by Ali Cross
Even though I’d lived with Daniel, worth a hefty fortune himself, I’d attended the public school. When you hang with the low-lifes you are a low life. At least, so say the rich kids. And anyway, I lived in Desert Peak for all of one month—I hadn’t even had time to memorize the combo to my locker, let alone visit the Peak.
But I hadn’t forgotten the towering iron gates to the Mason estate. I watched them swing open like the gates of Hell. Fitting, I thought. It didn't surprise me to see the long circular drive crowded with sports cars, town cars and a couple limos—it was always party time at Casa del Diablo. Because even though Father didn’t live here, he totally owned this place. Everything Daniel Mason possessed, every client, every breath of success, were all gifts from my father.
I scrunched lower in my seat, dreading this next part. The part where I’d have to make nice with Daniel, pretend I was happy to be back. The part where I’d have to see James, and act like his smile didn’t feel like a stake through my heart. Or how I’d drive it through my heart myself if only he’d kiss me again.
Knowles pulled the car up to the front doors and turned off the engine. A carhop, Enrique if I remembered right, jogged to the driver’s side and pulled on the handle. A shiver ran through me as Enrique looked down and through the window, saw me, and licked his slimy wet lips. Oh yeah. I remembered him.
Knowles shook his head and locked the doors. Enrique shrugged his shoulders and I could see him mouth the words, “Hey, whatever man.” Because that’s what he always said.
Every time he’d put his hand on my thigh and tried to slide it under my skirt. Every time he “accidentally” pressed me to the door when I tried to slip past him. Every time he breathed on my neck and sniffed me like a dog. Whatever, man.
“This time could be different, you know,” Knowles said, staring at Enrique. I didn’t know what he meant. Had he figured out what I was thinking about the sleazy carhop? Or was he talking about something else altogether? “I can help you, if you’ll let me.”
I could feel him staring at me, and after a long minute I dragged my eyes away from Enrique and looked at Knowles. His expression suggested he expected me to answer, but for the life of me I couldn’t think of anything to say. “Uh, okay?” I finally managed. Eloquence has never been my strong suit.
He leaned across me and I jumped, sucking in my stomach and pressing myself to the back of the seat. Knowles merely smiled and pulled on my door handle. Enrique ran to open it all the way and did this little mock-bow thing, as if I were a princess descending from her carriage.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Knowles said, turning the key in the ignition. But before I could ask him what he meant, or where he’d see me, or how he thought we’d be “good for each other,” I was out of the car, the door was closed and Knowles was halfway down the lane.
Enrique held the front door open. “Welcome home, Desi,” he said in his heavy Cuban accent. He held the door only wide enough for me to squeeze through, so some part of my body had to brush against him. I opted for my backside.
Enrique brushed his fingertips over my butt as I passed. Without a second thought, I shoved my elbow into his face. He fell to the ground behind me with a strangled cry, but I didn’t look back.
Whatever, man.
chapter three
The front door closed behind me with a snick—like a jail cell. And in a very real way, I was a prisoner. I closed my eyes and tried to slow my breathing. As my father’s daughter, all of this—whether I wanted it or not—was mine.
The basketball player in the room to my left, being schooled on how to snort cocaine. The high-stakes poker game in the library down the hall—I could smell the money from where I stood. Smell the greed. And the accountant who pressed himself against a maid in the hallway upstairs. Sex, drugs, want and money. All given and taken away at the whim of my father.
This was my inheritance. My kingdom.
And I despised it.
With careful steps I climbed up to my room (I knew where it was, knew it wouldn’t have changed), my hands sliding along the cold, marble banister. At the landing, I stopped at the maid’s whimpering cry. Paused, but didn’t turn. Deliberately I walked away from her. The plight of the innocent didn’t concern me—at least, so I tried to pretend. The weight of her pain added to the burden I carried.
Guards didn’t bar the way to this room. The door wasn’t even locked. And unlike Hell, any number of bad guys might try to get in—most humans didn’t know they should be afraid.
