by Eve Langlais
“Maybe, but it’s kept us alive and hidden for centuries. Think of it as a balance and check.”
He turned onto his street, and she shook her head. “I am not going home with you.”
“Where else you gonna go?”
“I should go to work.” If they hadn’t fired her for being a no-show that morning.
“It’s Saturday.”
“What? How?” she asked. She’d gone to the club Thursday night.
“They gave you a pretty potent dose of something. They obviously know you are a badass.” Flattering if false.
“I can’t believe I lost a whole day.” Did she also lose her job? She wouldn’t know until Monday. “I guess you’d better take me home.”
“You mean that basement? That ain’t a home, honey. Stay with me.”
“I’m not ready, Logan.” She’d accepted his help once before, and it had put both him and Titus in danger.
“You know I won’t hurt you. I just want to help.”
She knew he did, but the fact of the matter remained: staying close to her wouldn’t prove healthy for Logan or Titus. Which was another reason why being angry at them was easier. Angry feelings pushed them away, kept them safe.
Now, if only they’d stop being so darned stubborn.
The truck passed his house and kept going. He said nothing as he drove her to the church.
Not one word. And she didn’t dare break the silence.
He pulled to a stop before turning to her. “It’s not safe for you to be alone.”
“Am I alone?” she asked with an arched brow. “I know you’re going to park your furry butt across the street again.”
“I am. And maybe now’s a good time to mention I would be a lot more comfortable if you invited me inside.”
Logan and her alone in a room? The panic in her stomach fluttered, the rabid beating wings of a million butterflies.
“I can’t.” She slammed the door after she’d jumped out of the truck. Ignored him staring as she stomped into the church itself. While she didn’t pray to any gods, she enjoyed the serenity inside and the way the light streamed through the stained glass.
She stayed inside the church for over an hour, thinking. Her mind a chaotic mess.
Since it refused to clear, she asked to borrow a phone from the woman who lit a candle every day at three.
When Adara’s shrink picked up, she said, “I need to see you.”
Rather than ask her to wait until next Tuesday, Dr. Bevin replied, “I’ve got an opening at 6 p.m.”
Chapter Eight
Titus roused earlier than expected and stretched before allowing himself to reach for a remote to turn on one of the many monitors he had lining his bedroom wall. Only one channel interested him. A video feed for a certain room trimmed in gold and white.
An empty room.
But he didn’t immediately jump to conclusions. A tentative tug on the link between himself and Adara showed it distant, yet intact.
She lived, she just wasn’t here.
Bloody Logan. Titus knew the dog couldn’t be trusted. First chance he got, he’d stolen Adara away.
Rising from his bed, Titus ignored his nudity and rang for his manservant. Stefan arrived while he showered, but that didn’t stop Titus from questioning him.
“Where is Adara?” Titus asked, rinsing the shampoo from his hair.
“She left with the wolf.”
“And you didn’t stop them?” Titus snapped.
“I thought your orders were to watch but not interfere with her.”
A grimace creased Titus’s features, and he used warm water to relax them. “That was before she was attacked last night.”
“Are you sure they were targeting her?” Stefan queried. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone broke the rules and kidnapped a local.”
“Seems a rather large coincidence that demons would attack her in particular. Demons that didn’t see fit to report their presence in my town.” Titus poked his head around the edge of the stone wall of his shower to stare at his manservant.
“What?” Stefan steadily met his gaze.
“Why is it I didn’t know of their arrival?” Said in a deceptively soft voice.
“Are you implying something?” Stefan replied stiffly.
At times, Titus forgot his manservant—who was an incubus—was actually a hybrid. The result of a coupling between a human and a demon. The mechanics of which turned more than a few stomachs.
However, with demons now being an issue every time Titus turned around, he had to wonder about Stefan’s loyalty.
“Should I be implying something? You’re usually better informed.”
“I can’t know everything,” Stefan grumbled.
“No, but I do expect you to keep track when a trio of beings from the Underworld suddenly choose not only to visit my territory,”—his voice rose—“but then, by happenstance, find themselves in attendance at an establishment the same night Adara is present.”
“You’re thinking it was on purpose?”
“I know it was.” Titus stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel Stefan handed him. He wrapped the warm and large terrycloth around his damp body and padded into his closet, knowing Stefan followed.
“Who do you think sent them?” Stefan asked.
“You tell me. You’re the one with ties to Hell.”
“Ties I cut a long time ago.”
“Did you?” Titus shot him an assessing glance.
“I’ve proven my loyalty.”
Indeed, he had. So why did Titus feel as if his man hid something from him? “Be that as it may, there seems to be a resurgence of interest in Adara.”
“Think we got another necromancer coming after her?”
Given their rarity? “Doubtful. And wasn’t it you that once told me demons don’t take orders from humans.”
“They don’t take orders from anyone but their masters.”
“Masters being a Hell lord.”
“What would a Hell lord want with the likes of her?” Stefan’s lip curled.
It never ceased to amaze Titus that Stefan continued to dislike Adara. She’d never done a thing to him. Yet Stefan truly hated her.
