Tempting the Dark

by Michele Hauf

“Yes!”

  He smiled at his mother’s enthusiasm.

  “I had put out a call to a long-lost friend I missed dearly on my Facebook page, and she messaged me. Said she was doing well and missed me.”

  “You spoke to her?”

  “No, just the online back-and-forth. I didn’t know how to tell her that her daughter had returned. I didn’t want to do it online. You know? I asked her if we could meet for lunch and she’s in the Bahamas. What should I do, Savin? She needs to know about her daughter.”

  “She does.” But how to explain everything Jett had been through to Josette? “Maybe that’s something that Jett should get to decide about. Yes?”

  “Yes, certainly. You’ll tell her I corresponded with her mother? Perhaps I can be a liaison to hook the two of them up on Facebook.”

  “Thanks, Maman. I’ll tell her and see what she wants to do about it. How are those madeleines?”

  “At this very moment Roxane and I are filling out forms to apply for a loan for the food truck!”

  “That is awesome. Remember, your first stop has to be the fourteenth.”

  “Of course, Savin. But we’ve got a long way to go before we start baking. If the loan happens, perhaps next summer will see our maiden voyage. Oh, I’m excited about the possibilities! I’ll talk to you soon. Let me know what Jett decides.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  He set the phone on the counter and exhaled. Was this good, bad or ugly news? How could Jett tell her mother what she had been through, and what she had become?

  And yet would her mother have information about her real parents? And if so, would that lead them to a father who could very well be demon? Did it matter? Savin wasn’t sure what knowing the father’s identity would provide in Jett’s quest to assimilate to the mortal realm.

  On the other hand, if the demon was someone so important his natural daughter had been taken from the mortal realm to rule in Daemonia, then Savin would like to have a chat with him. He couldn’t possibly know the hell he’d put Jett through. Or worse? The bastard knew exactly what he’d done to an innocent human girl.

  Chapter 17

  Getting a haircut and manicure was a strange luxury. Jett had been attended by many while ruling as queen. But she’d never simply relaxed into a chair and trusted the outcome. She allowed that to happen today. She’d needed this after telling Savin what she really was. Something to distract from reality.

  Her long black locks that had previously hung to her waist were now trimmed to her elbows. Her hair felt so glossy she bounced as she walked down the street. A flash of silver in a retailer’s window caught her eye and she went inside. Five minutes later, she wore black ankle-high boots studded with silver spikes on the toes. They went well with the black leather mini and red silk shirt, over which she wore a black lace vest that spilled long fringes about her waist. A pair of sunglasses kept everyone from noticing a red glint in her eyes.

  Because she needed to drop her sheen. And soon. She was tired, and it was becoming harder to concentrate. The sheen was growing thinner. She could see that when Savin looked at her. He saw the red in her irises now. He hadn’t before.

  She considered finding an abandoned building and releasing her human shroud, but there weren’t a lot of places in midcity Paris that would offer such privacy. And doing it at Savin’s place? She’d done it after first arriving, but only after he’d left the place for a while. And now that he knew everything about her, it should be all right. But to reveal herself to him would not be wise. The man might believe he was okay with her being part demon, but she could imagine his reaction should he see her with horns, blue hair and gray skin.

  That was not a party she wanted to attend. At least not with a man with whom she was growing intensely infatuated.

  On the other hand, he hosted a demon within him. He was not so different from her. That was something that bonded them.

  A short man wearing thick black-rimmed glasses walking toward her swept her with a look from legs to face and down to her breasts. As she passed, Jett heard him say, “Sexy.”

  Being called sexy made her feel good. Better than good. Never had she turned a man’s head. At least, not a human man’s head. Demons didn’t count. Not here they didn’t. Such attention could go straight to her heart.

  With a wink over her shoulder to the man, who returned the wink, she strode on toward the river. Savin’s place was a long walk off, but these boots were comfortable. And she intended to shine in the sun today and meet every wanton gaze with a flirty smile of her own.

  * * *

  Savin plucked out a chord on the diddley bow. It was the same chord that had sent Jett fleeing the other night. He’d just gotten off the phone with Certainly Jones. The witch was heading out to the rift to assess the damage. Savin had said he’d meet him there, with diddley bow in hand. Maybe combined with the witch’s dark magic, the two could do something to slow or even stop the influx of demons.

  He placed the instrument in its soft zip-up case. The body was convex and shaped like a turtle shell. It had a Bluetooth pickup so he could play the thing and amplify it over his phone. It was freaky crazy, but he wouldn’t have an electrical outlet for an amp out in the field, so he was glad for the app. Jett had yet to return, but it was only early evening. She must be shopping. She deserved the freedom, so he decided not to worry about her.

  Besides, when he saw her, he’d have to tell her about what had gone down in Ed’s office this afternoon, and he did not relish having that conversation with her.

  He opened the front door to a woman with her hand lifted to knock. Jett’s smile beamed and she lunged up to kiss him. Shopping bags crunched against his back as her kiss opened his mouth and she tasted him as if she were starving. She tugged him toward her, so he stepped across the threshold and into the hall.

