Awake in Shadows

by Eve Langlais

  “Promise you’re bringing him here.”

  “If it’s safe.”

  “You and Logan can handle anyone,” she stated with assurance, before closing the space between them and throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

  He hugged her back before setting her aside. He then grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips. “Try and behave while I’m gone.”

  She crossed her fingers behind her back. “Of course, I will.”

  With a frown creasing his brow, Titus left. Adara immediately began to pace. Excited that she might finally meet someone who could shed some light on her past.

  Someone who might recognize her.

  A possible killer.

  But she wasn’t worried. If the stranger proved dangerous, then Adara would take care of it. And if she couldn’t, Logan or Titus would. But only after she’d gleaned the truth.

  A knock on the door had her turning and clasping her hands.

  Already?

  Her stomach fluttered with nervousness.

  The door swung open, and the first thing she saw was Stefan, his hands clutching the dagger in his gut. He grunted as he fell to the floor. But that wasn’t what widened her eyes.

  Someone new stood in the doorway. Tall. Wide. His eyes blazing red. His sneer quite ferocious.

  Memories slapped her in quick succession. Each more horrifying than the next. So bad, she hit the floor on her knees, wavering, dizzy with it all. He took a step inside, and she found enough breath to say, “I remember you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The dark lord stared at the male across from him. It wasn’t the clothes that caught his attention—the slacks and plaid shirt out of place amongst the suits and ties—but rather what couldn’t be seen. It didn’t take a keen nose, or a taste of blood, to realize this man wasn’t human.

  Not entirely, at any rate.

  While he did appear humanish at the moment, the one who called himself Logan was also part animal. A remnant of a past when the lines between the species were sometimes blurred.

  The so-called old gods used to enjoy seeding bastards, stealing into bedrooms and deflowering the virgins on their wedding nights. Demanding worship and tithes.

  Greed was their downfall. The bastards they’d sown, and the humans who multiplied, eventually took them down.

  It wasn’t gentle or pretty, and the rebellion almost spread to the other dimensions. The ensuing bloodbath led to certain laws being put in place, prohibiting any form of cross-breeding between the plains. Even travel became restricted.

  Not that everyone obeyed. Who didn’t crave the forbidden? There were those that flouted the laws. That crossed the borders with impunity. Who fornicated and ignored the dangers of creating new species.

  Personally, he didn’t care who fucked and what came out of it. He thought the laws archaic even as he was bound to uphold them. The duty of a dark lord.

  “So, you’re from Hell?” said the Lycan making insignificant conversation.

  Only a human would mispronounce the name of his world. The actual name was Ha’el, and despite what the various bibles and fear mongers claimed, it wasn’t just demons that lived in that wholly different world, but Ifrits. A superior race.

  As part of that elevated class, a dark lord shouldn’t be forced to deal with someone who was, in his world, little more than a pet. However, he was on Earth, not in Ha’el where no one dared meet his gaze.

  Here this Lycan not only met his stare but spoke. Using words, not barks. It almost made him pet the man and offer him a treat.

  Instead he said, “Will your companion be much longer?” Because he only had so much patience.

  “He’ll be here soon.” The Lycan gave him a slow smile. “Maybe.”

  He reminded himself, not for the first time, to tread carefully. The inhabitants of this world had the numbers to overwhelm Ha’el, and the technology to make it a massacre.

  It irritated that his magic wasn’t as strong over here. The metal all around subdued it, not to mention, this science-based world weakened the power he did have.

  Meaning, he had to conserve his strength, play by human rules, and deal with a talking dog.

  His informant had better not have led him astray. But then again, what choice did he have but to listen to the incubus who played servant to a vampire. Another of the hybrids in this world that were usually killed on his side.

  The call from the spy had come not long after his latest dream.

  “I know where you can find her.”

  No need to say who. “About time,” he’d snapped. “What happened to capturing her?”

  “There were complications,” said the one who used the name of Stefan on the Earthly plane.

  He didn’t care if it was complicated or if the incubus found himself caught between two masters. I owned him first.

  He tapped his nails on the armrest of the chair, his impatience hard to contain.

  The annoyance of it all. Waylaid in the vestibule of a hotel. He could have shoved his way past the guard dog; however, even he should show care before causing trouble in the residence of one of the ancient ones.

  Dragons had long memories.

  “How much longer must we wait?” he asked tersely. Sitting here grated, especially since he knew she was close. The thread wavered in and out of existence, his proximity to her weakening the spell hiding it.

  So. Close.

  He needed to see her. The woman with the violet eyes. The one bearing his mark.

  She’s alive.

  Impossible.

  He’d felt her die. A heart-stopping, joint-weakening moment as the mark between them glowed, then the next moment, was extinguished.

  He’d searched for her. Desperate for an answer. Looking for someone to wreak vengeance upon. Yet the more he sought, the more he found evidence of her lies. Her perfidy.

  He should have known. Her kind had ever hated the Ifrits.

  And yet, he’d foolishly allowed himself to hope. Foolishly believed her lying lips.

  “Who is it you say you’re looking for again?” the wolf in human’s clothing asked.

