Domiel

by McClure, Dawn

  “Leave the room, Roger,” Samael said quietly.

  He was giving Roger an out, a gentlemanly thing to do in a very ungentlemanly situation.

  Roger didn’t move. More than likely he was torn as to how to proceed. Their friendship spanned centuries. Battles, birthdays, holidays … they’d shared them all.

  Of the two men, Samael could deliver the death blow. As a former Angel of Souls, he knew death was only a transition. Decisions in life would place you in the chosen realm of afterlife. She had the craziest urge to point out that Jade wouldn’t be too thrilled if he killed her best friend. That truth wouldn’t hold weight against the fighters who stood before her now, so she let the obvious fall to the pit of her stomach.

  Samael was forgetting one important detail about her powers. She could incapacitate him, yet the second she let go of that power and brought him back to the physical world, they’d both be on their feet. Might give her time to weigh her options, though. Yes, Roger, Leave.

  Roger lowered his hand, stared at her long and hard, and then left the room. Apparently duty came first, and she should have known, but damned if it didn’t cut her straight to her soul that he’d leave her at the mercy of another assassin.

  Samael stepped forward, his sword at the ready, his forearms bunching under the weight of his weapon. She wasn’t just going to take him to that place between sleep and consciousness. She was going to take him out completely, send both of them solidly into the dream realm and try to reach him somehow.

  She didn’t hesitate to use her powers. Both went down.

  Chapter Ten

  She’d come to him again.

  The sweet scent of Kelsey’s despair filled Nybbas’s body with strength and vitality. She was, and would always remain, a crushed Viagra pill added to his evening cup of coffee. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing her energy to wash over him.

  Since her possession he’d come to need more pain, more sex, more emotional feeding to bring his energy level back to the same heights he’d experienced during that time. He siphoned from others more frequently now, to the point he was growing tired of it.

  Desire for the pain Kelsey was currently unleashing in the dream realm caused his blood to rush through his body like liquid fire. His dick went stiff and his head spun from his siphoning. Throughout the centuries he’d laid claim to countless innocent lives, harnessing the purity of their energy as the pain he inflicted on them fed his own need for power.

  Most of his victims remained nameless fools, weak mortals who succumbed to his torture in a matter of hours. Out of all his sufferers, Kelsey remained an enigma. She was the strongest of all his victims, and yet she remained the weakest of them all, unable to track him down with her deadly skills and end her suffering. Her misery was enough for ten incubi, if pain was their choice of drug. Most preferred sex, though copulation never carried the same amount of emotion for him. It certainly had never been enough to keep him at his desired peak of strength.

  With his cup of coffee in hand, he walked out onto his veranda and fought the urge to dive into the subconscious realm with Kelsey. Ah, but with her he always went a little farther, projecting his soul into the dream realm, not just his subconscious. Astral projection, when used by an incubus, was deadly. By doing so he’d insured they were so well connected that her emotions engulfed him even when he was awake. She was the perfect partner.

  He craved her, and though she’d never understand, he loved her. During the time of her possession, he’d carefully aided her while allowing the spiritual demons to torment her. She’d never have survived without his help. Not that she’d admit that to any living being, least of all him.

  Twenty floors up, his flat overlooked the best New York had to offer. The energy of the city snaked through him, twining around the energy he was receiving from Kelsey. The white lights from headlights lit the lined concrete below, and the red brake lights gave his scenery a twisted Christmas tree oblique. He enjoyed the constant movement the most. There was never a dull moment beneath his balcony.

  New York City had been his playground for the past thirty years. Anytime he felt the draw for a different flavor of pain, he merely walked through the subconscious black holes of the homeless, or took pleasure in infiltrating the dreams of the high-society women in his building. Fucking them and leaving them stupefied as to what had happened, and who had touched them, also added to his power.

  He sipped his coffee, thought about how well he’d constructed his life after his fall from grace. He’d been certain he’d never come back from his post-fall desolation, but he’d done very well for himself.

