“Of course! Damien’s idea of hide and seek. I should have remembered.” So immature, the demon had a reputation for pranks, stealing items and placing them in remote locations.
Using his knife, Azrael pried away the door.
Arms shielding his head, Sisyphus crouched inside the hollow of the tree, trembling. “Take me back. I’m not made for such a cowardly life.”
“You want to return?”
“I can’t stand it here any longer!” Sisyphus flicked black beetles from his sleeves and chest, grumbling.
Death twisted her bracelet, ready to ensnare Sisyphus should he attempt to run. “Earth has changed a bit since your last visit.”
Sisyphus brushed dirt from his apron. “These people are worse than the morons in Tartarus, always pestering me. Talking into their idiot boxes without showing the courtesy of responding to me. Or else they can’t hear me because of the music blasting through their ear buds. Have they no dignity? No respect for a king?”
While Sisyphus prattled on, Death slapped the chain around his wrists. “You will return. You have no choice in the matter.”
Azrael glared at the king. “Where is Damien? And don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“He returned here after fleeing Paris. Said he was headed to Rio de Janeiro.”
“Rio?”
A crooked grin appeared on Sisyphus’ face. “He’s stirring up more trouble. With husbands. He intended to bed as many women as he could. And for Damien….” He shook his head, a gleam in his eyes.
Death’s lips quirked. “Yes, Damien’s insatiable.” Most demons used their immeasurable lust on any willing being. Why couldn’t Damien?
“He is?” A nerve pulsed in Azrael’s tight jaw as he gave her a quick glare.
Jealousy? She thought Azrael incapable of that emotion. “He’s famous for it.” Might he actually believe she had first-hand knowledge?
To Sisyphus, she said, “Sorry, time to go.” And she was sorry. It gave her no pleasure. Carting souls to horrific fates never did.
Like always, she’d fulfill her duty. Hopefully in the future Sisyphus would think twice about escape and relieve her of blame if he sought revenge.
A blameless existence. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
Chapter Eleven
The hunt for Damien proved as difficult as before. Every time Death sensed him near, the feeling vanished. With Azrael at her side, she flew in the direction of the coast. Damien wouldn’t be able to resist the anything-goes atmosphere in the resorts. Underwater sex in the pools with swim-up bars? Just his style.
Azrael scoured the posh surroundings. “I’ll search the hotel rooms.”
His gruff voice grated her raw nerves. “I’ll take the top floors.” More likely Damien would select a room with a spectacular view, something to occupy him if his companion bored him.
As she rose, a strong sense gripped her. Damien was here. She recognized his foul scent despite the warm ocean breeze. Her aim more sure, glimpses through windows grew more fleeting. The penthouse.
Nearing the top floor, she slowed, then slipped past the rail onto the balcony. Heavy dance music made the floor vibrate. Exactly Damien’s style, or lack of it.
Two sets of sliding glass doors stood open, sheer white curtains billowing. Beyond, in the king-size bed, Damien knelt on all fours, ramming into a brunette, and a blonde stood spread-eagle, clutching his hair as he worked his tongue inside her. Their grunts and groans interspersed with the music in an oddly fitting way.
Death watched with perverse interest. Any man would envy Damien right now. Somehow, it seemed pathetic. For all his gusto, Damien’s enthusiasm appeared a ruse. A farce.
For her benefit? Had he wanted her to find him like this?
Sweaty hair scattered across his forehead, he glanced over. His tongue still dancing in the blonde, his lips curled in a smile.
Yeah, nice show. She couldn’t help but smile too. “Hi.”
With simultaneous thrusts, he finished the two women. The blonde fell beside the brunette, both panting.
Damien sprawled his legs wide, giving Death a clear view of his famous penis. She allowed herself a long look. Yep, impressive.
His smile widened. “Want to join us? There’s plenty of room.”
She wrinkled her nose. “No.”
“Right. You want me all to yourself.” He shooed the girls, who grabbed their clothes in a huff and stomped out.
