"Would you, umm, like a bath?"
The red-haired witch was frightened of him. Or, possibly, frightened of what he represented. Kenshin cradled a mug of hot tea in his hands and regarded her over it and across the oak expanse of a library table. They'd given him tea, and now they were offering him a bath. It did not escape him that the witch was also his jailer, but she was a polite, concerned jailer. With justification, they didn't trust him yet. He remembered how the demon had treated prisoners and grieved for those people. The way the Slayers were treating him was very different.
/They'll just betray you later!/ the demon thought in his head.
/Shut up, you!/ he thought back, savagely. He saw no reason to be the slightest bit polite to a monster.
They were his entertainment, Kenshin remembered, of how the demon had viewed prisoners. Vampires had short attention spans and his demon was unusually intelligent and creative. It was also bored a good bit of the time, and had found amusement in tormenting the prisoners. In Torin, it had found someone to share its glee for creative forms of torture. Knowing what he knew from the demon's memories, he was grateful that Inuyasha and Buffy had escaped: the demon had told them Inuyasha would live if he killed Buffy, but in truth, the bracelet was set to kill the hanyou as soon as Buffy died. The demon had found this poetic.
/Such sweet irony. And beautifully efficient./
It saddened him to think of the losses these good people had suffered at the hands of Torin and himself -- or rather, at the hands of the demon that possessed his own body. As the demon's memories continued to surfaced, he was becoming more and more aware that he was among heroes now. They'd fought and suffered massive losses, and yet still planned to fight again.
Also, as his memories as a demon surfaced, he was finding it harder and harder to distinguish between his own identity and that of the demon. When you could recall, viscerally, sucking the blood of a child or plotting and executing the deaths of thousands of enemy demons it was hard to keep sight of the fact that you were not the person who'd done the deeds. They were, after all, his memories, in the first person, with gleeful emotions and scents and sounds and sights attached.
It didn't help that he had his fair share of blood and guts and grief and loss in his own true memories.
The demon helpfully shoved some gorier, disgusting, emotionally traumatic memories up for Kenshin's review. When he mentally flinched at an image of a little girl being forced to kill her puppy, the demon cackled. /Gotcha! Gotcha! I'm gonna drive you insane!/
Kenshin replied calmly with, /If I didn't drive myself insane, you'll never succeed./
The demon replied with a memory of his first wife's blood spilling over his arms. /Tomoe!/ he thought, stunned, before he could control himself. The demon cackled in amusement at the torment it could inflict on him.
He closed his eyes briefly. Accepting the bath was tempting. He wanted to stand under a spray of water until his very skin washed away. He felt so dirty, and not just because of the grime on his skin -- though Torin didn't believe in hygiene for his minions, and worse, the demon hadn't cared much about the filth. Kenshin had never been vain, not even when he was alive. But he'd made sure his hair was clean and combed, that he didn't stink, and that his clothing was washed and mended. Point of pride, even when he was a wandering rurouni with one pair of hakama and a red-faded-to-pink, much-mended top to his name, he'd never been a slob.
/Yeah, you did laundry like a woman while that dyke you called a wife beat up the boys./
/She was far from a dyke and I enjoyed every minute of the laundry./ He realized the demon was just throwing impotent and inaccurate insults out, trying to get a rise out of him in any way it could. With a frown, he stopped answering.
The grime on his skin itched and he could smell himself. There was blood in his hair and ick on his clothing. His hair hung in tangled dreadlocks. Truthfully, he was ashamed by at what he must look like to this people.
Willow's voice startled him, making him realize he'd been lost in thought and internal dialogue with the monster in his head. "We're about the same size. I have some stuff you could wear."
He tried to keep a dubious expression off his face, but knew he had failed when her smile faded just a bit. She was currently wearing a very girly pink sweater, with sparklies on it, and an even more feminine skirt, and tights. Also, she was being nice about the size bit. They were not far off from the same height -- he was perhaps an inch shorter -- but she had twenty pounds on him and it was distributed, female fashion, in ways that would make her the waist of her pants too large. Well, a belt could fix that if one didn't care about fashion and he certainly didn't. But still. He was short and dainty enough without wearing girl clothes!
