I had a feeling it wouldn’t last for long.
“I don’t know what’s going on here”—Blythe glanced at my gramps and the judge before shifting her attention back to me—“but we really have to get started.”
Ten minutes. My gaze zigzagged to the street out front and I did a quick search for the Datsun. Smith was nowhere to be seen.
Because he’s helping Cutter.
The plan was already in motion. Azazel had climbed into the waiting car, and Cutter was reclaiming his soul at that very moment in some dark and quiet place where no one would interfere. I had delivered on my end, and it was time to forget everything else and shift into David Tutera mode.
I celebrated all of two seconds before Blythe handed me my purse. My cell phone bleeped from inside. “The restaurant sent this over, along with your iPad and a box of your stuff. You must have forgotten it last night.”
“Yeah.” I gave Gramps an accusing look. “I must have.”
I fished out the bleeping phone and glanced at the display. Forty-eight voice messages in the past two hours. Thirty-three texts, too. All from the same phone number. All with the same message.
Cutter never picked up the limo. I can’t reach him. Something’s wrong. Call me!!!!
My heart thumped. I hit Return and waited for Smith to pick up. The call went straight to voice mail, and my anxiety morphed into full-blown terror.
“What kind of car did Azazel get into?”
“I don’t know.” Blythe shrugged. “Maybe a BMW or a Lincoln. I just know it was short and black. Some sort of compact, I think.”
My stomach bottomed out. “It was supposed to be a limo.”
“Maybe there were car problems and they had to switch at the last minute.”
If only. But if that had been the case, Cutter would have communicated the change to Smith. The young rookie was his only backup.
“What difference does it make?” Blythe shrugged. “Azazel wasn’t the least bit put out that it wasn’t a limo. In fact, he looked really pleased when he climbed into the car.”
Pleased because he didn’t have to attend a long, boring wedding ceremony?
Or because he’d managed to turn the tables on Cutter and strike first?
“Forget Azazel. We’ve got bigger problems.” Blythe snagged my phone and tried to shoo me toward the bridal suite. “I’ve got a change of clothes waiting for you.” George moaned and she gave him a look that said Suck it up, big boy. “We’ll all be begging for a rabies shot if we don’t get this show on the road. Your mom will sic that dog on every one of us. If she doesn’t zap us first.”
A very likely possibility, given the yelling and smoke coming from the room down the hall.
“Tell Mother that we’re here and everything is fine.” I stuffed my phone back into my purse. “Get the judge into position. Then get Gramps seated and stall.”
“But—”
“Which way was the car headed?”
“East. But—”
“I’ll be back.” Or so I hoped.
I left a stunned Blythe staring after me as I darted out of the Bell Tower, snagged the first cab I could find, and hightailed it down the street to save Cutter’s ass. I knew Azazel wouldn’t go far. Regardless of what he had in store for Cutter, he still had to put in an appearance at the reception or risk my mother’s wrath.
He had to be close by. I knew that much.
It was just a matter of pinpointing exactly where before he stole more than Cutter’s soul.
It was the only abandoned building in the vicinity.
I stared up at the monstrous structure as I fished some money out of my purse and paid the cab driver. The place had once housed several offices before the economy took a nosedive and the housing market bottomed out. Several real-estate agents and a mortgage company had closed down, leaving the building vacant. A FOR LEASE sign sat out front, but I could tell by the broken windows on the second floor that it had been vacant for quite a while.
It was just the sort of place where a demon might take a kidnapped demon slayer. Or vice versa.
I tuned my senses, searching for some sign of life inside the building, but it was quiet. Dark.
Perfect.
The notion struck and I bolted forward. My gut instinct was to race through the double glass doors at the front, but a strange sensation crawled through me as I reached for the handle. I stalled. A heartbeat later, I did an about-face and started around the building, searching for a back door or a window or something—there.
