Demon by My Side

by Victoria Davies

  Darcy all but straddled the demon’s lap, clutching the dagger sticking out of his flesh. His body was hard under hers with no inch of softness. She looked up into his beautiful face, too stunned to move.

  For a second he looked down at her without rage clouding his eyes. His hand rose to her hips and she inhaled sharply, feeling the heat of his skin through her jeans.

  But the pleasure was quickly banished as panic rose. She remembered his affinity for fire and knew he could torch her in a heartbeat with their bodies touching.

  She moved to jerk the dagger from his shoulder but he was faster. Wrapping a hand around her wrist he growled, “Mine.”

  Darcy stared at him, painfully aware of how easy it would be for him to crush her wrist. But instead the demon tilted his head and studied her. Under his inspection she felt far too vulnerable. He was too close, too dangerous. Now was no time to be awed by the enemy.

  She inched her free hand closer to the small of her back and the last knife sheathed there. The hold on her other wrist was firm but surprisingly pain free. How long, she wondered, before he changed that?

  The hand at her hip moved to tilt her chin up. His thumb ran along the length of her jaw as he studied her. Again, the touch was far too gentle for a creature like him. It was a caress meant to soothe, not frighten. Completely at odds with the man who had just tried to skewer her.

  Darcy read the confusion in his expression, mirrored, no doubt, in her own. She didn’t want to be cradled against him when confusion gave way to anger. As fascinating as the demon was, she had to get away before he decided to barbecue her.

  Quick as she could, she drew the knife at her back. The demon saw the blade and cursed. Before she could stab him he sent her sailing.

  She rolled into the wall below the window hard enough to knock her already pounding head against the wood. She cursed at the impact but forced her body to move. No way was she going to last another round with the demon. She needed out. Now.

  She glanced around frantically before her gaze settled on the chair to the right. The demon hesitated as she grabbed it but instead of attacking him, she swung it at the window behind her.

  Both of them shielded their eyes as glass shattered, spraying the room. Before he could stop her, Darcy dived through the broken window. She hit the slopped porch roof hard only to start rolling uncontrollably down the incline. Cold stunned her, and snow hit her face like a slap. She flung out her hands and grabbed the gutter by sheer luck as she went over the side.

  A cry left her as her shoulder protested the sudden weight of her body, suspended only by her desperate grip. For a moment she dangled over the snowy ground before she let go.

  She crashed into the garden, every bone in her body objecting to the rough landing, but she didn’t let herself stop. Limping to the porch stairs, she grabbed her jacket with the car keys in the pocket and then ran down the driveway toward her car as fast as her battered body could carry her. Every step she expected to feel a hand on her shoulder, hauling her back into the house, but she made it to the car without an attack.

  Before she slid into the waiting driver’s seat, she paused and looked back at the bedroom window.

  The demon stood by the shattered frame, watching her with hooded eyes. Darcy swallowed. She knew how easily he could have caught her if he’d wanted to. Why had he let her escape?

  Didn’t matter. She had no intention of being around if he changed his mind. After swinging into the car, she stomped on the gas.

  As she sped away, she glanced in the rearview window to watch the demon, but the broken frame was empty and dark.

  Chapter Three

  “You let her live?”

  Jaral lounged on the sofa of his far too expensive suite. Across from him sat the owner of the Rex, the only demon-run hotel within the city limits. Most of his kind didn’t bother taking up lodging when they visited this world, too concerned with feeding and enjoying themselves. They’d sleep in whatever alley or derelict building they could find. Demons able to afford a higher class of living, however, headed here.

  “It’s not important,” he replied, reaching for his wineglass. The liquid sloshed against the side, proving itself far thicker than wine. A sharp, metallic taste hit his tongue, both salty and sweet. He closed his eyes for a moment to savor the treat. Human blood was rare in the demon realm, even bagged blood such as this. As long as demons had a few sips of blood a day, their bodies functioned much like the humans’. But that blood didn’t have to be mortal. Indeed, it was one of the few perks a trip to the human realm could afford.

  Liam leaned back in his chair. “Not important?”

  There was no mistaking the humor in his voice. Jaral eyed his guest. It had been years since he’d crossed paths with Liam. He was one of the few demons he could stand, at least in small doses. Irreverent, perhaps, dangerous, certainly, but he knew how to collect information better than anyone else Jaral had ever known. If he wanted details on his blonde hunter, Liam was his best shot.

  “I need a name,” Jaral said.

  Liam inclined his head. “Did you happen to take a picture while the mortal was slipping through your fingers?”

  “I didn’t need to. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” Pressing his palms together, Jaral pulled up an image of the girl in his mind. It was no hardship imagining her wide green eyes or slightly parted lips as she’d stared up at him, their bodies pressed intimately together. Slowly he pulled his hands apart and allowed the memory to materialize in the air between his palms.

  Liam leaned forward to examine the picture flickering like static.

  “Hmm,” the other demon murmured, a smile on his lips.

  “Do you know her?”

  “What do you think?”

