked a hand through his hair, shedding snowflakes all over. He wasn’t too surprised to find himself in a gloomy, unlit, high-ceilinged hall. It was so quiet that even Koda’s padded steps echoed against the black marble floors and into the vast room. Even with the night vision Nick seemed to be gifted with in the afterlife, he couldn’t see much right now. Koda’s four-legged silhouette was starting to get swallowed by the depths of the hall.

“Wait,” Nick called, “what is this place? Where are we?”

Koda, much like Shay back in Purgatory, rarely granted Nick’s questions with answers.

The quest into this seemingly deserted black tower was followed by a long climb up a spiral staircase that led all the way to the top of the windowless tower. Koda was tireless. Nick could barely feel his leg muscles yet they kept obeying him. All those years of indoors rock climbing paying off, maybe. Or, he was dead anyway, and nothing made sense as usual. Probably a little bit of both.

Nick felt like they were climbing up into the sky and beyond. He had never seen so many steps before in his life. Spiraling and spiraling, and if he looked up or down he got a vertigo that made his stomach lurch. So instead he glanced at Koda. And at the black marble steps. When he would go to sleep, Nick would surely dream of these steps, caught in an infinite spiral that seemingly led nowhere.

Holding his arm against his chest, Nick pushed his leg muscles to climb one more step, then one more, and one more. He couldn’t even catch his breath long enough to continue his one-sided banter with Koda.

Just as Nick started to think he’d never see the end of it, they hit a landing and spilled out into a corridor with smooth black walls. And Koda trotted to a stop in front of a door. It stood alone in the middle of the corridor, with torches lit on its sides. This one did have a knob, but Nick still thought it better to knock.

So he knocked with a timid hand. Then he held his right arm again, hoping to relieve some of the stabbing pain in his shoulder. Nick thought he felt something cold in his veins, and he didn’t know if it was his imagination playing tricks or if he could actually feel the poison pulsing through, but he felt so sick he nearly lost consciousness for a moment.

Then he heard Raven’s voice. “Who is that?”

“Nicholas.”

“How did you get in?”

Despite Raven’s harsh tone, it felt good to hear another voice. Not that he didn’t cherish Koda’s barks, but a two-sided banter had its perks too.

“Koda’s with me,” Nick answered.

There was a silence, during which Nick wondered—not without a shudder creeping up his spine—if his arm would fall off if he let go of it.

Then, Raven said, “Come in.”

Nick opened the door. His arm didn’t fall off.

The first thing he noticed was the brightness of the room. A huge candle chandelier hung from the ceiling. The walls seemed to be coated with some kind of shimmering silver paint. A single rectangular window was set into the far wall, but it was darkly tinted—as if the sky wasn’t black enough already.

Raven sat at a massive round table made of glass. There were several chairs, but Raven sat alone. Like King Arthur without his knights. Though Nick doubted King Arthur would wear skin-tight black pants, or bear wide dark blue wings that took about half the room’s space.

Geographical maps of the world littered the table in front of Raven. They were maps of the real world, not Hell—Nick doubted any map could ever make sense of the demonic realm he was currently stuck in.

Koda rushed around the table to Raven’s side. The table and the chairs truly seemed to be made of glass. Nick could see through them and watch as Raven’s long pale fingers slid into Koda’s black fur reflexively, like he’d done it a thousand times before. Nick’s sight was a bit blurred. He blinked and glanced to the side.

All around the room were crisp white filing cabinets stacked against the silver walls. There had to be at least twenty of them, and they were so tall they almost touched the ceiling. Nick wondered what was in them.

“Why are you here?” Raven asked.

Nick jumped. “I—I need your help.”

Dark blue eyes stared back at him. “What for?”

Though it seemed he already suspected it, from the way Raven eyed Nick’s arm.

“I think I’ve been poisoned.”

“You think.” Raven leaned back in his glass chair.

Nick felt a growing fever pulsing through him, making him cold and shaky as goose bumps rose all across his skin. His shoulder throbbed and he could feel his heartbeat in the infected wound.

“I’m pretty sure,” said Nick.