I eyed the half-rusted metal door barely hanging onto its hinges. A soft push and metal groaned. I ducked my head inside, peering into the blackness for a few breathless moments, then I slipped inside and started down the pitch-black hallway.
Luckily I was a fierce and foreboding demon, otherwise I would have been terrified of the dark.
Okay, so I was a little terrified of this dark, particularly since zero moonlight pushed through the sparse windows, but desperation kicked a candy-ass any day. Cutter might be inside, possibly hurt and bleeding, and I had to do something.
And if he’s already opened up a can of whup-ass on Azazel and is now sucking down lattes at a nearby Starbucks?
He wasn’t. I wasn’t sure how I knew, I just knew. First off, he didn’t strike me as a latte drinker. Second, I’d been around enough evil in the past one thousand years to know what it felt like.
It felt like this.
A tension in the air and a dark sense of foreboding. Of danger. Of death.
I eased down the length of the hall, ducking my head into every doorway, searching every available space before hitting the stairwell at the very end. On the second floor, I started over.
Move forward.
Duck in.
Quick visual.
I was just about to hit door number three when I saw the shimmering shadow at the far end of the hall. It whispered through the open doorway and disappeared into the wall.
I knew that I would find Cutter inside.
I knew, but I wasn’t prepared for the reality.
My heart lunged into my throat when I saw his limp body sprawled on the scarred linoleum. It had been six days since I’d seen him, and while I could still picture him alive and sexy, this was so totally opposite that I wasn’t prepared for the ice that rushed through my veins.
His face was battered and bruised. One eye was swollen nearly shut, the other closed. He wore a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that had been ripped halfway down his chest. Blood oozed from an open wound. He was still, so still, and quiet.
I was beside him in that next instant, my hand going to his neck. His pulse thudded against my fingers and my heart started beating again.
“Cutter?” I murmured. “It’s me.”
“Jess?” His lips were thick around the breath of the word.
He forced his eyelids open a fraction. Pain clouded the familiar green. I had to get him out of here. Now. Quick.
Before Azazel returned.
I wasn’t fool enough to think he’d left Cutter alive by accident. No demon would walk away from a still-breathing slayer.
Azazel was still here somewhere.
“Can you walk?” I whispered, trying to pull him into a sitting position.
After a few pained seconds, he was upright. I pulled and was just about to hoist him up with my shoulder when I heard the voice.
“I’m afraid that’s mine.” The words rushed across the room like an arctic wind and froze me on the spot.
My head snapped up and I stared at the man standing in the doorway.
Azazel was tall, with long, dark, flowing hair and black eyes that drilled through me.
“Nice body choice,” I said, desperately trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.
“A grunge band had a massive pileup on the interstate and this was all that was left at the morgue when I came up last week.” He glanced down at the battered T-shirt and ripped jeans. “It’s not my personal preference, but it’ll do.”
“You’ve been in this realm for an entire week?”
“A week and five days if you want to get technical. Who did you think was playing those little tricks on you?” He must have read the shock on my face, because he smirked. “Ah, but you didn’t know, did you? Who did you think it was? Bella? Levita? They’re all talk and no action. Lillith is the only one with any real balls. She has no problem killing to get her way. Or lying. I bet you think she was the one who tempted Eve, don’t you? Everyone does. But it wasn’t her. It was me.”
I snorted, pretending a calmness I didn’t feel. “Yeah, and I’m going to believe that because you’re such a stickler for honesty, right?”
“Believe what you want, but it was me. Just like it’s been me tormenting you these past few weeks.” He shook his head. “You poor thing. Tsk, tsk. You couldn’t back off, could you? You just had to help the slayer, and so you’re here. Both of you.” A vicious gleam lit his eyes. “And you’re mine.”
The truth crystallized as I looked in horror at the ancient demon. Instead of running, Azazel had been keeping tabs on his biggest nemesis. That’s why he’d been able to elude Cutter for so long. He’d been one step ahead of the slayer. Watching his every move. Waiting for the chance to eliminate the threat. I’d played right into Azazel’s hands by inviting him to the wedding.
