Devil's Pact (The Iphigenia Black Series # 3)

By Nicola Rhodes

*New release*
The third book in the Iphigenia Black Series

We are all slaves of one kind or another. It’s just that, for most of us, it isn’t written down in black and white, and that makes it easy to ignore.
However, when you make a deal with the Devil, there really is no ignoring it – and no point in trying.
Better to face it head on – the witch’s way.
And if, while you are doing it, you can make the rotten, devious, conniving νόθος wish he’d never been spawned – well then, so much the better.

But when the darkness falls and the chaos erupts, suddenly revenge doesn’t seem like such a good idea – as Iffie is about to find out... the hard way. Is it too late to change her mind?
Well... maybe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicola Rhodes
• Release date: Jun 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370483204

Nicola Rhodes

About the Author Nicola Rhodes often can’t remember where she lives so she lives inside her own head most of the time, where even if you do get lost, it’s still okay. She has met many interesting people inside her own head and eventually decided to introduce them to the rest of the world, in the hopes that they would stop bothering her and let her sleep. She has been doing this for ten years now but they still won’t leave her alone. She wrote this book for fun and does not care if you take away a moral lesson from it or not. You have her full permission to read whatever you wish into this work of fiction. As she says herself: “Just because I wrote this book, doesn’t mean I know anything about it.”

Book preview

Devil’s Pact

Book 3 of the Iphigenia Black Series

Copyright 2017 Nicola Rhodes

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

We are all slaves of one kind or another. It’s just that, for most of us, it isn’t written down in black and white, and that makes it easy to ignore.

However, when you make a deal with the Devil, there really is no ignoring it – and no point in trying.

Better to face it head on – the witch’s way.

And if, while you are doing it, you can make the rotten, devious, conniving νόθος wish he’d never been spawned – well then, so much the better.

But when the darkness falls and the chaos erupts, suddenly revenge doesn’t seem like such a good idea – as Iffie is about to find out… the hard way. Is it too late to change her mind?

Well… maybe.

Prologue

Recruitment had been falling off in Hell for some time. This was not, perhaps surprising in this day and age when believers were few, and even those who did believe – well, they just didn’t sin like they used to.

Time was, Satan mused, that entire villages could be welcomed into the fiery fold. The medieval times had been a particularly rich harvest, with Christianity spreading like wildfire and the priests spreading the fear of Hell everywhere, not to mention all the plagues and various wars killing people off in their thousands before they had time to repent. Oh yes, back then, they all believed. Those priests were a better recruitment tool than all the devils sent to tempt individuals, put together. It was all different now. The priests had lost their fire in recent times and so, it appeared, had the sinners. Oh, people sinned all right, with great enthusiasm and inventiveness in fact. The problem was they weren’t signed up for their eternal punishment. They were getting away with it; and those who were signed up just didn’t quite cut it.

Satan was inclined to let it slide; he had grown indolent over the centuries and, aside from an occasional nagging feeling that he ought to try to do something about it, he rarely let it bother him.

Besides, what was there to be done?

He sent his tempters out, as he had always done, the yield was low, but sort of sustainable. Apart from that – there was nothing.

*

There had been no promotions in Hell for thousands of years, and for an ambitious imp like Merveyn, this was unacceptable – and downright annoying and frustrating. But with new devils and imps being a dying breed so to speak, there was really nowhere to promote anyone to.

Merveyn however, had an agile and ingenious mind. He saw the problem quite clearly and was sure – well almost sure, there must be a way around it.

Once, he seemed to remember, a sure fire way of swelling the ranks had been the infamous Deal with the Devil. It took time of course; the tempters had to draw their prey in, and even then not all of them ended up falling for it. These days, of course, people were not as stupid as they had once been. Most of them were far too clever to even believe in something as ephemeral as The Devil. The fact that He was real had nothing to do with it; and If they didn’t believe, they were never going to sign.

Now that idea, so he had heard, had come originally from humans, as had most of Hell’s superior nefarious plots. Humans were decidedly better at this sort of thing than devils. And unbreakable contracts, that caused untold and endless misery that came at a terrible price, were definitely as human an invention as it got.

Maybe, Merveyn thought, there was something in that.

When he found it, he could hardly believe it. Humans, it seemed were as stupid as ever. Perhaps even stupider. It was so simple, and, if it worked, he could recruit hundreds… no thousands… no hundreds of thousands, at a time.

His claws shaking with anticipation, he checked and rechecked his findings. Then, in a state of pure nervous excitement, he took his plan to Satan.

Chapter one

Iffie was doing updates. It was a strange thing, but she had found that in order to access the Aethernet the simplest method was still to go through an ordinary computer – and that meant maintenance.

It was the usual story. She had been doing some interesting research on the A’net when the familiar window opened to tell her updates were ready to be installed, and it wouldn’t let her carry on until she had done it. She sighed, it was always the way.

