I nodded curtly, avoiding his stare.
Stefan hesitated as if searching for the right words. “I didn’t think he’d…”
“Drown me?” I shrugged. “Me neither.”
Stefan looked as though he had a few hundred questions, but my general washed-out appearance must have shocked him into silence, because he stayed quiet.
“Can we…” I tried to swallow and winced. My throat felt as though I’d attempted to drink shattered glass. “Can we get out of here?” I couldn’t look at him. I wasn’t ready for questions or any of the answers. I didn’t want to think at all and almost wished I could hide like my demon, just curl up in a ball and pretend it had never happened.
Stefan’s car looked like a rental and smelled like one too, but the quiet comfort inside immediately lulled me into a sense of security that I hadn’t had since, well—forever. I twisted in the front seat, pulling my legs up to my chest, and wedged myself there, chin resting on my knees as I watched the city blur past. The shivering wouldn’t stop, and my throat burned, constantly reminding me how close I’d come.
“Are you okay?”
“Stop asking me that.”
After twenty minutes, I noticed we were in the suburbs. The houses were sparsely scattered along the tree-lined streets. Then Stefan pulled the rental car onto Route 95 North. We joined the four lanes of traffic, and before long, Boston was little more than an orange glow against the night sky in the rearview mirror. The drone of the wheels on the road eventually lulled me to sleep.
We arrived at a lakeside house. Its white, timber-clad façade and wrap-around porch did a grand job of declaring it a New England character house. The interior looked as though it had once undergone some modernization—in the seventies—but it was clean, functional, and had some of those wonderful anti-elemental markings on every wall. Stefan let me wander as he retrieved a duffle bag from the car and dumped it in the middle of the lounge.
“This where you bring all your girls before you bury them in the woods?” I broke the silence we’d harbored since Boston.
He chuckled. “This is—was my father’s house.”
I remembered that Nica had told me his father was dead, but I wasn’t comfortable enough with Stefan to ask about him.
“I don’t suppose you have a change of clothes in that bag?” I smelled the salt water on me, combined with the delightful odor of diesel, vomit, and my own burnt-out smoky residue.
Stefan hefted the bag onto the coffee table and unzipped it to reveal a selection of guns and swords. It made for an interesting overnight bag but was not exactly packed with home comforts.
I screwed up my face. “Is there a shower here?”
“Sure. It’ll be lukewarm. Take a right up the stairs. It’s on your left. Check for spiders.”
He looked deadpan serious until I began to climb the stairs and saw him enjoy a little smile as he busied himself checking the contents of the bag. He looked up suddenly, catching me watching him.
“You’re safe here.”
I nodded, afraid my voice might betray exactly how much that meant to me, and then hurried upstairs.
Chapter 16
I slept the remainder of the night on the patterned couch, with the weapons strewn about the coffee table within reach should Akil burst through the door. Without an invite from the owner of the house, Akil couldn’t enter, but that didn’t stop me from waiting anxiously for his arrival. Borrowing one of Stefan’s shirts to sleep in had been a good idea in the middle of the night when I was exhausted and didn’t care. Now, it was early morning, and I wasn’t entirely comfortable walking around the house with only his shirt covering my dignity, and not much dignity at that.
The smell of coffee lured me into the kitchen where the panoramic lakeside view immediately beckoned me toward the windows. The land below the house swept down to the water’s edge. The lake stretched to either side of the expanse of windows and beyond, hidden behind towering pine and birch trees. I couldn’t see another house in the isolated landscape, let alone another person. I’d never been so detached from the city and wondered if I should feel isolated. I didn’t. I felt safe.
“Hey.”
Stefan’s sudden appearance made me jump. I tugged self-consciously on the edges of the shirt I’d borrowed, pulling it down as far as it would go—not very. If he noticed, he didn’t show it. Points for him for keeping his eyes to himself.
“That’s some view…” I gazed out the window again.
“In the winter, it’s breathtaking.”
