Demon's Vengeance

by Jocelynn Drake

  “Towers?” I asked, only to silently curse myself, wishing I had never spoken in the first place.

  Her smile returned, and this time it looked as if she was trying to reassure me. “Not as often as you’d think. I knew a ­couple ­people on the police force who were killed by the Towers. One during the attack this past fall down by Diamond Dolls.”

  I swallowed back the bile that rose in the back of my throat. I had been there and walked away because Gideon had convinced me to. Those witches and warlocks had been searching for me, hoping to draw me out by creating chaos. It had nearly worked. There were times I thought I had been wrong to listen to Gideon, but then it was likely that I’d be dead now if I hadn’t. Or more ­people would be dead now if I hadn’t.

  Looking back solved nothing.

  “But being a cop in Low Town is always dangerous. My old partner was killed by an ogre high on fix. I had a friend in college killed by a vampire she was dating. It was an accident. He took too much one night. I had some neighbors killed a ­couple years ago by some trolls during a turf war on the west side.”

  “Tough city,” I murmured.

  “That’s just it, Gage,” she said, drawing my gaze back to her face when I had looked down at my hands. “The Towers have taken the blame for a lot of our problems, and they’ve earned a good chunk of it, but the Ivory Towers aren’t the only thing that’s wrong with this city. You’ve got to stop thinking that you’re to blame for everything that goes wrong.”

  “You think that’s what I’m doing?”

  “Yeah, I think you’re beating yourself up when things go wrong and most of the time it has nothing to do with you or the Towers.”

  The speech was starting to sound far too similar to something that I’d already heard from Gideon. If I was a smart man, I’d pay attention to their words.

  “Well, this time the goblins beat up on me.”

  Serah frowned at me and started to open her mouth to say something about my glib response, but the door swung open behind her, forcing her farther into my room as a tall vampire glided inside. For my first hospital visit, this was turning into a party, though the presence of the vampire wasn’t what I’d call a good thing.

  He pinned me with a dark look as he pressed his lips into a hard, thin line. If he kept it up, he was going to pierce the interior of his mouth with his fangs. “Powell, you’re recovering,” he softly drawled. His words were supposed to be a question, but they certainly didn’t come out sounding as such.

  When he spoke, it finally dawned on me why he looked so damn familiar. The asshole worked for TAPSS and had stopped by Asylum to put the so-­called fear of God in me when I opened my parlor to the public years ago. It had taken more than a little arguing and hoop-­jumping to finally get my license for the parlor. The whispers had already started about me in the upper levels of TAPSS and I was forced to spill my secret in an effort to get my license. This schmuck knew the truth.

  “Hello, Harvey. It’s nice of you to visit me in the hospital, but it’s really unnecessary,” I said with a wide grin. I know, Harvey. A vampire named Harvey! A name like that really ruined your ability to be afraid of the man despite the fact that he was over six feet and was as wide as a lineman.

  “It’s Weston,” he hissed, his fangs flashing at me as he clenched his teeth. “I’m sure it is unnecessary, considering, but I didn’t come to see you.” He turned his dark glare on Serah, who took a nervous step backward toward my bed.

  “Mr. Weston,” she said firmly. She was trying to sound as if she wasn’t intimidated, but I don’t think anyone in that room was convinced. Other than his name, he was a frightening creature and we could only hope he’d eaten before visiting the hospital. The scent of blood hung in the air and I had no desire to see his more predatory instincts triggered.

  “What’s going on with this investigation, Ms. Moynahan? I was expecting much better results by now.”

  “We’re getting closer, sir. I was involved in a sting operation this evening to try to catch the killer now that we’ve identified a link between the victims,” Serah eagerly explained.

  “You were involved in a police operation. Not a TAPSS operation. I shouldn’t have to remind you that you are no longer a police officer, but a TAPSS investigator. This inquiry that you are pursuing is outside of our jurisdiction.”

  “But this woman killed a tattoo artist. She’s become a danger to the ­people of Low Town because of a tattoo.”

  “All of which should have been clearly documented and turned in to your superiors and the Low Town police, as needed,” he snapped, his sharp voice like a whip cracking across her skin. “Hunting down this killer is not your responsibility. It is a job for the police.”

  “But the tattoo—­”

  “Documented and catalogued. Nothing more.”

  “Sir, we can’t let this woman remain loose. I’ve been working with Gage to track her down and—­”

  “I’m fully apprised of the fact that you’ve been relying on Mr. Powell’s skills to track this person down, and it stops now. You have other duties you have been neglecting. You will cease your association with this man and resume your other duties.”

  “Mr. Weston, she’s killing pregnant women!”

  “Leave it to the police. Continue this investigation and not only will you be fired, but I will also hand you over to Low Town police personally on obstruction charges. Do I make myself clear, Ms. Moynahan?”

  “I understand, Mr. Weston,” Serah said in a low voice while meeting his narrowed gaze.

  I couldn’t see Serah’s hands as they were buried in my coat, but if her shoulders were anything to go by, they were balled into tight fists as she fought the urge to brain the vampire with the nearby computer monitor.

