Blood In The Stars

by Jennifer Shea

  He would never let Alastor have her.

  Chapter 8

  “You’re meeting with Hellerman today?” Jason asked nervously.

  They had woken an hour ago in each other’s arms. After languid kisses and butterfly caresses, they had reluctantly risen from bed so she could get ready for work. While he was in the shower, Daria had brewed coffee and prepared a light breakfast of toast and yogurt.

  She glanced up from her mug of coffee as he entered the kitchen and nodded, waiting with raised brows.

  “You need to be careful today.” He picked his words so as not to scare her. “Damien is a demon.”

  Her hands froze, cup halfway to her mouth. She blinked. “A real demon. Like John?”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant by ‘real’ demon, but if there was a difference, Damien was as real as they came.

  “Remember when I told you there were three Houses? Damien is from the House of Demons.”

  She chewed on her lip in thought and then got up from the dining table to put her mug into the sink. “Maybe I’ll take a leave after today’s meeting.”

  “You’re still planning to go to work?” He had hoped to deter her from going at all. He should have known it wouldn’t have made a difference. She was too driven.

  Daria turned back to him and a small smile lit her face. “We’ll be meeting at the office where there are tons of people. It’ll be fine.” She sauntered over and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Are you always such a worrywart?”

  When it came to Daria? Absolutely. But he didn’t say it aloud.

  “Besides, I still need to pay the bills.” She grabbed her purse. “I can take a short vacation after this project, but I need to see it through.” Daria paused as she reached for her shoes. “It’s never going to stop, is it?”

  He couldn’t see her face and he wondered if she hid from him on purpose. She stood absolutely still, pumps dangling from her fingers. Suddenly, she seemed to recover and whirled around with a smile that seemed a little too bright and cheery.

  “Ready?”

  Jason nodded. They talked of the weather and Chicago on their walk to work. She told him about some office gossip and they acted like any other couple. But they weren’t. She was the auspicious one and he was her protector.

  When they got to their building, he handed her the files and warned her again to be careful. “You can trust Miller.”

  She furrowed her brow at his declaration though she didn’t ask questions.

  “Call me when you’re done with the meeting.”

  And she was off, racing to catch the elevator. Jason sighed, wishing he had explained more last night and this morning. Last night he had been too caught up in the feel of Daria next to him, to reveal more than only the most important details. This morning, he had been too worried about his own demons. Miller would take care of Daria. He was sure of it.

  His feet dragged as if weighted with anchors as he moved toward the elevator. Even his body wished to delay the inevitable meeting with his brother. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other in five hundred years. Ever since he lost Alice. He hadn’t spoken to his father, either. The only communiqué he had received from his father was his assignment to watch over Daria. And even that had been twenty-seven years ago. Through oven mail.

  Jason switched on the lights and trudged to his office, not surprised at all to find his brother sitting in the leather chair behind the imposing office desk. Alastor appeared the same as everyone in his family did after they hit their first century mark. From there, they stopped aging. So, for the last few centuries, Alastor carried the same golden blond hair and sky blue eyes without a speck of gray or a line of wrinkle.

  Most of his family preferred to wear black and Alastor was no different today, wearing a black tee and black slacks. They seemed too stark against his brother’s fair coloring. But there was a reason he was their father’s ‘golden child.’ After all, Alastor and their father resembled each other strongly, with their square jaw line and Greek nose. Only Jason looked different from the rest of the family.

  “I was wondering if you were ever going to start work,” Alastor scolded.

  No greeting. No comment about how it had been centuries since they had last seen each other. Nothing. Just a derisive remark. One Jason didn’t plan on answering.

  He refused to perch in front of his desk as though a guest in someone else’s office. Instead, Jason sat on the small leather loveseat facing the window.

  They said nothing for a minute and Jason watched the El chug by on the metal tracks, the steady clang of the train smoothing out the strands of his unfurling, thinning patience. It hadn’t always been like this. Jason remembered a time when he was on good terms with his brother. Looked up to him. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact event when things had changed.

  But what was the use in dwelling? It was too late to undo the past.

  When he could avoid it no longer, Jason asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “She’s near maturation. I can smell her.” Then Alastor paused. “I don’t recall ever smelling Alice.”

  Jason’s jaw clenched but he didn’t respond. He wouldn’t give his brother that satisfaction.

  “Have you proposed to Daria yet? The same way you did to Alice?”

  Jason’s blood froze, the only way to explain the coldness in his bones, the frigid emptiness that coursed through his veins.

  When he remained silent, Alastor smirked. “I don’t think you’d want to marry Daria, anyway. She’s not nearly as pretty as Alice. Lovely golden hair, if I recall correctly. It has been over five hundred years. My memory might be a little rusty.”

  “Don’t,” Jason grated.

  He didn’t want to think about Alice, yet unlike last night, he couldn’t shove the memory out of his mind. It rose from the depths of buried crevices he had long ago hidden away. It had taken years—no, centuries—to submerge the past. Now everyone wanted to resurrect the pain.