"Jeans. And a t-shirt. Unisex, I promise. Really." She dimpled at him, the smile brightening again.. She was cute, he realized: the sort of cute that made him ferociously protective without a bit of hormonal interest. He had always liked irrepressible little girls, and Willow still had a good bit of girl in her. He liked her, and wanted her to like him. She made him want to clown around, to play the fool and make her laugh.
The demon had liked to clown around, play the fool, make the girls laugh ... then turn their giggles into betrayal, horror, and violation as soon as they trusted him. /I'd like to flirt with her until she likes me, and then rape her, then drink her dry and leave her body for that tall boy to find./
/Shut up, you./ The hunger that accompanied the demon's words chilled him. Kenshin could taste it ... the desire for power over other's lives. It made him want to withdraw from her -- which would effectively be letting the demon win. /You're not me, and I don't have to listen to you./
He turned his entire attention to the young witch. Reluctantly, because he knew she'd be disappointed at his refusal of her offer, he shook his head. "I am sorry because I know I am offensive to the nose. You will need me to return to Torin's headquarters. It will be something unusual if I am clean when I do so."
She bit her lip, then said, "You'll need to go back to remove the spell?"
He nodded. "He cast it from his war room. I'll need to get in and break the talisman he used. It's simple enough, but will require me to be me so Torin doesn't suspect anything."
Me. The word rang in his ears. He cringed mentally, as he felt the demon within him gibber triumphantly. /Me!/ The demon insisted. /You are me and I am you! You cannot separate us! You cannot deny my existence! You've lived as a demon for over a century! Fool!/
He said, in Japanese, to the demon, "You just shut up and I'll pretend to be me. Pretend to be you, I mean."
He realized he was talking aloud -- though in Japanese -- when Willow said, again, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." He lied completely, because he wasn't. This world was awful -- bright and loud and full of old griefs he'd long thought left behind. He'd lived his life, and lived it well, and died a heroic death, and that was that. It had been time for resting, and time for warmth and love. Somehow, he'd earned a gentle, peaceful rest. And that had been taken from him. As a bonus, he had a demon in his head. He added, "Just talking to myself."
"As long as you don't get an answer." She dimpled again.
The demon muttered, /I always liked to eat irrepressible little girls. They were so cute when they screamed./
And with that comment came more memories -- memories of charming children, and luring them off, and then killing and eating them. He closed his eyes as the sorrow rose. /Would that I could have won that fight, so long ago, with your kin./
/Aren't you angry?/ the demon demanded. /I want you angry!/
"It would be like blaming a mad dog for biting someone," he told the demon -- this time aloud in English. It felt weird to speak English. The demon knew it -- the demon had learned it, somewhere, and now it was part of his own memories and knowledge. Just as he knew how to drive a car, operate a computer, and use a telephone, he knew how to speak English. Yet this was not his own knowledge. It was the demon's.
"Huh?" Willow blinked at him.
He realized he'd answered her comment about not getting an answer with a complete non sequitor. He shook his head. "I am simply talking to the demon. It's trying to provoke me."
"Talking to it?" Her eyes grew wide.
He blinked at her. "There is me, and there is the demon inside me that animates this dead, corrupted body. We are not the same."
She frowned. "That's not how Angel or Spike have ever put it. Their souls just sort've give the demon in them a conscience."
He tilted his head, considering that. He suspected there was more to it than simply obtaining a conscience; they were the souls of men living with demons, not demons who'd acquired a sense of guilt. Still, he allowed, "Perhaps I am simply mad."
/Completely. Totally. Hearing voices in your head. You're bugfuck nuts. Now, can we kill the witch? She's starting to annoy me. She's too cute. I hate cute./
"Or just stubborn, and unwilling to compromise with the demon in any way if it violates your sense of ethics." This came, in Japanese, from Hanako, who slouched through the library door with a mug of crimson blood. He smelled pig from across the room, even as she approached. In English she added, "Angel said give you this."
