v2 CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: In which two colleagues conduct a business negotiation amidst the savory smells of street meat.
The corner of Broadway and Canal street bustled with activity: tourists milled between shops and restaurants, delivery trucks and cabs honked at pedestrians, and the occasional police siren wailed somewhere off in the distance. Once at the heart of Manhattan's Chinatown, the intersection now served as a crossroads for many other cultures and industries that coexisted in New York.
The low and high ends of commercial activity sat side by side, from plastic fabrication to online services. A conflux of immigrants, visitors and locals jostled against each other. The rich and the poor rubbed shoulders; so did the mundane and the supernatural. Una stepped around an old man selling fake designer sunglasses from a large cardboard box to avoid a rapidly moving trio of blue-skinned teenagers with pointed ears and elaborate piercings. They raced by on hoverboards, dodging pedestrians and traffic alike. The boards glowed with LED patterns that shifted in sync with the riders' music.
As Una neared the address Kyber had provided, the crowds thinned somewhat, and the shops grew seedier and less recognizable. The neon signs and fading placards were in Chinese or English alike, with no fancy logos or branding to be found. Ahead of her, at the corner of Franklin, a large metal-paneled food cart boasted “Halal Grill, Chicken Shawarma, Lamb Shawarma, Rice Platter” with a riot of colorful decals.
She checked the address Kyber had provided and scanned the buildings along the street; most were tall, narrow brick buildings with small doorways. The exact building number was nowhere to be found, as if “369 Broadway” didn't exist. On one side, a shop window displayed antique watches and clocks, the sign on the door reading “Closed Until Further Notice.” On the other, an electronics shop promised “Eradication of Supernatural Pests” in six different languages.
Una sighed in frustration and turned in a circle, scanning the street as her heels clicked on the sidewalk. She still wore her human guise, but still wasn't used to feeling smaller and shorter than her succubus form, so she'd opted for a pair of platform sandals and a sleek business suit in dark gray silk, and tucked her hair back behind one ear. It kept coming loose. She'd even arranged her bangs to allow her horns to show; she intended to negotiate with another demon, after all.
Where the hell is he? If Kyber's wasting my time, I swear… well, it'll be his loss. She had come to this corner at his behest, after all. Following the e-mail he'd sent to bait John, she'd called him in a barely controlled fury and demanded he stop playing games with her friends and family.
“I'll meet you anywhere in public to discuss that proposition,” Kyber had responded. “You're asking that I restrict the way I conduct business not just my social interactions. That's a big ask, Una.”
He'd laughed, and Una had hung up. Twenty minutes later, she'd texted him to name a location for their meeting, and he'd sent a reply.
So here she was, two days later: standing alone on an unfamiliar block of Chinatown, waiting for an ancient demon, one of Yael's associates of old, to show himself.
“Hey lady, you want a falafel while you're waiting?” The man in the halal cart shouted across the sidewalk to her. “I got good prices!”
Una smiled and waved at him. “Maybe later, thanks!” she replied, then did a double take. He wore an apron and a hairnet, but his angular features and pale blue eyes were unmistakable. For whatever reason, Kyber was running a food cart, wearing the uniform of a street vendor and offering her grilled meat.
Una walked up to the cart. “You could have told me where I could find you. Is this some kind of joke?”
Kyber shrugged. “I have many lines of business to manage, Una. Some are media conglomerates. Others are less legitimate enterprises.” He grinned. “And I've always loved playing restauranteur. Don't you remember what I was doing when we first met? So many thousands of years ago... and even then, I was in the street food trade. Why, I might have innovated it into existence.”
Una raised an eyebrow. “You're thinking of Yael, not me. She might remember your street meat, but all I see is a demon pretending to be a street hawker.”
“I'm not pretending,” Kyber said, leaning forward on the cart counter and tapping the laminated menu attached. A logo at the top said “Kyber Pass,” above a list of kebabs and sandwiches with names like ”Lamb to the Slaughter” and “Tandoori Time.” Kyber almost looked proud. ”I make everything fresh here, and it's delicious.”
He reached under the counter and pulled up a plate covered in fragrant, spiced meat, vegetables and rice with a pita bread nestled alongside it. “Here. Have this one on me. It's one of my favorites.” He pushed the container across the metal surface of the stand towards her.
