Heart of the Demon

by Cynthia Garner

  Right now, if she let him get too close, he’d be more likely to figure out she was up to something, and she wasn’t ready for that. She didn’t like lying to him, because friends didn’t do that to each other.

  She focused on her own food and made sure to keep their conversation light, because Finn was one sharp cookie. Not much got past him, and without knowing where he stood on things she didn’t want to clue him in on what she was up to.

  Finished with his meal, he wiped his mouth on the paper napkin and crumpled it, tossing it onto his plate. “Damn, that was good.” He glanced around. “Coming here was a great idea.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad you could join me.” She’d eaten all of her salad and had made it through all of her fries and had only a bite or two of burger left, but she was close to being stuffed. She had to stop now, or she’d have to be rolled out the door. She crisscrossed her silverware on her plate to signal the waiter she was done.

  “You’re not gonna finish that?” Finn asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m full.”

  “Hmm.” He shoved his plate out of the way and slid hers in front of him. He finished off the food and then leaned back, patting his stomach. “No sense in letting it go to waste.”

  “No, instead we’ll let it go to your waist,” she murmured.

  He grinned. “Demon metabolism,” he boasted with another pat on his flat belly. “Plus my job keeps me pretty active.”

  “I imagine so,” she said. She’d never really liked thinking about exactly what his job as Lucifer’s enforcer entailed. But since he’d brought it up…“Chasing down rogue demons and killing them must use up a lot of energy.”

  “I don’t always kill them,” he muttered, his eyes flashing with yellow sparks of annoyance. “Sometimes I do, if the situation warrants it. I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t deserve to die.”

  She kept her voice low. “If killing is wrong in the first place, how do you justify taking someone’s life?” She leaned her elbows on the table and held his gaze.

  He heaved a sigh. “I’m not going to get into a debate about capital punishment with you, Keira,” he rejoined, his own voice soft and deep. “I know some fey are tree huggers, some of you more literally than others, but you’re also preternaturals, and you know you can’t judge prets by the same rules you use for humans. We can’t build prisons for the deadliest pret criminals. It’s too dangerous to keep them alive. That’s one thing the council’s gotten right.” He signaled the waiter. “Anyway, I don’t kill demons who keep their aggression within the pret community. Well, unless they’ve implemented an unsanctioned blood feud against another clan. Usually, it’s only those who harm humans who pay the penalty with their lives.”

  She knew what he was saying had basis in fact. In order to keep peace with humanity, prets had to pay a higher price for their transgressions. Otherwise people like Senator Martin and the judicial committee would get their way and the wholesale tagging of preternaturals, maybe even internment camps. And that was unacceptable. Most of them hadn’t asked to be here, and many of them, her included, had done their best to live good, decent lives since they’d arrived on Earth. They tried to make the most of a bad situation.

  “Fair enough,” she said quietly. “I’m not judging.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Sounded to me like you were.”

  Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to invite him to lunch. She was feeling raw, off her game, because she was right back in the old life she’d tried so hard to leave behind. Even if it was the right thing to do, she couldn’t feel completely right about it. And it was making her a tad cranky.

  Reaching out, she placed her hand on his forearm where it rested on the table. His muscles flexed beneath her fingers but he didn’t otherwise move. “I’m not judging,” she stressed. “I guess this is one area where we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

  “Do you really think that a demon who’s gone rogue, one who has gotten a taste for human blood or flesh, can really be kept locked behind bars for the rest of his life?” Finn took a sip of his soda. “The stress of being in prison tends to shorten folks’ lifespan by a few years, so for most humans a life sentence might, at best, be fifty or sixty years. For a pret,” he shook his head, “you’re talking hundreds, even thousands, of years.”

  “I realize that, but—”

  “Do you remember how being imprisoned felt, Keira?” He flipped his hand over and wrapped it around her fingers. His skin was warm and rough. “When you were in the other dimension and were brought to the Detention Center for trial, do you remember what that was like?”