As if in answer to that thought, I caught the gleam of silver hanging on a hook underneath the light switch. A fine silver chain with a silver key. I closed the door and plucked the necklace from the hook. Pulling it over my head and tucking the key into my shirt, I felt its cold weight drop against my chest. Some of the tension in my shoulders released. I could lock my door. I could have that measure of privacy, at least.
Turning to face my room, I came to terms with the humanity of this life. Here, I was Desolation Black—teenager. No one would ever know I was the devil’s daughter, a tool shaped in his image, heir to the glories of Hell.
A girl with no hope.
My room smelled of lilac and vanilla, and the windows faced the forested glen to the side of the estate. Here, I didn’t have to see the cars coming and going 24/7, or witness the daily debauchery in the backyard. Here, it was green and lush and I could pretend I lived in one of my tapestries. Here, it was warm.
Slipping Aaron’s coat from my shoulders, I laid it on the bed, placing the afghan on top of it. I added the book to the small pile, trailed my fingers over the white duvet and over one of the carved posters that framed the bed. Touched the white lights that wound around the length of the spindle. Where in Hell I sought decorations of weight and warmth, everything here was light and gauzy, all clean whiteness. There were no rugs, no wall coverings, only the things I needed to survive my exile in the human world.
The bed, nightstand and desk. The rack near the large alcove in front of the bay windows where my staffs stood in an umbrella stand. Nun chucks, kamas and sais hung on the wall next to the staffs. With another deep breath I found I could smile.
There was no Akaros here, no Father whispering in my mind.
No burning cold.
No mind-numbing sameness.
A knock on the door made me regret that thought—here, anything could happen.
Before I even turned to face the door, let alone open it, it was flung wide and Daniel Mason strode in. Handsome as he was, his wide smile always made me cringe. There was something off about it, like he hoped one day I might be his reward.
“Desolation!” He spread his arms and beckoned me to him. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
He’d changed in the eight months since I’d last seen him. He seemed more confident of his power, of his standing in Father’s kingdom. But something had changed in me, as well. His face darkened when he realized I wouldn’t reciprocate his warm greeting.
“I see,” he said, all pretense falling from his face. He raked his eyes over me, up and down, and while I didn’t feel remotely threatened, it was clear I’d just been weighed and measured. I squared my shoulders and met Daniel’s hard gaze with my own. He might resent me, but he could not be allowed to forget who I was.
“I see,” he said again, and this time a note of contrition softened his tone.
“Thank you for having me, Daniel,” I said, my voice a careful rendition of gratitude and regal bearing. “And thank you for keeping my room for me.” I figured it couldn’t hurt to honor propriety—after all, Daniel Mason was an expert pawn, and maybe one day I’d also find a use for him. Akaros would be thrilled to learn the lessons he’d painstakingly taught me had found purchase.
For good measure, I smiled. The Charmer, Father called it. Slightly crooked, a soft smile that I let reach my eyes—and it totally worked.
Daniel’s body relaxed and his face brightened. But I didn’t think for a minute that Daniel would always be th
is easy to handle. He hadn’t risen in Father’s ranks by being a pushover. I could never forget what kind of man he was.
The silence lasted a beat too long, and Daniel’s eyes dared to drift from mine. I could see the moment he caught sight of my small pile of possessions on the bed. He grabbed onto them like a life preserver.
“I wanted to tell you the Master asked that you be taken shopping. I arranged for Lucy to take you out.” He gestured to the open door of my closet and I fought to keep my face impassive.
Lucy. The only good reason to be back on Earth. The only person who made me feel . . . well, human.
“I’ve already provided your school uniforms—but you’ll need other things, of course.” His eyes drifted around my room, careful to avoid my makeshift dojo in front of the window, its weapons gleaming in the sunlight.
Daniel shook himself, as if realizing he was the adult here, and when he looked at me again, his face had sealed against any threat I might lob his way. I faked a smile and sighed. These games were already so old.
