Devil Without a Cause

by Terri Garey

  Finn frowned, still staring. He’d had to make a choice, and he’d made it, but that didn’t mean he liked it. It went against his very nature to put a kid at risk—particularly a kid as fragile—and as cute—as this one.

  “I was a medic in the corps,” John reminded his boss gently. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Just then, Faith took a deep breath, beginning to stir.

  “Question is,” John murmured, rising from his chair beside the bed, “whether you do.” He didn’t wait for an answer, leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him.

  Finn sighed and ran a hand through his hair, knowing that what he was doing was absolutely, positively, certifiably insane, but damned if he knew what to do differently.

  Damned if you do and damned if you don’t, he thought, and smiled grimly at the irony.

  He was still smiling when Faith opened her eyes, and for a moment—just a moment—she smiled back at him with a look of such joyous wonder on her face that his heart clenched. Then the look was replaced by one of horror, and his heart gave a thud of disappointment.

  “Shh . . .” he said, raising a finger. “Don’t scream. You’ll scare your son.”

  He had to give her credit—she kept her cool. Breathing fast, she looked at the boy sleeping next to her, then back at him, terrified and wary.

  “He’s fine,” Finn whispered, “only sleeping. No reason to scare him. No one’s going to hurt him, or you, I swear.”

  She sat up, fear replaced by fury. “How dare you touch my son!” she whispered angrily, a hushed hellcat in jeans and a T-shirt, white tennis shoes stained with red Georgia clay. “Where are we?” Her hair was a mess, and she wore almost no makeup, yet the sight of her made his groin tighten. “How did we get here?”

  “You’re in the British Virgin Islands,” he told her calmly, taking the seat John had so recently vacated. “I brought you here on my private jet.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You did what?”

  Finn knew it would be easier to just keep talking, so he kept his voice low and told her everything. “You gave me no choice. As soon as it was dark you were going to call up the Devil, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

  Her face, already so pale, went dead white.

  “We’re old acquaintances, he and I,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He met her gaze, unsmiling. “Where do you think this all comes from?” He gestured toward the room they were in; a big bedroom with plush draperies and carpet, heavy teak furniture, fantastically carved and gleaming with polish. “All my talent, all my money, all my fame . . . he gave it to me in return for my soul.” Faith said nothing, but he saw her lip tremble. “I know he’s offered you your heart’s desire in return for the Ring of Chaos, and I”—his eyes flicked to the sleeping boy—“I know your heart’s desire.” He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. “Let me offer you an alternative.”

  He watched her throat as she swallowed, admiring her ability to remain calm. There was no explosion, no high drama, but Finn wasn’t fooled; there was a lot going on behind those chocolate brown eyes. She was furious, she was frightened, and if he knew her at all, she was busy thinking of a way to run like hell.

  Except this time she had her child with her, and nowhere to go.

  “There’s a patio on the other side of those curtains,” he murmured, with a lift of his chin. “Get cleaned up, and come outside so we can talk in private.”

  She looked down at the boy, touching his shoulder, adjusting his blanket. “I’m not leaving him.”

  Finn stood, dismissing her statement as an excuse. “I’ve told you, no one here would hurt a hair on his head. He’s only here because you are.”

  She stroked Nathan’s hair, and her touch roused him enough that he took a deep breath, turning on his side. He tucked the stuffed dog beneath his chin and went right back to sleep.

  “There’s a bathroom through that doorway.” Finn turned away from the look of tenderness on her face. She’d been tender to him once. “Join me outside when you’re ready.”

  Before stepping through the curtains, he made sure to squash any unrealistic hopes she might have had. “There’s nowhere to go, Faith, nowhere to run. I’ve taken the book and your supplies. It’s one o’clock in the morning in the middle of nowhere, and no one here is going to help you.”

