Never Save a Demon

by J. . D. Brown

  The streetlight flared yellow, red, green, and Sam winced at the sudden brightness. The tension in the atmosphere dissipated with the bitter shadows, replaced by the summer heat.

  Sam turned and punched the convenience store wall. “Shit!”

  “Is he gone?” Angie held the katana like a baseball bat, ready to swing.

  “Yeah,” he grunted, nursing his bruised knuckles.

  She lowered the sword. “What about Lyn?”

  “Well, she’s alive.”

  “Great. So go rescue her.”

  He glared at the Guardian. “Weren’t you listening? If I don’t get in line behind Lucifer, he’ll kill her. He knows we’re bound and he’s not going to give up his new leash.”

  Angie narrowed her gaze. “What plans was he talking about? What were you meant to do here?”

  Sam scoffed. “Why don’t you go ask your own kind?”

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to let Lyn rot in whatever God-forsaken demon pit he’s tossed her into?”

  “Works for me. Babysitting her was a pain in the ass. Now I can enjoy what remains of my life without worrying about all her idiotic human whims.”

  The angel blinked several times and moisture glossed her brown eyes.

  Sam looked away. He rubbed his chest, thinking of how desperately hollow it felt without Lyn.

  “Lucifer’s right,” Angie whispered. “You’re not a demon. You’re something worse.” The katana clanged loudly against the asphalt as though she’d dropped it.

  Sam turned to see her walking away, the sword at his feet.

  Lyn’s left arm hung completely limp, drenched in its own blood. Tears and sweat weighed against her lashes and her lips were swollen from a vain attempt to bite back the excruciating pain. She had managed to cut away a two-inch thick strip of skin that had stretched from just below her shoulder to just above her elbow when lightheadedness overwhelmed her.

  “I’m going to pass out,” she said to her spectator. “Aren’t you full yet?”

  “We eat sin,” said Dantalion. “Which would kill you. This display is just for sport.”

  She mustered the strength to lift her heavy lids and glare at the demon. He stood opposite, one shoulder pressed against the wall, arms crossed in a relaxed stance. He flashed an evil grin full of maggots, his irises scarlet against the stark white of his eyes. Funny how Greater demons were such a hodgepodge of human and monster, not that she had seen many. Just two.

  “Don’t stop now, child. You’re just getting to the fun part. Do continue.”

  Lyn lowered her gaze to her partially flayed arm. The exposed muscle was inflamed, probably infected. A knife made of demon bone didn’t strike her as sanitary. The handle dangled loosely in her right hand, her fingers stiff and sticky. She tightened her grip and lifted the blade to her left elbow. She thought she had run out of tears, but her body kept surprising her. Her gaze blurred anew with the trepidation of what she was about to do.

  I’m officially the most pathetic demon hunter in the universe. Thank God Gran isn’t here to see this. Though Lyn would give anything to hear her voice again.

  What would her great-grandmother do in this situation? Lolly had been a real Daughter of Eve with the training and knowledge to defeat a Greater demon. Lyn just wanted to shove the knife up Dantalion’s ass, but how? She was compelled to do his bidding. Even if she could somehow get the shape-shifting horn anywhere near the demon’s anus …

  Lyn studied the knife. She held the edge of the blade firmly against the flesh of her elbow, but despite applying pressure, the ivory didn’t break her skin.

  That’s odd. When she’d started, the blade was so sharp it was like holding a fresh razor to butter. Curious, Lyn eased up slightly and angled the edge away from her flesh. She hadn’t noticed with all the blood and pain before, but now that she looked at it …

  The blade deteriorated, the edge warped and bumpy where her blood coated it like the blistering of a chemical burn. Since when was her blood acidic?

  Lyn peeked at the Duke from beneath her lashes. He was watching her. A cocky grin touched his lips. She didn’t think beyond that. Lyn acted, throwing the knife. It would’ve hit him square in the chest, but Dantalion vanished and the blade clinked against the wall. A single spark flew as the horn ricocheted off the cement and clattered to the ground. The Duke might’ve been invisible, but his laughter rattled inside her skull.

  “A parting gift, little Daughter. I do hope you will use this knowledge wisely.”

