Vengeance

by Carrie Whitethorne

  Alva wanted that and more. She wanted it now.

  Not comfortable with an audience, I wanted to speed the process along.

  Tongues, lips, and saliva came together in a cumulation of passion and want. Hands tore at clothing.

  Alva was taking ownership, and I was more than happy to go along. My need wasn’t as great as hers, but by hell, I’d missed it. Not only the excitement of the chase, the buildup, and exquisite sensation of release, but the simple joy of post fuck relaxation. Those few quiet minutes afterward, the connection designed to keep two lovers together just long enough to keep them fucking. To enhance the chances of procreation.

  It wasn’t real or necessary—I was half succubus, the fuck was enough—but the human part of me craved it.

  I almost got angry when he began to cough.

  The rage that tore through my veins as Alva fought against the poison slowly entering our bloodstream wasn’t too pleasant either. But needs must.

  As her control slipped, I took a step away.

  “What… Sorrel, what have you done?” he gasped, clawing at his throat.

  I didn’t have an answer he would find comfort in, so I remained silent and watched him collapse while reaching into my pocket for my antidote.

  “It isn’t fatal, Devan,” I told him, before biting into the soft gel casing. “You’ll be fine in an hour, I promise.”

  The liquid wasn’t unpleasant. Hazel had added just the right amount of vanilla to mask any underlying flavors, making it impossible to reverse engineer it.

  The effects of the poison, while harmless to humans, would knock a demon out cold for a good hour. I couldn’t risk any side effects given my demon self, hence the antidote.

  I looked down at poor Devan. He was out cold on the floor, his shirt torn open, lips still rosy from his enthusiastic kisses, and one wing bent at an awkward angle beneath him.

  Flicking a finger, I muttered an incantation and he rose into the air, his body moving effortlessly by my side as I walked to the plain wall beside the fireplace. I dug into my pocket for my still bloody stump of candle. “Come on, lover. Let’s take this to my place.”

  Chapter 17

  Sorrel

  I’d barely slept. The antidote Hazel had concocted to the demon sleeper, it turned out, was a great upper.

  So I lay in my bed, listening to Devan thrashing around on the bed upstairs, until the sun rose. Eventually, he stopped, so I got up and put the kettle on.

  Five minutes later, I was at the top of the stairs, watching him climb off the bed. His pain was obvious. He never slept on his back, his wings making it an uncomfortable position, and I felt bad for abducting him this way.

  “Good morning,” I chirped, as I poured water into his cup.

  Eyes narrowed, he silently watched me cross the room before I placed his mug on the side table.

  “I made tea. Oh, come on now, don’t sulk.”

  His right hand was still bound to the side of the bed, and his left hand hung between his knees. Through thick lashes, he stared at me for a moment before finally asking, “How did you do it?”

  I sat on the opposite bed and sipped my tea. “Try again without the pouting, I’m not answering a petulant child.”

  His eyes hardened before he looked away.

  “Devan…” I trailed off, set the tea down, and glanced at his right hand. It was freed from its invisible bond and his relief was almost instant, and I waited for him to reposition himself and take the mug. “It took time, skill, and hard work. It’s safe to drink.”

  Showing no reluctance, he reached for the drink and questioned, “What did you use? I don’t remember ever being incapacitated like that.”

  “That would be telling. Speaking of which… you have information. I need answers, Dev.”

  He broke eye contact and stared into his cup instead.

  “Devan, please, the last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it’s still on the list of things I’m willing to do if you don’t give me what I need.”

  It was brief, but panic flickered in his gaze. Quick to calm him, I raised both hands in surrender and explained, “Look, I’m not your enemy here, Devan. The Assembly is the only enemy, and if I don’t get the upper hand, then they’re going to kill me and countless others. We’ve always been friends. Why don’t we just pause for a second, relax, and get to the part where you tell me what I need to know.”

  “And when I’m no longer useful?”

  “You’ll always be useful,” I stated, sliding from the bed to the floor and reaching for his arm.