I skewed a smile at him. Of course he’d like the White Mountains in the winter. He would literally be in his element. He’d dressed casually in jeans and a black shirt, the dark color brightening his astonishing eyes. I had to wonder how he passed for human at all. Those eyes were compelling to the point of distraction.
“Coffee?” He gestured at the percolator already working its magic.
“Definitely.”
Watching him breeze about the kitchen, it occurred to me that I hadn’t really considered his part in all of this. He continued to show up and help me out of sticky situations, and yet he hadn’t really asked anything of me. He’d mentioned in passing how he wanted my help to kill Val, but the subject hadn’t been broached since. It wasn’t as though we’d actually sat and talked. We could now though.
“Are you going to ask me what happened?” I watched him pour the black coffee into two chunky mugs.
“I know. Half the demon population of Boston knows.” He flicked his gaze to me. “Muse, you practically drained the city center of heat and threw it all at Akil. I didn’t need to be there to feel that.” That was a fair assessment, although I was still trying to figure out how exactly it had happened. “But I was there…at the end.”
He passed me the mug of coffee and a box of sugar cubes. “I saw what you were doing—what he did. You were in the water for five minutes. At least.”
I sipped the coffee, letting it scald my lips. Five minutes was a long time. I remembered the dark and the cold. So damn cold. The water had snuffed out my element in one gut-wrenching blow. Had I not been drowning, the sudden quenching of the inferno raging through me could easily have sundered my soul in two. It would’ve been like pouring ice water into a roaring forge. Anything caught between those two opposing forces could easily succumb. Had Akil known that when he’d pushed me over the edge?
“You didn’t think to help?” I’d meant to ask lightly, but a quiver undermined the confidence of my words.
Stefan gave me a hint of a smile, making it seem sympathetic. “And get between you two? I’d rather face the Hellhounds again.”
I couldn’t blame him for that. I could have killed me as surely as Akil. My thoughts hadn’t exactly been my own.
“Akil waited for you to resurface.”
“How long?” I blinked too quickly and leaned against the kitchen cupboards, needing a little more support than my legs could offer.
“A few minutes. Some people showed up. Someone called the cops. He didn’t hang around after that. I couldn’t see you in the water, let alone save you. You were lucky, really lucky. The two of you managed to wake the entire marina. Someone saw you…” He averted his gaze to the windows. “They pulled you out of the water...” He paused, and I had to wonder what I’d looked like. Limp. Cold. Pale skin. Blue lips. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’ve been dead before. Several times. It’s nothing to write home about,” I said. He mirrored my smile, but he wasn’t buying my bravado. It was, however, true. Damien had enjoyed bringing me back from the brink of death, nursing me back to health so he could start all over again. The unwanted memories vied for attention, forcing my eyes closed. I rubbed at my aching forehead.
“How are you holding up?” Stefan asked.
Considering my on-off boyfriend had almost succeeded in killing me and how my demon-self had attempted to summon the molten rock from beneath her feet… yeah, I was doing fine. “I’m okay.” It was a lie, bu
t what else was I supposed to say? “I think you were right…about Akil. What you didn’t see last night… He…” I rested the coffee on the countertop and admired the view of the lake. The serenity beyond the windows helped level my fragmented thoughts. “I hurt him. I mean, when I left a few years ago.”
Stefan sat at the pine kitchen table, leaning back a little in the seat. “You walked away from the Prince of Greed.”
I skewed a sideways glance at him, but his habitual smugness had evaporated. If anything, he looked weary.
“That sealed your fate, right there.”
“But…” I didn’t need to say it again… But you don’t know Akil like I do. “He’s never hurt me. Not once.”
Stefan sighed. “He tried to kill you.”
“No, he didn’t. He was deliberately baiting me. That’s all. He summoned my demon, and I lost control. He wasn’t trying to kill me. He wanted… it—her.” I tapped my chest.
“Muse, listen to yourself. You’re defending a demon, and not any demon, a Prince of Hell. They aren’t known for their patience and understanding.”