  The ring was still in her pocket. She couldn’t believe it, but there it was, still wadded in tinfoil. They’d taken her bag, but they obviously hadn’t searched her pockets, which made Faith feel marginally better, until she realized once again that she and Nathan had been kidnapped, and a part of her had been secretly hoping to be rid of the damn thing.

  “Oh my God,” she moaned, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror and not liking what she saw. A crazy person; wild-eyed, frantic, and in dire need of a brush. Her toiletry bag was by the sink, and in it were her things: brush, toothbrush, makeup—pretty much the contents of her bathroom counter. Furious as she was at the thought of someone in her house, actually handling her possessions, she was relieved to have her own stuff—anything familiar was good right now.

  What was she going to do?

  She splashed her face with water and took a few deep breaths, but it wasn’t until she began to brush her hair that her mind began to work again.

  Finn seemed to know everything. What if she threw herself on his mercy, begged for Nathan’s life? Was there a real person inside that rock-star exterior? He had everything . . . how badly could he possibly need one ring?

  And yet Satan had warned her not to ask him for it—to seduce the man and steal the ring—but she’d already done that, so would it be breaking the terms of the bargain to ask for it now?

  Faith moaned to herself again, brain hurting. She had until Monday morning to fulfill her end of the bargain, which left her tonight and tomorrow night to perform the summoning ceremony.

  Tonight was going to be a wasted opportunity, just like last night, unless she could talk Finn into letting her get the nightmare over with.

  Nathan was still sleeping, and she couldn’t resist checking on him again as she went past the bed. He was fine, breathing deeply, twitching like a puppy as he dreamed, and hogging the bed just like he did at home.

  The curtains were raw silk, nubby beneath her fingers, and behind them were French doors, leading out to a moonlit patio. There was Finn, sitting in a lounge chair, staring up at the night sky. She took a deep breath and stepped outside, and he turned his head so their eyes met. The scent of the sea washed over her, and somewhere out in the darkness, the crash of waves sounded like faraway cannon.

  “You look better,” he said. “Come and sit down. Have something to drink.” There was an ice bucket on a table next to him, holding chilled bottles of water. He opened one for her and held it out.

  “You have to let us go,” she said. “Please.”

  Finn said nothing, merely gesturing for her to take the bottle.

  So she did, in large part because she had little choice. She was exhausted, vulnerable, and in the middle of nowhere, so she took it, sat down, and drank.

  “Nathan seems like a nice kid,” he said thoughtfully, after she’d had a few swallows. “I’m very sorry to hear about his cancer.”

  Against her will, her eyes filled up with tears. She dashed them away, refusing to let her tenuous hold on her emotions slip.

  “Thank you,” she managed, not caring how he knew. “That’s why you have to let us go—he has an appointment at the radiologist Monday morning.”

  “I can help you with Nathan,” he said. “I can get him all the care he needs.”

  Incredulous now, she stared at him. “You don’t even know us.” She was doing everything she could for Nathan, and then some. The idea that she wasn’t made her defensive, and the idea that she’d entrust his care to a stranger was ludicrous. “He is getting all the care he needs, or at least he was, until you stole him right out of his bed! You were crazy to bring him here; he could’ve been hurt, y
ou could’ve bumped his head! He’s on medication—”

  “Steroids to reduce swelling,” he interrupted. “Least invasive form of treatment for brain stem glioma. I have a copy of his entire medical history.”

  “That’s confidential,” she said stupidly, stunned he’d invaded her privacy to such an extent.

  He looked away, staring toward the sea while she blinked back tears of worry and frustration. “It’s amazing how little patient confidentiality matters when there’s money involved.”

  His jaded tone sparked her temper. “What am I supposed to tell him when he wakes up in a strange place?” she demanded. “Did you think about that?”

  “Tell him you’re on vacation.” Finn turned back to her with a shrug. “The island is beautiful. Take him down to the beach in the morning and let him play in the sand. Let him be a kid.”

