Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series)

by Jaye A. Jones

  DEFYING INSTINCT

  By Jaye A. Jones

  Defying Instinct

  By Jaye A. Jones

  Copyright: Jaye A. Jones

  Published: June 2013

  Publisher: Jaye A. Jones

  The right of Jaye Jones to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Disclaimer: The persons, places, and all things otherwise corporeal or incorporeal mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone dead or alive is unintentional. Please, this is fiction.

  CHAPTER 1

  The woman on the other side of the check-out counter bared her teeth, the expression pairing perfectly with the insult she just hissed at me.

  “I understand your frustration, ma’am,” my demon half cringed, but the controlled, customer service smile never left my lips. “There’s just nothing I can do for you right now.”

  The demon part of my genetic makeup sent me images of a few things I could do for her right now. Smash the cash register over her frail head. Strategically staple her mouth shut. Stab her throat with my pencil maybe.

  “That’s not good enough, missy. I was promised my books would arrive today. I’m too old to be waiting around for incompetent—”

  “Ma’am,” I said, easily keeping my tone pleasant. “The Bookstore has no control over deliveries. If you would like to leave your name and phone number, I’ll be happy to have the owner call you.”

  The lady scanned my face for the third time, showing the vague disgust and morbid curiosity most people showed when they looked at me.

  People’s reactions to my looks were fascinating, mostly because their expressions were all so similar. Squinty eyes, gaping mouths. Why did they always look like they expected the view to change? I wasn’t getting any prettier, no matter how long they squinted and gaped.

  “Fine. I’ll be telling him about your attitude though,” she looked down at my nametag that clearly said Savannah in bold letters, “missy. See what he thinks about how I’ve been treated.”

  I put a notepad and my pencil—not into her throat—into the lady’s hand as I ran through our brief conversation in my head. My attitude was flawless. Fake, forced, and offensive to my demon half, but I never once let the demon whispers in my head influence my actions.

  When the lady told him about our interaction, Dad would be pleased.

  She scribbled furiously, then thrust the pencil and notepad at me with a disgusted twist of her lips.

  “Mr. Cole will be by later this evening. I’ll have him call you right away,” I told her, my voice light and oh so phony. She huffed, then stomped toward the door.

  I tucked the woman’s note on the pile Dad would pick up when he stopped by, but I wished I didn’t have to sic that awful person on him. Though, she’d almost certainly be nicer to him. People always were.

  My dad, Victor Cole, was a good human. He cared for me. Maybe not in the way others would recognize as caring. But I knew he did. When I was little, he told me I was part demon. A half-caste. He didn’t have to tell me at all. I never would have known why the voice in my head wanted to maim and destroy when all I wanted was to be ignored.

  The lady huffed again as she barged out of the store, but my eyes remained straight ahead. Humans. I knew my opinion was biased, filtered through twenty years of being treated like the lowest of the low. Not because I was a half-caste. Only my dad knew what I was. People looked at me with repugnance because I’ve always been ugly.

  After lightly touching my too-small nose, then my too-big chin, I dropped my hand. The dull hair scratching my neck stayed coarse and frizzy no matter what shampoo or styling product I tried. My eyes were sunken, colorless, and too narrow. Big ears, pasty pale skin, and a body people would say was a misshapen boy’s if they were forced to take a guess.

  I was aware of my regrettable appearance. The way people stared should have bothered me. It didn’t. Not much did. My demon instinct plagued me with thoughts of violence, but that was just in my head.

  I’d grown accustomed to living in complete contradiction.

  My repulsive looks were a glamour courtesy of my full-caste demon mother. I could comfort the memory of a young girl getting endlessly teased by her classmates by saying it was only a disguise.

  Constant, permanent, never ever wavering camouflage.

  The memory of that ugly, little girl flipped me off in my mind. It made the edges of my mouth lift a little.

  I watched the front door to The Bookstore long after the lady left, the image of her blood on my hands replacing the amusing thought of a younger me.

  Inhaling deeply, tamping down the gruesome, demon desires, I scanned my small bookstore and counted the remaining patrons. A few regulars wasting time. I’d get to kick them out soon. Benn would be here in minutes. It wouldn’t be long before I could shed the fake smile and rehearsed script. Another day was almost over. If I could make it a little longer without…

  The bell chimed against the wooden pane of the front door, drawing my attention to the two males who entered. The realization of what they were struck me even though they wore almost undetectable glamour.

  I was the only unfortunate with flawless, steady, hideous glamour.

  These demons were stunning. I could tell which of the six castes they were too. Hammer demons. Warriors. The soldiers in the Underrealm.

  The tiniest hint of fire curled inside the demon part of my mind, but that was the only change in me as I eyed and considered the males.

  Both appeared broad, tan, tall, and not much older than me. Like all full-caste demons’ glamour, their lack of imperfection was too inhuman. One had shaggy brown hair. The other had hair like pale gold, and a pretty deliberate sneer I somehow knew was meant for me, even though he never looked my way.

