His confident smile faltered as though my answer might actually matter. He broke our mutual stare and stood. Numerous buckles rattled against the supple leather of his coat. I caught a glimmer of light as it slid across the gun in its holster, but no sword.
“Where’s the sword?” I stood between him and the front door.
“Somewhere safe.”
“Why did you destroy my workshop?” My attempt at remaining calm began to fail. My voice quivered. “I don’t know you. I’ve done nothing to you. Why would you do that to me?”
He cast his gaze over my shoulder at the front door behind me then dragged it back to meet my accusations. “I know you. You’re the half-sister of the full-blood demon Valenti. The illegitimate child of Asmodeus—one of the Seven Princes of Hell. You were sold at birth as a plaything for lesser demons.”
My power began to stir despite my best efforts to keep it from awakening. A tightening heat seeped outward, the touch of it rolling across my skin. I knew what I was, but hearing the disgust behind his words roused deep-seated emotions I’d tried to keep locked away.
“A half-blood abomination,” he snarled. “An embarrassment to demons everywhere. By all rights, you should be dead.”
The heat broke over my skin. My demon stretched her tendrils outward, entwining herself with my human form. “And you don’t know the half of it,” I growled. He had come to kill me, but he wasn’t going to find it easy.
I welcomed the blaze of power, letting it burst white-hot across my fragile human flesh. Demon and human blurred together as one. My human body was a shimmering apparition, intangible amid the raging heat. Writhing power lanced up my spine, the pain blinding and yet invigorating. It sought release. My physical flesh restrained it, containing it behind reality. Now that I’d revealed my demon, there would be hell to pay.
I summoned the city’s elemental heat. Human activity provides an endless supply of energy, an energy I can summon the same way the ocean calls the tides. The streetlights outside flickered before blazing brightly then bursting one by one and wilting on their poles like the long-dead flowers I’d thrown away. Heat swelled inside me, the power brimming over. It wasn’t all I had, but it would be enough to make Mr. A think twice.
He had backed up a few steps, shielding his face from the heat with the crook of his arm, but he made no attempt to retaliate. He hadn’t even reached for his gun.
Molten power dripped from my body, fizzling to nothing once it separated from the inferno lashing inside me. Half-blood, half-demon, I stood between two worlds, summoning the darkest of energies from the fabric of this reality, but it was restricted, captured, and tethered in my human form. Bound as I was, I could still incinerate him if he made one wrong move.
“I’m not your enemy, Muse.” He flinched and staggered back a few steps as the sheer weight of the heat bore down on him, but still he didn’t summon the power I knew he must have.
“No? Then prove it.” My voice no longer resembled my own. It hissed and spat, lashed and snarled. He wouldn’t see me as human, not anymore. What he saw, the thing that occupied my body, was a hellish visage of anger and hate, of the years I’d spent cowering at the feet of others. He saw a beast ablaze in flame, a female silhouette tethered by the blanched-white chains of power.
With each step, my intent grew. The demon inside me reared up, demanding satisfaction. She wanted the chaos that came with summoning the elements. Her elation spurred me on, her lust for destruction tugging my conscious thoughts toward maddening freedom.
Mr. A. pressed his back against the window and lowered his arm. Refusing to look away, his jaw worked, teeth grinding. His fists, clasped rigid at his sides, gave away the effort control took him. He was deliberately holding back, refusing to rise to my threat. His restraint was commendable, but it wouldn’t stop me from hurting him.
“Be careful what side you choose, Muse.” He turned and ducked out of my window in a flurry of red coat.
In a blink, I was at the window, hands splayed either side as I peered four floors down at the street below, but Mr. A was nowhere in sight. Sirens wailed and a fire truck blasted its horn somewhere close.
With the threat gone, the mass of elemental energy inside me had no outlet. With the promise of retribution stolen and the lure of devastation no longer achievable, it turned every drop of its displeasure on the woman anchoring it to this world: me.
