by Haven, Rose
"A demon," he said. "And so are you."
Her mind ceased to function. She stared, the corpse forgotten now in the face of his words. As she stared, all speech and all thought evading her, he went to the nightstand and picked up her purse.
"Come with me."
He stopped in the doorway, looking over his shoulder, awaiting her. Elizabeth was frozen. She knew she couldn't stay here, not with a corpse and his words hanging overhead. Demon. He was—she was. How could she be demon? How could he think that? Was it possible? But could she really just follow him, a monster who had just murdered a man in cold blood?
Her legs moved her before her mind had decided. She found herself following him, even as she looked back and saw Mr. Seymour's body slowly sinking down the wall. Blinking back tears, Elizabeth followed Luthias.
Chapter 2: Into the Dark
The morning of the day Luthias took her, Elizabeth had been dreading her appointment. She had woken 8am to her phone buzzing under her pillow, leading to her groggy fumbling at the buttons and an eventual answer.
"Hello?"
"My busty beauty," Stedman had crooned. "You've got another client."
Elizabeth rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, though in her voice she feigned excitement.
"Who's the lucky guy?"
"Matthias Seymour, he got our number at the strip joint on the east end. He's a spry 60-something, so he might be a bit young for you, but I'm sure you can show him a good time. You can show him a good time, yeah?"
She was staring at a mark in the ceiling, trying to figure out what was spattered up there. She always cleaned the area around her mattress, doing her very best to maintain a bubble of serenity in a room that was otherwise a hurricane of clothes, needles, crusted condoms, and cracked eyeshadow. Amelia and Tanya never picked up anything; having discovered that Elizabeth was tidy, they somehow picked up even less. They told her if it bothered her she was free to clean up after them.
"Yeah," she mumbled, slowly heaving her shoulders to pry herself into a sitting position. "What time? What are we doing?"
"He's got you from noon until 10. Wants to get an early start. You get a show and dinner at a 5-star joint, so I better not hear any more complaints."
"I know, I know," she managed.
"You're new, but you're not that new. You get one more chance, Liz."
"I'll be good."
"It's just sex," he said, almost reassuring. "Look, all you've got is a high school diploma and here I'm giving you triple what you made waiting tables. A lot of girls would kill for this."
"No, I know," she said, holding her head. "I'll be good, Stedman. I'm a good girl."
"That's the spirit."
He hung up, and she dropped her phone off the side of the unsupported mattress, drawing her knees to her chest. The sheets tangled around her feet were scratchy from not being washed—her own fault for not wanting to go to the laundromat alone when she came home at night. It was dark then. Despite having to look after herself all her life, even now, she was terrified of what could happen when alone in the dark.
Elizabeth had always been a sweet girl, terribly eager to please, which people told her would get her far in life. Unfortunately, she lacked the other components that would have carried her along, like family, or financial means. All she knew of her mother was that she hadn't wanted her. The woman hadn't even bothered to name the baby girl she dropped at the fire-station before disappearing forever. Some secretary must have decided they needed something to write on her papers, and so, she had become Elizabeth.
Brissette was the name of the first foster family she was placed with: a well-meaning couple in Northern Nevada who had taken on more than they could handle. In addition to their own two children, they had had three foster children at a time, usually of disparate ages. The older ones were always acting out, leaving quiet Elizabeth to entertain herself, never quite feeling like she was important enough to be noticed. The couple had eventually given up the whole affair, leaving seven-year-old Elizabeth and her two foster siblings to be split up between new families.
It had gone on that way for years, with Elizabeth getting moved from place to place never for any one reason, never her fault, but the result was the same. The constant relocation meant she had always been behind in school, eventually leading her to have to repeat her senior year—which was half in part due to misplaced paperwork—and putting college entirely out of reach.
She had lost her virginity at prom, to a boy who told her she was a great lay, but not wife material. That seemed to be the theme of her life. Aged out of the foster system, she had thrown herself at a string of boys for the sake of lodging alone, nearly all of them revealing themselves to be manipulative, cruel, or cheaters. Eventually she had found herself in Las Vegas, her self-esteem trashed, wanting to disappear amongst the sea of people. She told herself she wasn't going to do sex work. She could waitress, show a little cleavage, and try to make ends meet. Then, she had been fired, and bills needed to be paid. Stedman had been right there to tell her she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.
Having no reason to stay in bed anymore, Elizabeth reached for a hairband set precariously atop her alarm clock—on the ground, like her mattress and everything else in the room—winding up her hair in a sort of bun at the nape of her neck. She allowed herself a few deep breaths, thinking that would be enough to calm her down. Unfortunately, her thoughts drifted back to her last client, who had insisted on wriggling his shriveled member between her tits until he spewed himself everywhere, laughing.
Elizabeth found herself hyperventilating. She grabbed her pillow, smothering herself with it so she could scream. Amelia and Tanya said they loved this job, that it was the most fun they had ever had earning money. She hated it. It made her feel lower than dirt. It made her hate living.
Put on a happy face.
It's what she told herself every day.