"Stubborn. Yes." He bowed his head in acknowledgment of that fact. He wondered how she'd known, then decided it didn't matter if it was from reading about him in books or by being a keen judge of character. He also decided he liked Hanako as well -- she was forthright, it seemed, and he liked that in people. He'd always liked strong-willed, outspoken women. He had married one, and counted many others as good friends. "I am often accused of that."
She handed him the mug. He frowned into it, knowing he had to drink it for sustenance but hesitant to do so in front of these two young women. Willow snorted, apparently guessing why he was waiting. "Oh, drink up. Spike eats his with Wheatabix. A vampire drinking pig's blood is something I've seen before, usually over my own dinner."
/Ewww./ The vampire didn't like the idea of pig's blood much.
Neither did he. Quite possibly, he was more repulsed at the idea of pig's blood than human blood, which frightened him. It was a gut-level instinctive reaction. He set the mug down. Neither of these women, he thought, should need to watch him consume such a disgusting meal -- even if Willow claimed it didn't bother her. He would force himself to drink it later. "I thank you, but I am not very hungry."
"Oh." Hanako fidgeted, staring at the mug.
"I do truly thank you, for being considerate enough to bring me a meal, Miss Hanako." It was rude to turn down an offered meal. Still, he just didn't want to eat it. Not now. Not in front of witnesses. Not in front of women.
/Hanako's nummy. Bet she'd last for hours of the most fun torture. Or you could chain her to the wall of your bedroom and eat off her for days./ The demon, apparently, liked Hanako more than Willow. Well, that was something they agreed on -- both of them were attracted to tough girls rather than cute girls. However, the demon wanted to torture the tough girls until they broke. As far as it was concerned, the tougher the better.
He just wanted to see them smile.
He changed the subject, "Willow, where is Buffy? We need to make plans."
/Now there's a tough girl I'd really love to have some time with .../
/I will be so glad when I can rest, just so I don't have to listen to you anymore./
/Hate you./
"Getting cleaned up," Willow said. "She said something about scrubbing her skin off."
"Mmm." Again he thought longingly of a bath. He reached a hand up, touched the matted, greasy mess that was his long hair, and then rested his hands in his lap. Not yet. "I cannot say as I blame Buffy."
"Oh, you can blame me for lots of things." Buffy walked through the doorway that instant. Her damp hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and she was dressed in jeans and a man's shirt several sizes too big. "Starting with pulling you out of heaven. I am sorry about that ... I know how hard that is."
He glanced at her, surprised. Her eyes were shadowed, and, next to her, Willow winced visibly.
Buffy smiled tightly. "Living is a lot harder than dying. I ... know. And I thank you for holding it together and helping us."
"Holding it together?" He blinked. He hurt -- Gods, knew, he hurt. He craved the peace, and warmth, and love that he had been unexpectedly ripped away from.
/Gotcha!/ the demon thought, and sent loud memories of a rock concert roaring through his head, along with images of eating the concert goers behind the stage. He winced.
However, 'losing it' would not bring that peace back, it would just make his inner turmoil worse. He wanted to go back, to leave this world, but he had a sneaking suspicion that staking himself would mean he'd be so full of guilt and self-blame that he would not find peace again. These people needed him. They needed him so badly that they'd called him from beyond death to reinhabit what had once been his body. 'Losing it' -- and he suspected she meant coming unglued with temporary madness -- was a luxury he didn't have right now. "Miss Summers, I'm a very practical man. I don't see the point of 'losing it' as you say."
He scratched his jaw. "Besides, I tried going mad, a long time ago. It didn't work out very well and I hurt a lot of people who loved me. I make a point in learning from my mistakes."