I knew what was coming, but short of leveling a city block, I had no choice but to let it ride over me. I could have released the chaos, could have walked right out of my apartment building and swept a wave of destruction in my wake, but if I did that, I’d be no better than the demons I despised. As my demon turned the weight of pure elemental energy on me, I buckled under its pressure, falling to my knees and burying my head in my hands. Like the devastating force of a hurricane, it tore into me, metaphysical talons slashing through my cowering soul, tearing out any strength I might have had to resist it.
I hugged myself tighter, trying to escape the relentless assault. Lashings of fire snapped over me and through me. I heard my own cries in the maelstrom, but they were distant and detached, belonging to another woman. A pitiful human woman, weak of mind and soul.
“Invite me in, Muse.” Akil. His voice broke through the storm of chaos in my head. The slightest touch of him was enough to soothe the madness.
I didn’t need to speak the words. All it took was a moment of intention, a brief flicker of defeat, and he was there, beside me, gathering me into his arms and holding me close against him. I fought him at first, trying desperately to hold on to whatever remained of normality, but it was pointless. I had neither the strength nor the inclination to deny him, and he knew it.
Ignoring the pulsating waves of heat spilling from me, he cradled me against him as I sobbed. A wretched trembling racked me. My muscles cramped. With each lash of pain, I bucked, teeth snapping shut. Akil’s strong arms held me firmly as he whispered words in a language I didn’t understand and didn’t care to.
I don’t know how long he held me, but eventually, reason and reality returned. I listened to Akil’s heavy heartbeat as the sounds of the city drifted through the open window. A cool breeze slid over my flushed skin. No physical indication of what I’d just been through remained. My demon rarely wounds me physically; she knows better than to damage her human counterpart.
“He was here,” I said.
He shushed me, making words redundant.
“He was here. He got in. He’s not a full-demon. He’s something else…” Barely coherent words tumbled from my lips.
“I know.”
I closed my eyes, resting my cheek against the warmth of his chest. It felt good to be held by him, to know that nobody could touch me. I was safe in his arms, and I wondered why on earth I’d ever wanted to be free of him. Who was I fooling? I couldn’t live like a normal woman. I had a force of nature inside me, a demon consumed by need, with a deliberate lust for chaos. She was me. I couldn’t hide from her and didn’t want to. I wanted her. I wanted to awaken her, to embrace her. My attempt at normality had been the madness, but now I was home, in Akil’s arms once more.
“You did well.” His fingers stroked lazy circles on my shoulder.
“I shouldn’t be here.” I could have easily unleashed that explosive force of power. All it would have taken was my surrender, and innocent people would have died. With that much energy, my demon would have raged against anyone and anything in her way.
“I know.”
“Take me home,” I whispered.
Chapter 4
When I first turned my back on the netherworld, nightmares had plagued me. Once I had a taste of what it meant to be human, the full horror of what I’d been forced to endure overflowed inside me and my subconscious succumbed to the memories. The terrors became so bad that I began to fight sleep, to force myself to stay awake and avoid reliving the things I’d spent a lifetime running from. I tried to drink myself into hiding, but that only made it wo
rse. I dabbled in drugs. Anything and everything to run from the demons, both metaphysical and tangible, that hunted me. Eventually, the nightmares tired of me, then stopped altogether. The demons never found me. I was safe in hiding. I’d found a way out. I would survive.
But when I let Akil back into my life, the nightmares returned.
I woke tangled in pure white sheets. My heart fluttered and my breaths came in short gasps. I couldn’t fill my lungs. Panic stole my ability to think. Sunlight flooded in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Virgin-white drapes rippled in the breeze. But as serene as it all appeared, I saw demons in my peripheral vision. They leered at me, talons reaching outward, obsidian claws digging into my flesh.
I scrambled from the bed, the dream still very real in my mind, and stumbled over the sheets, dragging them with me. I fell and landed firmly on all fours. It was only then, hunched over and trembling, that I realized I was safe. There was nothing in the bedroom, and there never had been. They were in my head. Memories.