“Oh, I want you,” Death purred. “But not like this.”
Damien snapped his fingers, and they were in a thatched-roof villa, bird calls echoing through the lush forest. “Is this better?”
She took in the open-air living room, the screened porch. “Belize?”
His brows waggled in confirmation. She’d mentioned once how beautiful she found the country, how she’d longed for the luxury of an extended vacation. How strange Damien had remembered.
Heat twined through her as she imagined Azrael on the king-size bed, lounging in the hammock overlooking the river. “Oh much. I’ll have to visit here soon. As for you….”
His smile faded. “D, come on. You can’t do this to me. To us.”
“I would never have been able to before you trapped me in Tartarus. And there is no ‘us.’”
“There could have been. We would have been awesome together.” The yearning in Damien’s voice caught her off guard.
No, she wouldn’t fall for his trickery again. “So that’s why you imprisoned me? Not to help Sisyphus, but for revenge?”
“Not revenge, D. Love.”
“Don’t play me. I won’t fall for it again.”
He shrugged into his silken charcoal tee. “Like I told Sisyphus, love is the downfall of every creature. I love you, D. I have for centuries.”
As she reached for the bracelet, he grasped her arms. “We belong together. I’ll do anything, I’ll be your slave if you wish. I deserve a chance.”
Anger rushed up. “The same chance you gave me? You imprisoned me.”
“For your own safety, sweetheart. Azrael’s no good for you. He was about to dump you for some slut demon.”
“He told you this?”
He snorted. “Yes, a few drinks and he can’t shut the hell up.”
“When? In the bar?”
The slightest twinge around Damien’s eyes signaled the lie he was about to spew. “Yes. That very night at the Nethers. I wanted to tell you then. That’s why I had to leave. To spare you.”
“Liar!” She wrenched free and flicked the cage charm, and in an instant trapped him within, and transported him to the castle of the Prince of Darkness. No sooner had she appeared than an assistant materialized beside her. “Please inform the Prince I have returned Damien for judgment.”
With a curt nod, the assistant touched an earpiece and vanished. In the next moment, two trolls rounded the corner of the hallway and halted. Lovely guards. She almost pitied Damien.
A quick touch to the cage, and a streak of black curled from it, lengthening to Damien’s height. His flesh filled in the space. Nicely, too. When had he gotten that tattoo? “Nice ink.” A Chinese dragon, spanning his shoulder blade in intricate detail. Too bad it wouldn’t bring him good luck.
Another touch, and his clothes sat on the marble floor at his feet. “You might’ve dressed.”
“I knew you wanted another look.” He stepped into his black silk slacks.
The assistant returned and instructed the guards. “The Master orders you take his subject to the High Court of Otherworldly Offenses.” To Death, she said, “You’re welcome to tag along.”
His subject? This didn’t bode well. Not at all. “Yes, I’d like that.” To make sure they brought him there.
The High Court of Otherworldly Offenses specially convened for any angel, demon, or other creature who defied ancient law. How soon it convened depended on a litany of excuses—the number of trials ahead of it, whether Damien’s attorney built a case too strong to warrant bothering convening, whether the Cou
rt felt like scheduling a hearing soon or preferred to wait until no one else had anything to do. Yes, it was no better than the human legal system.
When Death moved to return Damien to her bracelet charm, the guards’ hands shot out with a grunt.
“I’m not allowed?”
The trolls’ heads swung no.
Oh, not good. “Very well.” But don’t even try to lose me. She fell in step with the stodgy trolls, Damien between them, walking freely.
He caught her eye, gave her his most charming smile, and winked.
Better reserve that charm. No matter the court’s decision, he’d need it.
***
The span of heavens frustrated Azrael. He had to find Death, make sure she’d safely returned from Rio. Nice of her to wait for him. She wanted to get rid of Damien as soon as possible. Or ditch you as fast as possible, a remote thought countered.
Busy as the Gate was, Death wasn’t there. He took flight, unsure of which direction to go. Why had he bothered looking there? Of course she wouldn’t bring him here. Hades, had to be.