  “All I need is a name. And maybe a pint of blood. After that, I could probably offer a light spanking if I have the energy.”

  Devan shook his head slowly and sighed through his nose. “You’re different, Sorrel. What’s changed?”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant at first, and I looked questioningly into his eyes.

  “Don’t pretend. Who is he?” he pressed. “I’m not jealous, I just want to know who finally got under your skin. Shake his hand. Wish him luck.”

  Despite the gravity of the situation I found myself in, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You think he needs luck?”

  He cocked his head. “It’s you. He needs every positive vibe anyone is prepared to send his way.” He followed that up with a huge grin before wincing. “You don’t have to keep me tied up, darling. I’ll cut you a deal. Free my other arm so I can get comfortable and rest and I’ll give you another pint of the good stuff for your gates.”

  I frowned. “Rest? Why would you need rest?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Probably the knockout juice you gave me. I’ll be okay in an hour or two. Please, take what you need.”

  “I need a name,” I stated.

  He shook his head, eyes wide.

  “I know you know who he is, Dev. He’s the only one who can answer my questions. Maybe he didn’t cause it, but he didn’t step in and help her either.”

  With pity filling his gaze, he murmured, “He can’t bring her back, love.”

  My eyes closed involuntarily, and I took a deep breath. He didn’t understand, no one did, but I owed him an explanation at least. “I don’t want her back. I want to know why no one did anything to help her. Wiping her memory wasn’t a fix, it was her death sentence. And does anyone expect me to believe that a Prince of Hell couldn’t protect the woman he claimed to love? And don’t tell me it risked war between the fae and the damned. If that were true, he wouldn’t have allowed his bastard child to live.”

  That was the first time I’d said it out loud.

  The sympathy in his eyes only added weight to my reasoning. Pity didn’t yield results or get you where you needed to be. All it did was encourage you to seek comfort, and to rely on others to keep giving it, but people just held you back.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. I’d heard enough. “Get the rest you need. I’ll come back shortly.”

  I got to my feet and made for the stairs.

  “Sorrel,” he pleaded, “don’t. You don’t have to—”

  “Get some rest, Devan.”

  He didn’t argue as I released the binding on his other wrist and threw up an extra charm to keep him in the room.

  Rest was a good idea. I could deal with him later.

  “Whatever you’re doing, you either have to see it through or stop now.”

  There was no question I was dreaming. That was the only way Sorin could have returned here. I glanced up to see him perched on the arm of the sofa.

  He looked pleased with himself, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

  Asshole.

  Turning my attention back to my hands, I took a moment to figure out what I was supposed to be doing where Devan was concerned.

  With a firm shake of my head, I began to chop the herbs on the board. “I can’t stop.”

  “Then you have to get it done,” he replied, his footsteps quiet as he moved into the kitchen.

 
; I didn’t look up, keeping my eyes on the knife in my grasp. Not just any knife, it was Mum’s ceremonial dagger and I was chopping bay leaves. “Get what done?”

  “Only you know the answer to that, Sorrel.”

  “Why were you watching?” I demanded, using the knife to scrape the chopped bay to one side of the board.

  Without glancing at him, I knew he’d be standing opposite me with his hands flat against the table.

  He sighed before explaining, “You thought you’d disconnected us after the day we went to the veil, but something kept me tied to you. I haven’t wanted to, but I’ve watched you. I’ve seen where you’ve been, I understand how, but I’m struggling with the why.”

  Looking around the table, I chose my next herb. Apparently, rosemary was the order of the day. “So you missed that last conversation? They took everything from me. Maybe that’s my fate. Maybe that’s my punishment for existing. I could have lived with that, I think, if I hadn’t seen firsthand how they treat everyone else. Now they’re trying to take everything from them. They’re trying to play God. Nobody has that power. It certainly isn’t a role I can sit by and watch them claim. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” he stated simply. “You can’t do it alone though.”