  A sharp tug on Kelsey’s level of pain beckoned him, and his coffee sloshed against the side of the porcelain cup. Something was wrong. Her emotional level had spiked, and not from his doing.

  His own energy level depleting for fear of her safety, he set his coffee down on the concrete ledge and quickly settled himself on a plush chaise lounge.

  His body relaxed instantly. The sounds of the city evaporated as he concentrated on projection. He might need to physically alter the reality of another, and he could only do that by using astral projection to get into the dream realm, a practice most incubi didn’t attempt. It was dangerous and left the incubus open for attack.

  He kept to the shadows of her dream, aware she’d targeted another individual, and not him as he’d originally thought. Two distinct energy levels infused the air around him. A male was with her. Without revealing himself, Nybbas watched the two from the shadows.

  He knew the male demon from her subconscious. Samael, once a Marquis of Hell, now an assassin for the Alliance, the emotion emanating from Samael’s body was consistent with agitation … and apprehension.

  She’d not only connected with Samael, she’d taken him securely into the dream realm, which was unlike her. She normally slipped her target into a semi-subconscious state, where they couldn’t actually see each other, they could only hear one another.

  The two were facing off.

  He’d anticipated Kelsey’s final showdown with the Alliance, and he would protect her. He desired her pain, never her immortal death.

  Samael held a sword loosely at his side. “You only prolong the inevitable. This is hard on everyone, Kels. But you made the decision to kill innocents, and so shall you be killed.”

  Rather poetic for an assassin.

  Nybbas, as always, took the time to admire Kelsey’s beauty and grace. Faced against the demon, she showed no physical signs of emotional distress, though Nybbas knew otherwise. No doubt her pain had spiked from the realization her friend was willing to decapitate her.

  She held her head high. “I’m not going to stand here and try to convince you I’m innocent. I’m asking you to give me time to prove it.”

  There was sorrow in Samael’s gaze as he stepped forward. “No.”

  Another ripple of trepidation from Kelsey nearly sent Nybbas to his knees, his eyes closed in bliss.

  He slowly opened his eyes when Kelsey’s voice carried over the silence. “Domiel had your back when you needed it the most. He’s doing his best to help me, just by giving me time. Samael, I must clear my name. I can’t go out like this. I have more power than you do in this realm. You’ll never take me down here. It’s impossible. Even I don’t have the power to alter reality in this realm. Whatever happens here has no affect in the mortal world.”

  Nybbas smiled. She was right on all accounts. But he was the more powerful in the dream realm, and he would see to her well-being.

  Samael stopped his advance, shadows masking his features, which had been set against what he was about to do. “I’m afraid if I don’t do this, you’ll keep on killing. Your soul will be marked for damnation, if it isn’t already. I’m sorry.”

  “Why is it so easy to believe me capable of murdering innocents, Samael?” she whispered.

  The male hesitated before replying, “What you survived … listen, no one is blaming you, Kelsey. But you must be sto
pped.”

  “You mean I need to be put down like some rabid dog.”

  Nybbas’s plan to turn the Alliance against her had been an incredible success. He’d turned Kelsey’s world inside out, effectively driving her pain—and his energy levels—to nearly as high as when Kelsey had been possessed. He couldn’t allow her death, though. She was his highest form of drug, the most potent. His control over her would feed him for as long as he maintained that control.

  No one would take her from him. No one. He’d known his plan would dissolve into his protecting her, which brought on the greatness of his plan. He’d hurt and kill those she loved, creating a tantalizing cycle.

  Now was the time.

  He used his powers to take on her image and contorted the dream world, effectively shutting her out, keeping her safe.

  Samael he kept.

  * * * *

  Kelsey jerked awake, the pull from the dream realm seeming to split her head in two. She gasped for air and stumbled to her feet, knowing Samael wouldn’t hesitate to complete this mission.