  I could see the subtle sheen along their skin thanks to my slightly-above-human eyesight. It looked like Christmas tinsel hitting the light, but then I’d blink and their skin was normal again.

  Full humans didn’t see the tinsel, but they usually knew a demon when they were near one. If The Bookstore was in a small town somewhere, patrons might have started inching towards the door. But this was St. Louis, Missouri, a big enough city to mean demons were common.

  Besides, Demonology was a required class in junior high school, no matter where people grew up. It wasn’t like demons hadn’t always been around.

  After the two Hammer demons thoroughly scanned the store for possible threats—something only my demon half understood—a third demon swaggered in.

  Unlike the others, the third male’s muted grey and unaffecting eyes were glued to me. He appeared a bit older with creamy olive skin, pure black hair, and light eyes that spoke of mixed race, kind of like my best friend Benn. I didn’t know which caste he was, but something about him was different.

  Each demon surveyed The Bookstore while spreading out, one along each wall and the third directly across the room from me. I tracked the black haired one, my demon half sensing he was the male in charge.

  As if he could tell what I felt, he lifted an eyebrow, and smiled.

  Knock, knock.

  I swallowed. The male voice was inside my head. The demon across the room was following protocol, asking to telepath with me. Instinctively, I opened the mental
door, inviting him inside. I should have been scared or uncomfortable, but was simply curious. Never had a full-caste demon asked to telepath with me before.

  Until this moment, I hadn’t even known I could telepath. Demonology books said half-castes couldn’t.

  You know what I am?

  My eyebrows rose. It was weirdly easy to speak to someone like this. It should have felt at least unfamiliar, not completely effortless.

  The demon across the room nodded, and his friends stopped, one on either side of the store, with hands behind their backs and a rigid stance, like the soldiers they were. No human was inching towards the door, so they must not have thought they were acting strangely. But I did. These three full-caste demons could, within the next minute, annihilate the store and devour each and every customer before they knew what hit them.

  That hint of fire inside my mind glinted, causing smoke to wisp, then die.

  We don’t eat humans, the demon said, gleaning the thoughts I hadn’t been smooth enough to hide.

  How can you telepath with me? You don’t look like a Razer demon.

  I didn’t look like one either, but my mother had been a Razer. Only demons of the same caste could telepath, or so I’d been taught.

  No, I’m something else.

  His grey irises flashed silver, making my pulse uncharacteristically spike. And I knew.

  Tempter demon. A few decades ago, when people still used the old demon names, he’d be called an Incubus.

  I’d never seen a Tempter face-to-face before. For obvious reasons, I expected them to be gorgeous, powerfully built, and almost impossible to look at for extended periods of time. Like looking at the sun. Pure heat.

  This demon, whose name he allowed me to pluck from his thoughts, was Grayson. And I knew of him. If I were the type to drool over celebrities, then that would be the appropriate response to being in Grayson’s presence.

  Grayson the Tempter was one of the Royal’s advisors. I didn’t keep up with the gossip magazines that documented the six advisor’s every mundane move, but I did know their names. As the current Underrealm Royal, Nikolai had an appointed demon from each caste who lived and worked Up Above, in the human world. I recited the advisors to myself. Matteo the Razer, Apollo the Hammer, Kristoff the Sorcerer, Mischief demon Stratton, Reaper demon Greta, and the Tempter, Grayson. I’d have to live in a locked dungeon not to know them.

  And one was standing in my bookstore, staring at me.

  There wasn’t anything that interesting about Grayson except his steady, stony stare didn’t waver when he looked at my less than pleasant features. No gaping mouth and squinting eyes.

  But what I saw wasn’t him. The average looking male whose face didn’t twist up in disgust when looking at me was just a glamour.

  On the inside, I was sure he saw me the same way as everyone else.

  I didn’t think demons of different castes could telepath, I thought back, easily hiding my analysis of his looks and celebrity.

  I suppose they don’t teach…hmm…accurate demon history in your human classrooms.

  His internal voice was teasing. It made some dormant part of me stir slightly, but I didn’t know what it was. The burning on the tips of my big ears and the swirl of something foreign inside my misshapen body made me uncomfortable. I may have been female, but I was far from feminine. And it wasn’t just the looks I’d been saddled with since infancy. I was lacking some fundamental quality that was evidently a requirement in mating.

  I understood that certain physical qualities were intrinsically attractive. I didn’t understand attraction. That wasn’t what I was feeling now either. These were notorious Tempter tricks. My body felt strange because he told it to.

  The violation offended my demon half. She fumed.

  Anxious to have this interaction over with, I asked, is there a point to your Hammers casing the joint, or are you just here to mess with me?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn one of the glamour-masked Hammer demons smirked, but when I turned to see, his soldier face was blank.

  We’re going to be in the vicinity for a few days. Thought offering a polite introduction would be…wise.

  More demon protocol.