“If a Hell lord wants her fetched, then there must be a good reason. I am also sure this won’t be the last attempt.” Titus continued dressing and changed the subject. “Speaking of which, those demons arrested by the local constabulary… Did you have a chance to question them? Perhaps find out who their lord is?”
“My connection didn’t come on shift until this afternoon, so I spent last night talking to the border guards. None of them have any record of a trio crossing. All the travelers to this side are accounted for.”
“So they snuck through somewhere,” Titus mused aloud. “Then it’s more important than ever we find out more about them. Given the arrested demons would have been under observation, they might have revealed something. Call your contact at the station. I want to know who, if anyone, came to see them. If they’ve been released, I want to know where they went and who paid for their bail. Any camera footage of them. Anything at all. I especially want to know where they went after their release.” Because it wouldn’t even take a decent lawyer to have them out for lack of evidence and firm charges.
“On it, boss.” Stefan pivoted and pulled out his phone only to frown.
“Is there a problem?”
“Stupid thing is dead. Which is weird because I had it charging all night.”
“Another defective battery?”
“I guess,” Stefan replied. “I’ll grab a replacement and then arrange to meet my friend.”
“Call me the moment you have news,” Titus said, tying his cravat. “Oh, and one more thing, Stefan.”
His man turned back. “You need something else?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I want you to remember you work for me.”
“I won’t betray you.”
“You’d better not.” Because Titus knew of one
place that tended to screw with electronics and it wasn’t here on Earth.
Chapter Nine
Heading on foot to her shrink’s appointment—her stride somehow longer than it had been weeks before—Adara couldn’t help but cast a wary eye at the darkening sky. Twilight would come early tonight with all those clouds. Night would fall upon the land before she’d finished unloading the turmoil in her head onto her doctor.
Good thing Adara didn’t fear the night anymore. Not like she used to. Being in the necromancer’s clutches, helpless and beyond afraid, had done something to her. Snapped the tendril of terror that she’d gotten so used to.
Sure, she’d been a babbling mess while getting chewed on by the undead, but afterwards… She looked back on it with a grimace of distaste but also a sense of pride.
Pride because she’d survived—and didn’t crave brains. Nor did she end up turning into a giant wolf—which, at times, she thought might be kind of cool—nor did she get an urge to put on a slutty dress and pounce on a guy’s neck. She remained, if not quite human, at least no stranger than before.
But she was getting taller. Holding herself straight accounted for some of it, but it didn’t explain the three inches she’d gained. Later-in-life growth spurt? Was that a thing?
Another thing she didn’t know. Just like she needed to learn her limits. Two nights ago, she’d gotten a bitch slap, as her coworker Jolena would have said. She’d been cocky going into that bar. Confident because of her minor victories with small monsters—who, as it turned out, weren’t even demons.
Adara hadn’t paid attention and had gotten cornered in the girl’s bathroom of all places. The hunter became the prey. It burned that those three demons had so easily schooled her. Maybe she wasn’t as strong as she thought.
In my dream, I am not daunted by the number.
In her dream, she also had a sword.
Its name is Diimon Makir. It was a gift from my father.
As quickly as the thought came, it drifted away, leaving her almost gasping.
Father?
Who?
What?
Her mind spun. This was the first time Adara had ever thought of a father. I guess I must have had one, though. One who loved her enough to gift her with a sword.
A sword? What kind of messed-up childhood did she have that required giving a small child a sharp weapon? Because she did recall being young when she first grabbed its pommel. Which made no sense. The last time she’d held the sword, she was a grown woman. Could a weapon grow with its owner?
Why not? Nothing else Adara remembered was normal, why would the toy her father gifted her be?
The nurses should have called Adara Dorothy instead. After all, she used to live in an Oz-ish place and was thrust into this world by accident.
Thinking of her father, whom she couldn’t picture at all, made her wonder about her mother. Was she a part of Adara’s life?
Not a single wisp of memory gave her a clue. She didn’t let it bother her. At least she was starting to remember.
Her steps slowed as she reached her destination, her longer stride getting her places faster. Faster than should be possible, but she didn’t question it.
The brownstone in front of her had only a few lights on to fight the rapidly descending gloom. Saturday night, and most people didn’t want to be working. She gnawed her lower lip. Perhaps she should have waited until her next session. Her doctor more than likely had places to be that were much more fun.
The building itself was boring. Three stories, brick exterior, tall and skinny. Rather than make it into several condos, someone had gotten the bright idea to convert it into offices. As to how Adara had found Dr. Bevin in the first place, she’d come at the encouragement of the women’s shelter. They’d taken one look at her haunted eyes and declared that she needed someone to talk to.
Adara hadn’t agreed at the time. How would talking help? But she went to the first appointment anyway.
What she didn’t expect was to spill the truth to the prim and proper doctor. It had felt good to let it all out, even if Dr. Bevin didn’t believe. Who could blame her? Demons and other impossible things? Adara didn’t want to believe it herself at times.
However, her psychiatrist’s disbelief didn’t stop Adara from talking about it. She needed someone to listen to how crazy her life had become. Although, she did worry that she’d walk into a room of burly men ready with a straight jacket one of these days.