Una stared at the food dubiously, but her stomach growled at the smell of it. The uncannily human form her nanobots provided her came with ordinary human hunger, and she hadn't eaten since a light breakfast several hours before.
“It'll go to waste otherwise,” Kyber wheedled. “It's not poisoned, I swear it. And it's as good as the dishes I made on the banks of the Euphrates.”
If anything, his promises made Una less inclined to trust Kyber; after all, this demon specialized in trickery and deceit. ”I have to pass,” she said, shaking her head. ”I didn't come here to talk about your food, or to reminisce about your history with Yael.”
Kyber sighed and lifted the lid of a cooler beneath his counter. He pulled out a can of soda and popped it open, sipping at it with a thoughtful expression. After he swallowed, he nodded, and his expression had changed: the street vendor replaced by a consummate businessman, or perhaps a mob boss, his eyes narrowed and calculating.
The demon set down the drink and folded his arms across his chest. Una noticed he still wore the white plastic gloves of the food service trade, almost comically incongruous with the gravity of his demeanor. “All right, then. Let's discuss your proposal. You want me bound and gagged, at least when it comes to any kind of contact or communication with your friends. That's what you asked for on the telephone, and you were quite explicit. But what's in it for me?”
Una frowned, and crossed her own arms, the gray silk of her jacket sliding across itself. She felt suddenly overdressed and exposed, and her skin crawled. She’d spent hours considering how to approach this conversation, and her plan had included an opening salvo, but somehow the sight of Kyber's food cart, and his casual demeanor, threw her for a loop. Still, she felt resolved in the approach she had settled on: blunt honesty.
“Nothing,” she replied, her voice hardening. “I won’t offer you anything except a warning. Stay away from my people, for they are mine; to interfere with them is to broach my boundary. I won’t bargain with you, merchant, but if you try to force my hand, I promise you, I will break yours.” She glared at him with what she hoped was her most intimidating expression.
Una felt surprised to see the demon chuckle. His laughter echoed across the concrete and brick, making a pair of passing tourists glance over in alarm. She felt a flush of embarrassment and hoped it wasn’t visible on her freckled cheeks. She clenched her jaw.
Kyber pretended to wipe a tear away from his eye. “So you claim your lovers as servants and family, do you? Fine, we can start there. Obviously you want something else from me, or you wouldn’t have come down here all dolled up like a corporate dominatrix. I mean, it looks good on you, and I appreciate it as an aesthetic presentation of feminine authority. I truly do. Now why don’t you tell me exactly what you want from me?”
Una paused and considered the demon. He seemed genuinely amused, and although she would have preferred fear, she could work with amusement, especially if he was underestimating her. She favored him with a smile of her own, and leaned forward, letting her cleavage show above the line of her red silk camisole. She saw the demon's eyes dart towards it briefly, and his grin widened.
“Information,” she said, her tone light, but her voice carrying a hint of command. “You remember much that Yael has buried, and I need access to her past. To my past, if you prefer. I want to understand what happened.”
Kyber leaned back, and his posture relaxed somewhat. “Ah, the finest commodity of all. Information is the coin of eternity, Una—but only valuable to those who can make sense of it, yes? I can’t just answer any question, mind you. Too many… obligations. Pardon me, it looks like I have a customer!”
A heavy-set man wearing a Yankees cap approached the cart, ignored Una, and asked for a “number three with extra hot sauce and no onions.”
Kyber nodded and turned away to fill the order. Una watched as the demon deftly assembled the sandwich, wrapped it neatly, took money from the patron and gave change. Before he handed over the wrap, Kyber asked, “That comes with a side of advice. You want anything in particular?”
The man nodded brusquely. “Need a tip for the game tonight. Can't afford to lose this week.”
Kyber smiled broadly, and his eyes glinted. “Sure do, my friend. Put your money on the underdogs: long odds are where the big payouts live. Oh, and your wife is cheating on you. With your brother.”
The man stared at Kyber for a few seconds, then snatched the sandwich from his hand and stalked away, his head bowed and shoulders hunched.
Kyber shrugged, and turned back to Una, who stared at him incredulously. “What was that?”
