Reaching the other side of the park, Stefan dropped down a set of steps alongside a building and kicked in the door to someone’s basement apartment. Once inside, he slammed the door closed and plucked an aerosol can from his coat pocket. Giving it a token shake, he flicked on the lights and sprayed red paint over the door and wall, creating a large circle with swirling symbols inside. Done with one wall, he proceeded to spray the same mark on the opposite wall.
I heard another howl. The sound sent a shiver crawling across my flesh. “It’s close.”
He didn’t reply, just continued to spray the paint on the wall. Then he shoved the couch into the center of the open-plan lounge/kitchen and stepped onto the cushions, resting one boot on the back of the couch while reaching up to spray paint the ceiling.
I hugged my arms against me and watched the door. If the hound came through, we were dead. I was still panting hard, lungs burning in my chest. A full body ache asserted itself. I hadn’t even noticed I was injured. The adrenaline had worked efficiently to keep me moving, but now that I’d stopped, my limbs didn’t quite feel like my own and a throbbing pain tried to punch out of my skull.
Stefan was also breathing hard, sucking in air through his teeth. He shook the can and reached up to finish the mark, then hissed and winced, clearly in pain. Blood bloomed across his shirt.
Jumping off the couch, he crossed to the kitchen area and proceeded to spray the kitchen units with the same mark.
“Will these marks stop it?” I brushed my hands up my arms, trying to rub off the goose bumps.
“Yes,” he replied gruffly. “This symbol, it restricts elemental magic. More precisely, demon magic. By placing it around us like this, I’ve created a cocoon, cutting us off from the elements. Once the Hellhounds lose our scents, they’ll return to their master.”
I nodded. That sounded good enough for me.
“It also means you can’t go nuclear on me, so don’t bust a blood vessel trying.”
So, I was trapped in there, with him, unable to call my power, until the Hellhounds got bored. Great.
Only when Stefan had finished marking all four walls, ceiling, and floor of the small basement apartment did he finally stop. He tossed the spray can on the small kitchen countertop and slumped against the cupboards. “We’re safe. For now.”
I couldn’t help glancing back at the door, expecting the horrid things to come crashing in at any moment, but as the seconds ticked on and nothing happened, I breathed a little easier.
Chapter 9
The beige patterns and cream overtones of the small basement apartment were comfortable enough, and thankfully the owner wasn’t home. Perhaps it was a weekend bolt-hole. Either way, I was glad I didn’t have to explain any of this to people unaccustomed to demons barging into their lives. I roamed the lounge area, admiring the photos of a man with two young girls I assumed were his kids, and felt a pang of guilt for vandalizing his apartment.
Stefan had shaken off his coat and slung it over the couch. The red bloom of blood on his shirt hinted at a wound beneath. “Are you all right?” His expression was almost one of concern.
I didn’t reply immediately. I was trying to work out what was happening. My thoughts ran amok. He had saved me, again. There was no doubt in my mind; Stefan hadn’t been sent to kill me, but I was a long way from trusting him. “I think so.”
He crossed the room and reached out, as though about to touch my face. I flinched away, moving around the couch, shivering in my torn and bloody dress.
“You’re hurt… You have a cut over your right eye. I was just… Never mind.” He returned to the little kitchen and stood with his back to me. I caught the memory of his wings and averted my eyes. He hadn’t looked like any demon I’d ever seen before. He’d looked… glorious.
He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, letting it slip down his back, then peeled the fabric away from the jagged gash in his side. A fragment of metal protruded from his skin, with blood oozing around its sharp edges. Gritting his teeth, he gripped the shard and yanked it free with a hiss.
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to wince in sympathy. “You didn’t have to do any of that for me.”
He grunted an acknowledgement and tossed the bloodied fragment of metal in the kitchen sink where it rattled. Finding some paper towels, he tore a few sheets free of the roll then dampened them before pressing the wad of paper against the weeping wound.