  Only Samael wasn’t on his feet ready to sever the head from her shoulders. His body remained motionless on the floor, his hand still gripping the hilt of his sword in vain.

  In all her years of using the power of the dream realm, nothing like this had ever happened to her. Samael remained connected to a realm which he had no control over, whereas she was fully awake.

  Understanding dawned as she inhaled slowly and stared at her fellow assassin. Faint and barely detectable, the acrid stench of the incubus’s energy radiated softly from Samael. Fear ricocheted inside her chest, lodging itself in her throat. It didn’t matter that Samael had been primed to annihilate her immortal body. She had to do what she could to save him now.

  She shut her eyes, tried to connect with Samael once again, but something blocked her—a dark and powerful energy. The darkness kept her from infiltrating the dream realm, blocking a power she’d mastered since her first days as a fledging immortal.

  The sound of movement forced her to open her eyes. Samael rose to his knees, his gaze vacant, his movements slow. He tossed his sword to the ground, unsheathed the dagger at his waist. Time dissolved into a silent mourning so loud it made her ears ring. Kelsey understood immediately what Samael was enduring in the dream realm—utter helplessness. His corporeal actions were being controlled by the incubus.

  She ran to him and grasped his wrist holding the dagger. Her strength was no match for his. He jerked the dagger toward his own chest, cut through material, skin and muscle, his actions becoming a blur of steel and mutilated flesh.

  Blood blossomed around the hilt of the protruding dagger, turning Samael’s grey T-shirt an inky black.

  “Samael, stop! Samael!”

  What had Domiel done to wake her up when she’d knifed herself? Or had the incubus merely been toying with her? Had he relinquished his power over her, or had Domiel’s strength and determination been the thing to tear her from the dream realm?

  Samael backhanded her so violently her feet left the floor. She hit the dresser hard, causing the attached mirror to bang against the wall and shatter. Her towel came undone, falling to the floor in a forgotten heap.

  She heard Roger shout something from the other side of the door. Her first reaction was a sense of relief, quickly followed by despair. Only a demon’s powers would work to unlock the door. Roger, being a vampire, couldn’t help her save Samael, and she couldn’t merely let him in when Samael was stabbing himself over and over.

  There was no time.

  She lunged at Samael again, her bare feet slipping on broken shards of mirror. She fought against Samael, tried to stop him from stabbing himself, but Samael’s movements intensified, the dagger connecting with his flesh repeatedly, and her own. Their blood mixed, soaked into the stained hotel carpet.

  As his strength ebbed from loss of blood, she shoved Samael to his back, straddling him. She grabbed his wrist and used her leverage to pull up until her biceps screamed with strain. The dagger hovered just above his ravaged chest, the steel the ultimate prize in their tug of war. A fresh surge of power vibrated beneath Samael’s skin, and Kelsey gasped, remembering the incubus was in control here, not Samael. The dagger sank into his chest again and again, coating them both with warm blood.

  Samael’s red-tinged eyes dulled. Kelsey sobbed, thinking abruptly of Jade, of how Samael’s death would break her heart—completely shatter her.

  When the door burst open, she looked up to see Azazel, Sven, and Roger. Azazel’s eyes went wide with surprise, and then a fury so strong swept over his features she knew she’d die by his hand.

  Azazel closed the distance between them, knocking her off Samael and into the wall, right through paint and plaster. The plaster stuck to her damp skin. She struggled to stand. Sven and Roger helped Azazel with Samael, their attention now on saving their friend, not on killing her.

  So much blood … she’d seen the gruesome aftermath of battle too many times, but she’d rarely seen the blood of a friend so close to her heart. Sven snatched his shirt over his head and tried to stop the bleeding as Roger held onto Samael’s lax arms. Had they witnessed Samael inflicting his own wounds and her own inability to stop him, or had they only seen her hands on the dagger that drew his blood?

  Would it matter? Certainly he wouldn’t die. But God … the blood…

  Azazel had tears coursing down his cheeks.