  Now she was the one to look away, furious he was able to so calmly rearrange her life. “On vacation,” she repeated. “With you.”

  “Why so hostile?” he asked her curiously. “I thought we had a connection last night. Did I do something during the course of the evening to offend you?”

  Last night? Had it been only twenty-four hours ago that they’d lain naked in each other’s arms, breathed each other’s breath, touched each other’s skin?

  “I’m sorry,” she replied, looking down at the flagstones beneath her feet. “But surely you know by now that last night was just a means to an end.” She risked a glance at his face, shadowy in the moonlight. “And I can’t say I’m too thrilled with the way you’ve behaved since.”

  He gave a snort of disbelief. “The way I’ve behaved? You lied to me, stole from me, threw salt in my eyes, and tossed me out of your house.”

  “I might not have done some of those things if you’d just left me alone,” she said hotly, knowing she was wrong to blame him for any of it.

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he said calmly.

  “You abducted us!” she spat, in a loud whisper. “I’d say that tops whatever I did!”

  He shook his head. “I could’ve called the police right from the beginning, but I didn’t, and do you know why?”

  She looked away, taking another sip of her water.

  “Because you told me about your life, and about your son, and I didn’t want to get you in trouble at your job.”

  Turning her head, she tried to see his eyes, but they were in shadow. “Even after I figured out what you were up to on the roof”—his voice hardened—“I didn’t go to the cops, sure that if I explained to you about the ring you’d do the right thing.” A breeze set the shadows dancing over his face, rustling through the palms surrounding the patio. “But you were dead set on your deal with the Devil, and I had to wonder why—what was so important that you’d risk selling your soul for it?” He leaned forward, so she could see him fully, in the light. “And then I saw Nathan, and I knew.”

  There was a pause. “I don’t blame you, either, if it comes to that—if I had a child—I’d do whatever it took to save him.”

  Faith blinked, not sure where this was going. Why was he being so understanding? He’d kidnapped them, for God’s sake—

  “He told you he’d heal Nathan if you got him the ring, didn’t he?”

  She nodded, unable to deny it.

  “There’s a reason he’s called the Father of Lies, Faith. He lays out a deal that makes you believe he’s the only way out, but there’s always another way out.”

  “And you know this how?” she asked him coldly. “You’ve told me twice now that you and he are old friends, so why should I believe a word you say?”

  “Fair question,” he answered softly, leaning back in his seat. “You’ll just have to trust me, I guess.”

  There was a silence between them, filled with only the rustle of the wind in the palms and the faint boom of the ocean.

  “If you give me the ring back,” he said, “I’ll pay for whatever medical treatment Nathan needs—no matter how many specialists, tests, or special treatments it takes. I did some research, and there are some promising new types of treatment being tested at a clinic in Switzerland . . .”

  “Clinical trials?” she interrupted softly. “My son is not a guinea pig.”

  “But it’s okay for him to be used as a pawn?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then don’t let him be. Take him out of the equation.” Finn rose, pacing to the edge of the patio, where he stood, looking out into the darkness. “You’re assuming the Devil will deliver on his promise to get rid of your son’s cancer. He might, but whatever happens, I can guarantee the results won’t be what you expected.” He turned, facing Faith where she sat. “I’m living proof that no matter what you think, the Devil doesn’t always keep his promises.”

  Despite herself, Faith couldn’t help but wonder at the grim note in Finn’s voice. She looked at him, dark-haired and lean, so self-contained and so damn arrogant. What did he know of desperation, or of the sheer, mindless panic that accompanied the thought of losing a child? He had everything, and she had nothing, and she wasn’t going to give up the one slender chance she had to save her son’s life.

  He met her gaze evenly, letting her take her time with an answer.

  “What kind of promise did he make you?” she challenged, genuinely curious. “What’s your story?”

  Unbelievably he smiled, and once again she saw the diabolically handsome look that had been last night’s undoing. “Come for a walk with me on the beach, and I’ll tell you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.

