Demon Unbound

by Jenn Stark

  Holkeri was going to pay.

  He turned as she stirred against his chest, could almost feel her lids flickering open. “What—fire?”

  “Emergency vehicles will be dispatched, even to this hellhole,” he said grimly. “Nico will have his hands too full to find anyone to kill and dismember—especially if he’s given to understand that some of the test subjects were set free specifically to hunt him down.”

  “But—what?”

  Maria swooned again, causing Warrick to frown down at her. As her head lolled to the side, he saw the massive gash on her temple and exploded with a flood of curses he hadn’t used since the fall of Atlantis. Humans were so frail!

  Without any other recourse, he held Maria close and started walking down the street. He couldn’t heal her in broad daylight, not and still protect her. But he couldn’t let her bleed out on the street either. He needed somewhere private.

  An EMT vehicle careened around the corner, clearly heading for the Citadel, and Warrick angled Maria away, remembering too late he’d dropped their glamour of invisibility. The van passed him at high speed, then Warrick turned in surprise as he heard it slam the brakes, the cherry-red vehicle flipping a U-turn in the middle of the street and racing back toward him. Warrick leapt back as the van nearly ran up on the curb, then the driver stopped it and jumped out, running around the back of the van to open its rear doors.

  “I don’t need—” Warrick began, then recognized the bright blue, laughing eyes of the driver.

  “Get in!” Finn shouted as he flung the doors open. “Go, go! Get in!”

  Warrick climbed into the van, surprised to see a bunk already outfitted for a patient as Finn slammed the doors behind him. He dropped Maria onto the bed, strapped her in. She still didn’t move as Finn hauled open the driver’s side door again, then vaulted into the seat.

  “Since when do you know how to drive a van?” Warrick demanded.

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways, my brother!” Finn howled, and they shot off down the street, sirens and lights still going. “You got a destination?”

  “Hollywood Boulevard.” Warrick’s lexicon of LA locations was limited to Jack’s memories, but the nightclub Morpheus had made an appearance in a few of the more booze-soaked entries in the man’s mind. And Nico had mentioned it too. He pulled open one of the drawers in the van’s shelving, hauled out antiseptic pads. “How’d you know where to find me? I made the summons from ground zero.”

  “And Stefan and Raum were happy to oblige you, bang-bangs and all. God, I love having access to actual materials when we get called. I got tapped by Death.”

  “Death?” Warrick looked up from where he was wiping the worst of the blood away from Maria’s head. Fortunately, only a little of it seemed to be hers, the rest of it the spray from the demon he’d iced too near to her. “What’s her interest?”

  “Apparently, all things Syx are her interest right now,” Finn said as Warrick returned his attention to Maria. He laid his hand alongside her head, palm to temple, and closed his eyes briefly, whispering the words of healing that had been among the many gifts bestowed upon the Fallen. Even with all they had suffered and everything that had been stripped from them, the Syx could still do a great deal with and for humans. Maria’s skin began to knit together as Finn continued.

  “Between our impressive job on the beaches of Aca-pul-co and the one-man Spawnageddon you pulled off at the Citadel, Death is angling for a fast track to get us turned legit. Michael isn’t having any of it, but she’s piling on with the whole Day of the Demon the world just endured. Reports are coming in, and they are not good, my brother. Most of the horde that was released are still getting their feet under them, so we’ve got half the crew that’s confused as shit and half that’s ready to party—hold on!”

  The vehicle lurched to the right, and Warrick threw himself over Maria, but her straps did their job of holding her tight in her bunk. When he peeled himself away from her, he nodded, satisfied. She was still out, but she was breathing normally once more. He touched his finger to her neck. Her pulse was strong, too strong almost, her heart pounding the blood through her arteries. Did humans’ adrenaline elevate even while they were unconscious? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Maria was all right. A quick search of the rest of her body confirmed she had no other injuries except a swollen ankle and a banged-up knee, and he continued his murmured prayers as he worked over each area.

  “Whereabouts on Hollywood?” Finn asked over the sirens. “We got maybe another twenty minutes.”