He aimed downward, and shot toward the castle. Upon his arrival, an assistant appeared. “What’s up, Azrael?”
“Is Death here?”
“You just missed her. She’s accompanying the guards to Court.”
“With Damien?” Stupid question.
“Of course with Damien. Why else would she go?” Eyes bulging with disgust, the assistant turned away.
Good question. A better question was: why go with Damien?
A moment later, he appeared outside Court. For an entity with no known schedule, it sure was a busy place. The hallway teemed with lawyers, mostly demons. One shoved his card at Azrael. “Looking for representation?”
“No. Death.”
“The woman or the process? Because if it’s an unnatural death, you might be heading for trouble, and I’m more than happy to advise—”
“The woman.” Azrael’s tone left no doubt he had no interest in an attorney.
“Oh. Excuse me.” The lawyer straightened his lapel and strode off.
Stifling a grunt of frustration, Azrael muttered, “Thanks for your help.”
What had gotten into him? He’d never before indulged in sarcasm, or harbored ill thoughts against anyone. Lately, surliness infected him, affected his dealings with everyone, even humans, those who most needed him. For the first time, their need burdened him.
Scanning the throng, he caught sight of her, stunning in her long black gown, sumptuous dark hair swept up in an elegant ponytail cascading to the small of her back. Instinctively he rubbed his fingers, remembering its silken feel, then clenched, deprived of the privilege too long.
Drawn by her presence, he found himself at her side. “You disappeared in Rio.”
Silenced by his abruptness, she stared, her black eyes wide. “I couldn’t chance losing Damien again.”
Damien. Anger burned through Azrael. The demon eased closer to Death, a sleazy smirk ratcheting up Azrael’s irritation. “Right, you don’t want to lose such a prize.” She appeared too comfortable beside him, and their easy intimacy made him look less a prisoner than a lover.
Her brows furrowed. “Yes, it’s why I’ve been working so hard. I thought it’s why you were, too.”
Her red lips enticed him beyond reason, the harshness of her words lost on him. “Death….”
Damien stepped in front of her. “The lady’s busy.”
Fury blanked Azrael’s mind. He heard a roar but didn’t recognize it as his own until he’d grabbed Damien’s suit coat, lifted him in the air, ready to pulverize the demon, who laughed, laughed at him. The urge to strangle the black lifeblood from the bastard overwhelmed his senses.
As if from a distance, Death’s shouts sank into his consciousness. “No! Azrael, put him down. What’s wrong with you?”
What’s wrong with you? It stopped him cold, sending ice through his veins. He set the demon on the floor. “I don’t know.” Unable to say more, he strode to the exit, unfurled his wings and hurled himself into the sky.
***
Death endured the wait for the hearing, but barely. “How much longer will they take?” How long could it possibly be to get coffee and sit down at their freaking table?
Damien nuzzled against her side. “Eager to get it over with?”
She slid away, relieving her body of contact with him. “Eager to see you receive your due.”
Damien’s crooked smile revealed his sly nature. “No one could convict me for loving you.”
“That wasn’t the crime.” Though some might argue.
“Right.” Damien’s voice softened. “The crime was that you didn’t return my love.”
Her one good fortune. Loving someone like Damien required more patience than Death was capable of. “I hope you have a good lawyer.”
“The Master sent the best.” His eyes burned with intense heat. “I’ll be out in a few centuries. Wait for me.”
“Sorry. From now on, I wait for no one.” Not even Azrael. She hardly knew who he was anymore. His visceral reaction to Damien earlier sent shivers of electricity through her. All these centuries, she hadn’t thought him capable of physical violence. When his strong arms enfolded her, she’d sensed the iron muscle beneath, and it always struck her as benign power. Seeing those muscles bulging beneath his skin, rising from fury, made her yearn to step between the two, invite him to unleash that power on her.
“Babe, you with me?” Damien’s soft breath brushed her ear.
Her sharp glance must have conveyed her irritation. ‘With him?’ Dream on.
