by Anthology
Unfortunately for me, the creature cut for the door at the same time, tackling me even as I lunged for the handle. We tumbled backward, and I gagged on the putrid stench, my hands slipping on the thin layer of slime that seemed to cover its otherwise scaly body.
A clawed hand reached back, then lashed forward, razorlike fingernails catching my arm and slicing from shoulder to elbow, drawing a narrow line of blood. The sting came after that, an intense burning that could only be the result of something poisonous in the creature’s touch. I yowled in pain, flinching back as if I could press myself into the concrete merely by trying hard enough.
Of course I couldn’t, and that left me only one option. I had to fight.
With the beast straddling me, I couldn’t get up, but that didn’t stop me. My fingers were free, and as much as it disgusted me, I jammed my thumbs straight up into the creature’s eyes. It roared in agony, shifting back and giving me the leverage to get it off me. I shoved with all my strength, and the thing went flying backward with way more velocity than I’d anticipated.
I jumped to my feet, awed by my own strength, and faced with the chance to test Super Me out again when the beast made a second rush forward. I kicked up and out, landing a solid thrust to its chest. The move wasn’t artful, but it was effective, and the beast tottered backward. It rallied, coming back toward me with strength that matched my own, and skill that far exceeded mine. Apparently, Super Me needed some super training.
What I didn’t have in skill, I made up for in hard and fast hitting, kicking, and pounding. Not a bad method, frankly. I hadn’t yet won the battle, but at least I was still in the game.
And the game was getting pretty damn aggressive. Our fight sent us tumbling all over the back alley, slamming up against hard brick walls and rusty trash bins. Against drainage pipes and a rickety fire escape ladder.
We bounced off the ladder, breaking off a rusty metal bar in the process. It clattered on the ground, the sound the only thing other than my breathing that made it past the dull roar of ferocity inside my head.
We rolled along the wall until the monster pinned me, his hand encompassing my entire neck, and his grip tight enough that I began to wonder if I wasn’t about to die again. I started to thrust my hands up in an attempt to break its hold when I saw a flash of something bright, then a dull thud as the something connected with the demon’s head. The demon released me, and spun around, and when it did, I saw Deacon.
“What are you—”
But I didn’t get to finish the question. The demon launched himself, and Deacon twisted, turning to get out of the beast’s path, but it was no use. The creature tackled him, knocking him to the ground near the fire escape and kicking him soundly in the ribs before bringing one heavy foot down on Deacon’s throat. A tiny bit more, and Deacon’s neck would snap.
And I was so not letting that happen. At least not until I had some freaking answers.
I shoved off from the wall and leaped onto the creature’s back, pulling him sideways off Deacon and sending us both tumbling to the ground. The beast landed on top of me, knocking my breath out, but even so, I was able to heave him off of me, throwing him down the alley a hell of a lot farther than your typical Boston waitress could probably manage.
I climbed to my feet as the creature did, and found Deacon up on his knees beside me. Slowly, he lifted his head, his dark eyes locked on the demonic target, his features skewed with rage, his eyes neither drifting nor blinking. I stood rooted to the spot, watching both of them, unsure who I feared more.
Deacon smiled then, and the malevolence seemed to drip like honey. The demon looked at both of us, then made a decision. It turned to run away.
No, no, no. Because this was one creature I had no interest in meeting for a third time, I scooped up the part of the fire escape that had fallen. Even as Deacon sprinted after the beast, I hauled back and heaved the beam like a javelin. Whether skill, blind luck, or divine intervention I didn’t know, but it hit the mark, penetrating the thick skin and sending the demon crashing to the ground.
The body stuttered and shook, then went limp, life abandoning it. As I watched, Deacon reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a switchblade. The earlier fury had vanished, replaced by a battle-worn acceptance, as if this were any other day, any other fight.
I watched, mortified, as he tossed the corpse over onto its back, then bent over and plunged the blade into the beast’s heart, releasing a thick black liquid that I had to assume was demon blood. Then he wiped the blade on the beast’s haunches before retracting the blade and returning it to his pocket.
I stood there, dumbstruck, as the demon dissolved in front of me, the oil-like substance disappearing into the cracks and crevices of the alley’s pavement, a faint greasy stain the only remaining evidence of this surreal encounter.
As I watched the demon, Deacon watched me. And this time, it wasn’t rage or acceptance that filled his eyes—it was curiosity. But not about the bizarre creature he’d just slain in an alley. No, this man’s curiosity lay with the pub waitress standing in front of him.
“What are you doing out here?” I demanded.
“Saving your ass, I thought,” he said, without even a hint of the rage I’d witnessed, both inside the pub and as he’d battled the demon. No, this man stood calm and controlled, the wildness I’d seen now buried beneath the surface, burning deep, but locked in. “Then you turned around and saved mine. Guess we owe each other a debt.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, not at all sure what I’d planned to say. Instead, I backtracked. “Are you here because of the test? I passed, right?” I indicated the greasy stain. “I mean, that has got to be a pass.”
“The test,” he repeated, his head slightly cocked as if he still couldn’t figure me out.
