Where Demons Fear to Tread

by Stephanie Chong

  He began to pray to the devil instead. It brought better results. A miracle of miracles occurred. A few months after his seventeenth birthday, his aunt died.

  The timing of the event was fortuitous. He was sent to Oxford. It was the first time since childhood that Julian interacted with others his age. At university, his mind was blown open, and not only by what he learned in the classroom. He became aware of a world he had never experienced, never even knew existed outside the meager walls of the cottage. He was high on the sudden freedom that even his modest allowance afforded. His classmates were infinitely more schooled in the ways of the world than he. But at seventeen, he was a tall, broad-shouldered youth on the verge of manhood. And he was an earl who would inherit a duchy. Soon, he was accepted into the upper echelons of university life.

  His Oxford days passed in a blissful haze of rowing on the Isis, of foxhunting and of horseback riding over the wide-open expanse of Port Meadow. There was the elaborate ritual of dressing for dinner every night in the Gothic, cathedral-esque atmosphere of Christ Church Hall. After almost every evening meal, Julian and his friends would retire to college common rooms to engage in heavy drinking, occasionally daring a foray into the taverns where students were not allowed. Classes were almost an afterthought, although he respected his tutors and inherited their enthusiasm for the latest philosophers of the Enlightenment: Rousseau, Voltaire, Kant.

  After graduation, like so many other young men of his social class, Julian embarked on his Grand Tour, a whirlwind trip through Europe. Paris, the South of France, Barcelona, Madrid, Rome, Florence…he tore through the cultural, culinary and sensual delights of each place like a hurricane consuming everything in its path.

  Then he arrived in Venice. La Serenissima, the most serene republic, a jewel poised on the edge of the Adriatic Sea. Venice was the antithesis to his suffocating childhood, a city of excess and courtesans. Venice was a universe away from his father, who was slowly but steadily rotting away in the ducal seat in Berkshire.

  In the gambling salons, by some grace of the gods, he managed to parlay his allowance into a small fortune. He spent his mornings lounging in the coffee-houses. At night, he dined at the finest restaurants, made friends with Italian aristocrats, merchants, artists and intellectuals alike. Made love with his pick of the city’s famous courtesans. Attended the opera, and found solace in the achingly beautiful arias of the sopranos. Riding on his charm and his good looks, he made love to them, too.

  Oxford had been a pleasant diversion and a rich training ground. But it was in Venice that he finally took his place in the world. In Venice, he thrived, enjoying the full benefits of his station in life. He shed the shell of his past and emerged as a new man. For the first time in his life, he felt vibrant and whole. Potent. Alive.

  And for the first time in his life, he began to notice the poorer citizens of La Serenissima. The beggars who squatted in the city’s arched doorways, the vendors who hawked their wares in the open square of the Piazza San Marco. The servants who cleaned his living quarters and brought him his meals. His newfound confidence softened him, made him more charitable to all those around him. It became his habit to toss an extra coin into an outstretched hand, to speak a word or two of appreciation for a job well done. He even began to contemplate the tenants on his father’s estate, how their lives might be improved, and what changes his power might effect when his father finally died. When he became the duke.

  In short, he was becoming good.

  Then, one day while he was strolling along a canal on a sultry afternoon, he met the woman who would be his undoing. In the sunshine of that bright afternoon, she blinked up at him with wide, pale green eyes. He stopped short on the narrow cobbled walkway, caught by her beauty and her seeming innocence. He hadn’t foreseen how deadly she could be. Hadn’t anticipated her betrayal.

  It took her a decade to bait him into a hateful scheme that made him her pawn. But eventually, she achieved her goal. In her name, he fought a duel that cost him his human life. In that fight, he also took the life of another. That error cost him his soul. He lost everything.

  At the time of his human death, he was thirty-two years old. A man in the prime of his life, on the verge of implementing the changes his father’s tenants so badly needed. A man enraged. Not only by the betrayal at the hands of a woman. But enraged also by the betrayal at the hands of God.

