by RJ Blain
I inhaled, lifted my hand, and pinched the bridge of my nose, well aware I couldn’t protest his choice of roles and the absurd idea he’d act like I was his daughter. “I can’t take you out in public, can I? Why are you here?”
“Someone upset you.” Lucifer lifted a hoof and stomped hard enough the tile disintegrated into powder, revealing newly cracked concrete beneath. Glowing red lines filled the gaps, and the stench of brimstone hung in the air. “I don’t like it when someone bothers you, cupcake.”
“Cupcake?” Malcolm whispered in my ear.
I stepped on his foot, forcing a smile so the devil wouldn’t decide Malcolm had bothered me. “Everything’s just fine.”
“Good. If anyone bothers you, do let me know. I’ll deal with it.”
Satin shifted his weight and tapped his hoof to the tiles, smashing another one. I wanted to claim I could fight my own battles, but after witnessing the floor’s fate, I kept my smile plastered on my face. “I’m sure I can handle it myself.”
“Oh, I know you can, but when I leave you alone for too long, you tend to cause excessive property damage I have to pay for. Be considerate.”
Great. Everyone was going to believe I was his daughter and a walking catastrophe. “You exaggerate.”
“Like hell I do. Try not to destroy the entire museum tonight.”
I gave up. What else could go wrong? “I’ll try not to.”
“Good girl.” Satin turned to his wife, and his tail coiling with hers. “Come along, dear. Let’s go get that awful coffee you so love.”
The succubus winked at me. “Try not to die tonight. I think I’m going to like you a lot. You’re tough. Also, put a leash on that man of yours. It’d be a pity if he got away.”
The pair headed to the cafe while everyone else in the room gaped at me.
Somehow, despite all odds, Caitlin paled even more. “You’re the heir of the devil? The chosen Heir of Hell?”
Damn it, I really had been tricked. I couldn’t even protest thanks to accepting that stupid bargain without thinking it through. I’d lived so long without a mother or a father it never occurred to me someone might want to claim the role as theirs. “So it seems.”
Malcolm cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse us, Caitlin?”
“O-of course.” Malcolm’s ex spun and hurried to the relative safety of her clan.
“Since when were you the devil’s heir?”
I made a show of retrieving my phone from his pouch and checking the time. “Ten minutes ago, when I bargained and promised I wouldn’t question his choice of roles.”
Malcolm smacked his forehead. “What were you thinking striking a deal with the devil?”
“I don’t know,” I wailed before banging my head into his armored chest. My khepresh fell off, but Malcolm caught it. “I’m so stupid.”
“Or brilliant. I’m not sure which. Mr. Asfour would have to be insane to threaten Satan’s daughter.”
“He’s not actually my father. He’s a bored menace who thinks it is funny to fuck with my affairs.”
“It doesn’t matter. He says he is, and no one questions the devil, not about something like this.”
“Why not?” I knew why; the devil had told me himself. My heart skipped several beats as realization struck me.
I had signed mystery papers witnessed by two angels, both of whom had seemed pleased with the arrangement I’d made with the devil, their brother. The hotel employee had mentioned the Mephistopheles family account. What had I done?
No, I knew exactly what I’d done. I had blind signed my way into one hell of a situation, authorizing Satan to do whatever he wanted, which included adopt me—and potentially bequeath a last name on me, one I’d unknowingly picked. I dialed the devil’s number and heard a phone ring across the Grand Gallery.
“Yes, cupcake?”
“You made me sign adoption papers?” I hissed. I wanted to shriek, but I controlled myself, barely.
“I knew you were a smart little girl. You figured it out. Have fun on your date. Don’t worry, we won’t wait up for you.”
He hung up, and I whimpered.
“You look like you need a drink.” Malcolm took my phone out of my hand. “Let’s find my family, let them see I showed up, and get out of here. We’ll make a new plan later—one we don’t screw up by making deals with the devil.”
“Good idea. Next time, I go with my first plan,” I swore.
“Which was?”
I looked him in the eyes and replied, “An investigation of your mouth with my tongue so thorough it needs to be censored.”