/You are annoying./
/From you, that's a compliment./
/Grr./
/I believe I've won this round./
/Grr./
Buffy's snort was apparently a noise of agreement with his statement about 'learning from his mistakes.' However, she simply said, "So, I figured that we need to talk plans. Unless you could simply assassinate Torin for us -- but I suspect that's too easy."
"Kill Torin, and everyone wearing one of these ..." he held his wrist up, displaying the gold circlet around it, "... dies. Makes for loyal minions, yes?"
"Which would kill you." Buffy frowned at him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking but he wondered if she was contemplating asking him to commit suicide in the name of the greater good ... which, actually, he'd be perfectly willing to do. He craved that peace again, desperately, and had no fear of death.
However, there were other issues. "There are a large number of servants, slaves, and prisoners who would die besides me. It may be necessary to consider them collateral damage, but if you give me a little bit of time I'll try to find another way -- and you can research the problem too. I'll send you information on the bracelets. Torin isn't going to make a move for a few weeks, so we have time."
/Death. Glee. Kill all the innocents! Hah!/ The demon gibbered happily. /Wanna see Torin's face when I betray him. So poetic./
He closed his eyes, shocked that he was even considering taking out Torin and causing the deaths of so many people. Still, he knew what Torin's plans were -- knew, intimately and truly the details -- and perhaps a quick death by spell of a few hundred was better than the madness that would descend on all of Earth if Torin opened a Hellmouth. It would mean the torturous death of billions if Torin succeeded.
Buffy nodded understanding of his words. She looked grim -- likely, she had done the same unpleasant math. Neither of them liked it. Both of them would fight to prevent it. But an iron knife in Torin's back was an option that was on the table. She said, "Well, the first order of business is getting my people to safety."
He agreed with that. Buffy and her Slayers -- and her witch and the demons working for her -- were important, both as friends and strategically. He said, "I intend to release the spell that holds this hotel here. The building will return to Los Angeles when I do so. That is simple enough. However -- what is your next step, after that? Do you have a strategy in mind?"
Buffy blinked. Kenshin wondered if she'd thought past get everyone safe. Well, he had over a century's experience as a general for Torin. This girl was in her mid twenties and, he was given to understand, hadn't even led more than a band of a half dozen or so misfits until four years ago. Their disastrous loss against Torin a few weeks ago was evidence of their lack of skill with logistics -- Torin had lured them into attacking before they were ready by torturing and killing a few children.
Finally, Buffy said, "Regroup and then we'll figure out how to take your boss out. I'm fed up with this."
"You'll need me on the inside if you want to win, Miss Summers. Torin has a very large number of warriors on his side, and he is deliberately avoiding direct personal conflict with you. The reason he went to New York after we captured you was that he was worried you might defeat my men and he did not want to be in the area if you did." He shook his head, then stopped the motion when his long, tangled hair swished across his shoulders. He resisted the temptation to scratch at his scalp, and said, "My suggestion is to let Torin think you are dead -- convincingly dead. Miss Rosenburg, could you make some convincing simulacrums of the members of your party here that I could present to Torin to prove my victory?"
Willow's eyes lit up. "Sure. That'd be easy!"
Buffy regarded him for a long moment before speaking. "Are you proposing that we pretend that the I am my friends are dead, and then stage a surprise attack?"
"Yes. I think that would be best. Torin -- rightfully, I think -- believes that if you and your ... Scoobies .. are dead," he used the word Scoobies hesitantly, but it was a term that his intelligence suggested they used for themselves, "then the remaining force of Slayers will be disorganized and demoralized and no threat to his ambitions."
Buffy rubbed the bridge of her nose. "That's one of our weaknesses, I'll admit. They're too dependent on me -- It will work best if someone from my friends is alive to keep the Slayer army at least pointed in the right direction and planning an assault, so that we can activate them at a moment's notice. I like your plan."
"Xander," Willow suggested. "He's capable of keeping them all in line, and they'll follow him, but on the surface he's not such a threat that Torin would be likely to go after him. -- Am I right, Mr. Himura?"