  Afterward, he wandered the realms of hell, tormented by the unrelenting heat and the perpetual regret. He became so miserable that he set about torturing other souls, without bidding from the demons. The Prince of Hell himself happened to pass by, and saw what Julian was doing. He was taken out of damnation and given a chance as a Gatekeeper, sent back to earth to do the devil’s work.

  He was spectacular at it. So spectacular that he rose through the ranking of demons like a flare fired into the night sky. The more souls he corrupted, the more powerful he became. He ascended to the position of Archdemon after a mere two hundred years, the blink of an eye in a demon’s lifespan. He would not stop until he reached the top of the hierarchy. Until he answered to no one but the devil himself.

  And after the disastrous way Julian’s human life had ended, he vowed that no woman would ever get the better of him again. Since then, none had.

  This woman, this angel…she would be no different.

  Chapter Two

  Serena bolted. She fled out of Julian’s office, back down the hallway and out into the crowded club. Pushing through the crush of bodies, she headed toward the VIP lounge where she’d last searched for Nick. This time, she had no difficulty finding him.

  People were chanting his name, hundreds of voices shouting in unison: “Nick…Nick…Nick…Nick…”

  His height and his extraordinary good looks made him difficult to miss in any setting. But here in Devil’s Paradise, Nick was the epicenter of attention. Shirtless, with his tanned and muscular chest glistening under the nightclub lights, he danced on a table with a girl on each side of him. Surrounded by a tangle of snaking arms, a beer bottle dangled from his hand. Beneath him, the crowd basked in the glory of Nick’s celebrity.

  He threw back his head and howled, a long wolf cry that sent the crowd wild.

  The guys howled back. The girls screamed and squealed. With his free hand, Nick wiped the traces of white powder from the bottom of his nose. Serena trembled, watching him. Deep in her gut, she knew that nothing and nobody could save Nick from himself tonight.

  And if she stayed any longer, Julian would come for her. This time, he would not think twice. So she did the only thing she could. She ran.

  As she pushed her way out of the club, a man stood in her way, exhaling whisky-steeped breath into her face. “Aw, baby, lookin’ fine.”

  She veered hard left to avoid him. A cold wash of beer splashed down her arm and the side of her dress. Shivering with the shock of it, she pressed onward.

  “Watch where you’re going,” someone else growled.

  For once in her life, she didn’t care about being rude. The only thing she wanted was to get out of this hell-hole. She shoved her way toward the exit of the crowded club. Toward freedom. She headed toward the doorway, a beacon of light in the midst of the darkness. Heaving open the door, she made to bolt past the bouncer. As she looked at him, a word flashed in her mind: Gatekeeper. Like Guardians, Gatekeeper demons roamed the earth in human form, blending in seamlessly with humans. Unlike angels, they were nothing but trouble.

  He blocked her way, grinning. “Hey, darlin’. Where you goin’ in such a hurry?”

  She shoved past him and kept running.

  Julian grabbed the champagne bottle and a pair of flute glasses, and headed back to the VIP lounge to check on Nick.

  Hollywood’s latest train wreck was still there, all right—making a massive spectacle of himself. So pathetic, really. Everyone, even Julian, who did not follow celebrity gossip, knew Nick’s story. The son of a Brazilian financier and a famous American ballerina, Nick had been in
the public eye since his birth twenty-six years ago. His parents’ messy divorce had sent Nick bouncing between Sao Paulo and New York, cared for by a long string of nannies before finally being relegated to boarding school in Connecticut. His parents reasoned that they had given him everything a child could want.

  Everything but their attention. And that was the thing Nick seemed to crave. Ironically, the higher Nick’s star rose, the more his success alienated his parents. The more famous he became, the more they viewed him with distaste, eschewing the roles he picked as cheap and commercial. To numb the pain of their rejection, Nick had started on a string of benders that had turned the spotlight away from his acting career, and onto his now-legendary partying.