  “Of course,” she responded in a quiet voice. It was a memory that would never leave her. Even with over three thousand years between her and the event, it remained as sharp in her mind as ever. The shock, the fear, the guilt, it was all still part of her.

  As was the shock, fear, and guilt at taking over an innocent’s life here on Earth, a woman who’d been a wife and mother. A queen. Granted, she had been queen of one of numerous Bronze Age tribes that inhabited Ireland back then, but she’d been a queen nevertheless. And while the queen no longer had control of her own body, her personality—her soul—had become woven with Keira’s to make her the woman she was today.

  A woman who wanted to do better. To be better.

  He shifted on his seat. “Imagine what being imprisoned for thousands of years would be like. Think of what that could do to someone’s psyche.”

  She couldn’t picture it. She thought someone locked away, no freedom of choice, would indeed have damage to their emotional well-being. It would make her insane, that was certain.

  As the waiter came to the table, Finn let go of her hand. He lifted his hip and pulled out his wallet. After looking over the bill, he fished out two twenties. He handed them to the young man with a murmured “Keep the change.”

  “I didn’t invite you to lunch so you’d pick up the tab,” Keira said. She looked at the waiter and held out one hand. “May I see the bill, please? I’d like to pay my half.”

  “I’ve got it, Keira.” Finn motioned the server to leave. The young man walked away and Finn said, “Let me be chivalrous for once, okay? I don’t get that many opportunities.”

  She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Fine. Far be it from me to insist on my independence at the cost of your male ego.” She smiled to soften her teasing. “Thank you.”

  His answering smile reflected in his eyes. “My pleasure.” He leaned closer and cupped his palm around the nape of her neck. His thumb rubbed lightly against the base of her head. The warmth and weight of his hand against her skin made her feel feminine and cherished. “So,” he said softly, snagging her gaze with his, “will I see you later?”

  She’d promised Javier she’d meet him at the club this evening—he’d said he had a message for her from Stefan—but she couldn’t tell Finn that. He hadn’t been too pleased to see her go off with the vampire before. He certainly wouldn’t understand it now, and she couldn’t explain why she was doing it.

  “I have plans tonight,” she murmured and tried to keep from moaning at his touch. Despite her efforts she couldn’t keep herself from tilting her head to give him better access to muscles that were tight from stress. But it was more than that. She loved his touch, the feel of his strong fingers kneading her flesh. Taking a deep breath, she straightened and looked him in the eyes. “Finn, what are we doing?”

  He cocked a brow. “I’m giving you a little neck massage, and you seem to be enjoying it.”

  “I am, but that’s not what I meant.” She reluctantly pulled away. She couldn’t think straight with his hands on her. “Where are things going with us?”

  She half expected him to prevaricate, to say something like Where do you want things to go? Instead, he studied her, his eyes dark, intent, and interested. He leaned toward her and brought his hand to her face, cupping her jaw. Her heart quickened as she waited for his reply.

  His phone buzzed. �
�Hang on a sec.” He pulled his hand away and fished his phone from the pocket of his jeans. It vibrated again before he pressed a button and stared down at the screen. His face twisted into a scowl. “Damn it.” Looking up at her, he said, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” He held up his phone. “Duty calls.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “But I guarantee we’ll finish this conversation soon.” He bent and cupped her face in one broad palm, and pressed his mouth to hers, a long, lingering melding of lips that stole her breath as they always did. He straightened, letting his hand linger against her jaw a moment before his mouth twisted with regret and he turned away.

  Keira watched him walk out, wondering what the text was about to put such a dark look on his face. Of course, with secrets of her own, she couldn’t begrudge him his. With a sigh she took her napkin off her lap and placed it on the table, then stood and headed toward the door. She had more jewelers to hang out with this afternoon.

  Joy.

  Chapter Seven

  Finn swung his leg over his bike and sat on the leather seat, wincing as heat bit through his jeans. The text he’d received was from Lucifer, telling him to call. Apparently his father had gotten tired of him not answering his phone.

