The Hidden Demon

by Monica La Porta

  Later, she plopped to her side, her head on her bent arm, her fingers drawing circles on his chest. “It was my first time too.”

  He smiled, waiting for her to explain, his hand possessively splayed over her hip.

  “I never asked to be marked before.” She paused, worried he would be scared by what would come next, but he pressed his hand to pull her closer to him and left a kiss over his mark. Shivers and yet another wave of pleasure wreak havoc on her body. She gently pressed her hand over his chest to stop him. “I am a werewolf—”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” He raised his head and kissed her lips.

  She came off the kiss, took a calming breath, then lowered her forehead to his. “It’s binding to me. This mark makes me yours.”

  “Good.” He pressed one hand on the small of her back.

  She was falling under his spell once again, but needed to make her point crystal clear. “You don’t understand. You aren’t bonded by werewolf law. I won’t be able to mate with anyone else even if I—”

  He leaned away, his eyes a twirling pool of amber, something akin to fear and anger reflected in them. “Don’t ever mention mating with anyone but me ever again.” He didn’t let her explain, but rolled on top of her, and before she could even react, he was inside her and made her forget the rest of her so-carefully planned speech.

  Sometime the next morning, while they were spooning, serenaded by a band trying their tracks for the night, he kissed her mark softly, then rested his head there, and whispered, “We might belong to different races, but there won’t ever be a force on earth, heaven, or hell strong enough to separate us. I am yours as you are mine. It will never change. What I feel for you can only become bigger and stronger.”

  She cried, but those were tears of joy and she didn’t try to stop them, but let Peter wash them away with his love.

  ****

  The day after, Peter reluctantly decided they had to turn on their cell phones. They had been hungry for each other and it had taken a while to satiate their appetites, but eventually he had found the time and energy to share with her what he had learned during those hours they had been separated. She knew he had tailored the story for her ears and left out the most painful details, which made her feel terrible for not being with him when he needed her the most, and protective at the same time.

  “We don’t have to go back to work. The rest of the world can go on without us.” Ophelia massaged his back as he sat on the chaise lounge on her terrace. The air was warm and the sun shone bright in the sky, no clouds in sight. She had insisted he nourish himself after the long hours they had spent in her bedroom. For the two of them, she had called the bar and asked for a full breakfast for six people to be delivered. They had just finished the tray of tramezzini and were attacking the croissants.

  “I can ask Alexander if we can spend a few days at Villa Eloisa. I haven’t been to visit the Amalfi Coast in a while, and it’s my favorite place. It’s going to be our honeymoon.” She lowered her head to his neck and nuzzled his hair. In the last day, she had discovered how much she liked to play with his long, straight hair. And from the way he purred when she passed her fingers through his mane, Peter loved the feeling too.

  “Yes, let’s have a honeymoon,” she whispered, her lips brushing his skin, and was rewarded by his long shivering.

  He pressed back against her kiss. “Speaking of which, when we left the hospital in such a hurry, I forgot to mention that Quintilius didn’t look that happy we were kind of eloping.”

  “Eloped,” she said the word as if she was savoring it. “I like the sound of it.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “It is what we did, isn’t it?”

  He kissed her hands united under his chin, then turned slightly to grab her and pulled her down to his lap. “It is exactly what we did.” He brushed her lips. “And I would do it again.” He caressed her under her ribs and smiled into a kiss as she shivered and pressed to his gloved touch.

  They had discovered, after making love for hours, that Peter’s power could be contained once they were both physically drained, but finishing a conversation was still a strenuous task.

  “So, Quintilius?” He took her hands already traveling down and placed them over his heart.

  “I told you, he’s like a father to me.” She wriggled on his lap, making him sigh, and he stole a kiss from her.

  “Should I ask his blessing?” He gently bit her lower lip.

  She moaned. “It wouldn’t hurt.” She grabbed his gloves and yanked them off his hands.