“You have my attention.”
Men. I threw my hands in the air and walked off to locate the rest of the Stewart family.
Chapter Eighteen
The devil’s appearance did nothing to deter Asfour from stalking me through the museum, and while everyone else gave me a wide berth, he drew closer and closer until I wanted to hide behind Malcolm to wait for him to leave. Maniacal determination lit my former suitor’s eyes and promised a great deal of trouble for someone—me.
We found the Stewart family in the exhibit with the blue whale, and the instant Malcolm took more than three steps from my side, Asfour made his move, cornering me near one of the exhibits. “Kanika. For a moment, I believed my eyes had deceived me. How did a nameless like you get an invitation to a party like this?”
If I had to play the devil’s game, I’d take advantage of it while I could. “Mephistopheles,” I corrected, easing my way along the glass display of sea fossils. “I thought it was obvious I’m with someone—someone I live with. What do you want, Mr. Asfour?”
I feared I knew exactly what he wanted, but I hoped he wouldn’t pursue it, or pursue me. They were one and the same.
“My property.”
Next time, I wouldn’t do something as stupid as tell the devil I could handle my own problems. Next time, I’d call him and let him deal with my living nightmare while I made a strategic retreat. With Malcolm dealing with his family, a task equally unpleasant as me dealing with my problems, I couldn’t justify dragging him over to serve as my security blanket. “Your property?”
“You. I was promised your—”
“No. I really couldn’t care less what asinine agreement you reached with my mother’s sister. Slavery isn’t legal here, and even if you two attempted to coerce me into an unwanted marriage, I would have immediately filed for a divorce.” And attempted to strangle the life out of his perverted body long before he forced me into a bed. “Do yourself a favor, Mr. Asfour. Walk away. I won’t be honoring any illegal business deals you’ve made with my aunt.”
Asfour’s expression darkened. “You won’t speak to me like that again. I have a contract. You belong to me.”
“You have a contract I didn’t sign, which means it isn’t legal. I know my rights, Mr. Asfour, and I’ll request an angel to verify my statements.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
How could someone so stupid have so much power over me? I wanted to hiss at him, but I settled with a soft huff. “You’re an idiot if you believe that. I have a rather bad habit of testing my luck. To keep your lecherous hands off me, I’d summon the devil by misspelling his name in blood. Preferably yours, but mine’ll do.”
The asshole laughed at me. “And you think that man is better? Do you really? I can—and will—give you everything you could ever want. I’ve been looking for you for a long time. If you think I’m just going to let you walk away now, you underestimate me. You belong to me.”
No wonder my magic had called forth a war crown. I needed it. “I don’t belong to you.”
He leaned close, and his breath reeked of alcohol. “According to the papers I signed and the money I paid, you most certainly do belong to me. We can do this one of two ways. You can come quietly with me, or my associate will eliminate that man you came with. One gesture from me, and he is dead. Have I made myself clear?”
I believed him—in that I believed he
’d try to kill Malcolm for no other reason than associating with me. Clenching my teeth until my jaw ached, I thought it through. The devil had warned me of trouble; he had asked me to avoid destroying the entire museum. Without any actual weapons, I’d be at a disadvantage. If I shifted so I could use my claws and teeth, Asfour would likely desire me even more.
Damn it.
Running and screaming like I’d contracted the plague wouldn’t work, so I went with my second plan. Threats probably wouldn’t work, either, but I’d try. “If you even think about hurting him, I’ll spend my last breath destroying you. Anything in my power, I’ll do. I’ll even bargain with the Lord of Hell should you try. If you do, you better make certain I’m dead, too. Have I made myself clear?”
“I warned you.” Asfour lifted his hand, and if I hadn’t known his intent, I would’ve believed he waved to someone.
I whirled towards Malcolm.
Even when suppressed, gunfire could deafen at close range. My ears rang, and terror choked me. People screamed, reacting to the sound. I doubted any of them noticed Malcolm jerk and fall against his cousin, who caught him with a vehement curse.