I saw the room for what it was: just an innocuous room. Clean. Modern. Nothing to indicate a malevolent presence. Clutching the sheets to me, I managed to stand on unsteady legs and stagger to the window. Boston harbor sparkled in the early morning sunlight. Luxury yachts bobbed in the marina, fifteen or so stories below. I recognized the opulent high-rise buildings as Atlantic Wharf, Boston’s financial district and home to The Atlantic Hotel, Akil’s hotel.
I stepped away from the glass, and the fluttering in my chest intensified. He’d brought me home, right back into the very heart of his world. Of course he had. I’d asked him to.
A bubble of laughter escaped me. Panic laced my veins with adrenaline. I spied clean clothes folded on the end of the bed and quickly dressed. The navy blue dress would have been modest had it not been for its short, figure-hugging cut. I didn’t care what it looked like. I could change when I got home—my home.
I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to work out some of the knots, then plucked my boots from beside the door and stepped barefoot out into a marble-tiled hallway. Moving lightly on my feet, I breezed down the hall, slowing as it opened into a vast lounge. The lounge area was easily four times the size of my entire apartment. A sunken area housed a scattering of cream leather couches. Art adorned the walls, splashes of color among an otherwise stark interior.
I listened, but besides the soft hum of the air conditioning, the apartment was quiet. I was alone. I jogged across the lounge, feeling as exposed as a criminal outside the prison gates, then entered the entrance foyer.
With a sigh of relief, I tugged open the door leading to the elevators and met the bright smile of a woman clutching a file to her chest.
“Hi. Good. You’re awake.” She breezed by me, her rushed words chasing one another from her lips. “Akil sent this over for you. He wanted me to drop by, make sure you’re okay.”
My hand lingered on the door handle. Freedom was so close.
“I’m Nica, Akil’s assistant.”
I glanced back, finding her bubbly enthusiasm distracting. She held out her hand. She was human. At least I didn’t get any indication of power coming from her, but I doubted Akil would employ a human assistant.
“It’s okay.” She tucked her short honey-blond hair behind her ear before offering me her hand once more. “I won’t bite.” She certainly looked friendly enough, her enthusiasm just about ready to burst, but I’d been fooled before. You don’t have to be demon to be lying.
I shook her hand. Her grip was firm. “Where’s Akil?”
“Working. He asked that you have a look at this file. I’ll answer any questions you might have.”
Nica appeared to be one of those people who could brighten any situation with her presence alone. The file, her friendly approach, and the fact she was a human personal assistant to a Prince of Hell had me intrigued enough to abandon my escape attempt.
I dropped my boots by the door and followed Nica back into the apartment. She wore cream trousers with sandals, as though it were the height of summer and not the tail end of October. Her white blouse billowed loosely around her slim physique.
She stepped down into the sunken seating area and waited for me to join her before handing me the file. “His name is Stefan.”
I flicked open the file and immediately came face to face with my would-be assassin. The black-and-white picture showed him walking away from the camera, his face in profile. If his distinctive leather coat didn’t give him away, then the car he had been captured approaching certainly did; it was the same battered, old Charger he’d parked outside my workshop.
“Stefan…” I whispered, perching myself on the edge of a couch and splaying the various photographs, documents, and notes across the coffee table in front of me. Half a dozen images caught him in motion, but few were close enough to allow me to examine the details of his face. Either he was apt at avoiding having his photo taken, or the photographer didn’t want to get too close.
A black-and-white image of a familiar motif caught my eye: entwined scorpions, the same emblem as on Stefan’s gun. “What is this mark?”
“His identifier.” Nica lowered herself on the couch beside me and brushed the creases from her trousers. “His brand,” she said, gathering from my confused expression that I had no clue what she was referring to. “Given to him at birth.”
I frowned at her curious choice of words. A brand implied ownership. “What do you mean?”
“He’s a hybrid, like you. From what we can gather, he was given that mark when he was handed over to his guardian, probably shortly after birth.” Half-bloods were routinely killed at birth. Those who weren’t were sold among the demons as curiosities. Few survived. I’d never met another.