  When the first text came, the golden light of one bright Roman sunset lit their naked bodies.

  “Meet me at Caelum’s place. Hurry.” Barnes’s message.

  “We must leave.” Peter kissed Ophelia’s forehead, then swung his legs out of the chaise lounge, picked their clothes from the terracotta floor, and handed Ophelia her camisole and jeans.

  “Why?”

  “My guess is that a storm is brewing and Barnes wants us somewhere safe. Arariel has been too quiet—” He automatically reached for his gloves, but Ophelia stole a kiss to his bare knuckles before he covered them.

  “My Ninja’s out of gas.” She hurriedly donned her clothes.

  “We’ll take my Jeep. I left it in the alley next to the garage.”

  A few minutes later, they were running toward his car. When he crouched to the ground and reached under the chassis, feeling for the spare ignition key, Ophelia laughed. He found the key and stood back up. “What?”

  “I can’t believe you leave the Jeep’s keys in your car.”

  “Under. And I’m forgetful and I tend to lose things.” He pushed the key into the lock and it was his turn to laugh. The door was unlocked.

  She shook her head as he opened the passenger door for her. “Unbelievable.”

  He hurried to his seat. “I was kind of under the weather when I parked the car here.”

  “Again, you must be part-warlock. Only magik could’ve saved your unlocked Jeep from being stolen.”

  “Well, magik will definitely have a part in our day, since Barnes is waiting for us at Caelum’s, in warlock territory.”

  ****

  Peter tried to maintain their conversation on a light tone, but he had seen the silver Volvo leaving at the same time he had merged into traffic, and as he focused on the road, he missed what Ophelia was saying.

  She tapped on his leg. “We should’ve made time to put gas in my bike.” Ophelia’s eyes were on the rearview mirror. “My Ninja would’ve left them in the dust.” At his surprised expression, she gave him a sweet smile. “You keep forgetting I’m a werewolf. My senses are sharper than most paranormals.”

  “My back can attest to that.” He pushed on the accelerator and turned right at the last moment, temporarily leaving their tail behind. As they emerged at the end of the narrow street though, the Volvo had just rounded the corner and was coming at them from the opposite side. “Sorry about this.” Peter reversed at full speed, then braked and entered the alley to his left in an angle so sharp, for a moment the Jeep balanced its weight only on the lateral tires.

  “Crap.” Ophelia braced herself against the dashboard.

  The Volvo followed them through the maze of back roads and alleys. Peter swore when, after the last effort to lose them, their pursuers were still behind them. Several cars separated the Jeep from the Volvo, but the gap wasn’t enough for Peter to attempt anything. They had almost reached one of the entrances to the Promenade close to magik territory and he couldn’t stop the car anywhere safe enough for them to walk. Not wanting to tip them off on their final destination, Peter led the tail on a merry chase through the center of the city, moving toward the Lungotevere, where he coasted for a while before an idea started to take form.

  “Ready for some good, old-fashioned off-road?” He gave Ophelia a wink, then pointed his chin to Castel Sant’ Angelo on the other side of the Lungotevere.

  She looked at the Tiber running alongside the Lungot
evere road, then looked back at him with a puzzled expression.

  “Just hold tight to your seat.” He focused on the road and kept driving until he saw on his left the pedestrian crossing and the large staircase leading down to the riverbank. After making sure there were no people crossing at the moment, he swerved all the way to the left, jumped the Jeep over the walkway and without a moment of hesitation, hit the gas and took the staircase.

  The burnt smell of brakes and the sound of squealing tires followed soon. From the side mirror, Peter saw the Volvo pause at the landing, then the car lurched forward and started descending as well. As the Jeep reached the quay, Peter drove it directly toward the river.

  “What the—?” Ophelia looked back and forth between Peter and the car behind them, fast approaching.

  “Trust me.” He pushed the Jeep to its limits as he tried to gain as much distance as he could from the Volvo, then gave Ophelia one last look before he drove under Sant’ Angelo Bridge, and into the Tiber.

