by Sidney Ayers
“All right. You’re sure I’ll be safe?”
“I’ve placed a ward around your house and you have some training.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Granted, it’s not as much training as a normal Paladin has, but it should suffice. It’s not completely dark out yet, anyway.”
With a quick nod, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay right here.” She plopped onto the rock-hard futon and stifled a grimace. Picking up the remote control, she turned on the TV. “I’ve got five hundred channels to keep me occupied.”
“Sounds good.” With a bittersweet smile, he closed his eyes. Ice shards and snow flurries swirling around him, Rafe vanished in a puff of frost and fog. Only another pile of ice remained.
She hated this traveling shit.
Chapter 23
Not a thing on any of those overpriced cable stations, she grumbled, ready to fling the remote at the TV. Not even the Spanish soap operas seemed interesting. Then she landed on the medical channel. If that wasn’t bad enough, it was a documentary showing a rhinoplasty, blood and broken cartilage included.
Shivers of horror raced down her spine. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she muttered, mashing the power button.
Reaching for one of her many hairstyling magazines, she sighed. What was the deal? Rafe had only been gone for a half an hour and she already suffered from an extreme case of cabin fever.
“Bloody hell!”
Had she just said that? No way. Now she was talking like that sexy-as-sin demon. Just the thought of his hands brushing against her skin and his lips on hers sent her pulse into overdrive. Lucy was the one who was enraptured, not him.
With a swipe of her hand through her hair, she leaned back on the futon. Flipping through the pages, she perused the plethora of hairstyles, ranging from dull and boring to moderately tame to weird and wild. A little something for everyone, she supposed. Her interest in the latest in celebrity updos waned as thoughts of Rafe rushed forward.
“Bloody—”
Not again. Fisting tufts of hair in both hands, she threw her head back. No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts always strayed to Rafe. His dark shiny waves of hair and the muscles that bulged against every shirt he wore. Even when he wasn’t with her she was horny. What was a girl to do?
Her question went unanswered. As if reading her mind, the cell phone announced its presence like a bad canker sore. She now officially hated Justin Timberlake.
Then again, he wasn’t Rafe.
Bah! This wasn’t healthy at all.
With an irritated growl, she pulled herself from the futon and stumbled across the room toward the phone. Lifting the receiver, she let out a deep whoosh of air. “Hello?”
“Lucia?” Serah’s voice came through low and cautious.
She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s the pope dressed in drag.”
“Not funny,” she said, her voice irritated. “Are you alone?”
A loud sigh burst from her lips. “For now, why?”
“We’re coming over, that’s why.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Why not?”
She crossed her arms, even though Serah couldn’t see her. “Why? Because Rafe said so, that’s why.”
“You’re whipped.”
“Am not,” she replied with a loud huff meant to reverberate in her friend’s ear.
Serah retaliated with her own, “Are too!”
She ambled toward the kitchen, needing a fresh pot of coffee. Coffee, sex, Captain and Coke, and Rafe. Her latest vices.
“I just want you and your La Costra Nostra–loving friend safe. Is that so wrong?”
“No. Not at all.” There was a long pause. “But I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Oh man! What now? More demons? She clenched the phone tight to her ear, her heart thudding. “Bloody hell,” she mumbled. “What now?”
“Bloody hell?” Serah’s voice raised an octave or two, a questioning tone in her voice.
“Don’t even ask.”
“Very well. I won’t.”
Very well? That didn’t sound like Serah at all. Then again Rafe told Lucy to give her the benefit of the doubt. Serah had been through just as much as she had. “So spill the news.”
“Oh, yes, that. Unfortunately, we’re already on our way over.” Serah’s singsong sweet tone rankled her nerves. Just like her to do her own thing. But she meant well.
She gritted her teeth, frustration pounding its way through her head. Would she ever get through to her? Probably not, but that’s what made Serah—well—Serah.
“We told you to stay put. Why the hell couldn’t you just stay there a few more hours?”
Serah smacked her lips a couple of times as the phone rustled. “I have to talk to you. It’s important.”