“I don’t have any marks like that,” I said.
Nica smiled sympathetically. “He was taken in, Muse. Trained. Tutored and reared for one purpose. Somebody cared enough to brand him.”
“Why?” Half-bloods were thought of as worthless monstrosities. Why would someone bother with him?
“He’s a tool, a mercenary. If you look through the file, you’ll see we can place him as a suspect in countless high-profile demon attacks and one successful assassination. It appears he was trained well.”
I picked up the black-and-white photo that had first confirmed Stefan as my Mr. A. Even frozen mid-stride, he carried a confidence that no half-blood had the right to. I’d seen evidence of that smug attitude at both my workshop and my apartment, where he’d made himself at home while I’d slept, blissfully unaware of his presence.
“If he was hired to kill me…” I paused, uncertainty stalling me. “Why didn’t he kill me at the workshop or at my apartment?”
Nica shrugged. “Perhaps he’s playing with you.”
Akil had said the same, but I wasn’t so sure. If Stefan was a mercenary, then surely he would only receive payment on my death? So what was he waiting for? Sure, at my apartment, I’d given him a taste of what I was capable of, but prior to that, I’d been asleep. Considering how relaxed he’d been, sprawled on my couch, he could have been there for minutes, hours even. He’d had plenty of opportunity to kill me and collect on the contract, but he hadn’t. He’d waited.
No, he hadn’t been sent to kill me. I was sure of it. He wanted something, and the sword was the key to finding out what.
“So he’s half-demon.” I nodded firmly. It felt right. I’d known he had power, had felt it the moment he’d walked into my workshop, but his half-human nature had confused me. “What demon sired him?”
Nica scratched at her cheek, briefly dropping her gaze to the scattered images. “His father was human. His mother is Yukki-Onna, also known as the Snow Spirit.”
“Snow? As in an ice element?” No wonder he and I didn’t get along. While I was born of fire, my power fuelled by flame, his stemmed from the exact opposite. He and I were poles apart, elementally destined to repel each other.
“From the feelers Akil put out,” Nica said, “she continu
es to have a relationship with her son. It’s all rumor, of course. Officially, she denies he even exists.”
I had to smile. If my father, Asmodeus, acknowledged my existence, I’d soon be wiped from the face of the earth like a bug from a windshield. But then my father was one of the Seven Princes of Hell, so he had a certain reputation to adhere to. Lucky for me, he chose to deny my existence, and nobody dared question him. It was a shame my brother couldn’t follow in our father’s footsteps and ignore me.
“Akil believes my brother sent Stefan to kill me…” I hadn’t seen my brother for a long time, but the specter of his intent to kill me followed me everywhere. A full-blood demon born of a pure bloodline, he considered my existence an abhorrent freak of nature. My life offended him.
“In all honesty, it could be any number of demons. No offense, Muse, but you’re not exactly popular among your kind.” She offered me a half smile.
Because I dared to be different; the obtuse little half-blood who had somehow managed to slaughter her owner. Yeah, that was me, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Nica was right. My brother, Val, could have sent Stefan after me, but so could any number of pissed off demons who had taken offense at my ingratitude at being owned. How dare I snub them? Had I just insulted them, things might not have been so bad, but to kill my previous owner? Yeah… there was no coming back from that one. I had a target on my back, and there was no escaping it.
It did make me wonder why Akil had protected me and continued to do so.
“You’ll be safe here,” Nica offered, reading my pensive expression as one of concern.
“Yeah, about that… I can’t stay here. I can’t just leave everything I have.” I tossed Stefan’s picture back onto the pile of documents. “I have a boyfriend. Well, did have. We sort of…we broke up. Anyway, I can’t just leave.”
She stood with a sigh. “That’s between you and Akil.”
“And a cat, Jonesy. I have to make arrangements for him. Bills need paying. The police want to talk to me about the workshop. I can’t just walk out one night and never go back.”
[The Veil 01.0] Beyond the Veil Page 3