  As the big tires of the Jeep hit the water, Ophelia cursed. Then the car hit something solid and slowly moved forward.

  “Remember when I told you I’ve used magik tunnels for some time and I know them well? We’re riding over one of those tunnels connecting opposite banks of the Tiber.”

  “You’re quite the resourceful demon.” Ophelia looked at him in awe and he felt invincible.

  Peter opened his window, reached out his hand and gave the finger to the Volvo stuck on the riverbank. Correcting the route he was trying to remember, he kept steering the wheel to the left. When they reached the other side of the Tiber, he knew they didn’t have long before the Volvo would ask for reinforcements and send someone else to stop them. Unable to drive the Jeep up to the other bank—on that side a low parapet prevented the car from climbing up—he jumped down in the water that reached to his calves, waded to Ophelia’s side, then helped her out and onto terra firma. He hoisted himself up, then grabbed her hand, and ran toward the staircase leading up to Castel Sant’ Angelo. Pulling Ophelia forward any time she lagged behind, he only stopped once to help her remove her heels, then they cleared the landing and sprinted toward the stronghold’s human entrance. Cutting through tourists and Romans alike, they passed through the majestic portal and headed straight to the secondary hallway leading to the paranormal quarters.

  “We’re almost there.” His heart exploding in his chest, Peter squeezed Ophelia’s hand.

  Ophelia hadn’t said a word in several minutes, but once unencumbered by her shoes, she had kept his pace and never complained. One brief glance at her bleeding feet made him swear.

  “It’s nothing.” She squeezed his hand back and redoubled her stride.

  They forwent the employers’ elevator in favor of the emergency stairwell and kept running down until they hit the Promenade level. From there, and without taking a moment to breathe, Peter directed them to Laurentius’s villa. Steps echoed far away in the cavernous tunnel. Peter looked over his shoulder, but couldn’t see anything. He followed the walkway along the River Styx with all senses on alert.

  “I don’t smell anything out of place.” Ophelia’s voice was hoarse from so much running.

  He nodded, reassured by her assessment, but kept hearing noises and his mind worked at double speed, concocting all sorts of dangers. A few minutes later, they reached the archeological site, but he didn’t slow down; if anything, he pushed them harder.

  ****

  Excruciating pain had been shooting up from Ophelia’s bare feet for a while, but she knew the moment she slowed down, they would be dead. When she saw the ruins of Laurentius’s villa, her heart skipped a beat. Everything had started there. She had met Peter there. She would fight until her last breath, but wouldn’t let the angels steal away her happiness.

  Peter rounded the corner behind the villa and they were back at the entrance to magik territory, where he had surprised her with his savoir faire. They finally stopped before the rock wall and she waited for him to cast the spell and open the tunnel.

  “We’ll enter Caelum’s place directly.” It didn’t take him more than a moment, and they were on the other side.

  She had expected to see the eerie hallway; instead, she stepped inside a large foyer with a central fountain. The room opened into a series of chambers, and in one of the chambers opposite them, Barnes was talking to a blond warlock who looked strangely familiar. Peter took her hand in his again and strode through the foyer, skirting the fountain.

  Barnes and the man turned and saw them. “Peter. Ophelia.” While the warlock stood behind, Barnes exited the chamber to meet them halfway. “You’re bleeding.” He looked down at Ophelia. “What happened?”

  As if Barnes’s statement had made her more aware of it, Ophelia realized she couldn’t walk anymore and she swayed into Peter’s strong arms.

  “We have the Holy Nation on our heels.” Peter supported her weight with one arm circling her waist.

  She felt his hitched breath and how tense he was and tried to stand on her own.

  The warlock approached them and Ophelia recognized him as the blond paranormal Malina had been talking to at one of the parties they had gone to recently.

  The man extended his hand for her. “Caelum—” His violet eyes blinked, then lit in recognition. “You are Malina’s friend, right?”