And now he was going to kill Cutter.
He was going to kill me. I knew it even before he opened his mouth.
“I wonder what Lillith would say if she knew you were getting friendly with the enemy?” Azazel sneered. “Surely she would banish you. Not that she’ll need to. I intend to destroy that pretty little body of yours and send you Down Under myself.”
“She likes to do her own dirty work. You’ll only piss her off.”
“Then bravo for me.” His expression hardened into sharp lines and angles. “Lillith’s a bitch, and it’s high time I one-upped her after the garden incident.”
Horror gripped me, and I knew that for all my bravado, Azazel would rip out my heart and eat it right in front of me.
He was old. Ancient. And while I was related to Satan herself, that meant little to a backstabbing, two-faced, zillion-year-old, soul-stealing demon. Azazel was supremely powerful thanks to all the souls he’d hoarded. Like all ancients, he was also selfish and all about me, me, me.
And he’d obviously decided his allegiance to Gramps was over.
He reached me in the blink of an eye.
I sidestepped the hands that grabbed for me, and whirled. But he kept coming, backing me into a corner so fast that I barely had time to catch a breath.
He reached out and I ducked, but I wasn’t fast enough. He caught my throat and squeezed. The pressure cut off my blood flow, and everything went hazy as he slung me around and threw me toward the opposite wall. I slammed into the Sheetrock, pieces shattering against my back. Before I could open my eyes, he reached for me again, tossing me like a rag doll as walls crumbled and ceiling tiles rained down. I ended up flat on my back, the linoleum buckled beneath me, as he moved in for the kill.
I felt the icy fingers at my chest, the slash of pain as his nails tore at my shirt. Desperation welled inside me. I bent my knee and delivered a fierce kick to his groin. He wailed and stumbled backward, and I saw my chance. I went after him, landing another vicious kick to his shin, then his other shin. He reached out, fingernails slicing across my arm. A burning jag of pain hit me hard and fast, but it was nothing compared to my protective instincts kicking into high gear.
He wasn’t getting past me. He wasn’t getting to Cutter. Not again.
My scream echoed in my head as I threw myself at the ferocious demon, jumping on his back and jamming my thumbs into his eyes as he stumbled around, trying to fling me loose. He finally grabbed a wrist and jerked it toward his mouth. He bit down, his razor-like teeth piercing my skin. My grip faltered and I let go. He flung me off like a bothersome fly and I landed in a heap near Cutter.
The wind rushed from my lungs and my vision clouded. I grasped at the dusty floor, hands searching for something. Anything to protect myself. A few heartbeats later, my hand closed around the sharp edge of a sword. Cutter’s sword.
The antique handle flashed in the darkness and a strange shiver went up my arm. I could feel the power radiating from the weapon, and I sent up a silent prayer that I wouldn’t die trying to hold on to all that energy.
I was a demon, after all, and this was a demon-killing sword.
I grappled for a good grip, and then Azazel was there. Looming over me. His face a mask of vicious intent.
I saw then what Cutter must have seen in those brief moments before Azazel had reached in and stolen his soul. And I felt the maelstrom of emotion.
The fierce loneliness. The raw pain. The unmistakable torment.
That was the trade. One he’d made unwillingly.
But I didn’t have to face the same consequences. I was a demon without a soul to steal, and I was feeling mightily pissed off on behalf of a certain slayer.
“You low-down, dirty snake,” I hissed. I hefted the sword and swung. The blade sliced through his shoulder.
He stumbled backward, howling, and I struggled to my feet, the weapon in my hands. I went after him, following him across the room until his back was to the wall. I swung the sword again. Steel flashed in the dim light and—
“No!” Cutter’s desperation pushed past the thundering of my heart. “You can’t kill him, Jess. Please. Not yet.”