  He wrapped an arm about her back and pressed her against the wall, not wanting to leave the kiss. The woman was delicious. And dark and mysterious. And so eager to meld to his touch and mouth. Yet she was demanding and took what she desired from him. A confident woman who would not be put back for any request.

  A queen.

  Shit.

  Savin broke the kiss. “You’re in a good mood.”

  “And I must have caught you on the way out?” She looked over his shoulder where he’d slung the case. “Have a concert to perform?”

  “Kind of.” He winced. No time to have the big discussion right now. That was an excuse, but he was happy for it. “I’m meeting the dark witch out by the rift.”

  “Right. Opened once again. That explains the annoying feelings of demonic presence I’ve felt all day.” Her shoulders dropped, as did the shopping bags, landing on the floor. “You’re going to use musicomancy?”

  He nodded. “I’m still not so sure I can invoke it properly, but I mean to give it a try.”

  “It has been proved effective on me.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You should not be. You didn’t know then what you now know. I’ll let you get off to that adventure.”

  He sensed her unease. “I’d invite you along, but you’re better off as far from that place as possible.”

  “I am a big girl. I do very well on my own. And I’ve got to learn self-sufficiency sooner rather than later. I might even attempt to cook a meal.”

  Savin’s eyebrow quirked. “You ever cook before?”

  “No.” She chuckled, then waggled a teasing brow. “Don’t worry, I won’t burn the place down. I do recall helping my mother with her pies and cookies.”

  He’d forgotten about his mother’s call with the information about Josette Montfort, but CJ was waiting.

  “I look forward to whatever you create.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Remind me we’ve much to talk about when I return.”

  “Sure,” she said as he started toward the sta
irs. “Uh, will you let down the wards for me?”

  “Right. Sorry.” Savin backtracked and spoke the Latin words that would release the protection wards. To his side, Jett noticeably shivered, as if shaking off a chill. “I’ll leave them down while I’m gone.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’m going to try on my new things!” She skipped into his loft and he closed the door behind her.

  And Savin exhaled heavily. Could he trust CJ with the information about Jett’s demonic nature?

  Chapter 18

  Watching the dark witch conjure a spell was mesmerizing. CJ stood in the center of a black salt circle poured on the tire-trampled grasses that edged the lavender field. He’d been speaking Latin for a while, and every so often punctuated those words with a good pull at the whiskey bottle he held in his left hand. In his right, he brandished a crystal wand, and when he drew sigils in the air before him, the magical symbols glowed green and lingered for minutes.

  Savin stood before the truck hood with the diddley bow strapped across a shoulder. He put up a foot on the tire so he could prop the instrument on his knee. He needed to lay it flat to play it properly. The Bluetooth was activated. The phone app that would broadcast the musicomancy was set to play with the volume tuned to High.

  Even though the rift was open, there was no discernible wavering in the sky to demarcate the tear as they’d seen that first night. It was apparent it was open to another realm. Savin felt the evil, cool vibrations pricking at his bones. He’d picked up the first tingles when he was about a mile away from the site. They hadn’t seen any demons come through since arriving, but that didn’t mean the incorporeal ones were not slipping into this realm. They could be ghostly figments that traveled about in search of a human host to fully achieve corporeality.

  It was the corporeal demons Savin most wanted to catch. More often than not, they were assholes. They looked like monsters, acted like monsters, and not only did they scare the shit out of humans, but they tended to not care if they were seen. Very few bothered with a sheen.

  CJ turned to him and nodded. As the dark witch spread his hands wide above his head, stretching out a magical green static of energy, Savin played the first lick in a series that he’d learned could incapacitate a demon.

  Pressing the glass slide across the single string, Savin made his instrument sing a sorrowful cry that he at once loved to create and despised for the wickedness it was required to control. And then he took great satisfaction in knowing he could annihilate that wickedness and slam it back to the realm from whence it had come. A waver of the slide across the string teased up Savin’s own brand of innate magic. It birthed in his soul and swelled in his bones. The sigils tattooed on his forearms glowed. That brief time he’d spent in the Place of All Demons had infused this skill within him.

  And he would wield it relentlessly.

  Sustaining a long and moaning note, Savin searched the sky. A flicker of red sparked above CJ’s head and embers scattered over the ground.

  “That was one!” CJ called.

  Their combined magic had worked like a bug zapper to an incoming demon. Nice.

  Savin slid another note into a commanding cry. Now, this was a weapon he could wield all day.

  * * *

  The cell phone Savin had picked up remained in the box. Jett ran her fingers over the smooth matte-finish box, marveling at the utter beauty of it. Just the box! It would be too complicated to figure out how to operate the phone, she suspected. And it didn’t feel right to open it without Savin to help her with it. And really, she had no compulsion to walk the streets of Paris gabbing as all others did. Besides, she had no one to gab to.

  She set the box aside, and with a preening gaze over the mess of Savin’s amps and sheet music stacked beside the couch, she noticed a small radio.

  “I do know how to operate a radio.” She picked it up and played with the dials until a slow sensual tune sung by a woman with an incredible, longing voice captivated her. Shivers traveled over Jett’s arms at the intense visceral connection she felt to the tones. Setting the radio on the wooden chair arm, she swayed and closed her eyes, turning about in the living room beneath the skylights.

