The Redeeming

by Jennifer Ashley

  The afternoon after the matriarch’s funeral, which Samantha had not been invited to, her father called and asked her to come over to her mother’s house to talk.

  Samantha arrived and embraced Joanne, who’d also not gone to the funeral, and then her father. Samantha was still getting used to hugging Fulton, and he was getting used to the contact too.

  They sat in the kitchen sipping coffee Joanne provided, while Fulton told Samantha of his plans to put her forward as matriarch. “The decision must be made soon, or we’ll lose the chance of keeping the rise of the next matriarch civilized. A battle within the clan right now could mean the destruction of it. The Djowlans would take the opportunity to move into our territories while we’re busy fighting one another, and either kill every Lamiah or drive us back to our death realm.”

  Samantha shivered. Demon battles weren’t allowed in these times, but that didn’t mean demons didn’t have them. And what happened in the death realms had nothing to do with the human world. The tons of demons pouring out from the portals on top of the building downtown obviously hadn’t given a damn about following rules.

  “This is important,” Fulton said when Samantha didn’t answer. “You don’t know how important.”

  Samantha thought she understood. If the matriarch had been dealing Mindglow and sacrificing demon hearts to an Old One, or at least using No More Nightmares to sacrifice them, the Lamiah clan was in trouble. Samantha wished Tain would have left a fully detailed outline about his findings before he’d disappeared, maybe in a nice file folder with all the evidence neatly laid out.

  Becoming the Lamiah matriarch would give Samantha a prime opportunity to investigate—she’d be privilege to info even the police wouldn’t be able to find out. She could possibly crack this case and stop the killings. But then, once she’d closed the investigation, she couldn’t simply quit and go home. Samantha would be matriarch for life, giving up all she knew to do it.

  “I can’t believe there isn’t a venerable full-demon woman in our clan who wouldn’t leap at the chance to become matriarch,” Samantha said to her father. “You don’t need me.”

  “We do need you.” Fulton took her hand in a firm grip. “The matriarch wanted you, and I am head of the most powerful family in the clan. If I put you forward now, we can do this. We need a leader, and we need her now.”

  Samantha disengaged from his grasp and stood up. “I’m not special, and I barely inherited any magical ability. I’m not even full demon.”

  Fulton’s eyes burned with an adamant light. “Samantha, as matriarch you will have far more power than you ever can as a police officer. If you want to keep demons from hurting people, you certainly can do that as matriarch. They’ll listen to you.”

  “And you can have a family,” Joanne put in. “You can marry and have children. I always hear that a police career is hard on a family. I know I’m always worried sick when you’re out chasing criminals.”

  Joanne’s eyes and Fulton’s both held concern, hope, and the need to see their only child happy.

  “You want this for me,” Samantha said in surprise. “Not for you, for me. Why?”

  “Because we made so many mistakes,” Joanne answered softly. “We wanted to raise you apart from your true heritage, because we weren’t sure the clan would accept you, and that you wouldn’t accept Fulton as your father. That proved to be a mistake. I never meant for you to despise your own father and hate what you are. We were trying to protect you, and sometimes parents get so protective they become foolish.”

  Samantha sat down again. “You’re trying to get me elected matriarch to make up for my childhood? Isn’t that a bit extreme? Just take me out to dinner or something.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Fulton said, not smiling. “Samantha, I want you to be happy, in any way you can, but this goes beyond our own needs.”

  She spread her hands. “How can I lead a clan I know nothing about?”

  “The majordomo will help you,” Fulton said. “She’s ready to retire, but she agreed to stay on until you can find a trusted assistant of your own.”

  Samantha gave a sharp laugh. “Telling me I have to work with that ice queen is not a good way to convince me.”

  Fulton gave her a quiet look. “Ariadne is smart, she’s wise, and she knows the clan. She’d be the best help you can have.”

  “Why doesn’t she become matriarch?” Samantha had been wondering how much the majordomo knew about the matriarch’s interesting activities and how deeply she was involved.

