Holy hell, he’d drugged her. He’d injected her with score. And based on the sensations spider-webbing through her entire body, it had been a super large dose, big enough that consciousness spiraled further and further out of her reach.
“Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t refused me now,” he muttered.
She made a grab for his leg. Her hand closed around the hem of his jeans, but then he wrenched himself back out of her reach.
“You better hope I don’t wake up,” she managed to slur. “Because if I do…you’re dead.”
He might have said something in response, but she didn’t hear it. A low, wawawa sound filled her ears, and then everything went dark.
Chapter Thirteen
The last rays of evening light illuminated Keegan’s living room, casting shadows along the furniture and walls. Dagan paced in the opposite direction as Ronin, though they avoided each other’s gaze when they periodically crossed paths in the middle. Thanks to their uber healing ability, neither of them bore any marks from their earlier all-out scuffle. At least, not any physical ones.
“Where is she?” Ronin muttered.
He clearly didn’t expect a response, since it was obvious Dagan had no idea where Lina had gone, but Dagan answered anyway. “I don’t know.”
After Lina had stormed out of her apartment, Ronin had continued to beat Dagan’s ass for another couple of minutes before pulling back to drop a bombshell on him. The Council was going to order their deportation back to Infernum.
What else could go wrong right now?
The news had left Dagan more shaken than he cared to admit. If they were deported, Lina, Brynn, Aegin, and Amara would be left unprotected. Subject to Mammon’s cruel whim.
Even though Dagan had been the sole brother to escape capture by Mammon shortly before they had taken him down, he still bore the mental scars of that event. The knowledge that Mammon had systematically torn his brothers down, then forced them to heal so they could be tortured again and again…he fought nausea every time he thought of it. Especially since it brought back memories of that fateful night when they’d fled their father’s house, back when Dagan had been no more than a teenager.
After a few hours of blissful escape, which he spent walking the streets with some friends, Dagan forced himself to go back home. His heart pounded, as it always did when he returned, because he never knew what he’d find. Mammon had been in a horrible mood when he’d left earlier…once again angered by something Ronin had done. Everything Ronin did pissed Mammon off.
He stepped inside the house, to the sound of violent screams. His stomach knotted into a ball. Ronin again. Mammon must be tearing into him, and this beating sounded particularly vicious. He raced to Keegan and Taeg’s room, but as he expected, they were still out doing whatever stupid assignment Mammon had given them this morning. Which meant it was up to him to stop the brutality he was hearing.
Heart clenching, he followed the sounds of Ronin’s yells to the room right next to his father’s. Mammon called it his “meeting” room, but Dagan and his brothers knew better. It was his torture chamber. His hands shook so violently that he clenched them into tight fists before pushing the door open. Mammon stood in the center of the room with his back to the door. He loomed over a shirtless, bloodied Ronin, who was attempting to rise to all fours. Something metal glinted in Mammon’s right hand.
Oh fuck, he was using a dagger on Ronin. Dagan’s heart quadrupled in speed as he realized Mammon might very well kill his brother this time.
Dagan swallowed past the thickness coating his throat. He knew what happened when someone interrupted one of Mammon’s sessions, but he couldn’t just sit back. Not this time.
When his breathing grew shallow, he forced himself to take a deep breath before saying, “What did he do?”
Ronin’s head whirled in his direction. Teeth gritted, he yelled, “Get out of here.”
Mammon turned to face him, fury tightening every muscle in his upper body. “Yes, you should listen to him, before I use this on you.”
The sight of the large, bloodied dagger made Dagan want to pass out, but he forced himself to stand strong. Maybe Mammon would go a little easier on him than he was on Ronin. Steeling himself, Dagan said the one thing guaranteed to concentrate Mammon’s anger on him. “Go fuck yourself.”
“We have to move soon. We can’t afford to wait much longer.”
