by Lizzy Ford
The Dark One, Darkyn, remained long after Gabriel left. He searched Deidre’s apartment from top to bottom several times, seeking the item he needed to fulfill his part of a deal. True, they’d had more of an understanding than an official agreement, but he never failed to deliver, even if he had a reputation for interpreting the terms differently than those who made him the deal. Likewise, no one fucked him over when he made a deal. Not even the bitch that was past-Death.
Intrigued by the offer she brought him before she disappeared, he was beginning to think he should’ve made the deal official. He’d never entered into a private one before and didn’t know if his predecessor had either.
The idea she’d hidden it somewhere he couldn’t find was driving him mad, along with the scent of the human blood coating the walls of the far bedroom. He ran his tongue over his pointed teeth and stood in the center of her living room, pensive and hungry.
It wasn’t here. It wasn’t anywhere he’d tracked her during the entirety of her lifetime. The human named Deidre had to have it with her, a trinket or piece of jewelry with sentimental value that she never took off. It was small enough, it could be anywhere. Wynn’s soul was an official debt she incurred, and Death would do its duty and repay.
The second soul bartered for in private was flat out missing. It didn’t seem possible. Past-Death wanted this soul found, and Darkyn’s searches the past few years yielded nothing. With the sheer number of demons Darkyn had assigned to watching Deidre over the years and all the leads he’d personally pursued, he should have stumbled upon it by now. The demons he sent to Death’s underworld failed. The demons he sent to the mortal world failed.
Furious, he took matters into his own hands. He, too, was failing. Worse, he wasn’t able to operate under the radar for much longer, now that Gabriel had claimed his mate. Time was short.
Darkyn had no tolerance for failure, especially not after past-Death interfered in his attempt to capture Rhyn’s mate. He was burning through the limited amount of demons qualified to shape-shift. They were a finicky lot, lasting only two to three days in the human world before the serum that change their features wore off.
Deidre’s boyfriend, Logan, cost Darkyn two of the valuable shape-shifting demons. Neither of them found any trace of what Darkyn sought.
“Hey, boss.”
His least favorite demon crept from the shadows. Jared was a thorn in Darkyn’s side, but he was also a friend of the half-demon Rhyn. No other demon was permitted close the Immortal fortress. It was respect for this usefulness that kept Jared from feeling the brunt of Darkyn’s anger.
“I went over the beach house with a fine-toothed comb,” Jared said. “Nothing.”
“I’m missing something,” Darkyn growled.
“Are you sure …”
At Darkyn’s glare, Jared ducked his gaze and fell silent.
“I need a distraction, Jared, to keep the Immortals out of my hair,” Darkyn said.
“Happy to serve.”
“Pick a human school to target for breakfast. Take two more demons with you. Make it messy and obvious.”
Jared’s eyes lit up with hunger. “Kids make the tastiest morsels. Should I be concerned about pesky Immortals tracking me down?”
“With the Ancient Andre dead, they won’t be able to find you in time,” Darkyn replied. “Keep at it until I send orders otherwise and change locations daily. I want to thin their ranks.”
“You intend to attack Rhyn again?”
“What I intend is not your concern,” Darkyn snapped. “Go.”
Jared bowed his head and fled, well aware of the power of the demon lord’s fury.
I intend to claim what will be owed, when I find that fucking soul, Darkyn added to himself.
“Harmony, come.” This order he spoke out loud.
The death-dealer on the Dark One’s payroll appeared immediately at the summons. Beautiful and slender, she was likewise deadly. Darkyn liked his women willing to fight him before he fucked them and bled them dry. Her fate would be no different, and he anticipated a good, long fight and slow death.
“Report,” he ordered.
She held out something that looked like a compass. Darkyn took it, instantly recognizing the magic as Death’s. The symbols were from the time-before-time, an era of chaos he barely remembered.
“Soul compass,” he said, not expecting the tool. “Death is going old school.”
“Our soul radars are broken,” she explained. “Gabe is having these made for us while we’re trapped up here.”
“Trapped?”
“The underworld kicked us out. Even Death.”
Darkyn chuckled, a low, dark sound. “Very good, love.”
“You are satisfied with my work?” She was nervous.
“Very. And Death? What of his mindset?”
Harmony hesitated, and Darkyn met her gaze, sensing weakness. Not hesitating to hand over the compass, she appeared torn at taking the final step of betrayal. Darkyn gripped her neck, shoving her into the wall. The scent of an Immortal – a female one – made his hunger roar to life.
“When your master asks, you answer,” he snarled.
“He’s … confused. Angry,” she gasped. “Lost. Forgive me.”
“Your first lesson.” His fangs lengthened.
Harmony gripped his arm, fear crossing her face.
“Twice you resist,” he hissed. “There will not be a third time.”
She dropped her hand and closed her eyes, bracing herself.
Darkyn had no intention of going easy on her, even if it was her first lesson in the proper behavior expected of a demon’s blood slave. Eventually, he’d reveal the fate that awaited traitors and order her to fight him. For now, he was content to make her life miserable while she fed him information about Gabriel.
With a soul compass in one hand and his dinner in the other, Darkyn was satisfied for the first time in months. He’d find the missing soul. It was just a matter of patience.
Chapter Seven