  Lyn sagged to her knees as whatever force that had kept her paralyzed before suddenly withered away. She lifted both hands, palms up, and stared at her own blood. Her bewilderment turned into a raging, frothing fear. Everything she should have felt since coming face to face with the Duke hit her all at once. Lyn opened her mouth and a scream ripped through her chest.

  A cold draft woke Lolly from a fitful sleep. She blinked at the nothingness of her dark room, then did a double take as a shadow darker than any other stood at the foot of her bed. Her first instinct was to scream, but as she inhaled deeply, years of muscle memory took over and she tempered her breath to a stern whisper. “Lucifer.”

  The Fallen angel gazed at her with gilded eyes. His beauty was just as astonishing as she remembered. Hollowed cheekbones and an inquisitive brow topped his classic good looks, but it was his liquid gold skin that had earned him the title The Bringer of Light. He wore thick leathers, boots, and black riding gloves, but always relied on the cloak of night to mute the shimmering glint of his forehead and nose. He never showed himself in daylight, for his beauty was blindingly tragic.

  “Hello, Beatrice.” He graced her with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “I told you I didn’t want you to see me like this.” Lolly pulled the quilt up to her chin. Originally, she had not wanted him to see her as a wrinkly old woman, but now she hid to keep the spindly black veins in her chest from view.

  “I am sorry, my Rose, but I had to see you one last time.”

  Lolly snorted. He had said the same thing at her wedding. She hadn’t thought about him for so long and was surprised at how his presence affected her, causing butterflies to stir in her stomach. She was glad he came—both to her wedding all those years ago, and now on her deathbed—but she could never admit it to him.

  “If this is about my great-granddaughter, you might as well crawl back into whatever Hellhole you came from and stay there.”

  The Fallen angel chuckled. “I have missed your spunk.”

  “Yeah, well …”

  Lucifer lowered his gaze. “I am afraid Evelyn is in too deep.”

  “Now just a minute.” Lolly pushed onto her elbows.

  He raised a hand to stop her. “Please, Beatrice. You know I would spare her if I could.”

  “You still can, you overgrown zealot.”

  “Oh, my Rose. There’s a poetry to our little dalliances, you know? You had a chance to prevent all this, but you chose not to. If you think I am here to beg or make amends, you are mistaken. We’ve been down that road. No, I am just here for the key. Be a good girl and tell me where it is.”

  Lolly scowled. This was why she could never be with him. “Over my dead body.”

  “Well, I do believe the Reaper is waiting in the lobby. Shall I fetch him?”

  “You were always a sonofabitch.”

  The angel went to her writing desk and sifted through the drawers.

  Lolly chuckled. “You really think I’d keep something that important laying around? I already gave it to Barachiel.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Lucifer snarled.

  “Would and did. Neither you nor my great-granddaughter will ever have it.”

  “That isn’t funny, Beatrice.”

  “Am I laughing?” Lolly played her final ace. She threw the bed covers aside and sat upright, facing the Fallen angel. “Look at me, Luc.”

  He did, lids blinking rapidly as he assessed her—her age, her frailty, her damage. He’d
know all her sins in the end.

  “I told you once I’d rather die than help you open the Gate. Now here I am, on my death bed, and you’re still trying to use me. You never loved me at me all. Now I know.”

  Lucifer crossed the short distance from desk to bed. He stood directly in front of her and cupped her cheeks, tilting her chin to meet his looming gaze.

  Lolly didn’t waver. She stopped being afraid of The Commander a long time ago. All she felt for him was pity.

  “I never stopped loving you, Beatrice Rose. My Rose.” The angel of all angels leaned forward and kissed her—and so help her God, everything she ever felt for him erupted to the surface. She felt twenty years old again, fiery and opinionated, on top of the world.

  As if he could sense her passion waking within her, Lucifer deepened their kiss, his tongue caressing and passionate. She gripped his shoulders and kissed him back. She’d missed him so much. And he had promised, in the end …

  Lolly’s chest burst. Her ribs snapped in half before she knew what hit her.

  Lucifer broke their kiss and took a step back.

  A crippling pain seized her lungs, and Lolly coughed up blood.