  Now, Julian watched the bare-chested young man baying at the crowd.

  Yes, Nick’s star was teetering on the brink. If it fell, it would fall a long way down.

  All the way to hell, Julian hoped.

  However, right now, what Julian wanted was information. Specifically, he wanted the name of the little angel who had just departed Devil’s Paradise. In three seconds flat, Julian put a halt to Nick’s table-dancing show, located his shirt and sat him in a booth. Humans were so easy to manipulate, Julian thought. Especially humans who were coked to the gills. Nick’s pupils were huge, dilated against the bloodshot whites of his eyes. His gaze flickered wildly, unable to focus on one point for longer than a few seconds.

  Nick’s female dance partners also settled into the booth. Julian motioned for one of them to move. She did, but her heavy-lidded gaze told him she’d rather sit on top of him, not beside him.

  “Julian Ascher,” he announced. “I’m the owner of this place.” He popped the cork off the champagne, eliciting a squeal from the girls.

  The girl next to Julian leaned in to give him a view of her generous cleavage. She said, “I’ve seen your picture in magazines. You dated Brooke Bentley just before she cracked, right?”

  Julian nodded, settling against the scarlet leather. He had all but forgotten about Brooke, a gorgeous young pop idol whose records had gone triple platinum after several hits. Poor, debauched Brooke was now living in a mental institution after their brief affair. Another resounding success on Julian’s part. He turned to Nick and said, “A friend of yours came looking for you earlier tonight. A little blonde. Innocent as a newborn dove. Ring a bell?”

  Nick shot out of his seat. “Serena St. Clair? Where is she?” His dark eyes zigzagged across the crowd, seeking her.

  Serena. So that was her name, an ironic reminder of his beloved city. La Serenissima.

  “She left,” Julian said, masking his interest. “Didn’t seem to be feeling too well. But she said to say hello.”

  Nick dropped back into his seat, like a disappointed little boy who had lost his favorite toy. “Did you talk to her?”

  “Yes. She was sorry she had to go without seeing you.” Julian smiled.

  “That blows. I’m so in love with her,” said Nick. The girl beside him pouted, but he simply ignored her.

  Nick and Serena in love… Julian felt his jaw clenching beneath his tight smile. He wanted to kill Nick Ramirez now, to cut his body into a million pieces and send him straight to hell without any of the usual preliminaries. But he forced himself to speak civilly. “Tell me more,” he said.

  “What’s to tell? You saw her, right? She’s hot. Even hotter than Brooke Bentley. I’m telling you, dude, it was love at first sight.”

  “So she’s in love with you?” Julian asked, in a tone he hoped conveyed boredom. The girls looked disappointed, so he poured some more champagne into their glasses to keep them quiet.

  He sat back and frowned, assessing what lay beneath Nick’s dark good looks. That slick Hollywood smile hid a nasty coke habit and a penchant for hookers, the pricier the better in both cases. As his Guardian, surely Serena must see that. Still, Julian could not resist picturing Nick and Serena hand in hand, gazing guilelessly at each other with wide eyes, the sheen of youth still fresh on their skin. The image of it made Julian want to retch.

  “Not exactly in a romantic way…yet,” Nick said. His shoulders slumped forward and he ran his fingers through his carefully spiked hair. “Serena’s my yoga teacher. She acts like a nun or something.”

  Something inside of Julian rejoiced.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Nick continued. “Serena’s not a prude. She’s…special. She’s not simply another beautiful girl. There’s something different about her. Something exquisite. She’s the closest thing I’ve ever met to true unconditional love.”

  In Nick’s famous brown eyes, Julian saw a sudden flicker of something, a flash of sobriety that broke through the drug high. Beneath his vacuous Hollywood exterior, Nick Ramirez understood Serena’s true nature. It took Julian utterly by surprise.

  “Forget about her for tonight. Everything you need is right here,” Julian urged, running his hand down the arm of one of the girls. She was a pretty, young blonde, but still a poor substitute for Serena. “If there’s anything else you desire, my staff will take care of you.”