  “Club called Morpheus. I don’t know anything about it. We’ll need a room too—somewhere close.”

  “Good thing we have the power of a worldwide information superhighway at our fingertips,” Finn said, and despite his breakneck speed and the fact that he was driving predominantly with the horn, he yanked out his phone. Within another minute, he was dialing a number.

  “Well, hello, Pinnacle Hotel, I’m going to need a reservation—yes, those are sirens. This EMT vehicle is right on top of me.” Finn continued his rat-a-tat conversation as Warrick eased back, finally taking a moment to attend to his own injuries. The personal glamour that demons had been gifted with in the earthly plane were the same they’d assumed as Fallen, but it damaged much more easily, revealing the abomination beneath if demons weren’t careful. He pulled his shirt off and winced as he laid his hand over his bruised ribs. Another whispered prayer, and he could take a deep breath again. He used the antiseptic pads to wipe away the blood from his face and torso, wincing slightly as the sharp astringent bit into his broken skin. With another swipe, that was set to rights too.

  “You’re all set,” Finn called back. Warrick looked up in time to take a duffel in the chest. “And you both stink like tar. Do something about that, okay?”

  “Where are these—forget it, I don’t want to know.” Warrick dumped the clothes out on a counter, then quickly peeled out of his pants and boots, replacing them with a similar outfit in much higher quality material. “Morpheus isn’t a luxury club?”

  “It’s a total luxury club, so luxe it’s casual, my man. But you can pick up fancier gear for tonight.” As Finn talked, Warrick filled his pockets with the weapons his fellow Syx had thoughtfully included as well. Ceramic throwing stars, wooden stunners, miniature knives that looked like car keys. “According to Death, if that’s where Holkeri is holed up, you’re going to have a bitch of a time separating him from the herd. And you’re going to have to pull a lower profile than you did at ol’ Holly Hills.”

  “Noted.”

  Warrick turned back to Maria…and found her staring straight at him.

  Maria tried to sit up, only to discover she was strapped to the bunk. Before she could react, however, Warrick was right there, popping the latches of her straps and standing back as she swung her feet to the floor and straightened.

  “Who are you, specifically and exactly?” Her question was sharp, but at least Warrick had the grace to look abashed as the motormouth driver whistled low in the front of the vehicle. “And who the hell is he?”

  “Finn—”

  “I got this, Finn,” Warrick growled, effectively shutting up the younger man.

  Almost. “Shutting up!” Finn agreed. He bent over the wheel, giving the road in front of him his full attention.

  Maria didn’t take her eyes off Warrick. He’d saved her life once already, twice, possibly, if you counted the attack in Sycamore Park. But had he also intervened a third time?

  You summoned me, and I protected you.

  “Who are you?” she asked again. “Or should I be asking what are you?”

  “Ohhh, burn.” The words were only barely audible coming from the front of the van, but Maria heard them nevertheless.

  Warrick’s jaw tightened in a grimace, but he didn’t shrink from Maria’s gaze. “You tell me,” he said, gesturing at her neck. “You summoned me.”

  Reflexively, Maria’s hand leapt up to the cross she hung there, but the fir
st answer that sprang to mind didn’t feel at all correct. “You’re not an angel.”

  His smile was rueful. “Not for a very long time.”

  Something in his words caught her. She hadn’t read the Bible in decades, but she had read it before. Once. When she was a kid. And Cara had believed in it wholeheartedly, of course. The Bible, the church on the corner, the cross around her neck she’d gotten from some aunt or another. All things that Cara believed in, none of which had saved her when it mattered. “But you were once?”

  Warrick nodded. He drew breath to speak, and Maria raised a hand. “In English, please. I don’t know my um, biblical history or whatever, all that well.”

  A small smile eased across Warrick’s face, making him look impossibly weary. But he continued. “The short version is—I was an angel. I fell, becoming a Nephilim. And then I sinned through an act of rage, harming humans in the process. For that sin, I was damned. After that, I agreed to protect God’s children against those of my kind whose sins were even worse than my own. I became a protector, an enforcer able to be summoned by those in need.”