  But I had no status in the demon world. I wasn’t known, had no acquaintances among them. I didn’t look like what I was, and even if I did, half-castes, especially ones who chose to live as human, were considered void. Null. Benign. Less interesting than humans. Unless they were ambitious enough to pursue status and a name. And I wasn’t.

  Thank you for the courtesy, I telepathed, amused by how my internal voice was just as fake and forced as my regular voice.

  Grayson smiled, and the tinsel of his glamour shimmered, drawing my eyes to his mouth, his lusciously bitable lips, his sharp, white canines that promised pain along with sweet, hot pleasure. My body trembled for him, and heat shot through me.

  The next instant, the image was gone, the shot of heat a memory. His canines were short and blunt, once again hidden behind a veil of normalcy, but the tremble kept vibrating up and down my spine.

  Those thoughts and feelings hadn’t been mine. They were too alien to be my own.

  Dirty, manipulative, Tempter tricks. Fire hinted and smoke coiled around each thought.

  To my surprise, the cash register bang-rang as I slammed it shut after a transaction I’d made for a boy without even knowing it. Studied, customer service smile fully in place, I handed the human the book he bought and watched patiently as he struggled to stuff it into his overloaded school bag while stealing morbidly curious glances at my face.

  When the boy was gone, so were the three demons. I exhaled a deep breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. Demons didn’t bother with me. I’d never been jumpy, but having a mental conversation with an Incubus who made my spine tremble put my instinct on edge.

  Something wasn’t right. Three full-castes shouldn’t have visited me. Especially not the Royal’s Tempter advisor. He shouldn’t have even acknowledged my existence.

  The smoke-and-fire in my mind burst into flames, no longer hinting or wisping, but rampaging. Exquisite demon anger pushed and pressed until it dominated my every thought, forcing my control to splinter.

  Rage flared.

  Fury boiled.

  There was no cause for it. The Tempter was gone. He’d been messing with me. There wasn’t a logical explanation for this reaction, but that never mattered. The blaze hit, demon instinct reigned, and I was under its control.

  My skin grew hot and sweat broke out on my forehead. My breath caught in my dry throat, and I needed to obliterate something with my bare hands. I needed to cause damage. Only destruction could ease the smoke-and-fire twisting inside me.

  Harm.

  Demolish.

  Rule.

  The commands, the desires a seductive cadence in my mind.

  This was what I really was, what I denied. And it was stronger than my denial. The temptation to let it take over, to allow the demon smoke-and-fire to consume me was so strong.

  Deep in the back of my mind, I wondered if this was the time I would fail to fight. This could be the day I let the evil place inside finally have me.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Earth to Savvy. Come in, Savannah Cole.” A whistle echoed in my head. “Is anybody home?”

  The lightness of my best friend’s voice brought me back. It always did.

  “Benn,” I said, my voice sounding garbled and far away.

  “Sav,” Bennett Cotton mocked my somber tone. He rolled his kind, blue eyes and waved a paper cup across the counter in front of my nose.

  I stared at Benn for a drawn out moment, taking the sight of him in feature by feature. His light eyes, his dark mahogany skin, his thick, brown hair, and his easy smile. The smoke-and-fire died down.

  The rich scent of heavily sweetened coffee closed the door completely to the hell that simmered inside my mind. Blinking at the cup, I grinned when the local coffee shop’s symbol of the leapin
g goats came into focus.

  The lapse into oblivion was pushed to the back of my mind, my demon instinct back in her place. Everything was normal again. At least as normal as my everything got.

  The little voice inside human minds that told them fighting, stealing, coveting, and killing was wrong was like the voice in my mind. Only my little voice had a different message.

  Fight, steal, covet, kill. And above all, rule.

  On the introduction page to the Razer chapter in every junior high Demonology book, it said, “of the six demon castes, Razers (a.k.a. Destroyers) are the most power-thirsty and destructive, ruled by greed and lust for knowledge and supremacy.”

  Daydreaming about hellfire and brimstone was an everyday occurrence. My demon instinct, the smoke-and-fire place in my mind, warred with my indifferent lack of emotions, which I considered to be the real me. Images of destruction and mayhem bubbled beneath the surface of my every thought, even if I just wanted to make it through the workday without any problems.

  Logically, I knew the possibility of my demon half taking over should be frightening. A few mishaps were enough to terrify Dad when I was young. He’d made me promise I’d keep my half-caste condition secret from the world when I was five and punched a hole in my kindergarten classroom wall. He said if I could learn to control it, I could belong. Dad believed it was the only way I would live a halfway normal life Up Above.

  It mattered to my dad more than anything mattered to me, so I kept the promise. After so many years of keeping the smoke-and-fire caged, there was no need to let it concern me today.

  The corners of my mouth lifted further as I finally took the paper cup Benn still held out to me.

  “Everything cool?” He leaned against the counter and picked up my pen, tapping it repeatedly against the side of the cash register.

  “Three full-castes came in a few minutes ago,” I told him, knowing it was as good of an explanation for my distracted behavior as any.

  Benn’s eyes widened, instant excitement I sometimes envied brightening his face. “What did they want?”