  She grabbed a fistful of clothes off the floor and ran from the room, bloody, naked, and utterly devastated. Her heart lodged in her throat as she ran, completely oblivious as to whether her friends were in pursuit. The grey pallor of Samael’s skin trailed after her, dangerous enough.

  What seemed hours later she sat in an alleyway next to a group of homeless mortals, her mind and body completely numb. One of the homeless men watched her as he ate from a wrinkled bag, his penetrating glare doing nothing to snap her back to reality. Stray cats pounced in and out of the garbage can next to her, hissing as they landed on all fours and scampered away.

  One image ran through her mind over and over—Azazel’s tears. His absolute rage. There could be only one explanation for Azazel’s immediate display of emotion. Jade had morphed into Azazel. Jade was the one who’d used her angelic powers to open the door of the hotel room. She was the one who’d witnessed Kelsey straddling her husband with her hands around the dagger that drew his blood.

  And Jade had morphed into Azazel for her.

  Kelsey had no doubt Jade would seek her out now. Jade would use her training and her angelic power to take her down without thought or remorse. All the evidence clearly, and more than likely to Jade unerringly, pointed to Kelsey.

  The demon had not only hurt one of her dearest friends, but he’d increased Kelsey’s suffering ten-fold. He must be getting off on that. The Alliance had been handed the last nail for her coffin, and Jade would be the one to pound it in.

  Find me, Kelsey.

  She knew what she had to do to stop the demon, but doubt plagued her. Whenever backed into a situation where there seemed no way out, she’d relied on her powers to get her through—powers he could manipulate with little to no effort.

  He was the dream realm.

  Screw that bastard. How could she let him to this to her? He’d taken her only child from her, was attacking her closest friends now. How long was she going to turn over and show him her belly? She was a goddamned vampire assassin, taught by the elite of their species.

  She glanced around at the mortals and dared them to fuck with her. Then she lowered her head and did the one thing she shouldn’t.

  She delved into the dream realm and connected with Lexie, determined to end this once and for all.

  * * * *

  Alexia took the stairs three at a time all the way up to the seventh floor, too fidgety and amped up to take the elevator. Ever since she’d heard what had gone down with Samael after Kels connected with her, she’d been terrified at what she’d see when she walked int
o her room. Could the demon who’d attacked Samael have done the same to Azazel while she’d been gone? She’d left him completely vulnerable.

  She fumbled with the card to open the door. She had to slide it four times before the green light came on.

  Relief poured through her when she saw Azazel sitting where she’d left him. She bent over and placed her palms on her thighs and took deep breaths. As assassins, she and Azazel faced death on a daily basis. But who could fight against a phantom of death? This was the first time she’d felt mind-numbing fear in months. Years. Hell, ever.

  When she’d gained some of her composure, she went to her husband, sat on his lap and hugged him. He couldn’t move, and that set her mind at ease. She was terrified to let go of the power that held him immobile, actually afraid of what he’d do. Since entering the room, she had yet to make eye contact. She’d never run from anything, and with more than a little trepidation, she realized now was not the time to start.

  The strong beat of his heart comforted her, and though she knew he didn’t want her wrapped around him, it seemed the safest place at the moment. She may have broken a trust between them, but she loved him above anyone and anything else.

  Knowing in her heart it was time, she counted to three and whispered the words that released him against the warm skin of his neck.

  His reaction was immediate.

  He roughly pushed her off him and got off the bed without giving her a backward glance. He started gathering his weapons where she’d laid them on the dresser, out of his reach. His energy spiked, causing the air around them to spark with electricity.

  “Listen, some bad things went—”

  “Enough.”

  She tried to tell him about what happened again. “We’re dealing with something more powerful than we’d originally thought.”

  “I said enough.” His back was to her, and his voice was calm and deep. He strapped his daggers in place, snapped the magazine back into his gun, and kept his attention on what he was doing.