“Well, then. Lucy should be here soon,” he said, heading for the door. Then, as if he realized he was walking away the loser, Daniel paused, his hand resting on the doorjamb. “Hopefully, this time your stay here will be less . . . eventful . . . than last, hmm?” He turned and left the room. Score: One for the power-hungry human. Zero for the devil’s daughter.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. Constantly tested. That pretty much summed up my life. Akaros, Father, and now Daniel. Constantly forced to prove my steel with these men—and only one of them truly worthy of my fear and obedience.
Plopping down on the chair in front of the desk, I rested my head in my hands. When I lifted my gaze, it fell on a torn piece of foolscap. A poem from Aaron, passed to me in English class last January. The pen stroke was light, timid. But the dark, swirling artwork bordering the words said so much more. In them I saw Aaron, and pain pierced my heart like a shard of ice. A reminder of Hell.
The pain was like a balm to me. I sat up straight and breathed deep. I’d survive. Whatever Father hoped to accomplish by sending me here—I’d survive it. He’d take me home and I’d never have to come back here again. All I needed was to put in the time. Because Hell, with its endless routine and security, was where I wanted to be.
The front door slammed, and a high-pitched voice called, “Desi!” For the first time in forever, my face lit up in a real smile. Lucy had arrived. “Shake a tail-feather, girl! We’ve got a no-limit credit card burning a hole in my Hilton handbag.” I locked my room, danced down the stairs and launched myself into the arms of my one and only friend. And not just a friend—something so much more.
Lucy laughed and stumbled back from the weight of me—unbalanced on her trademark high-rise platinum heels. I buried my face in her shiny black hair and held on. And Lucy did the one thing only she could do—she wrapped her arms around me.
“Oh, baby,” she crooned, a little of her Cajun lilt coloring her words. “Oh, baby.”
Translation: You’re safe. You’re safe.
She didn’t push me away or try to get me to let go, only held me tighter. She might have been as willowy as a sapling, but she gave the best hugs in all the worlds. Lucy had a quality no one else possessed—a spark of life that warmed me whenever she was near. Even though she was only twenty-four, she was the closest thing to a mother I could imagine.
“Can I get in on this action?” a smooth-warm voice said. James wrapped his arms around me and Lucy, pulling me tighter to her and her to him. I felt him shimmy his hips a little, pulling Lucy along with him. She went willingly, always happy to please a man—even if he was six years her junior.
I stood rock-still, messing up their rhythm. “Aw, come on, princess,” James said, a whispered growl in my ear. “Loosen up, let go. We could have such a good time.”
Lucy purred, and I squeezed my eyes shut while my stomach flipped.
The sound of his voice, the brush of his hand against my arm as he pulled me closer, sent rivers of heat coursing down my spine.
I backed away from the Lucy-sandwich and swiped my hand through my hair in an effort to hide my unease. As much as Aaron had wanted me, I had wanted James—his touch, his breath on my skin, my name on his lips, all of it created such a heat in me, a need I never knew I had until it was there.
Maybe a lifetime freezing in Hell made me hunger for the warmth, I don’t know. But James was the ultimate predator, and I had to recite the reminder like a mantra to release his hold on me. It only sort of worked.
He slipped around to Lucy’s left, still keeping his arm around her waist, and reached out to pull me to his side. “Ah, Des. I’m happy to see you.” He curled a lock of my hair around his finger, then let it slip away while he trailed his fingertip over the nape of my neck and down my clavicle. My body quaked, and I ground my teeth against the rising desire.
James gazed at me, his dark blue eyes a complete mystery—especially when, for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something warm, something more than want. But it vanished too quickly for me to name it.
Lucy, who was way smarter than anyone gave her credit for, put a hand to James’ chest and pushed him away. “Shopping time,” she said, as if scolding a child.
James stepped back, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Ah,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine, the hint of a curve on his lips. “Later, then.”
Lucy took my hand and pulled me out of the house, and when I looked back, James was watching.