She dropped the pillow, forcing herself to her feet. Before she could get to her shoes, she stepped on a shard from a broken beer bottle, which stuck deep into the ball of her foot. She cursed, grabbing her foot and stumbling to Tanya's yellowed mattress, where she blinked back tears and slowly pried the glass from her flesh. She couldn't even cry for the pain. There were worse pains in this world.
--
Luthias had led Elizabeth away from the hotel and to a waiting limousine, unsettlingly calm for someone who had just killed a man. He opened the door for her, like a gentleman. Even there she hesitated, but the sound of approaching police sirens made her quickly dive into the vehicle. Her heart pounding in her ears, she couldn't appreciate the luxury of the interior, which was spotless and without odor. Luthias slid in beside her, closing the door.
"Drive," he said.
"What, kill someone?" came the voice from the lowering partition.
"You've been given an order."
"You know, a 'please' wouldn't kill you."
When the partition came down Elizabeth was startled by the appearance of their driver. His face was vaguely like Luthias', though marred by prominent canine teeth and ears so pointed the tips pushed through his hair—hair that was silvery white, despite his young appearance. As he gave a short wave, she noticed his nails came to points that couldn't be hidden as well as the lord's. His bright eyes lingered on her too as he looked back, apparently as fascinated by her as she was with him. Then, he smiled. His features softened.
"Hey," he said. "It's...good to meet you, I guess."
"I told you to drive," Luthias said.
"Yeah yeah."
The car started and they were off down the road, swerving through traffic to put as much distance between them and the Luxor as they could.
When a few stoplights had passed, Elizabeth began to relax back as her mind caught up with her. Anxiety began to creep up, realizing now that she was trapped in close quarters with a powerful murderer and a man with claws and fangs, both of whom seemed to have an unnatural obsession with her. Her throat
closed up, heart pounding fast, hands growing clammy as she just tried to tell herself to stay still, stay still, they can't notice me if I stay still. She was about to pass out from sheer stress when the driver broke the silence, glancing back over his shoulder with an all but soothing smile.
"Name's Kieran," he said. "I'm his brother."
"Half-brother," Luthias said, cold. He stared out the window though, betraying no other feelings about the situation.
"Yeah. Lord-Dad was into cheating on his mate with human girls, so, that's what's up with the teeth and nails. If you were wondering."
His casual manner did help calm her nerves. She let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, wrapping her arms around her chest.
"So...you're half-demon, then?" she asked, testing the waters.
"In the flesh," said Kieran. "There aren't a lot of us, since we aren't the cutest kids. Demons can keep their animal traits under wraps, but when you throw human into the mix, that gets tricky. I know some half-breeds with actual tails. I'm assuming you're new to all this."
She nodded a little. Kieran sighed, giving Luthias a disappointing glance.
"Assuming he didn't tell you anything."
Again, she nodded. She stole a look at Luthias, trying to understand this man and his impenetrable silence.
"He called me Emilie," she said, after a moment.
"Didn't even get your real name?"
She nodded again, and he laughed, adjusting the rear view mirror.
"Tell me your name, kid."
"Elizabeth."
This finally stirred Luthias. His golden gaze shifted towards her, taking her in with intensity she still wasn't used to, before he looked back out the window. She again noticed the sturdiness of his body, so evenly toned up and down, allowing for such elegant, subtle movement. She couldn't understand why the sight of this silent murderer brought such heat to her skin.
"Is the pilot prepped?" Luthias asked Kieran.
"The hell should I know? I didn't plan this."
"Useless."
He pulled a phone out of his coat pocket before he shed it, tossing it on the ground. She was surprised to see that his long-sleeve shirt was complete with cufflinks, so old fashioned against his modern cellphone. He pressed a few buttons and dialed.
"We're arriving," he said.
A few moments' pause and he ended the call, tossing the expensive phone carelessly onto the jacket. He looked back out the window, as if she wasn't there.
Confusion was finally overtaking her anxiety. He had killed a man for her, so what was this silent treatment? She was owed an explanation, at the very least.
"You called me a demon," she said, trying to get his attention. "I'm not."
"Your blood is dormant," he replied.
"What does that even mean?"
"Kieran has agreed to explain this nonsense. Talk to the mutt."
He looked back to the window, and she realized then that he seemed out of sorts. It wasn't coldness, as she had first thought, but instead a sort of catatonia that seemed to keep him from looking at her too long. Who was this Emilie? Was it her that had this effect on people? And if so, Elizabeth couldn't see how they thought she was her.
"You'll get the story on the plane," Kieran promised.
"Can you at least tell me where we're going?"
"England, sort of," Kieran said. "The island's right off the south coast. You'll be able to take trips there, if you want."
"The island?"
"You'll like it. Really." He glanced back again, giving her a once-over. "You'll probably like it more than here, right?"
She rubbed her arm, avoiding his look. Maybe he was right. Anywhere was better than here.
"I feel like I'm being kidnapped," she muttered.
Kieran chuckled, scratching his head.
"Sorry, kid. We'll try not to do it again."
Again, Elizabeth tried to catch Luthias' gaze—but he seemed far off, locked deep in his own mind. If she didn't know better, she would think he was finally bothered by what he had done to her client. Somehow though, she knew it couldn't be that simple. She replayed that evening in her mind, remembering the ferocity with which he defended her, to the expectation in his eyes when they first beheld one another. There had been a rawness to him then that was hidden, now. He had wanted something from her that she couldn't yet give him.