  Jaral let the image dissipate as he lowered his hands. Of course Liam knew her. The roguish demon was well-known for his veritable library of files on everyone of note in the country. Some even whispered the world. Jaral had never quite figured out what his friend’s powers were but they were impressive enough that he’d wondered more than once if Liam had some royal blood running through his veins. It wouldn’t be a stretch. He certainly looked the part with his dark hair and eyes.

  Liam lounged back in his chair. “Interesting choice of memory, my friend.”

  “Will you help me? A name is all I require.”

  “Darcy,” he replied. “Darcy Snow.”

  Darcy. He liked it. The name suited her. “Do you have a file on her somewhere in this place?”

  Liam grinned. “Yes. However, I don’t think I’ll be sharing it.”

  “You want something for it?” he replied, arching a brow. He knew very well Liam wouldn’t part with such information cheaply, but the bargain might be worth it.

  “No.”

  Jaral didn’t move a muscle, refusing to allow his face to betray his surprise. “Why?”

  “Because some things you need to discover on your own. It wouldn’t do to walk into this with an encyclopedia on your mate. Might make her a bit testy.”

  Jaral rolled his eyes. “I have no mate.”

  “And yet you didn’t kill the hunter when you had the chance.”

  “A moment’s weakness, nothing more.”

  Liam took a sip from his own glass. “Ah,” he murmured. “So you won’t be seeing her again.”

  “She was at Kerilyn’s house. Our paths will no doubt cross.”

  “And when they do, will you let her get away twice?”

  Jaral stiffened. “Careful, Lee.”

  “How many hunters have you failed to kill after engaging them in battle?”

  Only her. One mortal waif with eyes too big for her face. He knew what Liam was getting at but pushed the absurd thought away. Darcy Snow was an attractive woman, for a human. While he wasn’t in the habit of taking mortal lovers, he’d make an exception for her. Which meant she had to stay breathing. It was no more than lust.

  “These years in the human world have made you weak,” Jara
l said. “You should return home more often.”

  Liam’s lip curled. “I am home. Now, if you want my help, listen. The hunters had another gathering tonight, no doubt due to your appearance. Your little human is planning to investigate the docks tomorrow with another hunter. A psychic, I believe. I’m sure they will find the warehouse your father battled the spirit queen in. If I were you, I’d find it first.” He took another sip. “The only question remaining, my friend, is how you will handle Ms. Snow.”

  Jaral stared into the depths of his glass, allowing a small smile to tug his lips. The hunter would be less than pleased to see him again. The more the thought of her, however, the more he could see the advantages of leaving her alive. A hunter lover would be a tasty challenge but more to the point, she was investigating the same problem as he was. Darcy Snow could prove quite useful if wielded properly. She could go places, talk to people, that he couldn’t. At least, not without spilling blood and possibly killing any leads. Literally.

  Yes, Darcy could be just the bit of luck he needed.

  “Don’t worry, Lee,” he replied, lifting his glass in a mock salute. “I have it covered.”

  * * *

  Darcy pulled her coat tighter around her body. In the early hours of the morning, the docks were still shadowed and gray. By her side, Cailin was also doing her best to battle back the cold. Darcy was grateful for the company. Cailin came from a respected line of hunters and had proven invaluable more than once. In fact, it was her relatives who had found the drunken teenage eyewitnesses who had spotted Kerilyn coming to the docks the night she supposedly died. A hunter out on Halloween was suicidal enough but why had she come here of all places?

  “The boys said they saw her near one of the warehouses by the water,” Cailin said.

  “Look at how many there are down here. We’d be better off splitting up. Cover twice the ground in half the time.”

  “You heard Blake. We stick together while that demon is out there. He shouldn’t have been able to use both air and fire against you. No way you’re going up against him alone again.”

  Darcy rolled her eyes. “Come on, Cali. Demons aren’t exactly morning monsters.”

  “Your demon is breaking all the other rules. Why not this one?”

  Fair point. “Fine. Let’s start at the end and do this systematically.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  Darcy shrugged. “Anything out of the ordinary, I suppose. You’re the psychic. Sense something.”

  Cailin stuck out her tongue. “My family might be gifted but I got the short end of that genetic stick. All I’m capable of are feelings here and there. They aren’t something we want to bank on.”

  “Well, keep your antennae tuned in just in case.”

  They came up to the first building. It was easy enough to slip inside. With the hard economy and the decrease of viable fish in the area, the fishing industry had been hit hard. The docks were a wasteland now. Only a lucky cannery or two were still in business.

  Side by side, they walked through the dirty halls. Nothing looked any different than what Darcy would expect of an abandoned warehouse. Certainly no neon sign pointing to a rift between worlds.

  “Anything?” she asked Cailin.

  The other hunter shook her head.

  They entered the main room at the heart of the building. Darcy pulled a flashlight from her backpack and shone it into the more gloom-filled corners. Nothing but dust and rats.

  “Maybe we should be doing this with a witch,” Darcy suggested.

  A snort was her partner’s reply. “You know the rates they charge. If we need to bring one in, at least let’s try to narrow down the buildings we want her to read.”

  “Do we call this one a bust?”