“You think everything you have to say is important.” Ouch. That didn’t come out right. “What I mean is you have a tendency to exaggerate.”
“This time it is important. Trust me.” She ended her sentence on a whisper. “Please?”
“Bloody hell.” This time she didn’t care if she used one of Rafe’s favorite lines.
“I’m serious. We’re almost there. Squeaky misses you too.” The phone rustled a bit. “Right, Squeaky?”
“Yeah,” she heard squeaked in the background.
A frustrated sigh burst out of her mouth. “Rafe won’t like this.”
“Like we give a fuck what Rafe likes or doesn’t like.”
Blinking, she pulled the phone from her ear. Now that was odd. “What the heck’s going on? Isn’t Squeaky Rafe’s pet?”
“That’s why we need to talk. We’re almost there anyway. What’s Rafe going to do, send us back across town?” She let out a deep chuckle. “Then again, he probably would.”
What was up with Serah’s sudden disgust with Rafe? What kind of line had Squeaky fed her? Yeah, he and Squeaky had started off on the wrong foot, but hadn’t they worked out their differences? Maybe the freezing-cold poof had affected Squeaky’s brain.
“Rafe’s trying to protect you, can’t you see?”
Serah blew a deep breath of air into the phone. “We don’t need nor want his protection.”
Lucy had enough. Serah would speak before she reached into the phone and beat some sense into her. Now that’d be a cool skill to possess. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I’d rather talk in person.”
“Tell. Me. Now!”
“We’re right outside. Why not just let us in?” With that, the phone cut off.
“Whatever,” she muttered, slamming the phone shut. Flinging it onto the black granite countertop, she sighed. But like Serah said, what would Rafe do? Certainly not send them back.
The doorbell chimed, announcing the arrival of her unexpected guests. Not wanting to dawdle, she padded back through the living room and to the foyer. With a quick glance out the peephole, she spied the distorted image of what appeared to be Serah’s impatient glare. She pulled up the sleeve of her pink marshmallow-esque jacket, looked down at the diamond-trimmed watch on her wrist, and sneered.
Arching a brow, she pulled the door open. Next to Serah stood Squeaky in a black wool overcoat, gold pinky ring blinging in the moonlight. He stomped his oversized chimp foot with clear impatience.
“Can we come in or what?” Eyes narrowed, Serah tilted her head, her brunette curls bouncing beneath her knit hat. “It’s freezing out here.”
Swinging the door wider, she nodded. What else could she do, let them stay out there in the bitter cold? She was a better friend than that. “Fine, come on in. Rafe will deal with it.”
“I’m sure he will,” Serah replied, ripping her hat off. With a quick scan of the living room, she rolled her lip between her teeth. “So where is he, anyway?”
Lucy flung herself into the easy chair and leaned back against its worn out splendor. “He had to go back to Limbo for a while.”
“Perfect,” she said with a breath of air.
Nodding
in agreement, Squeaky bounded onto the futon and made himself at home. “Have we got news for you.”
“Very big news,” Serah added as she sauntered toward her. With a quick swipe of a curl, she pursed her lips and tilted her head.
“So spill it already,” Lucy ground out, her fingernails digging into her palms.
A loud huff burst from her lips. “Very well.” Serah turned back toward Squeaky. “Should it be you or me?”
“One of you better say something before I scream.”
Squeaky arched a furry brow. “Why don’t you do it? My voice is annoying.”
“Fine, I thought you were supposed to be a familiar.” Serah crossed her arms and bit her lip.
“I’m not a familiar, remember.”
Serah narrowed her eyes and kicked the chimp. “Enough.”
“Not a familiar? Weren’t you sent to help Rafe?” Bemusement laced her tone. “Someone better explain.” Lucy reached for the cell phone. “Before I call Rafe.”
Serah snagged the phone from her grasp. “No need,” she replied, her voice stony. “Rafael Deleon is no longer a Paladin. That’s why he was sent back. You’re in danger.”
She angled her gaze toward the imp. “That’s the real reason they sent Squeaky. To bring Deleon back to Limbo.”