“Your first present of the day—besides spending buckets of time with me, of course—” she tossed her hair for dramatic effect, “is this gorgeous new car!” She did a swoopy walk as she gestured to the sleek black convertible. When I didn’t look impressed—gifts, after all, were a pretty regular occurrence, and opulence wasn’t something that concerned me—she tossed the keys to me. “Fine, don’t be impressed. But just try to keep a smile off your face when we get this baby out on the road.” She climbed into the passenger seat with a whoop, and I laughed despite myself. Lucy made everything better.
And really, it was a pretty nice car—a jet-black, sporty Audi, with seats that hugged my butt like a pair of warm hands.
“Heated seats, baby! I know how you’re always cold—though I still think you’re some kind’a crazy. We practically live in the desert!”
I started the ignition, and the engine roared to life with a satisfying growl. Lucy pressed the release, and the top folded back on itself.
“Second gift!” she said, opening the glove compartment. “A must for every stylish gal in sunny C-A!” With another flourish, she handed me a black lacquered box, smooth as silk.
I glanced with trepidation at Lucy, who’d donned her gaudy rhinestoned Gucci glasses, and hesitated opening the box. Pleaseohpleaseohplease don’t be horrendous!
The box creaked as I lifted the lid, and revealed the perfect pair of glasses for me. Totally retro, the Ray-Ban cat’s-eye shades were my favorite color, black, and . . . “Perfect.”
Lucy whooped again. “Oh yeah, baby! Mama Lucy’s here and we’re gonna get you fitted out just fine.” She leaned back in her seat as I slipped on the shades, thrusting the world into a more comforting shade of gray. I’d never had a driving lesson in my life—it was just one of the many things I instinctively knew how to do. I shifted the car into gear and pulled around the circular drive, through the gates, and out onto the open road.
chapter four
Lucy directed me past the city of Desert Peak and on to LA where we could do some ‘serious shopping.’ A lifetime in the vast wasteland of Hell had left me way too sensitive to all the noise and smells of this world. The distractions made my skin ache. I itched to stick my earbuds in to cut down on the information overload, but every time I tried, Lucy tugged them out. Finally she confiscated my iPod altogether.
“We should get you a phone, anyway,” she insisted, pushing me into a service store. Half an hour later I walked out with a shiny new
toy that made Lucy happy—since she could call me—and satisfied me because I could still have all the music I needed to make life bearable.
Hours later, we dropped into chairs at an outdoor café after pawning a copious amount of bags off on the valet. I was reasonably happy with my spoils, even if Lucy made me buy a few items I’d never wear. While she had not approved of my endless selection of black jeans and black T’s, she did allow me to stock up on some basic items that weren’t embellished with rhinestones, cute catch-phrases or snakeskin (seriously).
I leaned back into the wrought iron garden chair and took a deep drag of my Coke. “Ahhh,” I said, closing my eyes against the burn in the back of my throat. Lucy took a more refined sip of her strawberry daiquiri, then pinned me with her chocolate brown eyes—her expression dangerously serious.
“So, baby.” She reached out a hand, my pale complexion almost translucent in comparison to her beautiful dark skin. She pried my fingers away from their napkin-tearing. “You gonna stay with us a little longer this time?” I tried to look away, but she squeezed my hand, hard, until I met her gaze. “You gotta give it a chance, you know. What happened to that poor boy wasn’t your fault, baby. You need to give your destiny a chance.” I knew she meant well, that she wouldn’t know how the bile washed up my throat at the memory of the last time I lived in Desert Peak. And she didn’t have a clue about my destiny.
I managed a noncommittal nod that seemed to appease her. Lucy didn’t know who my father was. She only knew the cover story Daniel provided—that I was heir to the throne of a small and distant country, and there’d been threats against my safety. “Uncle” Daniel had kindly taken me in so I could live the life of a normal teenage girl, unencumbered by royal duties and death threats. The cover ensured Lucy, and everyone else, were more forgiving of my social awkwardness, while making Lucy feel she was the fairy godmother sent to teach me the ways of life and love.