He turned, leaning back against the countertop. I admired his physique before I could stop myself. I might have glanced away if a tattoo hadn’t caught my eye. On the muscular plane of his navel, where his jeans hung low, two entwined scorpions were tattooed into his smooth skin. I couldn’t help staring. So many questions went through my mind, but I wasn’t sure I had the energy to ask, knowing the answers wouldn’t be easy. Exhausted, bruised, and battered, I didn’t want any part of this madness. I wanted to go home, but I didn’t even have one anymore.
“Will you let me take a look at that cut?” he asked after allowing me a few moments to collect my thoughts.
I shook my head. “Stay away from me.”
“Fine.” He tore off more paper towels and proceeded to clean himself up while I watched. I wanted to hate him. Ever since he’d entered my workshop, everything had gone wrong. That wasn’t a coincidence, and yet I was beginning to believe he didn’t want to hurt me. I couldn’t have survived what we’d just been through without him.
“You were right.” I perched on the edge of the couch, hands clasped together on my thighs, knuckles white. “They were sent for me.”
He gave me a cool glance before returning his attention to the wound. “You have many enemies, Muse.”
“But you aren’t one of them?”
“No.”
“Akil said you were.”
Stefan snorted. “Akil. Right.” He rummaged through some drawers and found a small tube of Loctite. “I could use your help… if you can stand to be within two feet of me.”
I stood and approached him. Considering everything he had done, I could hardly say no. “What do you want me to do?”
He handed me the glue. “Would you mind?”
I looked at the small tube then at the two-inch wound in his side. “Really?” His arched eyebrow told me to get on with it. I pinched the lid free and tentatively touched the nozzle to the puckered flesh around the wound.
He immediately hissed in a breath. I winced. “Sorry.”
“No, I’m good. Just…” He planted both hands on the edge of the countertop, bowing his head, and smiled. “You’re hot.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“I mean—your touch—it’s hot, physically.” He laughed lightly, a trickling chuckle that summoned a reluctant smile from me. “Never mind.”
I pinched the wound together, watching lean muscles ripple with tension. Fighting a smile, I squeezed the glue into the wound and held the skin closed for a few seconds. “Best not glue myself to you, huh? I’m not sure how I’d explain that to Akil.”
“Do you love him?”
I frowned. The abrupt question had caught me off guard. “That’s personal.”
Stefan looked right at me, his smile gone. “I need to know the answer.” His cold stare could have pierced stone.
“Why?”
He hesitated, his sharp blue eyes searching my puzzled expression. “Because if you do, then it makes my task all the more difficult, and I need your help.”
“What does any of that have to do with whether I love Akil or not?”
He moistened his lips and straightened so that my hand fell away from his side. I looked up into his eyes, sensing the cool energy thrumming inside him. A trickle of power rippled inside me. The warmth embraced my weary limbs, but that was as far as it could get. The marks on the walls surrounding us prevented the power from manifesting outside of me. I felt my demon butt up against my skin, unable to break free.
“Who do you think sent those hounds?” Stefan’s voice deepened.
/> “It could only be my brother, Val. I don’t know much about Hellhounds, but they’re difficult to summon. Only pure demons can do it. Even then, they’re virtually impossible to control. Val has wanted me dead for years. Summoning Hellhounds would just be the last in a long list of things he’s done to me.”
Stefan briefly touched my forehead with his fingertips, probably an instinctive touch, but the dance of power that ignited between us immediately jerked me back. The spark had been so intense that it tugged a great wave of energy from inside, briefly staggering me. I reached for the countertop, steadying myself as Stefan stood firm, his cool gaze heavy with intent. What that intention was, I couldn’t be sure.
“Akil sent those hounds, Muse.” Stefan’s voice had lost all of its jovial lightness. The arrogance was back, his tone cold.
It was my turn to laugh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Akil and I… it’s complicated.”
“I don’t doubt that.” He raised an eyebrow, implying a great deal with that one gesture.
