me today?”
Claire made an impatient motion. “Do you recognize it? It seemed like something of yours.”
“It’s not an unwritten book—I can certainly verify that. It seems . . .” Andras stilled and flicked his gaze, suddenly sharp and suspicious, between them. “Where did you get this?”
“Leto palmed it off an angel that was trying to kill us. He said he was Ramiel, if you’re familiar with the tales. An entirely unpleasant man, absent manners, and present one very sharp sword. He seemed under the impression we had something of his.”
“Ramiel.” Andras was quiet for a long moment, hands hovering over the scrap. “He’s on the hunt for this?”
“And quite insistent that we knew what the hell he was talking about.” Claire frowned. “It is from a book?”
Andras had returned to staring at the scrap. “Intriguing.”
“Yes, so intriguing, in fact, I thought I’d visit my dear old friend because I was under the impression that he would assist more than ask questions,” Claire grumbled as the old demon didn’t look up. “Well?”
“Hmm.”
“Andras.” Claire rubbed her brow. “I’ve been bled, nearly skewered, and mostly drowned today. Words, please.”
The demon shook his head, and a thought moved across his expression. It was a thought with teeth, but then it was gone. Andras smiled again. “It’s . . . a very rare piece.”
“I gathered as much, considering it tried to blow my circuits when I touched it.” Leto let out a startled noise, but Claire waved him off. “What is it?”
“It has the markers of a piece that shouldn’t exist.” Andras’s eyes drifted back to the scrap. “The Codex Gigas. Have you heard of it?”
“Codex Gigas. The . . . giant book?”
“Apt translation, given the original book’s size, but it’s also known as ‘the Devil’s Bible.’”
Claire raised her brows. “You have my attention.”
Andras’s fingertips danced away from the bit of paper every time he attempted to touch it, as if it burned. “A curious piece of antiquary history, to hear the humans tell it. Some sordid drama about a medieval monk signing a deal with the devil to create a holy tome in a single night.”
“What nonsense.”
“Of course. No proper demon would bother with a trivial deal such as that.” Andras shrugged. “But there was a book created, and Lucifer claims ownership himself.”
Claire frowned. “Lucifer . . . wrote a book? Impossible. Demons don’t create books.”
“They don’t write books.” Andras held up a finger. His voice took on a teaching tone. “This wasn’t a story; it was an artifact. A container. It takes a lot of power to hold a realm like Hell as long as Lucifer has. Power burns out a god as much as a mortal. The oldest beings have been known to siphon off bits of themselves over the years, stash bits of themselves here and there. To remain sane. To hedge their bets. The more innocuous the piece, the better.” Andras made a vague gesture to the curios around them. “Something like that should be here, by all rights. But I suppose he didn’t trust my predecessors with it. Rather insulting that he thought Earth was safer.”
Claire’s brow furrowed. “That does sound . . . eccentric. Even for him.”
“Highly. I always suspected it wasn’t just mere power he was hiding away in that thing. Perhaps a secret, a key, something he didn’t trust to keep on himself for some reason. Something to be kept far away from the realm. Tantalizing mystery, isn’t it?”
“You think everything is secrets and conspiracy, Andy.”
“That’s because everything is, pup. And you do know I dislike that nickname.”
Claire smiled. “Almost as much as I dislike being called ‘pup.’”
“Quite so,” Andras said with an odd tilt of fondness. “In any case, this codex, it stayed unnoticed on Earth for centuries. Then, out of the blue, Lucifer called his Arcanist and librarian to him—our predecessors—and ordered them to retrieve the book and replace it with a mundane replica.” The old demon’s lip curled with a strong distaste. Leto began to see where Claire might have gotten her opinion of the ruler of Hell. “Something must have spooked him.”
Leto found the whole conversation alarming, and unease finally began to work its way into the nervous tap of Claire’s fingers on the counter.
“Why wasn’t I made aware of any of this?” she asked.
“Why would you be? It’s a perfectly written book. Not one of your delicate unwritten things,” Andras said. “As I understand it, the book was retrieved during some mortal uprising. A fire made a convenient cover. Our agents