  Fulton shook his head. “She can’t. Ariadne’s from one of the lowest families, one step above the untouchables. Their line only serves, although they can become very influential in their own way. They like being the powers behind the throne. But you don’t have to worry about that with the majordomo, because she really does want to retire.”

  “There are untouchable demons?” Samantha asked, startled.

  “Yes,” Fulton said in a matter-of-fact voice. “They mostly keep to themselves and don’t interact much with the others.”

  “Isn’t that a bit cruel?”

  “Everyone in the clan has a part to play,” Fulton said. “You’ll learn all about it.”

  Samantha regarded him and her mother, who were watching her worriedly. “I still think you’re both crazy. You want me, a human-raised, half-demon cop, to become the matriarch of a clan I know nothing about?”

  “I am prepared to give you my full support,” Fulton said.

  “You are, but what about other demons?” Samantha broke off. “Wait a minute, let me try something.”

  She pulled out her cell phone and tapped a number. “Merrick, please,” she said when a smooth-voiced male demon answered.

  After a moment, Merrick’s voice boomed out. “Ah, it’s my favorite policewoman. How did I know I couldn’t get through a week without being harassed by you?”

  “Merrick,” Samantha said, cutting him off. “If I became the Lamiah matriarch, would you support me?”

  Dead silence filtered to her from the other end.

  “Are you still there?” Samantha asked. “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you.” Merrick sounded subdued. “I know the matriarch wanted to put you forward. Are you seriously considering it?”

  “I haven’t decided. But would you?”

  Another silence, then Merrick said thoughtfully. “You know, I think I would. Once I got over the utter shock, that is.”

  “Why? Support me, I mean.”

  “Because you’re an annoying bitch, but you can think for yourself, both good qualities in a matriarch. You wouldn’t take any shit from someone like that majordomo.”

  “Would you work for me?”

  Merrick’s reply cut off with a squawk. “Me? For you?” He started to laugh, then quieted. “I might consider it. Why? Would your sword-toting boyfriend cut off my head if I didn’t?”

  “I’m just putting out feelers for now, nothing definite.”

  “You really are a piece of work, Samantha. I sensed it the moment you walked into my club.”

  “I love you too, Merrick. I’ll be in touch.” Samantha clicked off the phone before he could say good-bye.

  Fulton raised a brow. “Drumming up favors already?”

  “I know Merrick’s a thug,” Samantha said. “But he’d be a handy person to have on my side.”

  “The gap the matriarch left must be filled soon,” Fulton said. “Our family will meet for dinner on Saturday, on the last quarter of the waning moon. I ask you to please come with me and declare your candidacy.” He smiled a little. “Who knows? You might lose.”

  Samantha toyed with her coffee cup. “Will declaring myself involve me fighting someone to the death?”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Fulton said, his smile widening but his gaze serious. “That hasn’t happened in at least three hundred years.”

  Tain gazed out from his vantage point of the cool green garden to the vista below him—the flat white of a
dry lakebed, the sun pounding on it with vigor. He leaned against the low wall that separated the monastery from the sloping desert mountain and contemplated the lakebed—empty, stark, and beautiful.

  His brother Adrian leaned next to him in T-shirt and jeans, sunlight on his black hair. A cobra lolled in the cultivated flower bed at their feet, basking in the cool earth.

  The two of them—three, counting the snake—had reposed here in silence most of the morning. Now Adrian stretched, his big frame pulling at his shirt and asked, “So are you going to tell me what happened to your hair?”

  “Fire,” Tain said laconically. “Rescuing a demon.”

  “Trying to impress a girl?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Did it work?” Adrian asked.

  Tain pretended to think it through. “Yes.” While Adrian chuckled, Tain scrubbed one hand over his face. “But I might have done more harm than good.” He gave his brother a quiet look. “It’s not going away, Adrian.”

  Adrian studied him, his dark eyes still. “I didn’t think it was.”

  “All of it was meant to happen, Cerridwen told me. I get that. I suffered, you rescued me, we saved the world. But it won’t stop. I still have the dreams. And I want Samantha. I crave her. When she takes my life essence, it’s the only time the pain stops.”