I tossed the glue aside and snaked my arms crossed, attempting to control the flicker of anger flaring inside me. “How dare you judge me? You don’t even know me.” He shrugged a dismissive shoulder, further infuriating me. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. You were looked after. Someone cared enough about you to keep you safe, to train you. I had none of that. I was sold, virtually given away to the demons as a plaything. I was raised beyond the veil. Do you even know what that means?”
His hard expression softened a little. He rested a hip against the cupboards, his head bowed a little. “Who told you I was kept safe?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is, I don’t know you, but I do know Akil, and he’s done nothing but look after me.”
“He’s a demon, Muse.”
“What are we?”
“We’re human.” He ground his teeth, flicking his hair out of his eyes to glare at me. “And believe or not, we hold more power over them than they’ve led you to believe. Why do you think he keeps you so close?”
Because he loves me? I didn’t speak the words, but they were there, right on the tip of my tongue. Stefan didn’t need to hear it. He saw it in my expression, in the hopelessness on my face. He shook his head. “I had hoped you’d be stronger than this.”
“Oh, screw you. You’re impossible, you know that? Like a goddamn force of nature. You waltz into my workshop and ruin my life, and now you pity me? I’m sick of it. Sick of you.” I headed for the door.
“You can’t leave. Not yet.”
With a sigh, I stopped a few feet from the front door, feeling the chill of his gaze on my back. “If you’re not an assassin and you’re not here to hurt me, then what are you?”
“Whatever Akil told you is a lie. I’m an Enforcer. This tattoo you so readily admired proves it. I wasn’t ‘kept safe,’ Muse. I was plucked from my home, stolen from everything I ever loved, and forced into this way of life, but you know what? I love it. I hunt demons and thrive off it. I kill the bastards who step out of line, the ones who breach the human world and wreak havoc, and I need your help to kill your brother.”
“I don’t believe you.” I ignored the ‘kill your brother’ bombshell for now because it was insane to even consider it.
“It doesn’t matter what you believe. It’s the truth. Akil means to kill you. Your brother isn’t behind any of this, and I can prove it.”
Stefan watched me closely, waiting for my reaction. I couldn’t believe him. Akil wouldn’t hurt me. He’d saved me from my owner and given me the tools I needed to slaughter the bastard. Akil had been there ever since, my guardian in a world that despised me. No, Stefan was lying. This was Val’s doing. My brother was capable and had a motive. There was no mystery here.
I sat on the couch with a disgruntled humph and dropped my head back, closing my eyes against the physical and mental aches and pains. “Thank you for everything, but when I leave here, I don’t want to see you again.”
“Muse, if you go back to Akil, he’ll kill you.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I squeezed my eyes closed. My headache pulsated. “He’s not going to do that.” Akil wouldn’t hurt me. I’d seen the passion in his eyes, felt the warmth of his arms around me. There was no malice.
“You traded one owner for another, and you’re too blinded by Akil to see it.”
“Shut up.”
“Just because he doesn’t beat you, doesn’t mean he’s not controlling you.”
I snapped open my eyes. “Stop it.”
Stefan glared back at me. “Why can’t you see it?”
“Because…” I winced at my own foolishness.
“Because you love him?”
Maybe I did, but it wasn’t as simple as that. Without Akil, I was nothing. I wouldn’t survive a night without him. The detective at the police department had proven that. “He keeps me safe.”
Stefan smiled bitterly. “You kept yourself safe for five years.”
“It didn’t last. You turned up and ruined it all.”
“I was the reason you were standing on the street when the explosion destroyed your workshop, remember?” His smug grin was back. “Akil set you up. You pissed him off, Muse. You turned your back on him and walked away. Did you think he was going to let you get away with it?”
“Stop it. Just—stop. I don’t want to hear any more of your lies.”
Finally, Stefan gave up trying to force me to believe his propaganda. He came and sat on the couch next to me. Resting his boots on the coffee table, he propped an elbow on the arm of the couch beside him. He leaned away from me, shuffling down into the cushions, and closed his eyes.
“You’re going to sleep?”
“It’s that or listen to the Akil fangirl speech.”