“That’s crazy.” What? Rafe? Demoted? Why would the Fore-Demons send him here then change their minds? Then again, Rafe had said everything they did was for a reason. Now, she hated this Fore-Demon Council more than ever. Shaking her head, she clenched her fists. She would bust down the gates of Limbo and give these old crusty demons a piece of her mind.
“I’m afraid so.” Serah scanned the room, searching every corner. With a quick snort, she narrowed her eyes, yet said nothing. Clearly this whole sex demon thing had taken its toll on her. She turned her gaze back to Squeaky and nodded. “Let her read the letter.”
Lucy arched another bemused brow. “What letter?”
A squeaky huff flew from the chimp’s mouth. “This letter.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a rolled parchment. Leave it to those Fore-Demons to go all out with an antique and faded scroll.
“How very… umm… official.” Unrolling the paper, she gazed down at the script. Latin, of course.
To all Paladins and the like:
It is hereby noted that the Paladin, Rafael Deleon, has severed ties with the Fore-Demons and his fellow Paladins. He and his sister, Jacoba, have been spotted consorting with the enemy, Belial, Prince of the Northern Regions of Hell. It is recommended if you come in contact with either that you exercise caution, as both are armed and extremely dangerous. The Fore-Demon Council offers a hefty reward for the capture of these two Infernati—dead or alive.
Infernati. Seeing that word used to describe Rafe sent aching chills through her body. The dead-or-alive bit only intensified the ache. “Wow. That’s harsh.”
Serah grabbed her shoulders, her sapphire eyes sparking. “He’s working for Belial!”
“Belial?” She still couldn’t wrap her head around it. “But his sister!”
Squeaky snorted. “His sister is not a prisoner. Trust me.”
“You need to get out of here. It isn’t safe. You need to trust us.” Fingers digging into her skin, Serah pulled her toward the door. Cold chills raced from her arm, through her body. This wasn’t right. Never had her friend’s touch been so icy.
Stomach clenched in knots, she let the cold realization sink in. This may have been Serah’s body, but it wasn’t Serah. How could she have been so stupid? Even after Rafe’s previous warning.
“She takes many forms. An innocent baby, your prized family pet, a friend… a sister.”
Lucy didn’t care how convincing she was; she should’ve known better. She was taught better than that. Fucking bitch!
So Lamia was taking the BFF costume for a test spin? Maybe it was Lucy’s turn for a test spin—one of the silver katana variety. She managed to control her anger earlier when Lamia fondled Rafe. Something told Lucy she wouldn’t have much control this time.
Now what was she going to do? Then again, didn’t a demon have to leave when they were no longer welcome? She wrenched her arm from Lamia’s grasp. “I can take care of myself. You both need to leave.”
Try and get out of that one, bitch!
Lamia scratched Serah’s chin, her blue eyes swirling and stormy. “No.”
Huh? What the hell? Then again, she was working with the Infernati, and from what Lucy could tell, the Infernati didn’t follow rules. Just her luck.
“You aren’t safe here. Rafael is dangerous,” Squeaky squeaked out, a wince of irritation sweeping across his furry face. Every time he spoke, a similar look of constipation clouded his expression, as if his own voice annoyed him. One of Lamia’s cronies, obviously.
“So where did the elusive Rafael Deleon wander off to?” Lamia twirled a curl around a fingertip.
Reaching down, she grabbed the blade and lunged over the table. The sound of metal against metal rent the air as she pulled the katana from its sheath. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits, she held the blade to Lamia’s neck—far enough away as to not mar her friend’s skin.
“Cut the crap, bitch. I know who you are.” With a quick swivel, Lucy turned to face Squeaky’s body. Larissa! “And here I thought you were such a nice woman.”
Larissa opened Squeaky’s mouth to speak.
A gust of chilling air swirled throughout the room, filling her with icy dread. Her heart plummeted as her breath caught. Her fingers damp with sweat, the blade slipped from her grasp.
The icy air intensified and swirled, stronger and stronger by the second.
“I’ll be taking that,” Lamia said, extending a scaly arm, swiping the katana from her grip.
With a loud cackle, she swung her other snake-like arm out, sending Lucy crashing against the wall. Body crumpling against the hard surface, Lucy sent a quick thanks to the gods and goddesses for her newly acquired high pain threshold.