This time it insisted, with the blind wilfulness of a two-year-old begging for an ice cream, that she absolutely could not continue a moment longer without an urgent update to her online security system. A description, set out in terms of blood-curdling frightfulness, of the horrors that awaited her, should she try to avert or even delay this update was presented for her inspection. Trojans were threatened, viruses, spyware and other demons of the computer age were suggested.

Iffie sighed. ‘Oh, all right!’ She clicked yes and the window changed. Terms and conditions. Without thinking, she clicked the box and waited.

The screen filled slowly with the face of a laughing devil. It was not real, she could see that – some sort of gif file – that is to say, it didn’t look real, but Iffie had a strange feeling about this.

The cartoony devil head began to spout the terms and conditions at her at an extraordinary pace – rather like the pitch from a telephone sales operator. But Iffie was not a witch for naught; she was listening intently and missing nothing. Suddenly she waved a hand across the screen; the image froze, and then began to dissolve to disclose the face of what was, arguably, a real devil.

Iffie grinned. ‘So that’s your little game is it?’ she asked. The devil looked at her in shock.

‘Yes, I can see you,’ she affirmed. ‘You picked the wrong witch to play your tricks on this time.’

‘Witch?’ sputtered the devil. ‘What, in the name of Beelzebub, does a witch want with a computer?’

‘I could ask you the same thing?’ retorted Iffie. ‘But I begin to see now. It’s mortals you are after?’

‘Of course!’

‘It’s a bit … devious, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I mean, it’s hardly fair. You used to at least give them a sporting chance.’

‘They still have their chance,’ the devil said indifferently. ‘All our operators are under strict instructions to read out the terms and conditions and …’

‘Yes, after they have already signed,’ Iffie pointed out, ‘and so damn fast no mortal ears could keep up.’

The devil shrugged. ‘They can read ‘em first if they want. No one has to sign.’

Iffie sighed, it was true.

‘Anyway,’ the devil continued, ‘if there’s nothing else, I am getting behind here…’

‘Just one more thing,’ Iffie told him. ‘Tell your master he’ll be getting a visit from me.’

The devil stared at her. ‘From you?’

‘Yes,’ she said, grinning slyly. ‘Tell him my mother sends her best – you have my name, I take it?’

The devil looked down, and his eyes dilated in sudden fear. ‘Black?’ he said in a strangled voice. ‘As in …?’ his voice trailed off.

‘That’s right,’ Iffie affirmed. ‘As in … and believe me, I am a lot worse than she was.’

The devil looked as if he could not, for all the souls in Christendom, believe this assertion. But Iffie just smiled – a gentle yet sinister smile. The devil gulped a few times.

‘You just tell him I’ll be along shortly,’ she said. Then she reached over and switched the computer off.

She sat back in her chair for a few moments, thinking.

‘Jack!’ she called eventually, and he appeared behind her – in the ordinary way that is – through the door.

‘What’s up?’ he asked jovially; then stopped when he saw her grave face.

She stood up and took his hands. ‘Jack, would you follow me even into Hell?’

‘Of course,’ he said automatically.

‘Oh, that’s good, she said, vaguely. ‘Thank you.’

‘Why,’ he said, ‘what’s going on?’

‘I just sold my soul to Satan,’ she told him.

Chapter Two

Jack began to laugh, but it died on his lips when she shook her head earnestly. ‘It’s true, Jack,’ she said.

‘Oh, but it’s ridiculous,’ he protested.

‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘It’s still true.’

‘But you aren’t even a Christian,’ he objected. ‘Surely they can’t hold you to it? How did it happen, anyway? I mean, I don’t suppose you did it on purpose.’ He looked quizzically at her as if he wasn’t quite certain of this last statement.

‘Of course not, you berk,’ she snapped.

‘Then what?’ he asked patiently.

Iffie told him what had happened.

‘By my father and his brothers, that’s sneaky!’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, listlessly.

‘You don’t seem very bothered about it,’ he observed.

‘It’s not that,’ she told him. ‘The fact is, I have no idea what to do about it.’

‘But it can’t possibly be binding.’

‘I think you will find that it is. Completely binding. And I haven’t got a single clue how to break it. I belong to Him now.’

‘Well, until further notice anyway,’ said Jack, half fiercely, half humorously, but fully determinedly, and Iffie smiled wanly at him. ‘That’s the spirit,’ she said.

Jack looked sideways at her. ‘You seem to be talking this badly,’ he said. ‘Why? It’s only Satan. We’ve handled worse than him.’

Iffie gave him a look. ‘It doesn’t matter who it is,’ she told him. ‘It could be the window cleaner. An unbreakable contract is an unbreakable contract. Don’t be surprised if I start to change,’ she added.

Jack looked worried. ‘Horns and a tail, you think?’ he asked with an edge to his voice.’

Iffie managed a short laugh. ‘Not exactly what I meant,’ she said. ‘But I suppose anything’s possible.’

Jack shrugged. ‘I’ll still love you,’ he said. ‘Just leave the pitchfork at the bedroom door. I’m not into all that.’