“Asshole.”
He snickered at my insult but kept his eyes closed; the conversation was over.
I watched his chest rise and fall, confident that he couldn’t see me doing so. Stefan’s lean body was built to kill, and evidently, he had no qualms about doing so. He’d executed the demon in the stairwell without hesitation, and on the run from the Hellhounds, he hadn’t once stopped to consider his actions. He took it all in stride, like it was part of his day job. I sat there, in a room where the walls were covered in symbols I’d never even seen before and didn’t have a clue what they meant. But they’d worked. He was well trained, that much was obvious. Even the stunt with the superglue, which I was pretty sure he could have done himself, hinted at his no-nonsense, get-the-job-done attitude. So he’d been trained, but I’d never heard of “Enforcers”; shouldn’t I have known about them? Were there more of them? Who trained them? It sounded like fantasy to me. Half-bloods didn’t have the power to go up against demons. It was impossible.
When he’d called his power, letting it ride over him, I’d seen the demon that resided at his soul and it had been astonishingly beautiful. There wasn’t a rule that said demons couldn’t be stunning. They came in all shapes and sizes, but I had never seen anything like him. The wings alone; jeez, I could understand where the angel myth had come from. I had wings, well, used to. Now, only one remained, but they had never been as beautiful as his. My owner had sheared my missing wing off with a scimitar. When I go “nuclear,” as Stefan called it, when the demon rides me so completely that you can’t tell us apart, my remaining wing appears, but it’s a sorry specimen, ripped and useless.
Stefan’s breathing had slowed. Asleep, with the Hellhounds at the proverbial door. Typical. I twisted side-on to face him and blatantly let my gaze wander across his fine physique. Honed to the pinnacle of physical fitness with an athletic grace, he wasn’t all muscle, but might as well have been. I skipped my gaze down to the tattoo and had to stop myself from reaching out to touch it. That mark had to be significant. His branding, tattooed into his skin and on his gun.
I gave in to curiosity and reached out. My fingers hovered over the tattoo as it rose and fell with his breathing. Sliding
my gaze higher, I deliberately let it linger on his body. A curious urge to touch was proving frustratingly difficult to ignore. Just a little touch. Would his skin be cold or warm? I’d never met an ice demon.
I rested the tips of my fingers lightly on his chest and found his skin to be warm. Settling my hand over the ripples of his abdominal muscles, I let the warmth of him soak into my touch. His breathing continued to slowly ebb and flow. He wouldn’t know how I’d admired him in more ways than one. He was a half-blood, just like me: human but for the demons slumbering at our cores. Ever since I could remember, I’d been deemed unworthy, a lesser being, a mistake, but Stefan oozed confidence. He carried himself as though he didn’t give a damn about what he was; almost as though he knew he was better in some way.
He had hinted that he knew about my past, that my owner had beaten me, but he didn’t know the half of it. It had been worse than that, night after night. Beaten, raped, cut, abused. I’d only survived because Damien wouldn’t allow me to die.
As the unbidden memories flowed, I pulled my hand back from Stefan’s alluring body and stood up, moving away to roam the apartment, my thoughts darkening. Finding a single bedroom, I opened the wardrobe door, looking for some clothes to change into, but found only suits and shirts. Come to think of it, the apartment lacked a woman’s touch. Perhaps the owner was a single guy, separated, who saw his kids on the weekends. I began to feel inexplicably sad for a man I didn’t even know before realizing the sadness I felt wasn’t for him; it was for me.
For as long as I could remember, I’d been in chains. Occasionally, Damien would release me, finding it amusing to let me go and then parade me in front of his peers. I spent so long with him that it became all I knew. It was life. It was normal. So I took the abuse, only summoning the demon inside me when Damien wanted it so he could torture her too. She is me and I am her, irrevocably connected and yet different entities occupying the same human body. And oh, how he despised my human body. I bear many scars, only a fraction of which are physical.
[The Veil 01.0] Beyond the Veil Page 7