  There was a sharp tug and something inside her ripped as the angel withdrew his hand from her chest. In his fist he clutched a fat, bloody demon with hair-like appendages that whipped and warbled terribly, making an awful mess. The Sanshoo demon shrieked in protest at having been removed from its host.

  Lolly’s gaze swam upward to meet her would-be savior, and her surroundings toppled. Lucifer caught her in his arm as she fell to the pillows. A chill gripped her bones, but where they touched she was warm.

  “Luc …”

  “Shh.”

  Lolly thought she saw tears in the angel’s eyes and they were glorious. She smiled to herself as sleep weighed her down. She knew, in some deep recess of her mind, that it really would be the last time she ever saw him. “You kept your promise.”

  Sam fell through the portal and curled into a ball on the floor of Lyn’s apartment. Sudden fear paralyzed him. He trembled as his breath constricted and his eyes squeezed shut. It’s not real. It’s not me. What the Hell are they doing to her?

  He forced his lids to open, but his vision tunneled. He focused on an item lodged under the couch; a blue spine with silver text. Not only could he see it clearly, but he could read the font.

  The Enochian Dictionary.

  Sam drew a deep breath and held it. He had to pull himself out of this—or at least survive until it passed. He couldn’t die of an anxiety attack, but Lyn could. Come on, Lyn. Push through it. Fight. I know you can.

  He released his breath slowly. It came out in a visible puff of ice. Oh no.

  “Oh yes.” Dantalion’s slithery tone permeated the room.

  Sam squeezed his eyes shut and shivered.

  The Duke chuckled. “Look at you, Samael. Reduced to a sniveling childish mess. Can you even stand?” The tip of a shoe tapped the back of Sam’s leg and Dantalion tsked. “Everyone thought you were such a hero for walking out of Heaven. They didn’t realize you were just stupid. But then, that’s the problem with having all the knowledge in the world; you end up surrounded by morons.”

  “What do you want?” Sam managed to look at the Duke from the corner of his vision.

  The demon grinned. “You’re going to wish you had trusted me instead of that idiot Lucifer.” Dantalion circled around to Sam’s front side, then crouched down on his heels. “You think I’m foolhardy and un-restrained, but see, I act that way on purpose. I wanted you to talk Lucifer out of including me in his little plans. Because unlike you idiots, I knew Evelyn was still alive. I knew she’d be there when the Cherub nearly killed you. I knew she’d bring you back from the brink of death, and I knew you’d run scared. Once you did, convincing Lucifer you betrayed him on purpose was child’s play.”

  “You wanted me bound so you could kill me?” Sam clenched and unclenched his fists, willing some control into his petrified muscles.

  Dantalion growled. “Idiot. I could have killed that girl a thousand times over by now. I don’t want you dead, Samael, pay attention.”

  Sam furrowed his brow. He wished the Duke would get to the point.

  The demon stood with a huff. “I’m two-timing The Commander, you dunce.”

  Sam’s gaze widened.

  Dantalion crossed his studded black arms. His scarlet eyes glimmered in the dim moonlight filtering through the window.

  Sam frowned. He didn’t trust a word the Duke said. “If you’re after Lucifer, why bother with Lyn and me?”

  “Glad you asked. You see, I cannot simply kill the Commander. Or at least, I cannot kill him too soon. He has the support of the Princes. I’d hang from a noose for spoiling their plans. So I must wait until the war is won—which means I have to make sure that idiot actually wins it. But the two of you are so stupid you thought you could walk right through the Gate.”

  To Sam’s credit, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. The Gate was always guarded. But he’d underestimated the Cherub.

  “That won’t be a problem now that you’re bound.”

  Ah. Sam understood. Immortal for one mortal lifetime, as Lucifer had so eloquently put it. As long as Lyn was safe, the Cherub couldn’t overpower him again. There was just one problem. “I can’t open the Gate like this. I can’t do anything like this. Lyn needs to be calm or there’s no point.”

  “Yes. On that, we agree. So here’s what I propose: You fall in line and do your job like you’re supposed to with Lucifer non-the-wiser, and I’ll return the Daughter to her …” the demon glanced around the room, “… rather humbled home. I’ll even give you twenty-four hours to get your affairs in order.”