Pandemonium swept through the crowd, and the wise fled while I stood rooted in place, my attention locked on Malcolm, his cousin, and the red drops splashing to the floor at their feet. For a few breathless moments, I thought he’d stay standing, but then Bubba Eugene knelt and took Malcolm with him, and more blood fell, staining both men.
Asfour grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the hallway. The first step jarred me back to my senses, and the trembling fear burned away in the face of my fury. I burned to my bones, my blood boiling while my breath seared my lungs.
I pulled free, turned, and moved, my arm and hand acting without any thought from me. His throat seemed so soft and yielding in my grip. When I squeezed, the give of his flesh in my hold tempted me into adding more pressure.
“What have you done?” I spoke, but I barely recognized my own voice it was so calm and quiet, reasonable despite the tempest raging beneath my skin.
“I told you,” he wheezed. “You belong to me. Release me. Now.”
I laughed, tightening my grip until he gagged and batted at my wrist, his fingers digging into me in his effort to break free of my hold. If I gave him a chance, he’d overpower me.
As an unarmed woman, if it came down to a battle of strength, I would lose. I could do nothing in my thin, human shell. But if I shifted, I would win, overpowering him and inspiring the fear he’d inspired in me. It didn’t matter if he learned what I was.
Because he’d wanted me, he’d hurt Malcolm. My form no longer mattered. All of them had claws, strength, and teeth surpassing a human’s. My magic had spoken; I needed a khepresh, and I would do my cobra crown justice. I had given my sworn word with my threat, and he would pay.
If my magic abandoned me and left me naked, I would bite and claw my way to victory. Tension enveloped my chest, and the suppressor bracelet heated around my wrist.
My anger blossomed and ignited into a conflagration, and the pressure in my chest intensified, rose, filled my throat, and erupted from my lips as a roar.
I had no memory of shifting, but black fur covered my hand, and my claws pieced the tender flesh of his throat. “What have you done?”
Asfour’s eyes bulged, and he struggled to speak. A better woman would’ve loosened her hold. I tightened mine, and his hands fell away from my wrist. He flung an arm in the air.
I expected treachery from him; I’d seen him for what he was even as a child, but I hadn’t expected him to give up his property without a fight. The bullet punched into my back before I registered the gunfire. The pain I anticipated didn’t come, and I would make use of my window of opportunity. I would tear him to pieces before his cowardice leeched away my life.
No, I would do worse than merely kill him. Branding his face with my claws would come first, so whenever he caught a glimpse of his reflection, he would remember me.
My first slash tore him from temple to jaw on his right side, each claw tearing a jagged line through his skin, too deep for even magic to prevent them from scarring. He screamed, the shrill and pained cry of prey. With a twist of my wrist and another swipe, I carved four grooves across his nose.
Oh, how he bled. Asfour staggered, recoiled, and fell to his knees. “M-monster!”
I spared a moment to glance at Malcolm. Bubba Eugene had him on the floor, and he remained still. Blood stained the floor, though not as much as I thought there should be. Malcolm didn’t move, and Bubba Eugene’s wide eyes and touch to his cousin’s throat, searching for a pulse, told me all I needed to know.
Revenge for the living, revenge for the dead, they were the same.
Asfour would suffer, and if he lived, I hoped his scars would haunt him as he had haunted me.
“Yes,” I snarled. A single step closed the distance between us, and I lashed out, marking the left side of his face the same what I’d marked his right.
A rasped growl behind me distracted me from my prey, and I answered with a snarl of my own, straightening and twisting around, Asfour’s blood dripping from my claws.
The golden death mask of King Tutankhamun glinted in the museum’s overhead lights, and the hoods of his crown’s cobras glowed crimson. The mummy clutched a woman’s throat, lifting her up, and her skin blackened where his wrappings touched her flesh.
A gun fell, bounced off her shoe, and discharged with a bang.
Ginger scampered across the room on all fours and crouched at my feet. The hollow sockets of his eyes burned with a golden luminescence. A whimper behind me reminded me of Asfour’s presence.