  “She always wore the most beautiful gowns. English, right? And from a noble family. What was it again? Some earl or another? She—”

  In one motion, Jason whipped out his sword and stood. “Stop.” He tried to swallow the lump of anguish in his throat and failed. It grew, choking him. “Please.”

  Alastor eyed the length of the blade for a brief second before smiling. “I have one too, you know.”

  “Don’t say any more. Don’t utter her name. Don’t speak of her at all. You have no right.”

  Jason stood there, sword drawn, reliving the awful minutes leading up to Alice’s death. He recalled the candlelight flicker in her chambers when he promised to take her away from all the horrors, how they would escape her burden as the auspicious one.

  Then they had come. Five shadowed demons entered the room. Four surrounded him while the fifth, their leader, grabbed Alice by the hair. Jason had fought them with the same sword he carried now. But when given the chance to take their lives, he had hesitated. And the battle changed to their favor, leading to her downfall.

  Jason sucked in a ragged breath. The demons had held him back, making him watch as Balthazar, their leader, taunted Alice. And as they knocked him out, she had screamed his name.

  Days later, Balthazar led an uprising in Hell. The ruling demon family fought back and a bloody civil war ensued. Rumors that Balthazar had already gained the auspicious one’s powers spread through the realm. But it wasn’t enough. Balthazar was killed and near him the body of a human was found.

  Jason had gone to Hell to verify the bodies. The blackened, unrecognizable mess had told him nothing. Yet on the body of the woman was an ash-covered pendant he had once given Alice as a token of his affection.

  Alastor stood, wrenching Jason’s attention back to the present. His brother quirked his head in curiosity. “Would you ki
ll me if I spoke of her? Because that’s what it’s going to take.”

  Jason’s grip tightened on his sword. “It doesn’t have to come to that.”

  “Oh, but it does. I’m trying to save you from an eternity of unhappiness.”

  “Is that why you weren’t there that night?” Jason spat. “You were trying to save me?”

  Their father had assigned Alastor to protect Alice, to act as backup. But when the time came, his brother had disappeared. And Alice had paid the price.

  “She was your charge.” Alastor’s voice frosted over. “You weren’t allowed to marry her anyway.”

  “I loved her,” Jason bit out.

  At that, Alastor gave Jason a satisfied grin. “But you couldn’t save her, could you? Because you can’t dirty your hands.”

  An awful prick of shame pierced each pore of his skin, stretching it taut with pain. Jason’s arm dropped and he turned away, sheathing his sword through the folds of space.

  “You were devastated when you lost Alice. I imagine you won’t be nearly as sad when Daria dies.”

  His brother goaded him, but Jason barely heard the words.

  Alastor was right. Alice died because he couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—dirty his hands. And even now, he didn’t know if he could.

  “Nothing has changed. It’s exactly as I told you five hundred years ago. If you want to marry the auspicious one, you’ll have to kill me first.” Alastor produced a devilish smile, his words pouring more salt into an already gaping, pulsing wound.

  Jason hadn’t been able to kill the demons. He certainly couldn’t kill his brother. And Alastor knew that.

  “Well, if we’re done here, I have some errands I need to run,” Alastor announced.

  “What do you have to do?” Jason hissed. “She is the last auspicious one left in the world. Don’t you want to protect her? Keep her alive?” He glared at his brother. “So you can compete with me?”

  The smile disappeared and Alastor’s angelic face immediately took on a derisive cast. He rounded the desk and stepped toward Jason. Then with one knee on the coffee table, Alastor leaned in close, lips curling in disdain.

  “You forget. You’re the one competing with me. You also forget that so long as we kill whomever kills the auspicious one, our House continues to rule. Saving the auspicious one is unnecessary.” Alastor crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Jason in a way he didn’t understand. “The only person who cares to keep her alive, is you.”

  With that little reminder, Alastor disappeared into the shadows.

  The moment Daria entered the conference room, she knew exactly who called the shots. Even in heels that stretched her petite height to five-six, she was still a far cry from the towering Damien Hellerman. The man stood at least six-six with a barrel chest and broad shoulders that rivaled a football player. He was a giant.

  Daria cleared her throat. And reminded herself he was also a demon.

  “Daria Mathews,” she introduced herself, sticking out her hand.

  His meaty paw swallowed hers in a firm handshake and when he began pumping her arm up and down, Daria thought she’d lose the limb from the abuse.

  “Great to meet all of you,” Damien bellowed, shaking one hand after another.

  Maybe he didn’t bellow. His voice projected from the diaphragm out his mouth to resonate off the walls. Damien seemed to have a big personality. Probably too big for her to handle.

  Damien is a demon. Yet he looked ordinary enough to her. Of course, Jason looked normal, too. She sent him a wary glance. Based on sheer size, Damien personified ‘scary.’ She suddenly wished Jason were with her or had at least told her what to do about Damien.

  The partner motioned for everyone to sit down at the conference table. Before anyone moved, Damien threw out a sidelong smile. “I don’t think you need to be here, Chuck.”