  Sam managed to stop shivering. He was still on the floor, but at least Lyn’s condition seemed to be improving.

  Dantalion grinned. “Do we have a deal?”

  Sam hated being manipulated by the Duke. He’d only joined Lucifer’s quest for vengeance to get a little payback of his own. He hadn’t really cared who won the battle, or if he even survived. Ha. Ironic how all he wanted to do now was live. “How are you going to convince Lucifer to let her go?”

  “Let me worry about the Commander. You just be a good soldier and do as you’re told. I’ll make sure nothing happens to Evelyn.”

  Right, thought Sam. And if I ever take one breath in the wrong direction again, he won’t hesitate to threaten me with her life. But what choice did he have? Sam pushed himself to sit upright, his arms weak, his left bicep stiff with an aching pain. Despite the discomfort, he managed to stand. His legs wobbled, but he caught himself against the armrest of the couch and squared his shoulders. He was taller and physically stronger than the Duke, and, as the demon mentioned, immortal. But none of that mattered. They had Lyn. “My twenty-four hours begins when she gets home.”

  “Done.” Dantalion snapped his fingers and then disappeared.

  Sam collapsed onto the couch cushions. He closed his eyes and touched a hand to his chest. Her fear had been absolute, and he wished never to experience it again, but it was an odd comfort when compared to feeling nothing at all.

  “Sam?” Lyn’s hesitation buzzed in his chest, right where his heart thumped. He opened his eyes, pushed to his feet, and faced the hallway.

  She stood at the other end, the blue of her eyes bright, her hair the color of pale cream in the dim space. She sniffled and fought back tears. He knew from the way his throat thickened and his eyes moistened to match hers.

  He wished he could see her face, her expression, just this once. His gaze went to the red stains on her arm, the blood stark against her milky skin. Sympathy puffed from his lips in a disheartened sigh. He couldn’t imagine the horror she endured.

  “Your arm,” she gasped.

  “Your arm,” he said. “Lyn …”

  She ran to him.

  He caught her in his arms and held her tight. She smelled of tears and sweat, and her relief flew through him in such
a rush, it broke his heart. Then she vibrated.

  “Oh God, that must be Angie. Hold on.” She stepped back and dug her phone out of her purse. The screen flashed. She tapped the device then pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

  Sam overheard a stranger’s voice on the other end. Beatrice Rose was dead.

  Lyn didn’t react.

  Sam suspected shock, but for once he was too enraged by his own emotions to be affected by hers. He took the phone from her hand and tossed it on the couch.

  Lyn gasped up at him.

  He didn’t care if she screamed at him for this later; he didn’t have time to waste. In fact, he only had twenty-four hours.

  Sam kissed her.

  18

  Kissing Demons

  L yn pushed away from Sam and blinked. Did he just …? Did we just …? One minute she was losing her mind in a blank void, the next minute she was standing in her apartment with Sam … and then Gran. Oh no.

  A pit welled in her stomach. She went to the couch and sat down. Her palm landed on her cell phone and she picked it up. “I have to call Angie.”

  “Call when we get there,” said Sam. “I’ll take you to your great-grandmother.”

  She looked at him and furrowed her brow. “You can’t drive.”

  “No, but I can quantum leap.” An impish smile touched his lips.

  Lyn’s cheeks warmed at the sight of his curved mouth. Her stomach fluttered at their kiss. It had been quick. Not really much to think about, if she was being honest. She lowered her gaze. “I better wash up and change first.”

  Sam paced the living room while Lyn showered. He’d washed his wounded arm in the kitchen sink and changed into a T-shirt and jeans. He dragged his fingernails over his chest as though he could claw her pain out of him. He licked his lips, tasting the ghost of their kiss. She’d felt warm against him and there had been a flutter of … something uncertain, almost calming … that filled his chest. But the sensation was fleeting; forced out by her crushing grief.

  He understood her pain. She was just horrifically tortured and then given the devastating news about her great-grandmother. How else had he expected her to react? Why should he care? The kiss was selfish. He knew she didn’t feel that way about him. Nor could he feel anything for her. He learned that lesson long ago.