Then again, it might be relaxing to be somewhere where she didn’t have to deal with a stalking werewolf, an obsessed vampire, the undead, or demons.
Must be nice to be normal.
She approached the front of the building. The steps were plain concrete, leading to a door with several names printed on it. Her shrink was on the top floor. The stairs proved easy to climb. Adara now also took them in pairs, challenging herself and reaching the top landing without losing her breath. The door in front of her with the title Dr. Bevin’s Counselling Services opened the moment she turned the knob. She entered a tiny waiting room, empty but for a pair of chairs flanking a small table stacked with magazines.
How can you improve your sex life? screamed the headline on one with a brunette, her lips pursed, her hair impossibly perfect, and skin utterly flawless.
Adara’s sex life would be improved simply by her not turning into a possessed freak when a man touched her. It kind of killed the mood. Logan was the first and only guy to really try and get close. It hadn’t ended well. And she’d yet to let anyone try again.
The light over the entrance to the inner sanctum remained dark. Adara sat and waited for her turn. Wondering what she’d say.
So, I was kidnapped by demons last night… Could be a short session that resulted in a ride to the looney bin.
The bulb illuminated, and she rose, still undecided as to what she’d say.
Entering, she noticed Dr. Bevin peering outside, looking elegant as usual, wearing a powder blue pantsuit. She’d chosen to wear her naturally kinked hair in a bun atop her head with a few wisps escaping. When she turned, Adara could see the freshly applied lip gloss but little additional makeup. Her dark complexion looked as smooth as ever, her eyes serious behind her red-rimmed glasses.
“Evening, Adara.”
“Hi, Dr. Bevin. Thank you for seeing me.” Adara plopped into the overstuffed armchair that she preferred to the couch.
“You sounded quite frazzled on the phone. What’s happened?”
Opening her mouth, Adara assumed she’d tell the doctor about the attack. Instead, she blurted, “I forgave Logan. We’re friends again.”
The doctor blinked. “You saw him?”
“You might say that. He was following me last night.”
“Which isn’t healthy behavior. We discussed you speaking to the police and getting a restraining order.”
Adara’s lips pursed. “I can’t do that to him. He’s not hurting me. He just wants to make sure I’m safe.”
“His excuses don’t make it right. Did you read the pamphlets I gave you?”
The one detailing the statistics of abuse on women, how to recognize it and try to put a stop to it. Except Logan wasn’t an abuser.
“I told you, Logan hasn’t hurt me.” He just didn’t understand that he needed to stay away for his own protection. “Anyhow, we ended up talking.”
“Only talking?” The doctor had taken a seat across from Adara and had her pad and pen out. “Did anything else happen?”
She wanted to say, “He saved my life.” Instead, Adara shook her head. “He was a perfect gentleman. Even helped me out of a spot of trouble. Him and Titus.”
“You saw them both last night?” Scritch, scratch, the pen wiggled madly.
“Yeah, although I didn’t talk to Titus for long.” Because he had other plans that night. Plans with someone else. “By the time I woke up at his place, he was snoozing for the day.”
The doctor paused and laid down her pen. “Back up a moment, Adara. Wh
at do you mean you woke up at his place? Do you recall how you got there?”
“Not exactly.” She squirmed. “Remember that spot of trouble I mentioned?”
The doctor said nothing, just kept her gaze.
“I was attacked by three demons in drag in the ladies’ room at the bar.”
For some reason, this caused Dr. Bevin to remove her glasses and pinch the bridge of her nose. “Oh, Adara.” The way she said it made Adara cringe…half-sigh, half-chagrin.
“It’s true, I swear. The demons rushed me, and I was fighting them off. Winning, too until they drugged me. Seems like their plan was to kidnap me, but Logan and Titus rescued me from the trunk of the demons’ car.”
“Supposedly.”
“It happened.”
“But you don’t recall any of it, do you? According to you, you woke up in Titus’s home.”
“Wearing clothes,” she felt a need to add. “They didn’t do any funny stuff, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“So you think. You don’t know that for sure.”
Actually, she did. Despite being annoyed with them, she trusted them implicitly. “They wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Really?” The doctor put her glasses back on before jabbing her pen in Adara’s direction. “I see bruises.”
“From the demons.”
“Enough,” the doctor said sharply. “You need to stop it, Adara. We both know the demons you keep talking about are Logan and Titus. They’re your monsters.”
Ah, yes, the most recent theory. That Adara was projecting her strange fantasy on the men in order to handle the abuse.
“They’re not the bad guys.”
“Yes, they are, and you need to recognize that they are not healthy for you. Only then will you begin to heal and rid yourself of demons,” the doctor emphasized with some finger quotes.
“The demons are real, and you’re wrong about Logan and Titus. I’m the one who’s bad for them. I’ve been avoiding them so they won’t get hurt.”
“How can you hurt them?” the doctor exclaimed. “From what you’ve told me, they’re both much larger than you.”
Adara snorted. “It’s not me they have to be worried about, it’s my enemies.”