  Adrian’s look was tense, the guilt in his eyes sharp. “Go back to Ravenscroft then. Stay there, heal, and be safe.”

  Tain shook his head. “I’m not leaving Samantha alone to face what’s out there. She needs protection, and I’m the best she can have. I’ll have to, as they say, suck it up.” He returned his gaze to the splendor of the unmarred desert, eastern California at its most beautiful. “I can’t go to Ravenscroft and let the world flow past me,” he said, his voice softening. “Samantha will live and change, and be gone by the time I’m able to come out again. I don’t want to miss her life.”

  Adrian watched him, sympathy in his eyes. At their feet, the cobra raised his head. Such a dilemma, the snake’s voice said inside their heads. Cobras never have these problems.

  “Ferrin,” Adrian growled at him.

  We fertilize the eggs and we’re done. No moping, no drama, no broken hearts.

  Adrian picked up one of Tain’s bronze swords and pointed it at Ferrin. “Small snake, large sword.”

  Ferrin lowered himself into a sulky coil. I only speak the truth.

  “He’s a wise reptile,” Tain said, squinting against the glare on the dry lake, white against blue. “But there’s more to it than wanting Samantha to take my life essence at any cost.” He paused, the desert breeze tugging the ends of his short hair. “When I felt the presence of that Old One, I wanted to go to him, Adrian. It was a powerful reflex.”

  He’d told Adrian what had happened on top of the building, but Tain hadn’t told his brother everything, until now.

  “A reflex you successfully fought,” Adrian said. “Obviously. You’re here.”

  “It was very, very close.” Tain felt a tinge of fear, not because of the ancient demon, but fear of himself. “What if I succumb, and he uses what I become?”

  “Then Kalen, Darius, Hunter and I will drag you back to sanity again,” Adrian said. “I’m not losing you a second time.”

  Tain didn’t answer. Unlike his brothers, he knew their rescue of him had been Tain’s choice. He’d so much power by then, he hadn’t needed Kehksut anymore. The demon had become superfluous, and then Kehksut had threatened Samantha. Kehksut daring to hurt Samantha had made Tain sever the ties, enough that he could follow his brothers’ collective magic back to reality.

  “There’s more,” Tain said. “I found the portal to this Old One’s death realm under the Lamiah matriarch’s mansion. I sealed it, but if Samantha becomes the matriarch, she’ll have to deal with him.”

  Adrian stretched his hand to the ground, and Ferrin curled himself around his wrist, blinking sleepily. The cobra twisted all the way around Adrian’s bicep then shimmered and became a silver, snake-shaped armband. “You should be there with her then,” Adrian said with conviction.

  Tain’s eyes narrowed, his blood warming. “Oh, I intend to be.”

  For the meeting with her demon family, Samantha bought another dress, a black satin sheath with a mandarin collar that hugged her body and skimmed to the floor. Samantha hoped, as Leda helped her into the dress, that this one wouldn’t get acid slimed. The formal rental shop had of course demanded full price for the replacement of the blue silk she’d done battle in, which Samantha paid without fuss.

  Fulton reassured her that they were going to a family dinner, no attacks anticipated, but Samantha had learned that you never knew with demons. She’d bought a purse to match the dress large enough to carry her gun, badge, and ID.

  She’d also bought a pair of very high heels to complete the outfit, their straps decorated with rhinestones. The shoes would kill her feet, but observing herself in the mirror, she thought the pain might be worth it.

  Samantha wanted to look good when she met her father’s family—her family. But she wanted to look modest good, not like a demonwhore as when she’d staked out Merrick’s club or the virginal look she’d gone for when meeting the matriarch. She wanted to be Samantha, equal to any of them.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Leda said, hugging her. “You’ll knock ’em dead.”

  “Don’t say that about a demon gathering,” Samantha warned. “It could happen.”

  Fulton picked up Samantha in his new SUV, bought to replace the one damaged in the demon attack at the matriarch’s. He drove down out of Malibu, heading north and west along the mountains that hugged the coast. Eventually they pulled off into Santa Barbara, and Fulton drove through the small city, up a winding road into the hills, and halted at a wide iron gate. He gave his name to the guard, the electronic gate slowly rolled open, and Fulton drove on under arching eucalyptus trees.