I shook my head. Akil was right about one thing. Stefan would never understand. He’d spent his life killing demons. He had it simple. I’d spent my life among them. I might despise the majority of them, but I knew them. They were family. Twisted, bitter, dangerous, slippery, backstabbing, but family all the same.
I held Stefan’s sorry expression. He pitied me. I knew that. We weren’t ever going to agree.
Stefan finally broke the standoff. “There are some things we need to do. Are you up to it?”
“Depends what it is.”
“We need to revoke that invitation. It’s easily done, but we need to do that soon, before he realizes you’re alive and missing.”
“Okay.” I was up to that. “And?”
“The sword.”
Ah, the sword. “I don’t know.” Stefan stood so suddenly I jumped. The cool clarity in his eyes had returned, scolding me with a frosty glare as he passed by me. Apparently, I didn’t have a choice.
Revoking the invitation was easy enough, as it turned out. A bowl of warm water to house my pale reflection, and a few utterances later, it was over. I didn’t feel any different, but Stefan assured me it was enough. As with anything demon-related, it was the intention behind the symbolism that held the power.
He left me alone for an hour while he went into the nearest town for groceries. I took the opportunity to be nosey and gave myself a little tour of the lakeside house. Stefan had said it was his father’s. If that was the case, Stefan’s father had been an avid reader, because the books lining the wall beneath the stairs were all old, leather-bound editions. The majority focused on the subject of demons. I plucked a few from the tight rows and thumbed through them. Much was already known about demons, but not nearly enough. The demons kept it that way, preferring to flit through the veil without the hindrance of worshippers and scholars tripping them up.
Many myths were forged on truth. Christianity attempted to reveal the veil, but they mixed the message up with too much of the divine. There is no divine entity, no good versus evil, no heaven or hell. It’s all part of the netherworld, hidden just out of sight in the corners of your vision. That flicker of movement at the end of a poorly lit street, the tingling across your flesh as you sense you’re being watched. The demons are right there, with us, and yet just out of reach. Some tinker on this side of the veil, some prefer the netherworld. Akil liked it here. He enjoyed walking among the people, playing their games, feeding off their greed. If there’s one thing we mortals have a lot of, it’s greed. Other demons hop back and forth, preferring quick visits. Val despises it here. To him, we’re worthless bags of flesh and bone.
Wandering about the house, I found a framed photograph of a grizzled man in his early forties standing by the water’s edge, fishing rod in one hand, the catch of the day—a salmon—on the grass at his feet. He had a substantial grin on his weathered face. On a second glance, I recognized a fierce glint of pride in his eye. Just like his son. He had to be Stefan’s father. Stefan had his mother’s eyes but his father’s mischievous grin.
Returning to the bag of weapons on the coffee table, I noticed the katana protruding from among the other swords. The damn thing was haunting me. I wrapped my hand around the handle and lifted it out. A new scabbard covered the blade, made of carbon fiber by the looks of the interwoven sheen. The sword felt light in my hand, with a perfect balance between the handle and blade. I could never forge something so labor intensive. The process took months and involved upward of four swordsmiths. Of all the weapons in Stefan’s bag of tricks, this one was priceless.
I closed my left hand around the scabbard and pulled it a few inches free of the guard, exposing a hypnotic swirl of light on the tempered edge of the blade. I’d revealed just a hint of metal, just a little tease, but I couldn’t resist freeing the entire length of the sword before laying the scabbard on the couch behind me. I tipped the blade up, watching the sunlight from the window drape across the carbon steel. The crisscrossed pattern of leather around the handle had been cut from shark skin, tough, light, and durable.
It felt good in the hand, weighty with potential. I turned my left hand up and laid the blade across my palm. Almost immediately, a snap of energy danced up my arm, just enough to release a tickle of excitement inside me. My element simmered but didn’t wake. I should have left it alone, should have put it back in its scabbard and tucked it away safely in the bag. The horror in that blade might have stayed there for a little while longer, but my old friend, curiosity, led me astray.