Before I could turn, Cutter was next to me, looking as if he might topple over at any moment. His hand closed around my wrist and suddenly he was the one wielding the magical steel.
He lunged, shoving the sword straight into Azazel’s heart.
The demon shrieked, his features twisting and morphing from those of a man into something unholy. His chest spilled open and a rush of fluttering wings flew from inside, followed by a shimmer of light. One after the other. Souls. Every soul that Azazel had claimed over the centuries. They filled the room for a brief, blinding moment and then the sky seemed to open above. The ceiling cracked wide and a ray of light beamed down. A roar filled my ears as the building started to shake. The brightness drew the souls into one collective body, gathering them for the journey home.
All except for one.
The flutter of light pivoted, firing straight into Cutter’s chest, sending him sailing backward. He slammed into the opposite wall before sliding into a heap on the floor.
The light disappeared and the room went black and grim again.
At the same time, it didn’t feel so cold and menacing, and I knew exactly why.
Cutter all but pulsed with life, despite his wounds.
I reached him in that next instant and felt the warmth that radiated from his skin. The fire. The life.
He’d reclaimed his soul and now he was healed.
I held tight to his hand until his eyes finally opened. Sure enough, there was a twinkling light that had been missing from the dark-green depths. A vibrancy that made my heart skip a few beats. “Shouldn’t you be throwing a wedding right about now?” he croaked.
His skin pulsed against my fingertips and a smile played at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
A grin curved his sexy lips just as a dozen Legion agents barreled through the doorway, swords drawn. All except for Smith. He led the way, worry carving his young face. The expression eased the moment his gaze fixed on Cutter.
“This was a solo project,” Cutter said, touching a tentative hand to the wound on his chest. “You were supposed to keep quiet about all of this.”
Smith shook his head. “I had to call them when you went missing. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“How did you find us?”
A tall, muscular man with long blond hair and bright-blue eyes stepped forward. He wore black jeans and a fitted black T-shirt that outlined his brawny shoulders. An intricate slave-band tattoo just like Cutter’s en
circled a bicep that rippled as he holstered the gleaming silver sword in his hand. “We saw the light show outside.” His voice was authoritative, and I knew he was a powerful demon slayer in his own right. He tilted his head at me, his eyes hooded and expressionless. “Who’s she?”
“Nobody, Jacob.”
Jacob gave me another long, hard look, but I knew he wasn’t about to challenge the man who’d just slain one of the oldest demons in existence. He nodded and stepped back while Cutter took my hand.
“You should go,” he murmured. His green eyes sparkled with life and my heart stuttered. “You’re late.”
Mission accomplished. He’d gotten the one thing he’d set out to reclaim, and while I had no idea what that would mean to his future with the Legion—to slay or not to slay—I knew what it meant to me. I’d kept my end of the bargain, so he meant to keep his. My mom was safe and the wedding was still on.
If she hadn’t torched the Bell Tower by now.
“But what about you? I could help—”
“Go, Jess. This place will be crawling with even more Legion members in a matter of minutes, including Gabriel. I don’t want you caught in the middle of it.”
I nodded. “Take care of him,” I told Smith.
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave me a wink as I turned for the door.
Outside, I ignored the fast-growing collection of black SUVs swarming the front of the building and sprinted the three blocks to the Bell Tower.
Correction—I tried to sprint. But the knock-down, drag-out with Azazel had exhausted me. The result? A slow, gasping jog and a silent promise that if I made it through the rest of this night in one piece, I would give up all the sugar and invest my energy in a cardio workout. While I had an ultrahot body, my endurance was for shit.
Faster, I told myself. Just move faster.
Finally I reached the venue, my chest heaving and my lungs burning and…I gasped for air and tried to swallow against my dry throat. I needed a drink of water in the worst way.
But there was no time. I was already a full forty-five minutes late and I knew even before I saw the storm clouds gathered overhead that my mother was upset.
A crack of thunder sizzled in the air and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
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