In response, Kyber pointed his long spatula at a picture on the front of the cart. “3 - Lamb Shawarma w/ Advice,” the label read. The demon grinned. “Food truck competition is fierce. You gotta have a hook, some kind of edge. And people love to hear their fortunes told, whether good or ill. From his look, he knew it already. Now, where were we? You want to buy some advice too?”
Una nodded. “If you’re willing to make the advice about what I’m interested in, then nine dollars seems cheap.”
Kyber clucked his tongue. “That's the price for mortals, dear. The rest of us have to play by different rules. I want more than merely your coin, although here at Kyber Pass I do insist you make an order if you want to benefit from my wisdom.”
“And what do you expect in return, besides my business?” Information is always in play with this one, she thought. Let him make an ask rather than me an offer…
The ancient hustler leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes once more roaming across the soft swell of her breasts and the smooth line of her collarbone. She brazenly cupped one of her tits and ran her thumb over its nipple, watching his gaze track her motion.
“Amusing,” Kyber said at last. “You truly remind me of her.”
“I am her, and I am not,” she replied. Her hand drifted downwards, tracing the contours of her abdomen, and then further. “And you know better than to ask a succubus for sex; you're far too experienced for that.”
“Mmmm, yes. Always a temptation to dally on the home turf of the experts. It's the best way to learn… to experiment.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Una saw it had an unusual shape, split at the tip like a serpent's. “Even if you won't share a meal with me, I wouldn't be averse to sharing a bed. Or a chair, a wall… whatever you prefer.” Kyber's eyes flashed with mischief.
She met his expression with cool hunger, feeling desire rising within her alongside the thrill of power. I could take him, she thought, have my way with him, ride that tongue until his eyes roll backward… Could I drain demonic seed from this one, like the nectar I have from Nezz? Una felt the temptation stir in her core, and her tail twitched once against the fabric of her skirt. She stilled her lust with effort. He's a manipulator, and this is part of his bargaining game.
“Are you suggesting we slip away to a nearby alley and rut like animals?” Una smirked, keeping her voice low and sultry, and leaned closer to where Kyber stood behind his counter. “Or I could take you here, bend you over your own cart… I'm sure you've done more depraved things for less reward in the course of your long existence.”
“Oh, you're tempting indeed, my dear.” Kyber chuckled, but Una could feel the tension beneath his words. “But I'm not such a cheap date. Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? If you want my advice, you agree to purchase it like any customer of Kyber Pass. Second, you will promise me the pleasure of your sexual attentions within five years, at a mutually agreed upon time, place and manner. Finally… you will stop freaking out if I talk to your friends.”
Una's expression went from a raised eyebrow to a deep scowl. She straightened, crossing her arms again. “Absolutely not. I've drawn that line already: you don't approach my loved ones, you don't talk to them.”
Kyber set his spatula down and spread his fingers. “All right, no need to threaten me again. I'm still knitting my wrist back together from the last time we negotiated.” After a weak chuckle, he continued. “I had to try. But I won't ask you to back down on that one. How about this instead: you take my calls, instead of them?”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“Just that I'd like open lines of communication with you. Don't avoid me; if I reach out, pick up the phone or reply to my texts. I still consider you a valuable prospect for my business interests, even though you've turned me down.” He pouted, an expression that looked faintly comical on his sharp features. “Even though you see me as a threat to your little clan.”
Una put one finger on her cheek, thinking. Kyber wants to keep tabs on me. That's not surprising; he's up to something, he and that mysterious backer of his. But the sex I can handle, eventually… or even turn to my advantage.
“Do you give out free samples?” She tried to make the question playful, but couldn't hide the edge in her tone. “I'll accept your terms if you give me information about your business partner.”
“No,” Kyber responded immediately.
“What?” Una asked, surprised. “Why not?”
“If you want to do any business with me, you'll have to accept that I have other arrangements that aren't your business, my dear.” He picked up a pair of tongs and twirled them. “But if you have a more general question, I'll do my best to answer, or at least provide you with a good-faith measure of advice.”
Una considered. Kyber was inherently untrustworthy, but considering the roadblocks she and Susan encountered in their research, he represented an opportunity to learn. If she refused, what other options did she have? “All right. I'll pay your price: I'll buy your street meat, fuck you silly, and take your calls.”