I sat on the edge of the couch with the sword across my lap. I was safe here. Stefan would be back soon. Why not get it over with? I ran my finger down the sharp edge, watching a bright red droplet of blood gather at my fingertip before dripping freely onto the floor. I curled my fingers into my palm and waited for the blood to pool, then I smeared it over both hands. When I placed my hands gently on the blade, the images rushed me so suddenly I jerked rigid, sucking in a gasp.
The lakeside house and its comfortable decor vanished. The lake and mountains beyond became a distant dream. I could see, hear, and smell the city. The noise, the lights, the colors. The images printed themselves on my thoughts, stamping over one another in their rush to be seen. I struggled to keep up. My breathless panting and the rush of blood in my ears, all that anchored me to my body. The sword plunged through flesh. I cried out, then, now, in my head. I couldn’t see who it was, but I heard his liquescent gasps, lungs bubbling with blood.
Voices, male. The room spun. The city lights behind the windows swirled like fireflies in the air. Red coat, a smiling face. Use this, Akil said, tossing the sword at the man in the red coat. He caught the sword, snatching it from the air with one hand, a half smile pulling at his lips. The image shattered, fragmenting into hundreds of pieces before each sliver rushed back together, pulled as if by a magnetic force. I saw the blade sink into a man’s chest again, felt the metal carve precisely through muscle and lung tissue. He choked on the rising blood, spluttering it over his lips as he fell forward. I saw his face.
I knew him.
Sam.
The sheer wave of horror tore me from the vision, thrusting me back into my trembling body like an unwelcome visitor. My stomach lurched. A disorientating pain sliced through my skull. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely remember where I was. All I saw was Sam’s face and the fear and confusion in his eyes. Hunched over, I sunk my fingers into the rug beneath me, digging my nails in as a wretched groan escaped from my lips.
“Muse…”
Stefan’s hand rested on my back. His touch ignited the fury within me. I snapped my head up, snarling at him. “Get away from me.”
He lifted his hands in surrender, leaning back on his knees, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he gritted his teeth. “I was there, but I had no hand in what he did.”
A sob bubbled up my throat, followed by another. I tried
to keep it all inside, to blockade the rush of grief, but sorrow swept aside what little strength I had left. Collapsing back against the couch, I covered my eyes with my bloodied hand, not wanting to witness or believe what I’d seen. “Not Sam…” I choked on the words as cool tears trickled over my cheeks. “Not him.”
Stefan’s hand pressed lightly on my shoulder. His grip tightened as I trembled.
“Don’t.” I shoved at him, pushing him away. “Don’t touch me.” But he caught my hand, then my arm. I tried to tug free, needing to retreat, but his grip tightened, preventing me from fighting him, and then his arms closed around me, holding me close to his chest. Trapped against him, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat, the fight in me evaporated, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I cried so hard the sobs racked my shivering body. I clutched his shirt in my hands and buried my head against him, welcoming the embrace as though it could block out the truth, shut out all the anguish and pain. My element thrashed inside me, but the demon slunk back, cowering at my core. Perhaps it was Stefan’s embrace that held her back, or the symbols on the walls, because I didn’t feel the raging heat that I should have. I just felt fragile and alone.
Chapter 17
I sat at the end of the jetty with the shimmering water of the lake all around me. The cold wind teased through my hair and nipped at my face, forcing me to hunker down and tug Stefan’s heavy leather coat around me. I pulled my legs against my chest. But I wasn’t going inside. I couldn’t. Not yet. Stefan had known. He’d known Sam was dead days ago, and he hadn’t said a word, preferring instead to force me to witness it firsthand.
Akil had killed Sam. There was no denying it. No amount of lies could refute it. I’d seen it.
I remembered the message Sam had left me. A job, he’d said, one he couldn’t refuse. Akil. Phoenix Developments. The biggest property development firm in the city had invited Sam with the promise of a contract, and he’d gone willingly, walked right into Akil’s office with no idea he was meeting with one of the Seven Princes of Hell. I could imagine Akil’s charming greeting, his easygoing mannerisms, and all the while he was playing Sam for a fool.
[The Veil 01.0] Beyond the Veil Page 13