The sound of Keegan’s voice as he stalked into the room broke Dagan out of his tortured memory. All of his residual anger over Ronin’s earlier treatment of him faded, leaving nothing but sadness and fear. He loved his brothers, no matter what. Regardless of any squabbles, they would always have each others’ backs. If there had ever been any doubt of that, it had been laid to rest the night of that incident, when Keegan and Taeg had returned home to see the remnants of the damage Mammon had done to Dagan and Ronin. Keegan had laid a plan in motion for them to flee that very night, and the years that followed had been heaven in comparison.
“What if we get deported and he finds Brynn and Aegin?” Dagan whispered, unable to stop the words from forming. “Or Amara, or Lina? You know he’ll want revenge, more than anything.”
Keegan, who’d headed to the bar to begin packing their liquor—they sure as hell would need that where they were going—turned and headed to Dagan. He pulled him in for a quick, one-armed hug. “He won’t. We’re not getting deported. They’ll have no clue where to find us.”
Ronin drew his phone out and pressed a few buttons, holding it up to his ear. No doubt calling Lina for the millionth time. After a moment, he hung up. “She still won’t answer.”
“She was pretty pissed when she stormed off,” Dagan said.
Ronin shot him a dirty look, then waited a few beats before asking, “Have you tried calling her?”
Dagan nodded. “Five times. She hasn’t answered me either.”
Keegan strode toward the bar. “I’ll have Reiver stop by her place. In the meantime, you two should start packing your essentials. We have to be out of here by tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Got it.” Dagan headed for the front door. To his surprise, Ronin came with him. They stepped into the elevator and stood in strained silence while avoiding each other’s eyes.
Damn, he hated fighting with his brother. In light of everything going on, this argument seemed so stupid. But Ronin wanted something Dagan couldn’t give him. He wanted Dagan to back off, and he wasn’t prepared to do that…not after what he and Lina had shared.
Not with the way she had made his heart sing.
They’d almost made it all the way down before Ronin said, without meeting his gaze, “If she calls, will you let me know?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
The door opened, and Ronin slid out without another word.
…
Belpheg was in his reception chamber going over the logistics of the magic circle with Mammon when Thorne strolled in with his hands in his pockets and a silly grin on his face. Belpheg cut off in mid-sentence and sat back in his chair. “I take it you accomplished your mission.”
“Yup. I got her.” Thorne leaned against the wall with and bent one knee. “Dragged her through the hidden portal. She’s locked in that chamber on the third floor west wing.”
“Good.” One of the things he liked most about the castle that now served as his home was that, despite its somewhat remote location, it was only half an hour from the nearest interdimensional portal. The portal was nestled into the outskirts of a small, antiquated town that housed no more than a few hundred mortals.
“Who do you have?” asked Mammon, who was clueless about this particular part of his plan.
“The angel Ronin’s mother adopted when he was a child.” When Mammon’s face registered shock, Belpheg bit back a grin. “Didn’t you know?”
“No.” Mammon’s mouth tightened.
“Further proof of how important she is to Ronin, if he wasn’t willing to share her
existence with you.”
“So you plan to use her to draw my son in,” Mammon said flatly, leaning an elbow on his seat and absently lifting his hand toward his ear.
“If I’m lucky, it will lead them all to me.” Oh, he could always go after them, thanks to the tracker he’d installed on the angel. But he was strongest here, near his scrolls, and he daren’t travel with them. That would reveal just how important they were. Would highlight his one true weakness.
No, better to lure them here, where Mammon and his succubi were. Where they could at last become useful to him.
When Belpheg gave in to the urge to let out an amused laugh, it sparked a current of unexpected energy that momentarily stopped his heart. He swallowed his pained gasp.
Thorne noticed and tentatively started forward. “You okay?”
Belpheg waved him away, pointedly ignoring his question. “Move into the west wing so you can guard the asset. Take the room next to hers.”
“Okay.” Thorne hesitated. “Are you not feeling well?”