  Lifting her arms over her head, she whispered the release that dropped her sheen. Her hair thickened and grew blue. Her skin prickled as it darkened. And the horns at her temples stretched out and over her ears.

  “Ah...”

  Respite.

  * * *

  Savin bumped fists with Certainly. The witch hadn’t managed to close the rift, but they had cleaned up dozens of incoming demons. And that had seemed to put up a warning beacon. They hadn’t witnessed any new arrivals in the past half hour they’d stood by, waiting, sharing the dregs in the dark witch’s whiskey bottle.

  “You know they’ll start coming through as soon as we leave,” Savin commented.

  “I’m going to mark a blood hex on the ground that will, at the very least, give them pause. It’s not much, but it’s all I can do until we find that queen. Ed tell you about that?”

  Savin nodded. “Yep.” He picked up the diddley bow from the truck hood and opened the passenger door to place it inside on the seat. “I should head out. I’m drained. Gotta go home and recharge.”

  CJ waggled the empty whiskey bottle. “This didn’t do it?”

  “That makes me tired after a reckoning. I can barely keep my eyes open as it is. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. I have to hit the road, too. Vika complains when I’m out too late. The twins are a handful.”

  CJ and his partner, Vika, had twin boys. Savin figured they were toddlers, but hell, who knew, they could be rowdy teenagers. He nodded and climbed in behind the steering wheel. The witch cast ash and salt across the ground and began to stomp out a ceremonial chant as he pulled an athame across his palm. What kind of father was that to have?

  Savin drove out of the field and onto the gravel road.

  He led such a weird fucking life. The whole idea of having children, of being married and domestic teased at him. And yet it felt wrong to fit ordinary into his lifestyle. But the dark witch did it. CJ worked at the Archives, cast out demons and dealt with magical shit all day; then he headed home to the family—for all Savin knew—to have cupcakes and tell bedtime stories. So weird.

  Yet maybe not. Maybe the weirdos were the humans who had no clue what paranormal crap was going on right under their noses.

  “Hell.” Savin turned toward the city. He was the weirdo, no ifs, ands or buts about it.

  Despite being weird, he didn’t aspire to normal.

  Now he wondered if two weirds—he and Jett—could make a right. Or even a family. He wouldn’t mind having a child or two to deal with and love. Someone to read a bedtime story to? He could imagine doing such a thing. And he would never make his child feel unworthy or insignificant, as his father had done. Blame it on the alcohol, but Jacques Thorne had taken a drastic one eighty after Savin’s return from Daemonia. Not a day had gone by that he hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch with a whiskey bottle in hand. Rarely had he time for Savin, and when he did, it had been to berate him or tell him he could have done whatever it was Savin had been doing so much better.

  Savin didn’t miss his dad much, and that was a shame. A man should have a strong father figure to look up to, to mold his life after.

  Jett was lucky to have been adopted. He couldn’t imagine what would have come of her had her real mother and demon father raised Jett. Would she have grown up in Daemonia? That was too fucked to consider.

  Half an hour later, he parked and jogged up the stairs to his place. He was exhausted from all that reckoning, but knowing a gorgeous woman waited for him lifted his spirits and gave him renewed energy. He strode inside the apartment, strengthening the wards behind him as he closed the door. It was dark, but he heard the music immediately.
So she’d found the radio?

  “Don’t look at me!” Jett called out. She dashed out of the living room.

  And Savin immediately knew he’d caught her unawares. Must have taken advantage of his absence to release her sheen. He flicked off the radio and tightened his fist. He’d just spent the evening vanquishing so many demons.

  Demons were assholes. He hated them. He hated the Place of All Demons. And he hated...

  He didn’t want to hate her. He did not. Did he?

  Why couldn’t he sense her demonic nature? Closing his eyes now, he concentrated, focusing, searching for that hum in his bones. Nothing. A man should consider that lacking sense a good thing, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  Jett spun around the corner from his bedroom, casting him a shy glance. She looked human. Was human. For the most part. She had pulled on the sheen. “Everything go well?”

  He set the instrument case on the kitchen counter and nodded, sure if he spoke right now that his voice would quaver with the anxiety of walking in to find a demon dancing in his own home. Had he been mistaken to not tell CJ and Ed about Jett?

  “Uh, were you...?” he started.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered, rubbing a palm up her bare arm. “I shouldn’t have done that here. It tires me to keep up the sheen.”

  He put up a hand. “I understand.” He did. But he didn’t want to.

  “I attempted to make a meal, but...” She glanced toward the kitchen and for the first time Savin picked up the scent of something burnt. “Can we order out?”

  “Sure. I can run out and get something. Give you more time to yourself?”

  “No, I’m good. I don’t want to be alone now. Can you just make a phone call?”

  Whatever demon had been dancing in his living room had retreated. Jett was now that sweet, innocent, frail woman he’d found by the side of the road. And all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and make everything safe for her.

  Savin tugged out his phone and pressed the speed dial for his favorite local restaurant. The girl who took his call knew his usual, and he doubled it. It would arrive within the hour.