  The asshole was bringing down hell on her head when she was risking her own life to save a few others and get a killer off the street. Did he have a point about the fact that hunting this killer wasn’t in her job description? Sure, but hunting down murders wasn’t in my job description either and I was still doing it. Maybe this world would be a better place if more ­people stepped up like Serah and tried to help instead of stepping back and arguing that it wasn’t their job.

  The vampire continued to glare at her for another second before gliding silently out of the room. He never gave me another look, as if he wanted to pretend that he hadn’t been in the room with a warlock the entire time.

  I waited several seconds for Serah to say something or at least relax her shoulders but it never happened. She just continued to stare straight ahead at the closed door. If it were me, I would have been running through all the things I would have liked to say to the asshole. But then, if it were me, I probably would have said more of them out loud. I guess it was a good thing that Serah had more restraint than me.

  “You gonna keep looking for the killer?” I asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

  “You better fucking believe it,” she growled.

  With a grunt, I slid my legs over the side of the bed and sat fully upright on my own. “Call me when you need me.”

  Serah twisted around suddenly, looking surprised that I was still willing to help her. “You know I’m not officially doing this as a TAPSS investigator, right? I can’t make you help me.”

  I laughed, rocking back a little. Exhaustion, blood loss, and painkillers were combining to make me loopy. “You couldn’t make me help in the first place. I was never doing this because you’re a TAPSS investigator.”

  “You weren’t? Why then?”

  I shrugged, plucking my coat out of her arms. “My girlfriend asked me to. My pregnant girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, I guess that would do it.” Her brief smile quickly died and she took a step back away from me. “But Weston could take away your license if you continue to help me.”

  “True, but I don’t think I would lose it for long
. I’ve got ways of being very convincing when I want to be.”

  “True,” she said with a little sigh. “Let’s see if we can get you out of here then, scary magic man. You look like you’re about to drop and it’s too damn expensive to stay the night here.”

  “I’d never sleep,” I said as I slid to my feet. She looked skeptically up at me, knowing that she saw a man who could barely keep his eyes open as he swayed on his feet. “I’d be too afraid of them removing a kidney or something while I slept. You can’t trust the fucking hospitals. They’re the true source of evil in this world. Not the Towers, the hospitals.”

  Serah giggled as she pulled open the door and led me toward the nurses’ station. Someone had to know what I had to do to get out of this joint. Once I was free, I’d grab Bronx and the three of us would make a run for it.

  “You’re ridiculous.” She chuckled.

  “I’m serious. You ever seen a hospital bill? They’ll steal your arm and your leg.”

  “Idiot,” she murmured, but she was smiling.

  I was relieved to see her happy, already shaking off Harvey’s comments. It was better this way. There was no use in trying to convince her that she should listen to the blood sucker and stop her hunt before she got hurt. The woman was on a mission to stop this killer and to prove something to her peers. I just prayed that whatever it was that she had to prove wasn’t more important than her life.

  Chapter 3

  I stomped my feet on the welcome mat, knocking off the snow that was clinging to my shoes before I pushed open the front door. Warm air brushed across my cheeks, chasing away the cold and bringing a sigh from my lips. The house was quiet except for the soft murmur of the television in the living room—­someone was watching the evening news. Holiday decorations were carefully placed on the small table and cards were taped to the large mirror hanging on the wall.

  The quiet was welcome after the chaos that had consumed my life. So far, I was lucky that the Towers hadn’t found my parents. That ugly part of my life had yet to leak into their home on the north side of Low Town. Common sense said I shouldn’t come here, but I couldn’t help myself. It was the only way I knew to maintain my sanity.

  “Hey Dad!” I called as I stripped off my coat and hung it in the hall closet between my mother’s and father’s. “Did you catch the score for the Warriors game last Sunday?” Low Town was lucky enough to field its own professional football team, though it had been a long time since we’d had an actual shot at a championship game.

  A frown puckered my brow when no one responded. I thought I was loud enough to be heard through most of the house. Hell, at least one of the boys should have heard me and come banging down the stairs to greet me as they usually did. My parents had generously agreed to take in a pair of runaways from the Towers and were keeping them hidden while trying to give them some semblance of a normal life.

  Walking down the hall, past years of family pictures, I stopped in the living room to find it empty. The small television was on in the corner with the evening news signing off in favor of a game show. My father’s favorite glass sat on the side table next to his chair, half filled with iced tea. I stood in the center of the room, straining to hear any sounds in the house, but it was as silent as a tomb. There should have been something. My parents were always home in the evening. Hell, they should have just finished dinner and the smell of my mother’s amazing cooking should have filled the air. But there was nothing.

  “Mom?” I called, turning toward the kitchen.

  My heart stopped as I took my first step. Lilith stood in the open doorway, a haunting smile playing with her nearly black lips. Her gray skin took on a somewhat pearlescent shine in the soft lamplight and her black dress clung to her curves like a second skin.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded, forcing the words out past a lump of fear in my throat.

  “I thought we could take some time to chat,” she purred, taking a step toward me. I could see her legs moving as she approached me, but her motion was so sinuous I was sure she was slithering.

  “Where are my parents?”