“Excellent,” Kyber responded, rubbing his hands together. “Let me prepare your order. Chicken, lamb, or a mix?” He gestured at the menu.
“Both.” And I won't eat a bite of it, thought Una, just in case one ingredient is some kind of mystical trap or poison.
“Mixed grill! A woman after my own heart.” Kyber began pulling items together and arranging them on the hot cooking surface. “We'll seal the deal in a moment, but go ahead and tell me what you want to know.”
Una's thoughts turned to John's e-mail. “I'd like to know who's backing your potential investment in the Haven. But I also have questions about what the Resurgence is, how sigils work, and who drove the demons into the wilderness in ancient times.”
Kyber's eyes widened at each new topic, until he was staring at her with an unguarded, shocked expression. “Oh, is that all? You don't ask for much, do you?” He shook his head, and turned back to his grill, where meat sizzled and juices pooled on the metal surface. The fragrant aromas of the ingredients mingling reached Una, seeming to swirl around her and coax her tastebuds.
“Una Belmont, I give you my first piece of advice gratis: never tip your hand so early. You've just revealed what's important enough to bring you to my doorstep. Now I know your priorities, and the curiosity that gnaws at your lost memories. That gives me leverage.” Kyber glanced over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with malice. “But now, while your sandwich is cooking, let's shake on our deal.”
The demonic merchant pulled off his glove and extended his right hand, palm upward, across the cart's countertop. Una looked at it, then at Kyber, and then back at the hand. She felt a sudden surge of doubt. This is too quick, too easy. What am I missing?
“Come on, don't be shy,” Kyber coaxed, wiggling his fingers. Nothing seemed amiss; even blinking momentarily to study the other demon's aura, Una saw nothing unexpected, nor did she detect any unusual magic. She hesitated for a few more moments and then reached forward. As their palms touched, she felt a spark of energy leap between them, like a slight jolt of static electricity.
“Sealed and done,” said Kyber. His voice had changed subtly, taking on a deeper tone, and his grip tightened. “Now I'll finish your meal and answer what I can.”
Una watched him assemble the wrap, feeling uneasy. I should have at least secured an agreement for him to stay away from the Haven, she thought.
“I've already told you how I can't discuss my other business dealings or potential investments, Una. But the Resurgence is easy: it's what happened when the portals reopened. All sorts of potential upheaval, though it's moving more slowly than the old prophesies claimed. Here's my second piece of advice to you: know your place in great events, and do not assume yourself a mere observer.”
“You're saying that Portal Day was part of some ancient prophecy? What did it say, specifically?” Una demanded.
Kyber shrugged and slid a knife through the middle of the sandwich. “Oh, many things. Magic reawakening, old seals unbound, archdemons loose, new gods ascending. I never put much stock in prophecies; they’re too unreliable to base serious business strategy around.” He turned away to scoop some finely chopped, vinegared vegetables from a plastic bin.
Una frowned. “Is this prophecy written anywhere that—”
Kyber cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Please stop asking additional questions. I can’t give you a history lesson on every obscure thing I know; we'd be here until the sun expires. Now, did you want to hear about the time Uncle Kyber was driven out into the wastes?”
Una bit back a curse of frustration, but nodded.
He wrapped the sandwich in paper and foil, casting his eyes sideways to look at her as he did. “My third piece of advice to you is to avoid the attention of your enemies if you can help it. And I don't mean other demons. There are worse beings operating out in the dark, my dear, and you're a shiny, tempting new target.”
French fries, pickles and a small heap of yellow rice joined the wrap in a plastic container. ”You want to know who they are. I understand, but names draw attention. Even this conversation might.” He glanced around. “You didn't bring that little human pet of yours, did you? She looks like she's got a nasty infection.”
Una's hackles rose, her shoulders stiffening at the mention of Susan. “No. But are you saying… are the enemies you're talking about… are they angels?”
Kyber rubbed one pale eyebrow with an exasperated expression. “Una, please. Listen to my advice and don't ask these questions. You're not entirely wrong, but if your accuracy improved… let's just say that I don't plan on being around if you pursue this line of inquiry.”
He set the container on the counter; steam filled the inside, fogging up the plastic lid. ”That'll be nine dollars. Take a soda or water from the cooler.”