“Larissa! Now!” Lamia screeched.
However, those thanks were short-lived. A flash of silver caught her eye as searing pain ground inside her stomach, radiating through her entire body. Squeaky’s not-so-innocent chimp face stood over her, twisting a dagger. With a maniacal gleam in his eye, he pulled the dagger out and wiped it on his expensive overcoat.
What have I done?
“I wanted to do that for the longest time.” Larissa punctuated her sentence with a swift kick from Squeaky’s foot, Lucy’s head slamming against drywall in a giant thud that reverberated throughout her entire body. What kind of silver was this bitch using?
“Enough,” Lamia hissed. “Belial wants her unharmed.”
Unharmed? He who attacked her in her shop? Then again she did draw the first move. Her jumbled thoughts moved back to Rafe. She had to protect him. She didn’t want him hurt because of her stupidity. She didn’t want to be the reason his mission would fail.
Pain still lacing through her body, Lucy reached for Squeaky’s foot. Her head in a fog, she dug her nails into his furry toe. Slamming his heel down on her hand, Squeaky let out a loud cackle that almost burst her eardrum. “Give it up, you stupid bitch.”
Rafe’s body formed from the ice and mists. Flinging the shards from his body, he stepped forward.
Serah stepped from the shadows, the new katana in her hand. Red eyes flashing predatory gleams, she gripped the sword tightly. She turned her gaze to Lucy briefly, a maniacal grin spread across her face.
Lucy needed to act fast.
Rafe’s silver eyes focused on her, his face draining of color. “Oh my God… Lucy!”
“Rafe!” she managed to gasp. “Behind you!”
“Too late, Deleon.” Serah’s double clucked her tongue. “This makes up for Monday night.” With that, she thrust the sword into Rafe’s back.
Rafe spun to face Serah, blood pouring from his wound. Wielding his own sword, he flailed it in the air, missing Serah’s neck by a mere centimeter. Serah c
ountered his attack, by spinning around and slicing a long gouge into his stomach. Slumping to the ground, he grabbed his middle, a river of dark crimson pooling around him. Never had she seen blood so dark.
Blood. Her mind spun. Rafe’s blood. Her stomach twisted and her head spun, spots flashing in front of her eyes. Bile rose into her throat and her breath caught. Tears, thick and salty, dripped down her cheeks as despair clawed its way into her chest.
“Oh, Rafe. I’m so sorry.” Hands and knees of mush, she scrambled her way across the floor. She had to save him.
“Lucy,” he gurgled out, coughing out a thin trail of blood. “I’m the one who’s sorry… never… should have… left you alone.” His eyes flickered, the silver fading. He let out a ragged gasp.
“Sorry is, as sorry does,” Squeaky said, his voice laced with sarcasm. With a quick kick and stomp to Rafe’s lifeless body, he grinned. Another flash of silver flickered as he raised his hand in the air. Gripping her prized silver candlestick high in the air, he brought it crashing into her skull. A bright flash of pain followed by empty darkness. She had failed Rafe. She had failed the world.
Chapter 24
Bam! Slam! Bump!
“Ouch,” Lucy muttered, struggling to open her eyes. Reaching up to rub her achy head, her hands smacked against cold glass. Leave to those two demonic wenches to handcuff her. Silver too, no doubt. Legs folded in ways that would make a contortionist jealous, she lugged herself up.
Cramped in the back of her own car like a sardine, she wriggled herself around. Head careening against the back door, she let out a muffled oof. Were these bitches deliberately looking for every pothole in the blasted state? And where were they taking her anyway? To Hell, probably. It sure felt like it.
“Thank the Dark Master I can finally be rid of that disguise,” Larissa—who had since discarded her chimp suit—said, rustling her fingers through her always immaculate golden tresses. “The stench was horrible. I can still smell him on me.”
There’s the Larissa she remembered. Always immaculate, always perfect. How wrong she was. Lounging the seat back, not caring that it was crushing Lucy’s knees, Larissa heaved a sigh. “How much longer?”