“Three men and four women, most explicitly.”
She opened her mouth, I assumed to ask me to explain, and then fell silent when her mind put the pieces together. “Did Miss Evans say anything else to you?”
“Nothing.” I skipped a glance at Ramírez. She blinked back at me, unmoved. A steely professional all the way.
“She didn’t say anything at all right before she put a gun to her head?”
I let my smile die and got to my feet. “Why are we continuing this charade when you clearly don’t believe a word I’ve said? I’m demon, so I must be a liar and a killer? I convinced a reporter to shoot herself in the middle of my restaurant, packed with witnesses. Let me ask you a question, detective. Why? Even as demon, why would I do that?”
Catherine slapped her file closed. “There are scientists paid a lot more than me working on why demons do anything.”
“But you’re the detective, so what’s your theory?”
She held my glare. “Because you thrive on attention. Because you were bored. Because that poor woman was in your way. Because she said something to damage your pride. Because you’re not just any demon, are you, Leel?”
Detective Catherine Styles knew who I was. I wouldn’t win this argument, and really, did I need to? This wasn’t about the suicide. This was about her getting the last demon off her streets. She wouldn’t look for the killer because she believed she’d already found him.
“Unless I’m under arrest, we’re done here.”
Catherine bowed her head and smiled. “I think we are.”
I had done my part. I’d answered their questions, for all the good it would do me. There were future victims out there, and something had them in their sights.
LA was my city, my home, my territory, and if the human authorities wouldn’t police it, I damn well would.
After the little icy half-blood girl and I thwarted a higher demon’s ambition to create a new Court, the Institute killed most of the remaining demons. But not all the lessers had been wiped out. It was those leftovers I sought out now. Lesser demons had mauled all the human victims. If I eradicated the lessers, I’d greatly reduce the pool of suspects. I knew I wasn’t responsible for the killings, and I also knew I wasn’t the last demon despite the press painting me as such.
Many of the stray lessers had found their way back to Santa Monica, drawn by the residue of chaos energies. The famous pier was long gone, as was much of the beach and a large chunk of the cliff, behind which the Fairhaven Hotel had once stood. A demon-controlled tsunami had reshaped the coastline and killed most of the demons.
I stood on the sand, watching the Pacific surf gnaw on the beach, and I remembered the demon who had summoned the ocean to do his bidding. Torrent. The power required to pull on the ocean and control it, so it destroyed the demons and spared half of LA would have been immense. Torrent had likely perished, despite early reports of a demon matching his description being seen along the coastline. I had looked, for Gem’s sake, but found nothing.
Torrent had been different.
“A prince in all but name.”
“Torrent” was a new name for the immortal higher demon Kar’ak, Prince Leviathan’s firstborn son. His father had possessed the ability to control human minds. He’d twisted mortals into puppets and made them into slaves for his amusement.
Leviathan had been killed before the veil fell.
But could his son Kar’ak have lived on?
The reporter’s eyes had glazed over the moment before she’d pressed the gun to her temple. I had seen that look before.
I scanned the dark fringes of the beach.
Movement caught my eye. A lesser, not much larger than a Doberman, rooted around in the sand. I reached out with my element, wrapped air around its thin body, and plucked it off the sand. The lesser howled—I pulled the air from its lungs and wrapped a tendril of power around its neck. It thrashed three feet off the sand before slowing and finally dying in my grip.
I dropped the body and reeled in my element. The beach returned to its abandoned stillness.
Torrent was gone, wasn’t he? “The City of Angels is my city,” I said, raising my voice over the sound of the waves. Dropping the appearance of my vessel in a swirl of dark smoke, I revealed my true form, part demon, part mist and air and nothing at all. I arched my wings back, and pain throbbed both hot and cold. I ignored it. Quieter, I added, “If you are out there, Torrent, do not provoke me.”
I turned, collapsed my wings into mist, and walked back up the beach, hoping I was wrong.
Chapter 6
Ramírez was sitting alone at the bar, fingers resting on the side of her untouched drink. Noah had called, alerting me to her arrival with a “definitely not your type,” but considering her sophisticated layered blouse and simple black pants, she wasn’t on duty. A personal visit. Color me intrigued.
It was still early. A handful of customers occupied the tables near the front of the restaurant, and the lighting was too bright to be intimate.
“Miss Ramírez.” I leaned against the bar beside her. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”
Her lips warmed to a smile. “You live above?”
“I do. I’d invite you up, but I doubt you would agree, and my fragile ego couldn’t take the rejection.”
She snorted a delightfully throaty laugh and nodded at Noah drying glasses while chatting with a waiter at the other end of the bar. “Your spy told you I was here?”
“Little happens in this restaurant without Noah noticing.”
“You’re very good at answering questions without actually answering.” She turned back to me, and I caught the glimmer of a small golden cross on a chain.
“I’m very good at many things.”
She laughed a real chuckle that dimpled her cheeks and brightened her eyes. “I bet you are. Your reputation is… quite infamous.” She lifted the glass to her lips, hiding part of her smile. “There’s an online group. A few actually.”
“Ah. You’ve been checking up on me?”