  “She goes by a different name on this plane. A different shape and face, too.” He frowned. “But the eyes, they are the same. The one thing that can’t be changed.” Just like his eyes, behind the mirrored glasses, were unique.

  “And what do you want with her?”

  To see her one last time before he killed her.

  To make her apologize before she died.

  To see her expression when he asked why?

  Worst of all, he still asked himself why he cared. How could he have allowed himself to commit the ultimate sin?

  “So, this is the man who’s been seeding mayhem and murder.”

  A new fellow joined them, his slacks perfectly pressed, as was the white shirt tucked into them. His blond hair was slicked back, his expression haughty and at odds with the scruffier appearance of the wolf.

  This must be Titus, the vampire his informant worked for. If both men were here, then surely the woman he sought was, too.

  Logan kept his gaze fixed on the only true threat in the room. “Actually, this isn’t the same guy that came to my place. He’s new. But by the smell of him, also some kind of demon fellow.”

  “You would insult me by comparing me to the baser races of Ha’el?” He bristled.

  “Who are you?” asked the vampire. The strange scent of him irritated the Ifrit’s senses. This was what happened when mistakes weren’t killed upon their birth. They ended up creating minions.

  “Who I am is none of your concern. I am here to meet the woman in your custody.” He held up his hand. “And before you make false claims, I know she’s here.” He almost slipped and said, “your man Stefan told me so” but given he might have need of the incubus in the future, he held his tongue.

  “Woman? No idea what you’re talking about,” the vampire lied smoothly.

  He regarded Titus through hooded eyes, tempte
d to string him from his heels and bleed him. He abstained. “The stench of her clings to you.” Familiar and strange all at once. It oozed from the vampire and made his fingers twitch. He should throttle the Cabal leader. Press his fingers into that smooth column and crush it for daring to—

  He fought against the unexpected jealousy. For a woman that might yet only be a stranger.

  “What do you want with her?” asked Logan, dropping the pretense.

  “Simply to meet her and see if she is the one I seek.”

  “Who are you seeking?”

  “None of your concern.”

  “Adara is my concern, so if you want to lay eyes on her, you might want to start talking,” the wolf growled.

  “Don’t you have something to piss on?” He fixed his gaze on the wolf. “I’ve been polite enough to accede to your request to meet your companion. He’s here. Now, take me to the woman.”

  “What will you do if she is the one you’re looking for?” Titus asked.

  Kill her. Probably not the answer to bring him closer to her. “If she is whom I seek, then I have some questions about her disappearance.”

  “What makes you think Adara is the one you’re looking for?”

  Things the incubus told him, plus the dreams. Especially the most recent and strange one. “Call it instinct.” An intuition he couldn’t trust because it had believed her dead all this time.

  “I don’t trust him,” growled the wolf.

  He leaned back in his seat and offered a lazy smile. “Good. Because I am not trustworthy.”

  “He’s here alone,” Titus remarked.

  “And?” Logan eyed him from under furrowed brows. “There’s something about him that’s shifty.”

  “That discomfort you feel is because you recognize you’re in the presence of someone superior.” Said quite smugly.

  It brought the wolf out of his seat, but the vampire held him back. “Not here. They’ll kick you out.”

  “Then we’ll go outside.” Logan clenched his fists.

  “Do you really think you’re a match for me?” he mocked. “I have a stable of your kind in Ha’el that I use for hunting.”

  “Bastard.” The vampire stepped between them and glared. “Would you stop baiting him.”

  “Why? I find it rather amusing.”

  “I’m sure you do, but if you’d like to meet Adara, then I’d suggest you stop.”

  “Giving a long-suffering sigh, he agreed. “If I must. Now, if you’re done, shall we get this over with?”

  “Let’s go.” Titus gestured before heading back to the elevators.

  “Are you insane?” Logan hissed, keeping pace with them.

  “You know we have to. She needs to meet him.”

  Logan barked, “But we don’t even know his freaking name.”

  “I am Desmond.”

  “And you’re a demon lord?” Titus queried.

  They entered an elevator cab, the wolf showing a snarl to those who would have joined them. The doors swished shut.

  “Lord, yes, but I am no demon. My blood is pure. I am an Ifrit,” he said as the vampire punched the number thirteen.

  “Isn’t that a fancy name for a genie?”

  Desmond sneered. “The djinn you speak of are barely better than a demon.”

  “Hold on. So you aren’t a demon at all?” Logan asked.

  “No.”

  “But that Mammon fellow—”

  Desmond interrupted. “Mammon? You’ve seen him?”

  “Yeah, he’s been to my house a few times. Kind of an asshole.”

  Also, a rival. His half-brother always did his best to bring Desmond down.

  “Mammon is what happens when an Ifrit forgets his position and mates outside his class.” It happened, but it was frowned upon. “Usually, a half-breed would be killed upon birth, but my father saw potential in him.”

  “More like he saw a monster,” muttered Logan.

  The wolf wasn’t far from the truth.

  “This woman you’re looking for, is she from Hell, too?” asked the vampire.

  The question showed how little they knew.