Kenshin nodded. They were smart; he knew they were now thinking ahead along the same lines he was -- which was to lure Torin into thinking the Slayers were no threat because their command and control had been eliminated. Then, when Torin let his guard down and moved into a position where he was vulnerable, the Slayers would strike decisively. He agreed with Willow's suggestion, and clarified why, briefly, "Xander is human, wholly human, and does not have a rank within your organization. Torin will dismiss him as unimportant, particularly if I tell Torin that the boy behaved cowardly in battle and when he escaped me by hiding, I found it not worth my while to pursue him."
Hanako said softly, in her Kyoto-accented Japanese that was achingly familiar to Kenshin's ears, "Himura-san, will you be okay going under cover for them? Doubtless you will need to do unpleasant things. You were a hero once, and everything I've ever read about you says you were ..."
He cut her off, a little rudely, and mostly because he didn't want to think too much about the things he knew he would need to do. "Aa. I was no hero, just a man. And I've also been a monster for more than a century. I can be a monster for a little while longer if it means stopping Torin."
He glanced at Hanako, wondering how much English she actually understood. She certainly didn't speak it well, but clearly, she was following the conversation more-or-less. She met his gaze, then looked away -- down, at the table. Her eyes were intelligent, perceptive.
Buffy nodded. "We appreciate it. -- What's the best way to pass messages back and forth?"
Kenshin snorted. "Torin is technologically clueless, and worse, dismissive of the modern world. We'll use e-mail. I can access an e-mail account using a hidden profile on my laptop and he'll never be the wiser."
"You have e-mail?" Willow sounded surprised.
"I had internet access set up for Torin's pocket dimension a few years ago. It's useful." iAnd the demon has a healthy appetite for certain exotic flavors of porn/i but he wasn't about to tell these sweet young women that.
The demon helpfully forced images of said porn up to his consciousness, and Kenshin blushed ferociously. /Gotcha!/ The demon cackled.
He continued, in a voice that was a bit shaken, "And often -- often educational. I'm certainly not the only one among your enemies who found out a great deal about the Slayers on the internet. There are whole forums where demons discuss your activities."
Willow said, "Really? I didn't know that."
Kenshin regarded her with a frown. Her tone implied that perhaps she did. Not for the first time, he was left wondering about the accuracy of the information discussed on demon forums on the internet. The Slayers had some flaws in their command structure, and they were inexperienced, but they weren't stupid. It would be easy for them to spread false data. It would also be stupid of them to confirm anything like that with him -- they couldn't possibly trust him. Soul or not, he was a vampire and until a few hours ago he had been a loyal minion working for for Torin. Even if he was now fully willing and eager to switch sides, they had to be aware that a stupid ally could do more damage than a smart enemy. They didn't know for sure how savvy he'd be in his new role as a mole.
But all he said, finally, was, "If you have a piece of paper, I'll give you my e-mail address. However, I'll send my e-mails in Japanese to Hanako and Kagome -- just as a little extra insurance, since Torin doesn't speak or read the language. Have them respond the same way, please."
Inuyasha's arm was tight around Kagome's shoulder as they watched the vampire approach the barrier. It parted for him and for the burden he carried in his arms -- a chillingly lifelike (or perhaps "deathlike") body with long, trailing white hair and clawed hands. The body had been artistically mutilated, and was an ugly, bloody mess. Kenshin disappeared through the swirling boundary, then returned for the next -- and last -- faux corpse.
After he'd dumped a 'dead Willow' body off, he surprised them by returning. His clear, pale eyes glanced over the assembled Slayers, demons, and friends. He said, quietly, "Sesshoumaru, Torin plans to kidnap your child tonight. He will send some of his men -- he believes you are dead, and your servant will be little challenge for them. I suggest that you take the child to a safe place and not confront them directly -- you are, after all, supposed to be dead."
Sesshoumaru had been very difficult to convince to play along. He was not the sort to engage in subterfuge -- too proud, Kagome thought. Still, Sesshoumaru nodded once, curtly. "I understand."