  Sammy held his hands toward the fire, looking closely at his fingers, the beautifully fashioned, perfect fingers of an angel, created in the image of the One.

  He’d just come from the Hall of Mirrors, where he kept track of those who’d been foolish enough to bargain with him. There he’d seen—and reluctantly admired—Finn’s latest move, that of using Faith’s child to win back the Ring of Chaos. After all these eons, he still found it a bit puzzling, the drastic lengths humans would go to in order to protect their young.

  Everything he’d once known of parenthood had been stripped away in an instant, so long ago that many of the details had grown blurry in his mind. He’d been so sure as a young fledgling, offered the universe, that his Creator would keep him safe, and yet it was the One who’d punished him to eternal damnation.

  One hand giveth, and the other taketh away. He flexed both of his carefully, then laid them on the arms of his chair.

  His thoughtful sigh drew the attention of his companion, a night black hellhound who lounged at ease on the carpet before the fire. It cocked one of its three heads at him, ears sharply pricked, while the second head yawned, and the third closed its eyes. “It’s just you and me tonight, Ajax,” he told the hound. “Perhaps we’ll go hunting tomorrow, eh, boy? The imp population definitely needs thinning.”

  The hound opened its jaw in a pleased pant, revealing razor-sharp teeth. Its yellow eyes remained fixed on its master.

  “Good boy,” Sammy told the dog idly, and took a sip of his wine.

  “Do you think it’s wise to go after the imps?” A woman’s soft voice made him pause, cup halfway to his mouth. “It’s not their fault they’re easily bored and prone to mischief.” She stepped into the firelight, nudging the hellhound aside as she slipped to her knees before him.

  “Persephone,” he murmured. “My darling bride.” They both smiled at the inside joke, for though legend claimed the supposed Goddess of Spring to be his bride, she’d never been more than his lover, nor had she ever wanted to be. A true child of nature, she was fey, elusive, and delightfully amoral. “How’ve you been, my sweet?” He reached out to stroke her hair, a warm and vibrant shade of gold, and touched the petal-soft, peach-tinted skin of her cheek. She was naked, as she always was when she came to him, her body lush and full, generous in its curves.

  “I am well, beloved prince.” She took his han
d and buried a kiss in it. “Would that you were, too.”

  “Beloved, or well?” he murmured sardonically, taking another sip of wine. He wasn’t surprised to see her, for despite the ancient myth, Persephone was free to come and go in the Underworld as she pleased, regardless of the season.

  “Both,” she answered softly, transferring her kisses to his bare knee. He was, after all, in his private chamber, where he preferred being naked to being clothed. “You are lonely.” A second kiss, this time on the other knee. “You are sad.”

  Her hands, small and soft, caressed his ankles and massaged his calves, stroking, easing.

  “I don’t deny it,” he replied, knowing it would be useless to do so. One of Persephone’s greatest gifts was that of empathy; she was attuned to nuances, and always eager to please. In all the time they’d known each other, she’d never been wrong about his moods, and adapted to them easily: a rough coupling here, a gentler one there, with no aim other than mutual pleasure.

  Today she seemed determined to go slowly, stroking her clever little hands up and down his legs, squeezing and rubbing the tension from the long muscles of his thigh. “My poor darling,” she breathed, pomegranate-stained lips following her hands, trailing their way upward. “Let me make it better.”

  And so he did, leaning his head back against his wooden chair and closing his eyes. Her kisses were hot against his skin, her tongue tracing delicate trails all leading to one destination, and by the time she reached it he was hard, and growing harder. She didn’t rush, however, nuzzling and licking at the sac that held his balls, breathing deeply of his scent before taking them one at a time into her mouth, rolling them gently upon her tongue as though they were fruit, bursting with juices.

  He made a purely male noise of contentment, happy to let his body overrule his brain, and happy to let her take the lead in telling it what to do, at least for the moment.