  “That was you who shot Bonnie,” Maria said, her fingers still gripping the cross around her neck. “You showed up behind me because I said Cara’s—oh my God!” Sudden realization struck her, and she shrank back on the bed, hitting the cold siding of the emergency vehicle. “Cara’s prayer. She was right, you would have come if I’d had the courage to say it for her—someone would have come!”

  “No.”

  Warrick’s words were so forceful that Maria jerked, her hand dropping reflexively from the amulet to grip the edge of the bed.

  “The cross around your neck is powerful, Maria. It’s a ward, more so than most religious jewelry, and it keeps me from knowing your thoughts. But when you lost it in the basement at the Citadel, I could touch your mind. Your memories. You believed you were seeing Cara on the floor there, so that night was fresh in your mind. Cara gave you the cross too late, Maria. The prayer. She was already too close to death before she asked you to make that plea.” Warrick sighed. “It happens all too often.”

  Maria blinked hard, the tears welling in her eyes, but mastered herself to glare at Warrick. “You can read my thoughts?”

  “Not anymore,” he said, gesturing to the cross. “Do you know where it came from?”

  “I…” She frowned, looking down at the necklace. “I don’t. Cara wore it nearly all the time. I never asked her where it came from.” She glanced back up at him. “But you heard me when I used her prayer earlier this week. And you came.”

  “I did,” Warrick agreed. “I—Finn—everyone on my team is bound to answer the call of a human confronting a demon. I answered yours when you were taking aim at Bonnie. You wouldn’t—couldn’t have killed him. It’s not for God’s children to murder the damned.”

  “The first shot,” she muttered. She’d been right. She hadn’t shot her gun—Warrick had. “That’s why Cedo was so surprised, because…” She blinked. “Wait. Bonnie is…was a demon. And Cedo and that—that other guy who seemed to know what was going on when I…we shot Bonnie, he was too?” What was that man’s name? She realized she didn’t know. Cedo had never called him by name.

  Warrick merely stared at her. He didn’t have to answer. She already knew the truth. “Um, how many of you are there?”

  A rolling voice came from the front of the van, in perfect game-show style. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the question of the hour!”

  Warrick’s jaw tightened so hard, she was surprised he didn’t crack his teeth into pieces. “There’s no way of knowing exact numbers. But demons have walked the earth since the first fall, at the dawn of humanity. Recently—very recently—their numbers have significantly increased.”

  “And your job is to kill them.”

  “To banish them,” he corrected.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Like, to hell?”

  “To wherever they can’t do harm to the children of God.” Warrick said the words without a hint of self-consciousness, but Maria’s mind had already rabbited to her next realization.

  “So those things in the basement were totally demons—all of them?” she asked, unable to keep the horror out of her voice. “That thing that looked like Cara?”

  “Glamour is one of the oldest abilities of both the Fallen and demons,” Warrick said. He turned to the pile of clothes, then tossed several items to her. “We’re nearly at the club where Takio is holed up.”

  “Not Takio, no,” Maria said as she grabbed the clothes. There was something else she was going to say, something else she wanted to ask, but this took precedence. “Finn called him something else. Holkeri? Holkeri. Something like that. That’s why you’re here. You know him.”

  Warrick nodded. “I know him. He’s one of the oldest of our kind, and the most ruthless. I have banished him before. The fact that he returns to live among man, with all he has done, is a testament to his strength. But strength can take you only so far. Humanity has a way of wearying even the most discerning souls, and demons have never been known as discerning.”

  “Mmph.” Maria struggled to pull off her T-shirt and sports bra, then replaced it with clothing that made her pause.

  “Um, Moncler? Seriously?”

  At Warrick’s blank look, Maria held out her T-shirt. “This shirt. It’s like three hundred dollars or something. I saw the brand in a Nordstrom’s once.”

  “Then it will suit our needs,” he said. “Takio—we’ll call him Takio—is holed up in Morpheus. It’s a club—”

  “I know what it is,” she said. “It’s high-end but likes to act low-key. Right.” She yanked up the underwear and new pair of jeans, not trusting herself to check the brand of either. Sliding off the bench, though, she paused. Looked down.