  Mr. Burke gaped at Damien. “I can handle it with Miller and Daria,” Damien added.

  Mr. Burke blinked and straightened.

  “You can leave now, Chuck. You may contact me in two weeks to see if you received the business.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” Mr. Burke murmured, scooping up his things from the table. “I don’t need to be here. You can handle it with Miller and Daria.”

  Daria began to protest when she suddenly noticed Mr. Burke’s eyes. Glazed and unfocused, they stared at nothing as he left the conference room, as if he didn’t even know she and Miller along with their client still stood there waiting.

  Was this the power of a demon? Would she start seeing tails and pitchforks next? Her heart thumped and she turned to Miller for support.

  He had crossed his arms in front of his chest and glowered at their client. “Was that really necessary?” Miller asked.

  Damien laughed, the deep tenor enveloping the room and thickening the air. She found it hard to breathe and stood closer to her colleague.

  Damien is a demon.

  Those four words taunted her with its never-ending chant. What did that mean, exactly? What could a demon do?

  Kill me!

  The thought sent chills dancing up her spine. Part of her wanted to bolt. Her eyes darted to the door. She wouldn’t get far.

  “It’s gorgeous outside,” Damien declared. He strode closer to them and it took every ounce of willpower for her to stand her ground. He leaned in to stare down at her. “It’s very nice to meet you, Daria.”

  “Nice . . . to meet you too, Mr. Hellerman.” She swallowed hard. He gazed at her as though ogling a fish tank, his eyes wide and curious.

  “Cut the crap,” Miller spat. “I’m warning you.”

  “Oooh. I’m so scared.” Damien waved his hands mockingly and the thick arms and snickering face made him seem like a big gorilla.

  Gorillas could kill her, too.

  He strode away and stared out the window. “Do you guys live around here?”

  “You know where I live,” Miller retorted.

  “And you, Daria?”

  “Uh . . .” She took a few steps forward and said, “I live on Ontario.”

  “Can you see it from here? Where is it?”

  Miller’s hand locked on her arm. She turned around and saw him shake his head. “Stay by me.”

  Damien gave her a sad, puppy-dog face. “You won’t even show me? What kind of manners does this team have?”

  Despite Miller’s protests and her own sense of self-preservation, her years of professionalism won out. She went to the window and pointed east in the direction of Lake Michigan. “I’m behind that black building there. The one with the spire.”

  “Daria,” Miller called to her anxiously.

  Too late. Damien’s hand clamped down on her arm.

  “Mr. Hellerman,” Daria cried, attempting to withdraw her arm and failing miserably.

  Damien didn’t acknowledge her as he reached out his free hand, palm facing the window. The glass dissipated before her eyes. She tried again to wrench her arm free, but to no avail. Panic flooded her as the hole on the window grew and a cool breeze brushed her face. Then a black cavity began to form inside the hole. The rest of the window remained intact but the chasm had developed into an abyss of darkness.

  Miller rushed to them just as Damien’s hand tightened on her arm and he dragged her through the hole in the window.

  “Ciao!” she heard as she screamed. She expected her body to slam into the glass wall sending her to an ugly death on the city streets. Instead, she propelled forward and fell into nothingness. Her world had turned darker than black. As if she were blind. Light ceased to exist. The only truth was the never-ending fall.

  A deafening silence surrounded her. The darkness devoured all sound as it had the sun. And she continued to descend.

  “Will you shut up, already?
”

  Daria jolted back, suddenly realizing she wasn’t moving anymore, not knowing she continued to cry out. When had she stopped falling?

  Her eyes blinked to adjust to the sudden intake of light as she turned to the voice. She wasn’t that surprised to see Damien towering over her, burly arms crossed over his thick chest.

  She found herself splayed on a bed sheet and jumped up in shock, scanning her surroundings. She was in her room. At home.

  Daria sped to the door and wrenched it open. It didn’t move. She tried again. Still nothing. She whirled around and glared at Damien.

  “Oh, yeah. You can’t get out that way. Sorry for the rough ride.”

  Her frantic breaths steadied and she surveyed the room again. Although it looked like her home, it wasn’t. The light shining through the window came from the afternoon sun and it was still before noon.

  “Where . . . where am I?” she asked, finding her voice within a cracked throat worn down from screaming.

  “This is where you’ll be staying until we get married,” he replied.

  Daria blinked, her brain not fully registering what he said. She could have sworn he said something about getting married, which made zero sense since they had just met.

  “Huh?” she asked dumbly.

  “Married. You and me.”

  She hadn’t been hearing things. Still, she didn’t understand. “Why?”

  “I’m not going to drink your blood since I’m already born with powers. And I’m basically immortal, so I won’t be eating your flesh. So it’s natural that the third choice of marriage is the best for us.”

  Digesting his words took several interminable seconds. Finally, the light bulb went off in her head. But if one of the Houses can claim this human, not only will the clan prosper, but also that House will rule over all the land. That was what Jason meant. To lay claim through marriage.