Belpheg fixed Thorne with a murderous gaze. “Get out.”
Thorne left with a scowl, and Belpheg turned his attention back to Mammon, who regarded him with clear speculation.
“Once you absorb the energy my succubi will take from your sons, I’ll be more than prepared to form the circle.” Belpheg rose and crossed over to his pedestal, running his fingers along the scrolls that contained the recipe for his salvation. His body pulsed with a new sliver of energy, easing the strain in his heart. “The summer solstice will be upon us in a week, so it must be done by then.”
“And then the Council will be decimated,” Mammon added smugly.
“More easily than you can imagine, once I have the power of my twelve at my disposal. The Council members have no clue what’s coming to them.”
Mammon let out a hoarse chuckle. Clothing rustled as he moved forward in his chair. “Have you considered what will happen once the Council is gone? Think of it, with me at your side, we will conquer all the worlds. Every being in existence, under our command.”
Our command?
Either Mammon was thicker than he’d thought, or the demon was grasping for power. Whichever one it was, the time had come for Belpheg to disabuse him of his notions.
“There is no our,” Belpheg said almost casually as he once again caressed the smooth, soft vellum that had come to mean so much to him—his very salvation, in fact. When he was met with nothing but silence, he whirled back around to face Mammon. “You are my pawn. My soldier. Not my co-ruler.”
“But…” Mammon paused, clasping his hands and drawing his gaze to the floor. Though he looked calm, Belpheg could sense the rage boiling under the surface. It made him long to chuckle, because what could the older demon do?
Nothing. And that was what he had to offer. Absolutely nothing that Belpheg hadn’t already claimed for a lesser price.
True, the demon would have untold power once he gained all twelve of his abilities, maybe even enough to take him on if he tried to do so before Belpheg had the chance to perform the centering ritual. But he didn’t know that.
Belpheg had learned from his failures with Asmodeus. He would put the demon in his place now, would set expectations up front, so that Mammon daren’t question him later. While Asmodeus had simply been broken and insane, Mammon’s delusions were linked to his admittedly high intelligence…and that would be his disadvantage in this scenario. Since Mammon was still recovering from his time in the prison, still fearful that he’d be forced back, when push came to shove, Belpheg knew the demon wouldn’t dare stand up to him.
“But I thought you sought me out so that we would create a new world, together,” Mammon finally continued, lifting his gaze to meet Belpheg’s eyes. Though his voice was calm, there was fury in his gaze.
Belpheg smiled as one would when indulging a child. “I sought you out because the thought of you being the one to siphon your son’s powers amused me, and because I could. No further reason.”
Mammon swallowed hard and rose, fire flashing in his eyes. “But together we could rule—”
“I don’t need your assistance,” Belpheg interjected smoothly. He crossed the room and pointedly took his seat across from Mammon. Though the movement left him in what would traditionally be a weaker position, sitting across from the tense, standing demon, they both knew Mammon had no real power. Not in this situation. Not yet.
“You’re stronger with me by your side,” Mammon growled, his fists clenching tight.
Belpheg casually leaned back in his seat. “Even if this is true, it doesn’t require me to share any power with you,” he pointed out gently. “You see, your soul is bound in servitude to my own, and it has been from the moment you shook my hand.”
Mammon shook his head in denial, but the glimmer of panic in his gaze bespoke his doubt.
“Go ahead,” Belpheg said, nodding toward one of the ceremonial swords displayed on the stone wall. “Try to use that against me. See what happens.”
Though the demon’s gaze narrowed, he stayed rooted in his spot. Clearly anticipating a trap. Well, never let it be said Mammon was a complete fool.
“Go ahead,” Belpheg persisted.
Mammon’s gaze slid back to the sword. Belpheg knew when he considered using it…because the demon bent over, a pained moan tearing from his throat.
“If you consider moving against me, your heart will constrict, rendering you all but immobile with pain,” Belpheg said.