This time, Iffie laughed properly, and Jack put a comforting arm around her. ‘We can sort it out,’ he assured her. ‘I haven’t seen you beaten yet.’

Iffie leaned into him for a moment, taking comfort, before resuming her mantle of competence and independence. ‘It’s not just me,’ she told him. ‘There are thousands of others who have had this trick played on them – and most of them probably aren’t even aware of it yet. I’ll need all hands on deck this time. Leda is good at this stuff; and Bel …’

‘Has a properly devious mind?’ Jack finished for her.

‘Well she does – it could come in handy.’

Jack nodded reservedly. They had not actually trusted Bel since the whole Trying to take over the mainframe by stealing all Iffie’s powers debacle. Bel did appear to have redeemed herself, but still … Once a power hungry maniac, always a power hungry maniac as Jack had pointed out. And, although they had nominally forgiven her, they had tended to keep her out of things – just in case.

‘Maz loathes her,’ said Jack inconsequentially.

Iffie winked at this – it was not Maz’s antipathy she was concerned about. If anyone was likely to give trouble over Bel, it was Leda. And Jack knew this perfectly well.

Iffie had once again taken up residence in what she jokingly referred to as The ancestral pile - the former home of the clerk Clive, where they had both grown up, and which had direct access to mainframe built in, which Iffie thought might be handy – although she had never used it yet. But although Maz and Leda lived there too now, it had not been thought wise to have Bel here (it was in too close proximity to the mainframe for one thing, and under the same roof as Leda for another) and so she had remained in Iffie’s flat. If Iffie was thinking she needed Bel for this one, though, Jack mused, then it must be more serious than he had first thought.

Iffie was fiercely independent for one thing and, for another, despite Bel’s apparent redemption, Jack knew Iffie hadn’t really forgiven her. She had been the means by which Jack had been restored to Iffie, and she had been severely punished too, Iffie even pitied her, but still… some things rankled.

Jack believed he understood. Bel had got behind Iffie’s defences and even managed to make Iffie her instrument. She had made Iffie do some terrible things …

But her dislike and distrust of Bel was a pale thing compared to the hatred Leda had for her.

Jack sighed. This was going to be a rough ride.

* * *

As it turned out, their first problem was finding Bel. The flat was deserted when they arrived and there was no sign of occupation, recent or otherwise.

‘Damn,’ snapped Jack, ‘why is it that nothing is ever where you left it?’

Iffie grinned. ‘Well,’ I’ll just have to scry for her I guess, and luckily …’ she gave Jack a coy glance and he groaned internally – he knew what was coming.

Iffie fished in her bag and drew out a small flat object, oblong in shape and arguably recognisable to humans and supernaturals alike, ‘there’s an app for that!’ she finished triumphantly.

‘A scrying app?’ he said.

‘Oh there are tons of those now’ said Iffie dismissively. This is something different. I’ve been dying to try it out,’ she added excitedly.

‘What is it then?’ Jack asked wearily, a feeling of dread seeping into his brain. The latest innovation in techromancy, he believed, was more trouble than it was worth. Most of the magic apps downloaded from the Aethernet (and they were now running into the thousands as magical entrepreneurs from every realm leaped, teleported and flew onto the bandwagon – selling once hard-won magical skills for the price of a cup of hemlock. Jack simply felt that this was wrong – a recipe for disaster (not to mention, as he had pointed out, the repercussions should these apps or one of the myriad versions of "Smartscry™* fall into mortal hands).

*[Mobile scrying had been around for some time. Smartscry™ was just the latest innovation of this, providing access to the Aethernet on the move, and a host of other nonsense that no witch really needed – all run through the latest Tinman techromancy now running V4.4 (Flying Monkeys]

‘A see through someone else’s eyes app,’ Iffie burbled. Yes – burbled, she was irritatingly like a child in a candy store when it came to new tech. It was perhaps the one thing about her that drove Jack to distraction. Well, maybe not the only thing.

Fortunately, he thought, the majority of the new apps, tended to be somewhat buggy and generally failed – or blew up your Smartscry™ in a somewhat dramatic version of a software crash. In fact, the manufacturers now had a disclaimer about this on all their products.

Wave of the future, thought Jack ruefully. The most powerful witch in history, and she’s using cheap apps! My Father! ‘Sold your soul to the Devil, indeed,’ he muttered, but Iffie didn’t hear him. Which was perhaps fortunate for him.

‘And how is that going to help us find her?’ he asked in louder tones.

Iffie glared at him, and he realised that there had been an edge to his voice, which he had been unable to suppress. He blanched slightly but held her gaze.

Suddenly she grinned. ‘Okay, okay, so it’s all a bit … pants,’ she acceded. But it really does work – sometimes – and I …’ she hesitated. Jack waited, as she sorted her thoughts out, he could see her twisting her mouth as she tried to find the words, and he frowned. Something was wrong.

‘I think my magic – my OWN magic – is being … tracked,’ she blurted.

‘Tracked?’ he