Kenshin closed his eyes. From what they'd gleaned from intelligence on the girl, she was two -- and would grow to be as powerful as her uncle. A prize indeed for an Unseelie lord, and a tempting target if the lord thought that Sesshoumaru was dead. He said, grimly, "Torin would use her for his own means. I do not need to tell you what sort of magic can be done with the blood of a young hanyou child."
"Thank you, Mr. Himura," Buffy murmured. "Kenshin -- be careful."
This earned her a brief flash of teeth in the barest of smiles. He inclined his head in acknowledgement, and said, "And all of you."
And then he was gone, stepping back through the barrier and disappearing from view.
The waited -- long enough that Kagome began to wonder if something had gone badly wrong. The hotel was dark, and silent, except for water dripping somewhere and the occasional creak as the old building shifted.
Then, finally, there was a release of tension. The barrier was gone and the lights of Los Angeles shone through the shattered front doors. The lobby lights flickered on, illuminating a floor that was smeared with ichor, blood, slime and small bits and pieces of dead demons.
Inuyasha growled, "Let's go home, Kagome."
"Home," Shippou echoed.
"Wait a second." Kagome turned to the others, and caught Buffy's attention by waving. "Buffy, we can put a few people up at our place. The wards on the property are formidable -- nothing can get through without Inuyasha's permission."
Buffy blinked. "Sure, good idea. Um -- take Hanako, Meg, and Tammy with you -- do you have room for more than that?"
Inuyasha said shortly, "If they don't mind sleeping on the floor."
"That's fine. Kavan, will you go with them too?" Buffy said.
The Daoine Sidhe lord had been standing behind her, so calm and still that she hadn't realized he was there. She jumped when he said, "As you wish."
Sesshoumaru had walked over as they were talking to Buffy. He said, quietly, and an oddly understated tone, "Inuyasha, do you have room for my daughter, as well?"
Both Inuyasha and Kagome turned to stare at him. However, it was Shippou who spoke up, in a stunned tone of voice, "Sesshoumaru-sama, you hate your brother."
"Do I?" Sesshoumaru lifted an eyebrow at the kitsune. "Perhaps I do."
"But why, if you hate him so much ...?" Kagome couldn't help but ask.
Sesshoumaru seemed, for a minute, as if he was not going to answer the question at all. The look he gave her was coldly expressionless. Then, finally, he gave an explanation, "Because not even I can pass Amelia's wards without my brother's permission so my daughter shall be safe in Inuyasha's home and none shall need to risk exposing this subterfuge defending her."
"Oh." Kagome blinked at the taiyoukai lord. It was a perfectly logical explanation, and she figured Sesshoumaru was just cold-blooded enough to send his daughter off to live with his brother if it would keep her safe.
"Perhaps." Sesshoumaru paused, then added, "And this is a dangerous world we live in. Should I not survive the coming battles, Inuyasha is the only family she has."
Inuyasha snapped, "You presume I'd want her."
"Your fiance wouldn't let you refuse." Sesshoumaru nodded briefly to Kagome, then turned away and walked calmly out the door.
"I hate you," Inuyasha growled after him.
Kagome rest a hand on his shoulder and said, with amusement, "Just look at it this way: you'll have another hanyou in the house."
"I don't like kids."
Shippou clapped a hand on Inuyasha's other shoulder. Smirking, he said, "And I sure know that's the truth."
Kenshin walked across the gory, sticky floor of the keep's great hall. Behind him, several trolls carried the faux bodies.
"Leave them here." He indicated a spot against one wall that was out of the way. The demons dropped the bodies with hollow thuds.
One grunted, "Eat now?"
"Later." Preferably when he wasn't around to watch. He needed the bodies to show Torin now, however.
The Buffy-body was slumped against a wall with an arrow through it. He regarded the body for a long moment, disquieting memories surfacing. It had not been an arrow, rather, a sword so long ago ... but the posture was almost the same.