“Never mind,” I said, gingerly removing my foot from my mouth. Hopefully the ability to keep my mouth shut around civilians wasn’t part of my final exam.
“Was this what you meant?” he asked, easing closer to me. “When you told me that you thought you were in danger?”
I blinked, wishing I knew the details of that conversation.
“And how’d a slip of a girl like you manage to piss off a demon like that?”
“I—I don’t know,” I said, but my head was spinning. Alice had known she was in danger. But in danger from what? Or from whom?
“No? Funny, because I think I do.”
“You do?” The fear that rippled through me wasn’t because of the man himself, but what I was afraid he saw inside me—Lily hiding within the shell of Alice.
“I think you’ve taken up killing demons,” he said, his eyes locked on mine as I desperately tried to maintain an innocent countenance. He stepped closer still, then stood broad and foreboding in front of me, the tension within him so tight I feared I wouldn’t escape the fallout if he exploded. And all of that intensity was aimed right at me, those dark eyes seeing everything. “Or have I misread the situation?”
I swallowed, my palms sweating and my entire body singing. I told myself I was too nervous to be turned on, and yet there was no mistaking my reaction. A physical reaction to a gorgeous man, yes, but also more than that. He was taking my measure, and I feared I wouldn’t pass the assessment.
“Maybe I am,” I said, boldly. “Everybody needs a hobby, right?” Clarence might not approve, but it wasn’t like I was revealing that I was some anointed demon assassin girl. And if Deacon was right, maybe it was her new career choice that got Alice killed.
“Interesting,” he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He kept me locked under his gaze as he walked around me in a circle. “And curious.”
“Nothing curious about it,” I said, trying to keep my cool. “There’s obviously a need.”
“And you were coming to me why? Because you were afraid you’d pissed off the wrong target?”
“Something like that,” I said. I cast a glance toward the spot where the demon had fallen, now just a st
ain on the pavement. “He and I have tussled before.”
“Have you?” His eyebrows rose, and I regretted my big, fat mouth.
“Least I don’t have to worry about him again.” I frowned, remembering Clarence’s instructions to kill it, not give it a headache. “Did I kill it? Or did you?”
“That would be you,” he said. “All I did was make sure the thing didn’t come back.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe you need a little more on-the-job training before you jump straight into this new career.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I said wryly.
A hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. “I’m just messing with you. You did good work, Alice. Unexpected, but good.”
“Rather unexpected for me, too,” I said, then caught myself. “I mean, I never expected to get jumped.”
He looked me up and down. “Are you okay?”
There was such concern in his voice that I had to remind myself that only hours before, this man had tossed another person across a room as if he were nothing more than a sack of laundry.
“I’ll be fine.” Possibly not the truth, but it was the best I could do.
His eyes raked over me, his assessment like a physical touch.
I forced myself to remain steady, my legs suddenly not working properly. “Okay, then.” I nodded toward the pub’s back door. “I should get back inside.”
He moved closer, his hands closing around my upper arms, one hand warm and the other strangely cold. I took a step backward in a futile attempt to keep some distance between us, but he mirrored my movement. He was too close, and I was finding it harder and harder to think. As if he were radio interference keeping me from tuning in to my very own head.
“You haven’t told me why you were here,” I said, as much for something to say as because I was genuinely curious. His presence was a lucky break for me, but most men didn’t hang out in dark alleys waiting for damsels in distress.
“You’re the reason. I don’t handle being stood up well. I wanted to get to the bottom of it.”
“Oh.” I figured that was my cue to skedaddle. I took a sideways step toward the door. “Now’s not the time. I need to get back in before Egan—”
He stepped into my path, effectively blocking me.
“Hold up a second.”
“No, I really—” I looked him firmly in the eyes, then pressed my hand against his chest to push him away.
And that was when it happened.
The world around me melted away, starting with his eyes. They shifted, turning from brown to black to a boiling red.
I tried to gasp—to scream—but it was like I wasn’t there anymore. I was watching, but I wasn’t controlling.
And what I saw scared the shit out of me.
A kaleidoscope of images. Dark. Dangerous. Heat and lust and power and fear.
I heard myself gasp, but the sound was muffled by the distance between my body and my reality. Instead, the beat of my pulse filled my ears, the dull, rhythmic rush of blood through vessels, of life humming along with each beat of my heart.
Blood.
Hot and demanding, pulsing and throbbing.
Red silk, crushed velvet. A sensual feast full of terrifying pleasures.
Blood.
I tried to pull out of this vision, this dream, this whatever-it-was that had grabbed hold of me, but it wasn’t letting go. He wasn’t letting go. He was holding tight pulling me close, his pulse matching mine, the beat hypnotic and deep, drawing me in, threatening to drown me, to pull me under.
Hot fingers.
Bare flesh.
And desire as sharp as a blade.
Somehow, I’d gotten lost inside his mind. A vision I didn’t want but couldn’t stop. We were wrapped up in horrific images and sensual pleasures, and my instinct to run was countered by a desperate desire to stay.
Behind this strange curtain, my nipples peaked and the insides of my thighs ached. I moved closer, squirming against him, desperate to find satisfaction. But whether this was real or only in my mind, I didn’t know. Right then, I didn’t care. Right then, I knew nothing more than the touch of his hand and the desperate thrum of desire.