“I’m not finished with you yet,” I stated, my voice as dead as the risen mummies. Facing him, I stepped forward, knelt, and slashed open his suit, cutting red lines down his chest. “Tell me of the contract.”
“You’re mine. Mine! Obey me, as is your place.”
I dealt with a fanatical madman, and I bared my teeth, hissed, and swiped with my claws again, adding more scratches to his collection. “I’m my own. You’ll speak, Isaac Asfour. Tell me about the contract.”
A woman shrieked, then her cry cut off in a gurgle. The thump of a body striking the floor cooled my fury enough to hold my temper in check. I didn’t strangle Asfour.
I wanted to.
An eye for an eye balanced the scales, and for the moment, we stood even.
“A million,” he gaped. “I paid a million for you, to your blood. It binds us, you and I.”
Footsteps drew close, and the shriveled remains of King Tutankhamun flanked me. Ginger shoved his head and golden hair beneath my hand, shifting and squirming until I gripped his shoulder. The mummy radiated living warmth.
“We’re not bound.” I lifted my hand and beheld a true Pharaoh of Egypt, ancient long before the birth of Christ. Respect would’ve been wise and prudent, but I had greater concerns. Mummies protected, and there was only one I wished I could safeguard from harm. “Protect my fallen.”
Magic worked in mysterious ways, and King Tutankhamun bowed his head and glided to Malcolm. The Stewart men wisely scattered before the mummy, leaving Malcolm alone on the floor. I wouldn’t blame them for abandoning him, not in the face of the living dead—the dead who heeded my words without question.
“Ginger.”
The mummy leaned against my leg and rasped something in ancient Egyptian, two words I didn’t know yet understood all the same. He named me his queen, a pharaoh in my own right, although I didn’t understand why. I supposed it had something to do with my crown, my khepresh, and my declaration of war.
“Take this filthy man out of my sight.” I wanted to kill Asfour, but I restrained myself. It took several long, tense moments before I could force myself to restrain the mummy, too. “Don’t kill him. He should live a long life, remembering the mistake he made today.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “If Malcolm dies from your machinations, you and your descendants will regret it until the end of da
ys.”
Ginger pounced, and Asfour screamed, flailing to escape the mummy. At first, I thought them equals in strength, but then Ginger fisted his desiccated hand and clubbed Asfour upside the head. The man fell limp to the floor.
I gave the mummy space, my teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.
Grabbing Asfour’s foot, Ginger dragged him across the museum in a haphazard zig-zag. The first time the mummy collided with an exhibit, I grimaced. The second time, the display toppled, and I sighed. I watched until the pair disappeared through the doorway leading to the next gallery.
I turned to King Tutankhamun. “Does he live?”
The pharaoh bowed, and the glow surrounding his death mask faded. Unlike Ginger, he didn’t speak, and I wondered about that. The mummy bowed again and stepped away from Malcolm. Every eye in the room watched me. Many had stayed, more than I’d expected. I spotted Caitlin with Malcolm’s clan, her mouth hanging open.
I ignored them and strode to the man who’d been shot because of me, kneeling at his side. Blood stained the floor, although not as much as I feared. I wiped Asfour’s blood away on my kalasiris so I wouldn’t touch Malcolm with it. Most of the crimson came from his nose, which puzzled me. With a shaking hand, I checked his throat for a pulse.
He lived, and my breath left me in a sigh. Slicing through the drawstrings of his pouch, I retrieved my phone. My first call requested an ambulance.
My second summoned the devil, and he didn’t leave me waiting for long. In his silent way, King Tutankhamun bowed to the Lord of Hell.
“I left you alone for an hour. Now look at this place.” Satin snorted flames. “What do you require?”
I pointed at Malcolm. “Take care of him. You’re paying the bill.”
“I am?”
Hissing, I flattened my ears and bared my teeth. “You are.”
The devil threw back his head and laughed. “Why not? Very well. Any other demands?”
“I want names. All involved with his shooting this night. I want their names, so I might make it clear they’ve chosen poorly.”