  “I have to,” I replied shortly, chopping the tough stem with added vigor and adding it to the pile of bay.

  “Why?” he pushed.

  “Because I’m alone,” I snapped back.

  He shook his head, the small smile spreading to a grin. “That isn’t true, Sorrel. Your visitor, the shifter, why would he come to you? The vampires. The succubus. The incubus upstairs. Every one of them is behind you despite how poorly you treat them. This isn’t a solitary fight. This involves all races. It’s a big world, and despite how hard you’ve tried to make it so, you’re far from alone in it.”

  Smart ass.

  “What would you know about it?”

  Much to my discomfort, he moved around the table, coming to a stop just two steps away, and elucidated, “I’ve perfected blending in. It’s what we do. The odd eccentric shares their gift with the humans, or even turns from our traditions to live an average life among them. I’ve been many things to many people, but I’ve rarely been alone.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “As if you never have,” he countered, closing the distance between us. Oddly, I had no desire to step away as he reached for my hand without the knife and turned me to face him. “It’s time to make a choice, Sorrel. You can wait for them to come for you, or you can be part of the force that makes the difference.”

  I focused on his lips for a second, remembering the time he kissed me.

  Alva stirred. The thirsty bitch was always on the lookout for some action, even in my dreams. To distract myself, I said, “I know when you’re watching, you know.”

  He nodded, one brow raised. “It appears we are eternally bound.”

  The knife clattered to the table as I stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

  “Blood magic leaves a mark. There is always a price, Sorrel, you know that.”

  Glaring, I took a step back.

  He laughed but let me go. “It could have been worse. You never know, this could be what you’ve been waiting for.”

  I didn’t like that one bit. I held my own cards. I controlled my own destiny. I wouldn’t be controlled by what one Romani saw in his mind’s eye. “What have you seen?”

  Rather than approach me again, he turned and looked down at my prepared herbs. “You know I can’t say,” he chided, taking the pestle and mortar from the center of the table and peering inside. “I can’t influence the outcome. What I can do is take the path I was shown and hope my role is enough to swing the balance.”

  I let him scrape the herbs into the mortar before asking, “And me?”

  He shrugged, palming the pestle and beginning to crush the leaves. “You choose your own path. But please, if a hand is offered, don’t hesitate to take it. You don’t have to walk alone.”

  I didn’t get chance to question him further, since a loud crack above demanded our attention.

  “Your houseguest needs you,” Sorin announced urgently. “You should help him before he loses his head.”

  There was a warning in his tone I knew I shouldn’t ignore, but I had one more pressing question. “Where are you?”

  “Safe, for now,” he answered earnestly. “I’ll find you when the time is right. Make the right choices, Sorrel. I’ll see you there.”

  “Where?” I demanded, reaching for him.

  Another loud crack above made me flinch and I missed his arm as he stepped back.

  “Not far away. Help him, Sorrel.”

  My eyes opened and it took me a second to adjust.

  “Sorrel!”

  My senses returned at the sound of Devan’s panicked yell, and I scrambled out of bed.

  “Dev?”

  Racing up the stairs, I reinforced my protective charms. “What’s going on?”

  “I need to go back,” he demanded, glaring at the floor of my attic room. “Now.”

  The room didn’t appear to be damaged, and there was no sign of the source of the crashing sound from a few moments before. “What’s wrong with you?”

  His eyes flicked wildly around the room as he answered, “I don’t know. This isn’t right. Something isn’t right. Sorrel, I’m too weak. I need—”

  “I’m not bringing you—”

  “I’m not asking you to,” he interrupted. “I’m asking you to send me back.”

  “Give me his name. That’s all I need. Tell me and I will.”

  “Sorrel…” He trailed off as another crash reverberated around the room.

  I couldn’t tell whether it came from above or below, but whatever was causing it was powerful. “There’s a price on my head. It’s only a matter of time, Dev, please. I need his name.”

  “I can’t. Sorrel, please, anything else, he’ll take my wings.”