  “My ankle,” she said flatly, then her hand went to her head. Her scalp felt smooth and cool to the touch. “And come to think of it—my head. How is it… I know I cracked it. Hard.”

  Warrick’s eyes flared with a heat Maria couldn’t quite understand, but that drilled straight through her, sending her own heat boiling through her veins.

  “You are mine to protect,” he said simply. “I healed you.”

  Warrick couldn’t deny the surge of emotions that nearly swamped him—lust, certainly, seeing Maria’s beautiful body, a body he’d held and healed. An ownership he couldn’t allow. Pride in the way she was looking at him now. Desire.

  Ruthlessly, he shoved all that to the side and focused on the matter at hand. “We have rooms at the hotel beneath the nightclub. We’ll enter privately,” he said, recalling Finn’s conversation as they’d driven. “Do whatever reconnaissance we can. You’ll need to check in with Stan?”

  “Probably.” Maria blew out a breath. She finished pulling on her ankle boots, and ran her hands through her hair a second time, then a third. With Warrick’s touch, no one would even know she’d been attacked by the horde or blasted across a parking lot. He quelled another absurd swell of pride. He had a job to do here, and he would do it. Then she would return to her world, and he would return to his calling.

  He nodded. “We have these as well,” he said, holding up the small plastic bag he’d found in the EMT vehicle’s storage drawers, now containing pills. Three of them. Maria’s eyes lit up as he tossed the bag to her. “You can get them to him, but only if it’s a discreet pickup. As far as Takio knows, we’re both dead.”

  “We got a confirmation on that dead, by the way,” Finn chimed in from the driver’s seat. “Once they iced the rest of the horde at the Citadel, Stefan produced a couple of bodies burned beyond recognition.”

  Maria blanched, but Warrick waved away her concern as Finn kept talking. “The head goon was happy to buy it, took pictures, and sent them on his phone, then Stefan distracted him long enough that he couldn’t bag the bodies before the poh-lice showed up. Bodies that weren’t actually there, natch, so nothing to bag. All the glamour, none of the goop. But bottom line, you’re in the clear for at least a
couple of days. We got the head goon, Nico, in handcuffs for reasons not even he’s sure of, and half the police force is descending on the Citadel as we speak. Not saying it’s going to much help the people who are left, but…

  “It’ll be better,” Maria said, almost like a mantra. “It’s got to be better.”

  “It can’t hardly be worse,” Finn agreed.

  Warrick handed Maria a phone, and she punched in a number, turning away. He moved up to Finn’s side as they rocketed through the streets, though Finn no longer had the sirens going.

  “I’m going to miss those sirens,” Finn sighed.

  “Any other directives I’m missing from Michael?” Warrick asked, his voice low. He wasn’t used to working this closely with the archangel, and he wasn’t a fan. He was pretty certain the archangel wasn’t either.

  “That would be negative,” Finn said, his voice instantly turning serious. They had fought together since before the Atlantean war. Though Finn was the youngest among them, he was Warrick’s closest ally. Warrick had seen what had caused Finn’s fall into disgrace, had seen the anguish that the demon now covered with his quick comebacks and ready wit.

  Now Finn slowed the vehicle yet more, turning off the main drag. “Michael hasn’t said a word since he shuffled you out here, hasn’t tapped any of us for a meet and greet either. Maybe he’s still trying to sort out how many demons have made landfall, but I think he’s keeping his own counsel. He’s got an elite group of enforcers to play with, and it’s up to him how to use us.” Finn grimaced. “It’s also not such a bad thing that we’re so much in demand, I’m thinking. Kind of cuts down on his desire to ship us back to our bolt-hole.”

  Warrick’s growl started low in his throat. “He can’t keep us from answering when we’re called.”

  “No,” agreed Finn. “But he can replace us, according to Raum. As long as we’re damned, he holds all the cards.” He slanted Warrick a look. “Raum might maybe have mentioned what Holkeri was trying to do in his little basement love nest. He get anywhere close to the goal on that?”