Una blinked, and reached inside her suit jacket for her money clip, pulling out a ten-dollar bill to pass across to the demon. “I guess you don't want me asking questions about sigils or how they work, either.”
“Oh no,” said Kyber, returning a dollar in change. “I just wanted to save the best advice for last. You must know by now that a sigil is a little like a signature, yes? I suppose your mortal half might be familiar with foibles like PIN numbers or passwords.”
Una nodded. “Yes. So the shape is a way of authenticating a demon, and I assume that's why they're kept secret.” She pulled a bottle of water from the plastic cooler sitting on the sidewalk in front of the cart.
“That is my fourth piece of advice: guard your sigil. Get your girlfriend to find you some obscuring magic. You've been flashing your entire mark around for the last few weeks, at least for anyone who'd think to scry or scan you. Someone nasty could use it to summon you or otherwise bind you.”
Una's jaw tightened as a spike of adrenaline hit her bloodstream like ice water. “You're saying someone could use my sigil to get to me?” Shit. The nanobots, too. I need to get back to Jay.
He shrugged. “It's possible. Demons are vulnerable, especially the younger and weaker among us. You're not a child, Una, and you're not weak… but you are naïve. That makes you a prime target for exploitation.”
Una felt a surge of anger. “You could have warned me about this sooner.” She clenched her fist and resisted the urge to punch the metal cart.
Kyber spread his hands again. “Una. We only just started doing business! You could have accepted my earlier offer, you know? Now Kyber's looking out for you. Lucky for you, your sigil is doing something quite unusual: it's growing. It's not finished yet, but as it changes, the old versions lose their power over you. That's good news.” He smiled, revealing teeth with slightly too many points.
Una sighed and took the food container, balancing it on the top of the bottle of water she carried. “Fine. I appreciate the warning. Any more advice? Maybe about why my sigil is changing and what that means?”
The demon only shrugged, and Una thought she detected genuine puzzlement. “I have no idea, honestly. Can’t help you with that mystery. But you must eat your lunch before it gets cold!”
Una nodded curtly. “I'm going to take it to go, if that's all right.” The meal smelled delicious, and the scents still wafting from the grill were making her mouth water. To her surprise, the blend of spices was heady enough that it nearly overwhelmed her senses in a dizzying assault of sensation.
Kyber pouted again. “Oh, Una. So much mistrust becomes a burden in the long existence of a demon, you know? I told you I wouldn't poison the food. I have one last piece of advice for you, though.”
“Sure, Kyber. Go ahead, have the final word.”
Kyber smiled, and it was a sad expression. ”Even though your sigil's changing, you're vulnerable to anyone who's recorded its shape from you recently.”
Una's brow furrowed. “You implied as much already.”
The uncanny street vendor raised a finger. “That, and poison is a terribly obvious way to deliver poison. Lacks subtlety. There are other ways of getting someone to ingest a substance, especially if it's tailored especially for your target.”
He flipped a catch at one side of the hot metal surface of his grill and lifted it easily with one hand. Angled towards her, Una saw a design engraved at one end of the slick, black metal, away from where Kyber had grilled his meats and vegetables. At that side of the grill, fragrant oil coated the deep furrow, evanescing into curls of white smoke.
The lines, whorls and curves of a sigil, a match to the one she knew as her own. Her eyes widened with fear.
“You fucking snake,” she hissed, and threw herself forward, reaching for the demon's throat as the world spun dizzily around her. She missed by a distance of feet, her balance and depth perception gone askew. The odor in her nostrils grew heavier still, filling her mouth with cloying spice: cumin, fenugreek, sumac, and something darker. She felt a surge of nausea as she moved, and her limbs grew weak as her stomach clenched. Hellfire and damnation, she thought as her senses swayed. I thought I knew what I was doing. But he got me.
“Oh Una,” she heard Kyber say. “I really did try to warn you. You bought your lunch, made your bargain, and now you have to eat it.”
Her field of vision narrowed as the edges darkened. She staggered forward, trying to grab at anything she could for support. Kyber's face swam past, and she the cooking surface slam shut, a whoosh of hot air rushing as he dropped it back into place. Her fingers scrabbled against the metal of the cart, useless.
Una collapsed forward, and she felt her knees hit the pavement as her legs gave out. Darkness rushed to meet her.