“Thinking of him again, were you?” Damien heaved a breath. “Do you seriously still want him?”
The corridor closed in on her, the air too stagnant with the putrid breath of demons. She rose and paced, daring Damien to say one more word and invoke her wrath. She’d gladly spill it all over him.
Arms folded, she whirled to march the other way and made the mistake of looking at him. He watched her, teased her with his slow smile. Ooh, she’d love to slap it from his face. But that was exactly what he hoped she’d do. He loved provoking others. Triumph lurked in his smile, too, that he’d lured Azrael to violence.
She forced a deep breath. No longer would she allow him inside her head.
The double doors flung wide. A guard called, “Court is called to order. Take your seats.”
Nervousness fluttered through her as she fell in line with those swarming into the room, filling fast.
She perched on the edge of a seat near the front, studying the seven judges. Venerable? Maybe once upon a time. Now, like every other immortal, their lack of enthusiasm spoke of burnout. As the session opened, they muttered in monotones, obviously disinterested in the crime, the case, or its outcome. Whoever decided to dole out jobs lasting an eternity should probably rethink that notion. Her reliance on the remote soul harvester had become secondhand, a mere flick of her finger to relieve the pressure in her tattoo. Not her finest moment, but no one stood in line to hand her performance awards either. No one even noticed how well she did her job. It had grown too old.
The bang of the gavel startled her.
An officer of the court stepped to the front. “Will the prisoner please rise?”
A decision? So quickly?
All attitude, Damien slouched to a stand, one hip cocked, hair hanging in a sexy drape across his forehead. Such a shame he was an asshole. He could be every woman’s dream instead of a nightmare.
Her fingers sought support in the hard metal seat. Send him away.
The officer unwound the scroll. A hush fell over the room, all bodies pressing forward to hear the verdict.
“For the crime of kidnapping, the court finds the defendant guilty in the sixth degree.”
She gasped. The sixth degree! How dare they assess the least blame upon him?
The officer continued. “For the crime of aiding and abetting the escape of Sisyphus, the court finds the defendant guilty in the th
ird degree.”
Her nostrils flared. Seriously? Not the first degree? What a travesty of justice. A complete joke.
“The court sentences the defendant to two centuries’ confinement, in addition to services required by his Master, the Prince.”
Ooh, that did it. Services required—that always meant a get out of jail free card. The Prince would demand Damien run errands or do odd jobs, and Damien would roam scot free.
With as much indignant grace as she could muster, Death rose and headed for the exit, trying her best not to run, though she did allow the door to slam behind her.
Chapter Twelve
While collecting a soul, Death caught up to her sister in a tiny village in Tanzania. “Hey, what do you have going on?”
Hypnos turned her dark, round eyes to Death. “The usual. What’s up?”
Her sister gave new meaning to sleeping around. In inducing rest in mortals, Hypnos often curled up and slumbered awhile beside them.
“Let’s go dancing.” Death glanced at her sister’s worn bunny slippers. For some reason, the raggedy things turned guys on as much as her own stilettos.
“What’s the occasion?”
“I need a night out.” Desperately.
“It’s about time you had some fun,” her twin said.
‘Fun’ didn’t exactly fit her image, but she wasn’t above enjoying herself. “You’re right. I’m long overdue. Let’s go.” She flicked the remote harvester.
As they entered the Nethers, Death added, “Tell me what I should order.” Her twin always knew the tastiest drinks.
“I think you need a chocolate martini.”
“Mm, that sounds good.” Chocolate was another pleasure she deprived herself of. From now on, she intended to indulge in as many pleasures as possible.
Hypnos tilted her head to study her. “Is everything all right?”
“Never better. I captured both Damien and Sisyphus, and my workload’s practically on automatic pilot. As humans say, life is good.”
Her sister snorted. “Until you snatch it away, you relentless bitch.”
The words stunned Death to a halt. “You’re right. I’m my own worst enemy. Always overly critical of myself, never giving myself a break.”
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