“Just asking around…”
“Are you a member?”
“Ha, no.”
I waited as she observed the staff working around us. Light music played from the restaurant speakers. Chatter rose and fell. She seemed in no hurry to address the reason she was here, but she had come for a reason. The small talk, as nice as it was, was menial.
“There was a girl,” she began, shifting in her chair to face me, leaving no room for me to maneuver away from her glare. “Her name was Gemma. She asked me to help her find her brother. They were both half demon. She worked here for a while.”
“She did.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“She’s safe in Boston, staying with friends.”
“Demons?”
“Half.”
Ramírez nodded. “Did she find her brother?”
“Yes.” Found him. Killed him.
I waved Noah over, giving myself time and space to break away from Ramírez’s gaze. Noah poured a drink and returned to his bubbly conversation. Ramírez continued to wait for more information on Gamma and her brother. As much as I liked Ramírez, Gem’s life was not up for discussion.
“For someone who doesn’t care about demons, you’re very interested in our activities.”
“Curious…” she corrected. “After the Fall, the world got crazy for a while. Some of it is still hard to believe. I’m trying to understand it.”
“Understand demons?”
“Yes, I think that’s it. Gemma was different. I didn’t even know there were half demons until I met her. I can’t imagine what that’s like…” She frowned.
“So, now you’re here to figure me out?”
“No. Well, yes. I wanted to know about the girl, if she’s okay, and I wanted to apologize. The way they treated you at the station was unacceptable.”
“It’s nothing.”
“My job… my life… I like to think I protect people who can’t pro
tect themselves. If someone is wronged, I do everything I can to right it. My papa says I’m too much of an idealist. I… well... He died. During the Fall.”
“My condolences.”
“My sister too.” Her smile hardened, and her drink trembled in her hand. “They were driving back from hockey practice when the veil fell. Demons ambushed their car.” Ramírez threw back her glass and downed the remains of her rum in one. “It was quick.” She winced at the burn of the alcohol or the memories. “At least, that’s what the coroner said when their bodies were finally identified.” She touched her necklace and teased her cross between her finger and thumb. “I miss them.”
Oftentimes, words were not enough. I leaned over the bar and grabbed a rum bottle. After twisting off the top, I refilling both our glasses.
“Styles told me who they think you are. One of the higher ones.” An odd expression arrested her face between anger and regret, making her difficult to read. “I figured you’d have answers if I asked the right questions.”
“Not all of them.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Why did you come here? Why did you kill so many of us?”
You as in all the demons. Of course she would group the lessers and me together. Most humans did. Demons were demons. There was no gray area. “It’s in our nature to kill. In the netherworld, our society is built on survival of the fittest. We’re terrible at negotiation. We take what we want, and what we can’t take, we kill. It’s a predatory world. If you’re not at the top, you’re food for something else.”
“And you wanted our world?” She kept her expression blank, hiding her true thoughts.
“Taking yours was almost too easy to resist.” I hadn’t wanted to take anything. When humans had worshipped me, they had freely given their devotion. But my demon kin were different.
She took the words in and considered them. “Did you come through and kill people like the others?”
“No.” I hadn’t cared enough then to concern myself with the lives of hundreds of thousands. “I was too focused on revenge to consider what my kin were doing. Regret… that came later.” Pain washed down my back at the memories. I shifted against the bar and pushed the past away. I was not the same demon as I was a year ago.
“Are you lying to me?” she asked. She touched my chin, skipping across the scar and delivering a small shock. I let her turn my face toward her. “Are you?”
Slowly, I closed my hand around hers, intending to push her away, but that didn’t happen. Her touch was soft, gentle, with no trace of fear. “I rarely lie. There’s no point to it.”
“But you manipulate? You’re good at using people to get what you want.” She searched my eyes, needing answers.
“Until recently, yes.”
“What changed?”
“I did.”
“How?”
I considered telling her about my burned wings and the months I’d spent recuperating in a cage, but that wasn’t the real reason. “The little half-blood girl you mentioned, Gem. She is something special. I wanted to protect her. Not for me, but because she deserved to have a life. She has so much potential hidden inside her human heart. Once I realized how much difference one girl could make, I wondered about all the other people and what they could do if given the chance. I found I wanted to protect that too. I always had. Your lives are so fragile, but also so limitless. You’re all flawed. It’s really quite lovely.”
Ramírez’s lips parted as though I’d said something surprising. She plucked her hand from mine and looked down into her refilled glass. “I er… I should be going. I have a shift in…” She glanced at her watch. “Soon.” She scooted off the bar stool. “Er, thank you, for the drinks… I should…” She dug into her pocket for cash.
“Please, don’t offend me by paying. You’re welcome.”
I watched her head for the door. I hadn’t meant to shake her, but something I’d said had unsettled the determined cop.
“Losing your touch, oh mighty one?” Noah grinned.
With a laugh, I left the bar and headed for the elevator. It would be dark soon, and the killer was still out there. Whatever Ramírez thought of me, I’d told her the truth. What she did with that was entirely up to her.