Visibly fighting back his torment, Mammon slowly straightened.
“You’ll face the same fate should you consider fleeing, not that I think you’d be foolish enough to do such a thing.” Belpheg lifted one hand to his jaw, carelessly rubbing his chin. “So you see, your fate is tied to mine. You are, for all intense and purposes, my faithful servant.”
He had the pleasure of seeing the light in Mammon’s eyes extinguish the very moment the demon realized the truth of his words.
Mammon was his puppet. A very convenient, and admittedly more interesting than average, puppet. Nothing more. Yes, he would have the tools to break free of his bonds once he came into his full power, but Belpheg was banking on him never figuring that part out.
As he’d expected, the fight slowly seeped out of Mammon, taking the pain with it. Belpheg got another glimpse of the grim, defeated man he’d spied when he first rescued him from the Council prison.
Mammon wordlessly slunk back down into his chair.
“Glad we’ve cleared that up.” With a cheerful grin, Belpheg rose. “Now, I’d better pay our new guest a visit. She will be the key to your gaining the additional powers you need. We must prepare her for her role.”
He turned, leaving the soul-crushed demon behind as he strode from the room.
…
Mammon watched Belpheg leave the room, the voluminous black robe he’d taken to wearing billowing out behind him. Fury ignited in his chest at the thought of what Belpheg had made him into. What he’d become.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. He deserved to have the power he sought, had earned the right to be a co-ruler of the worlds. He wasn’t just some worthless lackey, like that stupid hubrin demon Belpheg kept on retainer. No, he was a powerful scientist, a man of great intellect.
A pawn who’s been tricked into servitude.
His shoulders slumped at the uneasy realization. Belpheg had taken advantage of his weakened state and gotten one over on him. Now he was well and stuck.
If only the dark fae would recognize his true potential. After all, who knew how to rule over the masses better than he? He’d practically managed to take over all of Earth before his confounded sons had turned on him. If ever there was potential for greatness, it was in him.
Yet Belpheg seems to think the same about himself.
He rose from his chair, growing uncomfortable with the parallels he’d drawn between himself and the dark fae. The truth was, though Belpheg was admittedly strong, even stronger than him, he d
idn’t like the comparison. Something about the dark fae was off. Deranged. And he’d been that way ever since he witnessed the annihilation of his entire clan. Mammon had never been like that.
Had he?
The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to settle as he stalked from Belpheg’s private reception chamber out into the long hallway of the castle. A sudden need for fresh air overwhelmed him, and he turned and headed for the nearest exit, which led out from the kitchens to the rear of the property.
He’d just passed the dining hall when he heard the sound of Thorne’s voice.
“Something wrong?”
Mammon turned toward Belpheg’s flunkey, who leaned against the doorjamb of the dining hall like he owned the place. Fury rose within him at the smirk on the hubrin demon’s face. He closed the distance between them with several assured steps, delighting in how quickly the demon’s expression transformed from superior to alarmed, and wrapped his hand around the demon’s throat.
“Argh…” Thorne choked for breath, closing his fingers over Mammon’s hand and trying to dislodge him. The hubrin demon might be decades his junior, but he stood no chance against him. The fool didn’t have a fraction of Mammon’s strength or mental capability.
Mammon allowed a self-satisfied smile before growling, “Were you my minion, I’d rip your head from your body without a further second’s thought.”
The hubrin demon’s eyes went wild, and he struggled against Mammon’s grip.
Yes, there was no doubt it. He’d delight in snuffing the life from this particular creature’s body.
However, since Thorne wasn’t his servant, and since he knew Belpheg had some plan in store for him, he chose the wiser path and simply flung the hubrin demon away. Thorne’s back connected against the opposite wall with a thud, and he slid to the ground.
Mammon turned his back, dismissing Thorne without further thought. The man wasn’t worthy of even one more second of his attention.
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