  “No.”

  “Is she from here?” Titus asked.

  “No.” Desmond smirked. “There are so many worlds out there. More than you can imagine. It is amusing you think yourselves so grand on the scale when, in fact, your dimension is one of the weakest.”

  “So weak we’ve kicked all the demon ass sent our way,” boasted the wolf.

  “You’ve been attacked? Impossible. Violent incursions are forbidden.”

  “Yet it happened. More than once.”

  The words brought a frown to Desmond’s face. “That is a grave accusation.” And had to be unsanctioned.

  “Don’t worry. We left no survivors.” Logan showed teeth.

  “Pity. We have a rather special punishment for those who disobey.” Because the laws about interfering on the human plane were clear.

  “Isn’t that a load of shit? Why would you punish them for following your orders?” said the wolf with a sneer.

  “Not my orders.”

  “Didn’t you send them?” asked the vampire.

  “I will admit, I originally planned to send forth a force to capture this Adara. However, common sense prevailed.” And the fact that he preferred to keep his head on his shoulders. “I relied instead on my spy network to gather information.”

  “I don’t believe him. The fucker wants Adara. Of course, he’s behind the attacks. He probably killed the witch, too. Well, guess what? You can’t have Adara,” Logan snarled. “Send as many demons as you like. They won’t get a claw on her.”

  “These demons you claim attacked, they went after the woman?”

  “Numerous times.”

  “Was she injured?” Desmond asked.

  “No,” barked the dog. “But it was close.”

  The vampire’s cool gaze turned pensive. “Given what you’ve said, I am of the impression this woman you speak of betrayed you in some way.”

  “She did.”

  “So how do you expect us to believe you didn’t send demons after her for revenge?”

  Desmond narrowed his gaze. “I already told you, I didn’t send them. And not just because of the laws preventing those kinds of acts in this world. I handle my own problems.”

  “If you handle them personally, then why send that asshole Mammon?”

  His face tightened, and a sharp burst of anger filled him. “Mammon is not my ally.”

  “Says you.”

  The wolf might doubt, but Desmond knew the truth. After she’d disappeared, it was Mammon who divulged Desmond’s perfidy. The one who told his king about Desmond’s trespass and caused his demotion among the lords.

  The one who gloated at her death.

  Except…she didn’t die. Either Mammon lied, or he didn’t know what happened to her.

  “If you value her life, you won’t let him see her.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Logan asked.

  “She’s supposed to be dead.”

  “So you admit wanting her to die?” The door slid open onto a hall.

  “I never wanted her dead, you fools.”

  Desmond might have thought it was his declaration that caused one of his escorts to curse and the other to mutter, “we were played,” but that wasn’t the true reason.

  A door farther up the hallway was open. The myriad scents were eye-opening.

  Violence. Blood. Demon. Bastard. And…

  No mistaking it. Not this close.

  A hand grabbed Desmond by the neck and shoved him into the wall. “What did you do?”

  He snarled right back. “I did nothing. You were the one who kept stalling in the vestibule. It would seem you left her vulnerable to attack.”

  “Logan, we don’t have time for this.” Titus strode down the hall and through the open door. Only to yell. “Stefan is down, and Adara is gone.”

  The wolf tightened his grip. “Where is she
? Where did your partner take her?”

  “I have no partner. Do not blame me for your incompetence. And I’ve had enough of being polite to the riff-raff.”

  With a twist, Desmond freed himself. His turn to snare the wolf by the shirt and lift him off the ground. Then in a voice much too calm that nonetheless vibrated everything in the hall, he said, “If she’s dead because of your incompetence, you will suffer for an eternity.”

  The vampire emerged from the room and bellowed, “Enough posturing, both of you. We need to find Adara. Now. Logan, shut your yapper and put your nose to work. You,”—the vampire jabbed a finger at Desmond—“start talking. Who is Adara, and why does this Mammon character want her?”

  “Mammon is my half-brother, and if this Adara is who I think she might be, then he’s taken her to hurt me.”

  “How does having her hurt you?” asked the vampire, jogging after the large, black wolf bounding up the hall.

  “Because I think she is my missing fiancée.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The sight of his face slammed Adara with a memory she could have done without.

  Like a horror movie, the kind that flashed grotesque images, she streamed through a series of horrific events. Him, between her legs, his face twisted in cruelty, his scarred body nude, the better he might rape her over and over.

  His fists, the studded band across the knuckles giving him maximum effect. The kicks by his booted toes. His laughter and encouragement as the demons he commanded desecrated her body. Scarred her soul.

  This thing in front of her, who wasn’t quite a demon, and was definitely not a man, was the reason she hurt. Over and over. Because he’d also healed her. Whenever she would find herself on the cusp of death, begging for its sweet oblivion, he’d yank her back.

  He. Healed. Me. So he could start over.

  No amount of bravery in the world could have forced Adara to stay and face him. Not with terror making her muscles tense and limp at the same time.

  With a cruel and cocky smile, he said, “Did you miss me?”

  No.

  No!

  Mouth open wide, trying to scream—but with nothing coming out—she whirled to run.