  He pressed the three-digit speed dial and waited for Lucifer to answer. When he did, Finn said, “What’s up?”

  “We’ve just got report of a demon attack against a human near Fashion Square mall,” Lucifer said, his voice taut. “I want you to check out the crime scene. Discreetly, of course.”

  “Of course.” Finn frowned. Keira came out of the restaurant and lifted her hand in a wave before turning and walking away. Where was she going, anyway? She’d been evasive at lunch, though that was nothing new with her, especially lately. She seemed to love to tease him, which he didn’t mind in the least. Someone who liked you well enough to tease you without malicious intent, well, there was promise of something more there. Something deeper.

  Which he couldn’t give her, he reminded himself. She already had more of a hold on him than anyone else ever had, and it made him jittery. He didn’t like feeling jittery. If things went further between them, well, he had a lot of enemies. Someone could decide to use her to even a score.

  With his gaze centered on her swaying ass, Finn asked his father, “Since when do we go check out anything at a crime scene? We don’t report to the council, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.” His father’s aggravation came over the line with clarity. “But the closer the next rift gets, the more volatile things are between humans and prets. And since most humans are still ignorant of demons’ true existence, I’d like to keep it that way. It’s better for them. It’s definitely better for us.”

  “Right.” Finn watched Keira until she turned a corner and went out of sight. He’d figure her out one day. He focused his full attention back on the phone call. “It won’t do for humans to start thinking that maybe their holy books are actually true.”

  Lucifer heaved a sigh. “Do you remember what happened when they became aware for the first time that vampires and werewolves were real? And living next door? Fathers set sons on fire. Sons staked fathers through the heart. Special orders of silver bullets went through the roof.” He paused then said quietly, “What do you think will happen when they realize that demons who tempt them to wickedness, who thwart God’s will at every turn, as they believe, are real?”

  The reaction wouldn’t be pretty. “And in order to downplay that, you stuck with the name Lucifer Demonicus?” Finn couldn’t wait for his father to wiggle out of that one.

  Another long-suffering sigh. “Up to this point people have thought it was my shtick. A gimmick. Besides, how many dealings do I have with humans? Very few. A miniscule amount, really, and usually by accident.”

  He was right. Most of the companies Lucifer controlled that had anything to do with humans were set up very carefully to keep his name off the record. Ninety-nine percent of humans had no idea that Lucifer existed, let alone that he owned the company that built the mall they shopped at, or held major shares in the company that financed their home mortgage.

  As long as those companies operated legitimately, and Lucifer was adamant that they did, his name was never brought up. He’d grown quite wealthy over the millennia directing things from behind the scenes, and Finn knew he aimed to keep it that way. Those who knew him regarded him with respect. Those who didn’t know him, had heard of him and held him in awe. And fear.

  Which was the way Lucifer preferred it.

  “Where’s the crime scene?” Finn asked. After his father gave the address, he ended the call. Finn slipped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and started up his bike. The throaty roar of the bike’s engine and the raw, powerful vibration beneath his body was the reason he had a bike and not a car. It somehow made him feel invincible and unrestricted.

  After only a few minutes he pulled his motorcycle up to the curb in front of a vacant dirt lot on North Scottsdale Road as one of the human liaisons, Piper Peterson, got out of her car. She was in her usual attire, a dark gray pant suit with a no-nonsense button-down white blouse. Black boots with clunky heels completed the professional outfit. He didn’t know her well, but every time he saw her he thought she needed to loosen up a bit. She ducked beneath the yellow tape that cordoned off the scene and began talking to a uniformed officer who stood just inside the perimeter.

  Finn approached the area and saw the demon, shoulders slouched, sitting off to one side on the tailgate of a battered pickup truck. The truck had a bright orange sticker on the driver’s-side window, signaling that it was an abandoned vehicle and was due to be towed. The human was in the back of an ambulance, blood on his face and hands, and a perpetual wince on his battered face.

  As Finn started to stoop to go under the police tape, another uniformed officer stopped him. “This is a crime scene, sir,” he said. “Only law enforcement personnel are allowed.”