His fingers roamed my back, his body pressed so close to mine I could feel his heartbeat along with the steady tickle of his breath against my hair. Caution abandoned me as quickly as modesty had, and all I wanted was his touch, the feel of his skin against mine.
As if answering my prayers, his lips danced across my skin, finding my mouth, then claiming me in a wild, violent taking that left my body shuddering and my mouth begging for more.
He moved to break the kiss, but I pulled him back, frustrated when he resisted, as if he knew that some change was coming.
And then it was there—a flash—and suddenly my mind’s eye turned gray, painting us in black and white, all lights and darks, highlights and shadows. The shadows sucked us in, and with another flash, my mind was steeped in gold.
We were horizontal now, our bodies naked and slick and joined, and his eyes—I could see only his eyes. Warm and soft, without any hint of the rage I knew lurked beneath the surface. Only desire and need and longing so intense it pulled me—compelled me—until I wanted nothing more but to melt into him, to merge into one.
It didn’t last.
Those eyes, they changed in a flash. Snapping to a dangerous black, like a shark’s eyes. The change so fast, so sharp, I flinched, as if I’d been chastised for trusting too easily despite the man I’d seen earlier in the bar—the man inside Deacon who terrified me.
I tried to pull back, but I was too far gone. The lens of my mind turned red, but those eyes stayed black. A deep, yawing black that sucked me in, consumed me.
I recoiled from the abyss I saw before me. There is evil here.
I wanted to look away—I didn’t want to see. But I couldn’t help it.
And what I saw broke my heart.
Pain and loss and fear. It pummeled through me.
His pain. His loss. His fear.
All held out in front, like a talisman to hold at bay a flood of dark rage, bloodied anger, and a vile malevolence the depth of which could burn a hole in a man’s soul.
I struggled then, trying to pull away. Trying to get my head out of this dark place.
But I couldn’t break free. His hold on me was too strong.
You’re mine, his voice seemed to whisper in my head, the words so intense I would almost swear they were real. I looked down, my eyes finding a dozen white flowers, rivulets of blood running down the petals like rivers.
Lilies.
I gasped, dread shooting through me as the not-so-subtle symbolism broke the spell.
The images evaporated like so much mist, and I jerked suddenly, as if awakening from a trance, only to find my body pressed hard against him, my crotch rubbing against his thigh.
Mortified, I jumped back, my blood still pounding with desire and fear.
And when I looked up, I saw none of my confusion on his face. Instead, all I saw was anger.
“Goddammit, Alice,” he growled, snatching my upper arm with a motion too quick to dodge. “You swore if I helped you that you’d stay the fuck out of my head.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
I probably shouldn’t have run. Running made it seem like I was scared. Which I was. But that wasn’t something I wanted Deacon to know.
No, I should have stayed. Should have pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about. Should have pretended I’d never been inside his mind. Never felt that sensual burn, never seen the vile sheen of evil.
But so help me, I had. And so I’d broken free of his grip, and I’d run. And even though I heard him call my name, I didn’t look back. Instead, I ripped the door open and stumbled inside. I slammed it shut behind me, then threw the heavy bolt into place.
I leaned back against the metal, my breathing shallow and my heart pounding in my chest.
The Hell Beast might be an over-the-top, frea
k-me-out, blow-me-away terrifying monster, but it was a pussycat compared to what I’d glimpsed inside Deacon’s head and what I’d heard in his voice just now. Dark stuff. Scary stuff.
The kind of stuff that made Lucas Johnson seem like a stellar babysitting choice.
There was evil in Deacon—of that I was sure. But, dammit, I’d seen more than just the scary stuff. He was battling it back, fighting the good fight.
Whether he was winning, though . . . Well, that I couldn’t say.
From what he’d said, I was guessing that Alice had seen the stain of evil on him, too. And that her peek inside the mind of the man had pissed him off. Probably terrified her. She’d gone back, though. And she’d asked him for help.
Then she’d never shown up to get it.
She’d been murdered instead.
But Alice had thought that Deacon could help her, and now I had to wonder if he could help me. Maybe she’d told Deacon something. Given him some tidbit of a clue that would lead to her killer. And that was something I wanted to know despite Clarence’s warning. I needed to know it. Both to keep this new body of mine safe, and also to avenge the woman whose life I’d usurped. Clarence might think it was best left in the past, but I knew that wasn’t possible. I would find Alice’s killer. And right then, Deacon was the only lead I had.
Which meant that at some point I had to stop running and go face the man. A little tidbit that frankly, should scare me to death. But it didn’t.
Deacon compelled me. He excited me. This man who recognized demons for what they were—who held fury at bay behind the thinnest of barriers. This man who had set my body on fire with the slightest of touches.
A man who had promised aid to a frightened girl, and then worried for her when she hadn’t shown up.
A dark man, yes, but with light around the edges.
And a damn sensual man, too.
I was no stranger to instant lust—to that internal thrum when a hot guy presses you close on a dark and sweaty dance floor. This, however, was different. This was deep and pounding and almost sinister.