She leaned back against the door, soon closing her eyes. As comfortable with her captors as she had been with any of her foster parents, she found it easy enough to close her eyes, letting the lull of the engine coax her to sleep.
--
Luthias owned a private jet, apparently. Elizabeth would have been surprised if there was anything left to be surprised about. The main cabin was more like a living room than the interior of a plane, with beautiful couches, leather seats, and a full bar. There were stunningly beautiful stewardesses onboard ready to serve her drinks even before she had fastened her seatbelt, though Luthias brushed them aside like they were invisible. Kieran would take a beer, flirting in a rough way that made Elizabeth smile. Aside from the vague resemblance, it was hard to believe they were brothers. They sat as far apart as they could get themselves, with Kieran and Elizabeth in more secure seats at the back of the cabin, and Luthias facing them partially in a reclined chair. He had found a book, somewhere, and idly flipped his way through with his brooding look. In the strangest way, Elizabeth found it charming.
"So, Elizabeth," Kieran said, as the engines revved. "Do you go by Eliza, or..."
She shook her head. He smiled.
"It's nice."
"It's just a name," she said.
Realizing she still had in her hair clip, she took it out, shaking out her blonde locks. She thought she saw Luthias' attention snap to her, before he quickly returned to the book. Maybe he was just a man, under all that scowling.
"I feel sort of gross," she admitted, sighing. "Can I wash my face in the bathroom?"
"Once we get to some-thousand feet. Just, stay put for now. I don't want you to trip and hit your head or anything."
His concern was touching, though odd. He appeared embarrassed by it too, like a child caught somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. Silence settled as the plane ascended, leaving Vegas and her old life far behind.
When it was safe to relax in the cabin, she slipped back into the bathroom to collect herself. She found a sink nicer than the one in the Luxor, where she could scrub away the layers of make-up she had applied for Mr. Seymour's approval. When it was gone, she felt naked. She remembered that Luthias still had her purse, which had her lipstick, and she still felt too weird to get it back from him. Face dry, she finally emerged from the bathroom, taking a seat beside Kieran at the bar. Kidnapper or not, Kieran was far more approachable than his brother.
"You look better without all that crap on your face," Kieran said, blunt.
She blushed, and he grinned as he knocked back a shot. He was sweet.
"You have questions, yeah?"
"Yeah," she said, smiling weakly.
"First one?"
"I guess...who is Emilie?"
At this, his carefree manner lessened. A solemn air settled, even as he poured himself another drink, persisting as he smiled.
"To put it bluntly, my daughter, Luthias' mate," he said. "She was...rebellious. Luthias started courting her just to piss me off, I think, and incest happens just enough with demon royals that no one really cared but me. But that son of a bitch got my daughter, and they were...hell, they were happy. Until..."
He shook his head, setting down his glass.
"Other things to explain first. You really don't know anything about demons?"
"Nothing," she said, though she really wished he would tell her more about Emilie first. For now though, she would listen.
"Way way back, there was this 'spirit of chaos' who decided to screw a bunch of animals, who gave birth to the demon breeds.’ Noble demons' are the ones that have dual forms, one animal and one
human, which they generally use to bang. Main nobles are the Wolves, Snakes, Cats, Bears—and us, the Canines. We're sort of top dog, literally."
He chuckled, and she noticed again the length of his nails as he tapped them on the counter, thinking.
"The noble demons all have their own kingdoms. Ours is the oldest. No one messes with the Canines, especially not with their lords. The Cennasaí. Right now, that's Luthias. When he finally kicks the bucket, it'll be his son, Avery."
"He has a son?" she asked, surprised.
"Yeah. My grandson," he said. "All grown up now. He's all his mother left behind, before you."
"I don't understand," Elizabeth said, though she was already beginning to piece it together.
"Luthias is an old, stubborn bastard," Kieran said. "If nothing kills us, we're pretty much immortal. Our souls are reincarnated, when we do pass. When Emilie died, he said he'd never stop looking for her. I never thought he'd actually find anything, but by some miracle, he found you."
He smiled at her, as this information sunk in. Elizabeth didn't know what to say.
"You mean...I'm Emilie?" she asked.
"Her soul. Yeah." Kieran laughed a little, to break the tension. "I know how it sounds, but you look just like her. Blonde instead of brunette, maybe a bit paler, but you're her. And if you're her, that means you're demon."
The inside of her head felt like mush. She was floored that he could claim something like that so casually—that she was the reincarnation of his deceased daughter. Yet even as she grasped futilely for something to fill the silence, he had gotten a new glass from under the counter and poured her a spirit.
"Guessing you need a drink."
She managed a nod, and he pushed it her way.
"Don't blame you."
Elizabeth didn't know she was shaking until she lifted the glass, but it didn't keep her from finishing the drink. Whatever it was, it burned her throat, making her cough. She pushed it back to him, mumbling for a refill, which he obliged.
"I noticed you've got a bit of a limp. Something happen?" Kieran asked.