After a night of fruitless hunting, I rematerialized on the roof of my building. Blue lights throbbed outside Decadent-I, washing the street in cool pulses. Panic tainted the air, as did a mixture of fear and anger. Something was wrong inside my building.
Noah met me in my apartment, his face pale. “It’s Rosa. There’s…” Trembling, he bit his lip. “The police are here. They’re looking for you.” He followed me into the elevator. “I said you were out, that you weren’t even here when it happened, but they have a warrant. I slipped away and came up here to see if you were… back.”
An attack. In my restaurant. The smell of blood clung to Noah’s clothes, mixed with odors of food, cologne, and alcohol.
“Li’el…”
The elevator slowed.
Noah touched my arm, drawing my attention to him. The worry in his eyes wasn’t for him or what he’d seen. “It’s a witch hunt,” he whispered. “Don’t go out there.”
The elevator chimed.
“It always is,” I told him.
The doors opened. I managed three steps before a line of police in riot gear charged in. It didn’t matter that I was unarmed or that I’d lifted my hands. Lights sparked against my sensitive sight. I instinctively stepped in front of Noah. The butt of a gun cracked across my jaw, and something knocked my leg out, dropping me onto my hands and knees. Something vicious dug into my side and delivered a jolt of electricity. Inside, my interminable patience fractured.
I could have turned to air and revealed all of me. I could have banished all the air from the room and rendered every single assailant unconscious in seconds. I did none of those things, which would have been used as evidence against me.
Nothing they did to me would be permanent.
“Li’el!” Noah cried out. I twisted in time to see him swing at a riot police before another plowed in and clocked him with an elbow to the jaw.
A snarl crawled across my lips.
They jabbed the prod into my side again, electricity jolting me. I snatched it out of the armored cop’s hands, saw his eyes widen through his helmet visor, spun it in my hand, and jabbed it into the gap between armored plates around his knee. See how you like it. He howled and dropped. The line of officers reared back, expecting me to launch a full assault. I tossed the cattle prod instead. It bounced off a shield and clattered to the restaurant floor.
“You people have no idea what you’re dealing with.” They wanted demon. I’d give them demon.
“I do,” a male voice growled close to my ear. I didn’t recognize it, and as I turned to face him, sharp pain stabbed into my shoulder. I glimpsed the clear liquid inside an injector’s vial as a plunger drove the substance into my veins. Institute. It didn’t matter. They didn’t have anything powerful enough to drop me.
My wings reflexively sprang outward, throwing half the armored troop back, driving others against the bar and toppling tables. I tried to pull on my element and turn myself into mist. I reached for it, but the response was too slow.
I got to my knees, wings stretched at awkward angles. The drug plucked on my control and undermined my strength. It unraveled my thoughts so I couldn’t think to get a grip on my element and wield it against them. Another cattle prod jabbed me in the back where my wing muscles strained. Hot, vicious pain slammed me back down to my knees. This was wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. I was stronger than this. I’d always been stronger than them, than anything.
“Stay down, demon,” the male with the injector ordered. So calm. So calculated.
I searched for the source of that voice, but the room tilted and the walls moved.
I heard, rather than felt, my wings brushing against the floor, heard the feathers swish and flutter, tryin
g to push me upright. Loose feathers spiraled in the air. My feathers… Where was my strength? Where was my damn pride?
Human eyes watched me flounder. People I knew. People who thought they knew me, Li’el… their charming employer. The man they loved, the man they admired, the man they wanted to be. But what they saw was not a man. Just a demon. A thing, a monster. And among them, I saw Ramírez’s blue eyes looking triumphant. A demon had killed her father and her sister. She had probably witnessed demons kill hundreds. Of course she’d consider my downfall a victory.
But I’d thought she might have been different.
What a fool I’d been to think humans could see me as anything other than demon. And, really, it was no more than I deserved. What was a few months doing good against tens of thousands of years of being everything they feared?
I dropped my wings and lay panting. The Institute’s cool drug crackled through my veins, coiling its invisible chains tighter.
A figure sauntered into my line of sight, dressed in black, his blond hair bright in contrast. He crouched to look me in the eye. He would see only the swirl of air in my eyes.
“You, my demon friend, are the last of your kind.” The blond man smiled. “And now you are mine.”
His hand draped over his knee, and on the back, two entwined scorpions blackened his skin. Institute. The sight of the branding followed me into unconsciousness.
Chapter 7
I had never been caged unwillingly. By choice, yes. But captured? Never.
The plastic cube I woke inside had one clear wall. The floor and ceiling were smooth, white, and molded so the seams were almost invisible. An anti-elemental barrier of glyphs pushed in from all sides, trying to crush me into something smaller and lesser. It restricted my element, making it and me virtually useless. I stood in the center of the box, wings opened as far as the walls allowed, and stared into the empty room beyond the transparent plastic window.
This was part of the Institute, but it wasn’t possible. After failing to stop the Fall, the Institute lost their funding and their numbers were reduced to a handful. How had they gotten the resources for my current residence? How had they produced a drug powerful enough to render me unconscious? In Boston, they perhaps still had the resources to execute such a feat, but in LA? I knew everything that happened in my city. Had the Institute been developing new drugs and new “cages,” I would have known.
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