  The incubus was close to tears, but that wouldn’t sway me. I needed that name as much as he needed to go home. “I’ll take your fucking cock if you don’t tell me, so help me—”

  The floorboards began to splinter under my feet.

  “Shit!” I don’t know if I shrieked it, but I was already on my knees, sketching symbols on the floor. When I was done, I sprang to my feet and demanded, “Name.”

  He swallowed hard, glaring at the gate I’d drawn for him. “It didn’t come from me,” he croaked, his now dry throat making it difficult for him to speak.

  “Name,” I repeated, a flame appearing on my fingertips.

  Eyes closed, he let out a resigned sigh. “Asmodeus.”

  “Thank you.”

  As promised, I dropped the flame, igniting the runes on the floor. The gate burst open, and I watched him throw himself inside.

  As soon as he disappeared, the green flame turned red.

  This was new. Whatever was going on was both unexpected and fascinating. So I did what any self-respecting witch would do… folded my arms.

  I didn’t have to wait long, maybe fifteen seconds, for the incoming demon to materialize.

  As much as I wanted to let this scene play out, there wasn’t really time for theatrics. I was long overdue some answers, and my list of questions had suddenly grown exponentially. So I placed both hands on my hips and queried, “Asmodeus, is it?”

  Chapter 18

  Sorin

  Being anonymous had a thousand advantages when you didn’t want to be found. Reversing all that hard work, or someone else’s hard work, had proved problematic.

  I left Jefferson and Naylor in Jackson, opting to make my own way. I knew how to contact them, and they knew to look out for me. We all expected to hear from Sorrel at some point, and Naylor had been warned to be prepared for a summoning. That was the deal with leaving our bloodied thumb prints, not that he’d understood at the time.

  Hitchhiking into Louisiana had been easy enough, since truckers are usu
ally happy to help and grateful for the company, and I hopped out at a gas station just outside Livingston. From there, it was a walk along the tracks to Hammond.

  I spent most of the morning downtown, browsing storefronts and visiting the local tourist attractions. I didn’t particularly enjoy oak trees marking burial sites, but when in Rome…

  From there, I made my way back to the small park in the center of town, took up residence on a bench overlooking a gazebo, and patiently waited.

  “Lachho dives Muro amal. Mo dir Devel si kushko, t’a nai o Beng basavo kek odolen kai kamela,” a female voice called behind me not five minutes later.

  The feeling of nostalgia caused by the use of that almost forgotten language rendered me speechless for a second. The last time I’d uttered a word in my native tongue had been the last time I said goodbye to my sister.

  I scanned the park while I asked, “And how do we discover who he likes?”

  She took the seat beside me and clutched my hand within both of her considerably smaller ones. “The devil is in us all, my friend. What brings you to Hammond?”

  “Revolution.”

  The word hung heavily in the air, the silence only broken by birds singing in the trees above and passing traffic on the road outside the park.

  “Death,” she corrected after a long pause, turning my hand over in hers and looking down at my palm. She traced the various lines crossing the sensitive skin and murmured, “Loss, but we have all lost. Love, but we all love. What advantage do you have that others didn’t?”

  Her sharp intake of breath told me she felt it. “Blood bound to the devil himself?”

  “Herself,” I amended, curling my fingers around hers. “She loves. She’s lost. She’s taken up the fight for all of us. We owe her our support.”

  Tearing my eyes away from my surroundings, I turned to finally look at her, our gazes meeting for the first time.

  “Gadje Gadjensa, Rom Romensa,” she whispered. “Bengesko marime.”

  “Fae ha nicobado la liri de los Cales,” I replied. And it was true. The law of our people had been trampled by the fae, and while most Romani lived by Rom with Rom, the time had come for us to fight together with the non-Roma, the gadjo, to protect our own. “We are too few and so thinly spread, sister. Help me. It’s not a question of sullying ourselves, it’s the chance we desperately need to give our people back their freedom.”