  The Queen of the Underworld smiled, but it was all sharp teeth and fangs. “Occupied.”

  “Where the fuck are they?” I roared, my temper snapping in the face of nearly crippling fear.

  Lilith was on me in a second, her face less than an inch from me. Her smile was still in place but it looked all the more menacing now that all I could see was her teeth and bottomless black eyes. “Don’t forget yourself,” she snarled. “I have a piece of your soul. You also belong to me for two years of your life and I don’t have to return you to the land of the living if I don’t want to.”

  I swallowed back my own angry retort and straightened. There was no need for the reminder that I was headed straight into her hands at some point. The thought of my parents being in her clutches was enough to make me shut my damn mouth.

  Stepping back, she arched one pencil-­thin brow at me in question, but I didn’t say a word. “Good. What I want to discuss with you is this association you’ve apparently struck up with one of Simon’s playthings.”

  The demon. This was not something I wanted to talk about with her. Not when this demon planned for me to destroy Lilith.

  “I want you to stay away from it,” she continued, slowly strolling back toward the kitchen. “I’ve got it under control so it won’t kill you, but demons are nasty things full of lies. I don’t want it whispering things in your ears, filling your head with tales that will only get you destroyed. It’s only looking out for itself.” She flashed me a soft smile, trying to appear as if she was actually concerned for my safety.

  “It’s only looking out for what it wants.”

  Her smile widened. “Exactly.”

  “Like you,” I added.

  Lilith’s smile melted away like heated wax. Her long bony fingers curled into fists, but she didn’t rush me like I expected. No, she did something worse.

  “You forget who the true power within the Underworld is, Gage,” she hissed. The lights in the kitchen blinked out so that the shadows in the dimly lit living room lengthened. “My reach includes both this world and the next. Stay away from the demon or face the consequences.”

  Lilith slithered backward into the kitchen so that she was instantly swallowed whole by the darkness. A second later, I heard a voice that shot straight to my gut.

  “Gage?” My mom’s frightened voice warbled from the blackness and my knees nearly gave out. A low growl rumbled after my name, followed by a crash of broken furniture. A woman’s terrified screams cut through the silence, slicing my soul in half. I plunged into the darkness . . .

  And sat straight up in bed on a strangled cry.

  Blinking and fighting the twisted blankets around my legs, I struggled to get my bearings. I was in my room. In my apartment. Safe. The fucking bitch had invaded my dreams . . . again. Covered in a cold sweat, I tamped down a sob of equal parts fear and relief while I tried to find a peaceful center in which to think. My hand was shaking as I pushed it through my tangled hair.

  Despite my attempts to reassure myself that it was only a dream, I snatched up my phone and called my parents’ home. My mother’s sweet voice danced across the distance after the second ring and she only laughed at my concern. Everyone was fine and safe. Nothing had happened. I got off the phone as quickly as I could, not wanting to worry my mother since I was struggling to get my emotions under control.

  Dropping my cell phone back on the bedside table, I fell back into bed and ran my hands roughly over my face as I tried to organize my thoughts. Serah had dropped me off at my apartment at just before ten the night before, after taking Bronx to Asylum. I had stripped out of my filthy, bloody clothes and collapsed in the bed. I had no memory of falling asleep. But then, I think I was out before I’d finished pulling my blankets up around me.

  The alarm on my
phone had me jumping a ­couple minutes later. It was time to start my day whether I wanted to or not.

  Sliding out of bed, I snatched up my phone and turned off the alarm. But I stood there, dumbly staring at it for several seconds. There were no missed call or text messages from Trixie. I had seen her briefly last night when she arrived at the shop for her shift just before Bronx and I left with Eddie. But she’d never called to check on the progress of the sting or if everything was okay. The distance between us was growing by the second and I no longer knew how to close it. She was pulling away so that it would be easier to return to her own ­people.

  Was I going to let her go without a fight? Not a fucking chance.

  I kicked the coffeemaker on before jumping in the shower to scrub away the dirt and blood I hadn’t bothered to get off myself the night before. Clad in some nearly clean jeans and a T-­shirt that had only one small hole it in the side, I grabbed some white chalk, my wand, and a mug of black coffee as I walked into the living room.

  Putting down the coffee, I inspected the twelve stitches I’d received the night before, closing the wound the goblins had given me. The skin was red and puckered around the dark thread. It looked so barbaric and medieval compared to the neat and tidy touch that magic was capable of. Lightly holding the wand in one hand, I concentrated on the healing spell that Gideon had shown me. The power flowed easily through me and up the wand to hit my arm with laser-­like precision. The wound closed and healed before my eyes while the stitches slipped from my flesh, leaving the thread coiled on the coffee table. In a matter of seconds, I had completed what would have taken weeks of natural healing. Magic had some positive purposes and I was going to show Trixie that.

  Putting my wand down on the table, I picked up the piece of chalk and cleared a large open space in the middle of the scarred coffee table with my arm. I drew a large circle on the slightly uneven surface and then decorated the edge with a series of symbols, linking the circle to a specific location within Trixie’s apartment on the other side of town. With the circle grounded and locked against any potential intrusions, I put down my chalk and picked up my wand again.