  The house Fulton pulled to a stop before was less opulent than the matriarch’s mansion but twice as big. It spread gracefully across the grounds in old California style, with arches, tile roofs, and little balconies popping out here and there. Eucalyptus and tall palm trees surrounded it, leaving a space for the wide gravel drive.

  A man in white gloves opened the doors of the SUV for them, then got into the driver’s seat once they’d disembarked, and drove the vehicle to an open garage.

  “He’s human,” Samantha observed.

  “Most of the people who work for us are,” Fulton said. “Not many demons live up this way, and our family . . . well, you’ll see.”

  The interior of the house was also old California, with vast Saltillo tile floors, arched corridors, and colorful tiled staircases twisting intriguingly out of sight. Their way was lit with candles flickering in wrought-iron wall sconces instead of electric lights.

  Fulton led Samantha along winding halls to a cavernous dining room. A heavy Spanish-style table stretched the length of it, encircled by heavily carved chairs. Well-dressed people wandered about drinking from crystal glasses or warming themselves in front of the white arched fireplace, the evenings this far into the hills cool.

  Conversation ceased as Fulton ushered Samantha in, and twenty pairs of dark eyes regarded them with interest. The matriarch’s mansion had been intimidating enough, but that house had been built and staffed to serve the needs of one woman. This was a family house, where these people lived or visited as they pleased. There was no atmosphere of a business office—this was their home—and Samantha had come to claim it was her home too.

  Her blood was cold, and her skin prickled. Even the stoked fire couldn’t warm her.

  A darkly handsome demon in a suit held up a glass. “Drink, Fulton? Parker brought a bottle of single malt.” Fulton nodded, and the demon went on. “Samantha, for you?”

  Samantha swallowed. She’d love to drown her nerves in alcohol, but she shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  “So this is Samantha,” another man who looked much like Fulton s
aid. “We’ve heard so much about you.” His keen look made Samantha wonder what they’d heard.

  “My reprobate brother Parker,” Fulton said. “Your uncle.”

  “And who is he?” Parker demanded, looking past them. “He reeks. Who let him in here?”

  Samantha swung around, her mouth opening in shock as Tain came through the dining room door. He wore a modern black suit jacket with a tie knotted at his throat, and a crisp, clean kilt. The hilts of his twin swords poked out from beneath the coat.

  The demon in Samantha throbbed, hungry for the rampant life essence he was exuding. It was all she could do not to run to him, grab him, slap her hand over his tattoo, and drink him down. Her cleft tightened, and her previously cold blood flowed hot. She hoped her nipples weren’t poking against the thin silk of her dress for all to see.

  The human half of Samantha wanted to ask him where the hell he’d been and why he’d left her to worry about him like that. As a result, she could only stand numbly, her mouth dry, while Tain took in the crowd of demons staring back at him.

  The woman next to her uncle Parker coolly took a sip of her drink. “Maybe he’s a gift? His essence is heady.” Her eyes darkened.

  Samantha sensed others in the room looking Tain over as though he were the first course at a banquet. Tain gazed back at them steadily, standing out like an outlaw biker in the royal enclosure at Ascot. His buzzed red hair and twin swords were at odds with the roomful of people who’d glammed themselves to have dark hair and eyes and elegant bodies that showed off graceful clothes. Tain was dressed well enough, but he still had the look of a thug, one who wasn’t worried about a roomful of demons.

  “He’s with me,” Samantha said in a strangled voice. “He’s . . . helping me out.” In reality she had no idea what he was doing there, and Tain didn’t enlighten her.

  “I see,” Parker said, dark brows rising. “That’s not going to sit well with Tristan.”

  “I don’t give a damn what sits well with Tristan,” Fulton rumbled.

  “Who’s Tristan?” Samantha asked.

  “Our unfortunate nephew,” Parker said. “An orphaned brat who’s gotten full of himself.”