“Why didn’t you ask Jun for her help?”

Raven’s stare was unyielding. There was a gnawing feeling in Nick’s chest; he suddenly felt very exposed in the brightness of the room. The snow had melted in his hair, and water dropped from the dark lanky strands, wetting the black marble floor.

“Jun probably hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Nicholas. You have to be affected by someone’s existence in order to feel something as strong as hatred toward them,” Raven said. He leaned over his maps and produced a fountain pen from under one of them. “She is merely annoyed,” Raven added, “and busy finding a replacement for her city.”

“Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I’ll do it,” Nick said, all in a rush. The fever was starting to cloud his mind. He just wanted the pain to go away. And he knew that no amount of ‘bending reality’ skills would save him this time. He needed help.

“You know,” Raven said without looking up from his map, “I can’t quite grasp why Cyan is so fond of you.” He drew a circle on the map, and then scribbled something inside it.

“Please, Raven.” Nick felt something break inside him. He couldn’t believe he was begging. And he didn’t even like Raven. But he said: “I brought Cyan to you when Lucas poisoned him using your dagger. I saw you save him. There’s gotta be something you can do.”

“Why would I help you?”

Nick clutched his arm tight. “I don’t know! Koda brought me here. I just—”

“I won’t help you,” Raven looked up. “Jun offered you her friendship and you threw it away. She was counting on you and you let her down. Let me tell you something, Nicholas. If you always take, and never give, there will inevitably come a time when there’s nothing more for you to take. Now get out of my office, I have a meeting soon.”

Raven’s tone was one that would not be argued with.

Nick frowned, and turned away from Raven and his stupid wings. He stormed out of the room and down the corridor before reaching the top of the spiral staircase. But he only walked down a few steps before letting himself fall onto the cold black marble. He leaned back against the steps, closing his eyes. They were burning. His entire body was burning, but he felt so damn cold. He never stopped clutching his arm, like he was afraid it would disappear.

He couldn’t find it in himself to gather the strength to travel down all those stairs. He didn’t know what to do.

Nick felt a presence next to him then. A warm, furry presence cuddling up by his side.

“Why’d you take me here?” Nick sighed. “Raven doesn’t care about me. I don’t even know why you care.”

Something dropped into his lap then, and Nick’s eyes snapped open. Koda sat next to him, very still, waiting. In Nick’s lap was a slim leather bound volume. The leather was a nice dark green shade, and the pages were slightly yellowed. Also, it was covered in dog saliva right now.

“Gross,” Nick said, but he opened it anyway.

This was a journal.

“Riley Summers.” Nick’s eyes scanned the first page, then glanced at Koda. “So Riley got a journal when he died. Why didn’t I get a journal?”

Koda lifted one paw and dropped it onto the journal with a soft thud. Then he started to turn the pages, skimming through them quickly. Nick’s eyes widened.

“You’re no normal dog, are you?”

Koda stopped nearly halfway through the journal. Nick tilted his head and started to read. Riley’s handwriting was messy, but decipherable.

“Raven got drunk tonight.”

Interesting.

Nick read on, out loud, but quietly: “He said something about Koda. A theory. I don’t know if he really meant it, or if he was just drunk.”

Koda seemed to be listening intently, round brown eyes gazing down at the journal, black ears pricked high up, with their white tufts turned inward.

“Raven said he thinks Koda might not be just a dog. He might be a young werewolf, or weredog, who died during his first transformation, or something like that. And his worst fear is to be stuck in his dog form. So he’s stuck as a dog here in Hell. Raven said he knows of someone that might be able to help. Malachy. The one with the amazing abilities to bend reality. Maybe he could help someone like Koda, if he wanted to. I’ve heard of Malachy. Who hasn’t? But Raven doesn’t want to associate with the likes of him. I don’t blame Raven… Malachy’s a dangerous man, everyone knows that. But if this is true, I wish I could help Koda. I think Raven would really like that. But I don’t know how.”

Nick looked up slowly, still gripping the journal. That would make so much sense. There were no other animals in Hell.

He glanced at Koda. “You want me to try?”