  Cailin did a slow rotation. “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary and no spidey senses are tingling. Let’s move on.”

  They were headed for the exit when Darcy’s cell rang. Glancing at the ID she waved Cailin on. “It’s Blake. Head to the next building and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Fine but no further than that.”

  Darcy nodded as she flipped the phone open. “Talk to me.”

  “Find anything at the docks?”

  “Not yet,” she replied, watching Cailin leave the warehouse. “This might be a needle in a haystack situation.”

  “Damn.”

  “Just calling to check in?”

  “No, actually. I’ve got some research on your demon that you might find interesting.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’ve been searching some pretty ancient texts. References to multigifted demons are rare but they do come up now and then.”

  “Any leads on what he is?”

  Chills ran up her nape, freezing her in place. Darcy turned on her heel to examine the empty storeroom behind her. Nothing.

  “That’s the thing. He’s not a specific type, at least not according to these texts.”

  “So what is he?”

  “Royal.”

  She choked. “Royal? As in crowns and thrones?”

  “Mythology says the royal house was gifted with all the demon strengths carried through blood. Conceivably this demon controls far more than fire and air.”

  “But we’ve come up against royal brats before. They certainly haven’t been able to suck the air from our lungs.”

  “True, but Abaddon has too many children to keep track of them all. Those we’ve faced have never shown such abilities, but there’s much more to the demon realm than we’ve been able to piece together with handed-down tales and ancient accounts. At the very least we have records showing evidence of a caste system in the royal house. Perhaps it is based on strands of power carried through the blood. Makes sense when you think about demon succession. The strongest take the throne, not necessarily the firstborn.”

  “So who did I fight?”

  Silence greeted her question.

  Darcy knew the way her stepfather’s mind worked. She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard your theory of the über princes. Let’s see if I remember my history lessons. There was the mysterious Lawe, the ruthless Teivel, the enigmatic Jaral—”

  “I know you don’t think much of the theory, but they’ve been referenced throughout history.”

  “In arcane, crumbling tomes. Don’t you think if these demons existed we would have faced them before this?”

  “Not if they’re in charge of running the demon realm. Why would Abaddon waste their talents sending them to our world?”

  She sighed. “Look, I don’t have time to debate ancient history with you. I need help now. Let’s say Abaddon really has broken out the big guns and sent some powerful demon to our world. That just means there is something real to find here and we need to figure it out first. Do your myths give us any info on killing this kind of demon?”

  “No. They call them the undying ones.”

  “Oh, bullshit,” she declared. “Everything dies.”

  “I’m inclined to agree. The stories, however, suggest that the few hunters to come up against these multigifted demons have met bloody ends.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “An oddity in itself. Let’s not press your luck, Darcy. If you see this demon again, run.”

  She exhaled. Everything in her protested running away but Blake was right. It was the only smart move. “Promise. I won’t even try to stab him.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “If you dig up anything else, call me. I’ve got to go—Cailin is waiting.”

  “Go. Good luck.”

  She snapped the phone shut. Great. Mythical demon prince, spirit rift and the end of hunting as they knew it. Just a normal Saturday.

  “Dammit.” She tossed the phone back into her bag.

  She’d taken two steps toward the exit when her instincts kicked into high gear. This time she didn’t turn. With small, subtle movements she gripped the knife at her hip and drew it.

  “Didn’t peg you for a coward,” she call
ed, rotating on her heel. “Show yourself.”

  Silence met her demand.

  She scanned the room. Unless he was invisible, there was nowhere for the demon to hide. Maybe she was overreacting.

  “I kill people who call me such things,” a voice whispered in her ear.

  She spun around, her knife swinging in a tight arc to skewer him. But the demon danced backward with ease.

  Darcy assumed a fighting position. She waited for him to attack but he merely watched her with amusement. Seeing him now, Darcy had to admit Blake’s theory didn’t seem quite so laughable. Never in her life had she come across a demon like this. Though she wished she could claim she was truly a threat to him, she knew the idea was ridiculous. He had powers she’d never dreamed a demon could possess. Yet all he did was stand there, studying her, when he should be going for her throat.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “You’ve got the wrong building,” he replied.

  “I know.”

  “Do you want the right one?”

  She blinked. What was he playing at?

  “Or would you prefer to keep running around blind, Darcy Snow?”

  “You know my name.”

  He grinned. Her heart would have skipped a beat if the beautiful face hadn’t come attached to a nightmare.

  She lifted her chin, refusing to cower. “I don’t like being toyed with.”

  The demon made no reply, just watched and waited.

  “Come to finish what we started at the Whitney house?” she demanded.

  He moved then, brushing past her body. It was all she could do to stand still and not go on the offensive.

  “If I wanted it finished,” he whispered against her ear, “you would never have known I was here before you went up in flames.”

  Fear slithered down her spine. “Then what do you want?’

  He withdrew just enough to meet her gaze. “You.”

  She swallowed twice, trying to produce words despite her dry throat. “I’m not up for grabs.”

  “Shame.” Releasing her from his hypnotic stare, the demon turned to stroll along the factory floor. Unable to stop herself, she kept pace with him.