  That drew Piper’s attention. “Finn,” she greeted him. She thumbed over her shoulder at the demon. “I just got here myself. Is he one of yours?”

  “Yep.” Finn stared at the police officer and then looked at Piper again. “I was asked to check things out.”

  “I’ll vouch for him,” she said to the uniform. “Let him in.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He lifted the tape without a word.

  “Thanks,” Finn murmured. He walked toward Piper, his boots kicking up dust as he went. “What’s the story?”

  She started heading toward the pickup truck where the demon waited. Finn fell into step beside her. “According to the first officer on scene,” she said, “the man over there”—she gestured toward the ambulance—“was walking through this lot, minding his own business, and your demon attacked him without provocation.”

  “Uh-huh.” Rarely did demons attack without provocation of any sort, but it wasn’t impossible.

  “The human has a broken nose and a few cracked ribs. Contusions and abrasions on his knuckles where he fought back. Nothing serious, though.”

  “Whether the attack was provoked or not, he should consider himself lucky his injuries weren’t more severe,” Finn muttered. Not many humans tangled with a demon and were able to walk away from the encounter.

  “Yeah, well, you’d better keep that opinion to yourself. It won’t go over well with the victim. And since you’re here acting in the role of liaison, you should know that part of a liaison’s job is to try to smooth things over. You know, rather than further enflame the situation.” She shot him a sidelong glance.

  “Funny.” It was, actually. He’d had no idea Piper had such a dry sense of humor. “I’ll do my best not to escalate things.”

  “Thanks. That’ll make my job easier.”

  She turned and headed toward the ambulance. Finn kept going until he reached the pickup truck. “I’m Finn Evnissyen,” he said.

  The demon straightened from his slouch. His alarmed expression told Finn the guy knew who he was and, more important, what he did
. “I didn’t start it, I swear,” the demon said. “That guy jumped me. I was only defendin’ myself.”

  “Let’s start with something simple,” Finn said. “Like your name.”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry. I’m Sam Wiseman.”

  “All right, Sam. Tell me what happened.”

  As Sam began his story, Finn tapped into his chameleon heritage and took on the abilities of a vampire. Not anything physical, but rather dipping into the way vampires could use their senses. This meant he could see little fluctuations of body temperature, blood flow and micro-expressions on the demon’s face, and thus know when the guy was lying. Throughout Sam’s explanation, from everything Finn was reading, the demon was telling the truth.

  Finn dropped the chameleon routine and went back to his normal self. Sam glanced around, his brows drawn low over his eyes.

  “What is it?” Finn asked.

  “I thought…” The guy shook his head. “I could’ve sworn I got a whiff of vamp. Faint, and only for a few seconds, but it was there.”

  That was one of the hazards of drawing on his chameleon abilities. Whatever type of preternatural he drew from, the scent of that pret came along with it. Being only half-chameleon, Finn didn’t have enough natural energy to hide the scent like a full-blood chameleon demon could. So any pret with a sensitive schnoz could smell him without much difficulty at all. Since few in the demon community knew about chameleons, and hardly any outside of demons knew about them, Finn had to play it cool. It was to his advantage to keep his abilities secret. “I didn’t smell anything,” he said with a dismissive shrug. Which wasn’t untrue; he could never smell himself when he walked in another pret’s skin, so to speak. He always had to assume the odor was there and try to deal with it the best way he could.

  “Oh. Well, maybe it was a residual thing. A vamp could’ve passed this way a while ago.”

  “That’s probably it,” Finn said. It actually was a logical explanation. He’d heard plenty of shapeshifters talk about all the various scents they could pick up, some new, some hours old. “Look, you can go ahead and leave,” he added. He pulled a small notepad out of his back pocket along with the stub of a pencil. “Write down your address. And let me give you some advice.” He leaned forward and looked into Sam’s eyes. Lowering his voice, he said, “Walk the ol’ straight and narrow for the time being, or you and I will have another chat. And next time I won’t be so friendly.”