  “Thanks, man. You’re the best.”

  Julian left him in the VIP lounge with the girls and wandered back up to the observation booth. It was late, and brawls were starting to erupt on the dance floor. He watched the bouncers hang back as he’d instructed, waiting to break up the fights until after some serious damage had been done.

  A fight of a very different sort was brewing between him and Serena. Angels, even fledgling Guardian angels, knew better than to cross his path. Most of them were either too smart or too scared to do so. Clearly, Serena St. Clair was neither. If she wanted Nick, she would have to pry him out of Julian’s grip. How delectable it would be to break her when she tried.

  Julian would win. Of that, he had no doubt. In the end, he always did.

  Serena’s lungs burned by the time she reached her well-weathered VW where she’d left it parked on the street. Unlocked the door with shaking fingers. Collapsed into the driver’s seat. Slammed down the lock and jammed the car into gear. The squeal of the tires sent a wave of pure relief through her as she peeled away from the curb and swung into traffic. But as she drove, her gaze flickered to the rearview mirror.

  The demons were following her.

  At first she sensed, rather than saw it. The car was a speck in the rearview mirror, just a little spot in the distance behind her. But then it increased speed, weaving through traffic with a dangerous momentum.

  And then it was behind her, their car coming so close to her bumper that she could see them in the rearview mirror, laughing. It was the bouncer from the club, the one she’d just shoved past, and another demon. They drove behind her, inches from touching her. Taunting her. Threatening her. The blur of streetlamps and headlights whipped by as she merged onto the highway and pushed the car faster. Fifty miles an hour…sixty…seventy…eighty…ninety. The little car shook from the unaccustomed velocity.

  From the passenger-side window, a winged goblin darted by, flying through the air like an oversize bat. It shot forward to hover in front of her windshield, blocking her view of the road. The cackle that came out of it sent a shudder through Serena. In those glassy little red eyes, she saw pure hatred. Without a doubt, it wanted to kill her. She floored the gas pedal and the car shot forward, smashing the creature against her windshield with a sick splat. A high-pitched squeal wheezed out of it, a sound like a pig being slaughtered. The reddish-black of its entrails smeared against the glass.

  She flicked on the wipers and the carcass fell to the side of the road. Streaks of blood blurred her vision but she kept driving, kept speeding down the highway with her foot pressed to the gas.

  With the demons still on her tail, Serena gripped the wheel and waited for the flash of white heat, the sweep of death to overtake her. Fear, visceral and real, ripped through her.

  It was not her entire life that flashed before her eyes, but a few moments of a single evening from less than a year ago. The image of the
accident flashed into her mind. The mangled metal, the sparks falling from drooping telephone wires. The roads slick with rain. No one else had stopped, so it was Serena who had pulled over at the side of the road and dashed out into the pelting rain. She’d pulled a woman and her young daughters out of their wrecked car without difficulty. The girls had been scratched and badly scared, shivering as Serena had hurried them to the safety of her backseat. Then she’d gone back to get the woman in the other car.

  She should have known as she worked at the door handle, her fingers scrambling against the cold wet metal. When she finally pried it open, the other woman looked at her with an expression that conveyed both gratitude and apology in the same instant. The car exploded, killing them both.

  Serena knew that dying was nothing to fear. But God, she didn’t want to go through it all over again. Death was a pain in the ass.

  She braced herself, gripping the wheel and waiting for the demons to run her off the road. For the explosion she knew was coming. But it never came. Not this time. She barreled down the road, checking the rearview and hoping the police didn’t flag her down.

  And as suddenly as the demons came, they were gone.

  Serena exited the highway and drove until she found a residential side street. Pulled off the road and parked. The houses were quiet, most of the windows dark. Inside them, people slept, dreaming soundly in a world they thought was safe. In a world whose true nature they would probably never suspect. It was better that way, because if humans knew the extent of the invisible battle between angels and demons, most of them would probably go stark raving mad.