"Nice job," Torin's voice made Kenshin turn around. He was off his game -- he hadn't sensed his liege lord approaching. Torin was beaming broadly, presumably in reaction to Kenshin's message that he'd completed his task. Torin continued happily, "I've got a reward for you -- I have a couple of prisoners from the trip to New York and there's a pretty brunette in there you might like. A Slayer, I think. She was following us. I thought I'd reward you for the job well done."
He would be expected to torture and kill the brunette, Kenshin knew. He nodded, and forced a happy smile to his lips despite the fact that he felt numb and the demon in his head was gibbering in happy expectation. "Thanks, Boss."
"She's all yours, but make her last," Torin said, casually. He stood several feet from Kenshin -- the man was cautious to the point of paranoia. He continued, "I expect it'll rile up the Slayers a bit that we captured one of their own, so we'll be sitting tight for awhile, until the next stage of our plans."
Well, that gave him a convenient excuse for not draining her dry tonight -- though he didn't look forward to what he would have to do to remain in character while 'making her last.' Kenshin relaxed a little, relieved he would not be expected to kill her immediately, and asked, "Did you have a good trip otherwise, boss?"
"Yeah. Did the Slayers give you any trouble?" Torin nudged the Inuyasha-body with one booted toe.
"Nah. They weren't much of a challenge. The hanyou was a bitch to take down, though, and he and his brother killed quite a few of our fighters -- I'll need to do some hire some new recruits, so I'll need some money from you. Oh, you'll be happy to know we took out Lord Kavan. He'd allied with them."
Torin grinned broadly. "There was a nuisance! -- How much money will you need?"
"We need at least fifty trolls. Also, we're going to need a new kraken -- yours got chopped into little bits, and the little bits will be forever growing up to be big krakens." This was a familiar discussion; they had it after every battle. How many dead; how many needed to be replaced; how much would it cost? "We lost about forty, and some of the slime slugs. I don't want to replace the slugs -- they're a nuisance to clean up after -- so I want to get more trolls to fill in our ranks. Plus a few extra; the slayers are tough opponents and we're going to lose some every time we fight them."
"Expensive victory." Torin frowned at the pile of dead bodies. Then he brightened. "Still, worth it! I'm impressed with you, my hitokiri -- those people have killed a God and you took them out for me on the first try. Will ten grand do it?"
Kenshin shook his head. "Kraken have gotten really expensive lately. Maybe fifteen -- I'll be spending at least seven thousand just on the Kraken. Unless you'd like me to put something else in the moat. Mutant piranha are cheaper."
"No, I like kraken. I can always get more money. Lord Ugar has been trying to hire me to beat on his sister's army anyway. I might take him up on that next week. It'd be a good training exercise for the new trolls anyway."
Kenshin nodded. He was, somehow, shocked at how familiar and easy this discussion was. In a minute he'd go down to Torin's purser and requisition the money, and then send his secretary off to the auction to buy a kraken and then, tomorrow, go personally to the hiring hall to recruit about fifty new trolls. The hall knew him, and because he was a regular customer he got a frequent-customer discount on the hiring hall's commission.
''Do that later. Go enjoy your reward now," Torin said, benevolently -- there was a reason why Kenshin's demon had so willingly followed this Unseelie lord for so long, and that was the fact that Torin treated his minions well. There were rewards for a job well done: wine, women, song. Power. A reliable paycheck. And Torin, who valued his hitokiri very highly, always made sure he had women all to himself, and plenty of the finer things in life.
Except, he thought as scratched himself absently, baths. That was mostly because the keep was rather rustic -- the pocket dimension that Torin had taken over was stuck in the 17th century -- but, still. He itched. Torin's lack of concern for hygiene for his minions -- the man could have imported indoor plumbing -- suddenly, ferociously, annoyed him.
iMaybe I'll arrange to fall in a lake on the way to the market/i he thought, with annoyance, as he climbed the stairs to his room on the fourth floor of the keep.
--