  She nodded and shook his hand. “Ophelia.”

  “She needs sanctuary,” Peter said as he gave the warlock a one-arm hug.

  “Of course,” Caelum said.

  At the same time, Ophelia swirled around to face Peter. “She? What about you?”

  Peter took her by the elbows. “I need to end this.”

  “And I won’t make the same mistake twice. I won’t let you confront that monster alone.”

  “I can’t face Arariel if you’re with me. He’ll use you against me and we’ll both be dead.”

  “I won’t stay back. I can help. My wolf can help.” At Ophelia mentioning her, the wolf—who had been quiet since Ophelia and Peter had finally got together—made her presence known by roaring her assent.

  Peter shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips. “I can’t be preoccupied over the two of you—”

  A loud explosion resonated in the foyer, and everyone turned toward the back wall. The wall crumbled before their eyes in a cloud of rock dust and mold. As Peter shoved her behind him and the other two men stepped forward to create a shield for her, Ophelia squinted to take a peek at the figures emerging from the curtain of dust.

  The fluttering of feathers cleaned the air, pushing the smoky cloud forward, and three angels appeared. The tallest sported a majestic set of golden wings he stretched to the side and snapped to get rid of the dust marring his feathers. At the sight of the archangel, dread settled deep in Ophelia’s stomach, and despite her resolution to not be a burden to Peter, she felt herself shaking.

  Peter straightened to his full height and moved until Ophelia was completely hidden behind him. “Arariel.”

  “Peter.” The archangel’s voice boomed all around the foyer. “Once a nuisance, always a nuisance.”

  Ophelia couldn’t see the angel’s face, but the cruelty in his voice made her feel nauseous.

  “But rest assured. I have had my fun watching over you all this time. Your misery has been a constant source of amusement to me.” Arariel flattened his wings, creating a whirlwind that moved more particles of dust around.

  Ophelia coughed and Peter stepped back to press himself to her front. “What do you want?” he asked.

  “What I want more than anything else is to get rid of you once and for all, but I can’t. You proved to be a bigger problem than I had foreseen, and even as a demon, I can’t kill you. I must admit, using the fallen to do a live reading was clever. Few would have thought of that, but you were always an independent thinker. Unfortunately, your predilection to do good at any cost was your downfall.” Arariel paused, then laughed. “And it will help me again to keep you quiet.”


  “What do you mean?” Peter reached behind his back and Ophelia grabbed his hand.

  One moment the archangel was talking, the next Peter was screaming and wings swept through the chamber. Ophelia was seized up by one of the angels. Caelum, too, had been taken by one angel and was dangling in midair. Peter and Barnes stood side by side facing Arariel.

  Peter stepped forward. “Leave them out of this. Let’s talk, you and I.”

  “You forget your place, demon.” The archangel sneered. “This is how it is going to be. I’ll kill the warlock, then I’ll take your shifter with me and I’ll keep her. You won’t see her again, but neither you nor your immortal friend will spill a word about what you discovered because, otherwise, I’ll torture her. And you know firsthand how good I am at that.”

  “No!” Peter shot forward, but Barnes grabbed his arm and forced him back.

  “And when I’ll tire of playing with your puppy, I’ll give her to Claudius, who has been so useful to me and deserves to be rewarded with a gift. I know he has a personal feud with some of your lover’s friends. What better way to make the whole gang pay by inflicting pain to the shifter? And then again, you won’t do anything because if you do I’ll give Claudius permission to kill her.”

  “You won’t touch her.” Barnes surprised everyone by stepping forward and stopping before Arariel.

  Arariel laughed, some of his Wrath spilling out and making Ophelia and everyone else sick. Barnes didn’t move. The archangel tilted his head. “The Immortal Council has toughened up. About time, I’d say.” He laughed again, sending another wave of malevolent energy out. “It won’t matter when I plaster you like the bug you are, but it’s a nice change, I’ll give you that.” He opened his mouth.