Where Demons Fear to Tread

by Stephanie Chong

  They stopped at another hotel to see a garden habitat with baby dolphins. As they stood watching the young animals frolic in their watery enclosure, something maternal triggered in her. “How sweet,” she said.

  “Food for the Nakara.” His tone was joking, but she wondered what he was capable of doing. When she turned to look at him, he hovered near, his gaze trained on her face, close enough that it seemed for an instant that he was going to kiss her. She froze, waiting for the descent of his lips to hers, the heady rush that would accompany the sweep of his tongue into her mouth. But he simply turned away with a wry smile. She followed, cursing her own disappointment.

  They wandered onward, in and out of the casinos, through the infinite electronic arpeggios of beeping slot machines and the crowds of tourists. Senior citizens sat glued to stools, mindlessly plugging coins into games that seemed to absorb endless amounts of money. Groups clustered around roulette and blackjack tables, watching the ebb and flow of wins and losses.

  He gestured toward the gaming tables. “Don’t you want to gamble? We’re in Las Vegas, after all.”

  “I don’t bet,” she said.

  “I understand. You don’t want to risk your own money. Take some of mine,” he said. He pulled out his wallet, counted out several one hundred dollar bills, held them toward her.

  She blinked, wondering if he really meant for her to take the money. Around them, the glittering lights, the mirrored walls, the garish pattern of the carpet and the noise were beginning to make her head throb. Outside lay a beautiful, sunny afternoon, but here in the casino, it might as well have been midnight. The artificial environment made her itch for natural sunlight. All she wanted to do was get out of this place. “No, really,” she insisted, hoping he would relent so they could leave. “I don’t believe in gambling.”

  His hand dropped slightly, and he frowned. “Not even a quarter?”

  She shook her head.

  “Come on. Where’s your sense of fun?” he asked. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. He was mocking her again.

  Sighing, she took a quarter out of her purse, then plugged it in the nearest slot machine. After five seconds of electronic beeping and the digital spin of icons on the machine’s screen, the quarter had disappeared forever.

  “There. I lost. Is that supposed to be fun?” she said.

  He covered his smile with his hand, trying not to laugh at her. “Perhaps you don’t understand the element of chance if you’ve never won before. It’s addicting, the thrill of not knowing where life is going to take you.” He held up the cash he’d offered her. “Come, I’ll show you.”

  With the money, he purchased four one-hundred-dollar chips. At a nearby roulette table, a croupier shouted out, “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets!”

  Julian placed all four chips on the black square with the number twenty-two.

  “No more bets,” the croupier shouted. Then he spun the wheel.

  Serena watched the small white ball spin around the lacquered wooden wheel, the black and red numbers blurring as it spun. The wheel slowed, the ball teetering for a moment on the red number nine before settling into the pocket of the number twenty-two.

  “Twenty-two wins!” called the croupier. He counted out fourteen thousand dollars’ worth of chips and slid them to Julian. Around them, a small crowd gathered, attracted by the chips massing on the table. Julian bet the whole lot on black, grinning as the crowd clapped and cheered. Serena watched, wondering what would happen if he lost. Would he walk away disappointed, or stay and try to win again?

  Of course, he won. He collected twenty-eight thousand dollars, cashing out the chips for stacks of hundreds. Pocketing a thick wad of bills, he instructed the cashier to deposit the rest in the hotel’s security vault.

  He grinned. “First rule of the game. Know when to walk away. Just like the song. Anything more would have been conspicuous.”

  “You cheated,” she accused.

  His grin flipped to a pretense of hurt, but his eyes still glimmered with amusement. “Of course not. You and I both have a certain amount of influence on the external world, and we’re not afraid to use it.”

  “I don’t use it for my own personal gain.”

  “Don’t you? For every soul you save, you earn a certain number of brownie points. Surely, you’re expecting to rise higher in the ranking of angels. Don’t tell me there’s no personal gain involved there.”

  “It’s a very loose definition. I don’t do what I do for money,” she clarified.

  “Maybe you should. Let’s go spend it. I have a feeling that might appeal to you more,” he said wryly.

  He took her toward the shops. Serena tried not to notice the beautiful gowns that graced the windows of the upscale boutiques. Tried to remain neutral to the jewelry that glittered in the glass display cases, and the endless parade of gorgeous shoes and handbags for sale. She told herself that she needed to practice detachment. Material objects only led to the terrible kind of yearning she felt right now.

  They passed a particularly stunning gown in a boutique window, a wispy dress in muted steel blue. He stopped, considering the delicate beading on the bodice suspended by thin ribbon straps. “That would look lovely on you.”

  She looked up at the dress and almost felt herself salivating. Yes, it would’ve looked lovely on her, she thought wistfully. But she didn’t need it, and she didn’t want to become indebted to him because of a silly piece of clothing.

  “Let’s go try it on,” he coaxed. “You need something to wear to dinner tonight.”

  “I have the dress I wore last night. And there are other dresses in my closet,” she said stubbornly.

  “Not like that dress.”

  She knew he was right, but she remained firmly on the sidewalk as he walked toward the entrance of the boutique.

  “If you won’t try anything on, I’ll simply have to send the personal shopper out again,” he said. “You’ll be deprived of the pleasure of choosing your own clothes, and you’ll end up with things that make you uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not keeping the clothes you buy me.”

  “Suit yourself. Give them away to charity when you leave. But while you’re with me, you’ll do as I say,” he said, taking her hand and finally pulling her into the shop.

  The dress fit like it had been made for her. In the change room, she lowered the delicate layers of chiffon over her head, letting the airy fabric settle around her. It flowed around her as she walked out shyly to show Julian. He nodded appreciatively, coming to stand behind her in the three-way mirror. His hand settled on her hip in a gesture of possession; she made no attempt to move it. If he’d thought they were a striking couple before, there was no doubting it now.

  “Wear this to dinner tonight,” he said. “I want to show you off.”

  In the end, he bought her the dress and a dozen other outfits. He left directions for the clothes to be delivered to the hotel, and they left the shop.

  “I plan to spoil you rotten, so you might as well enjoy it,” he said as they walked back to their hotel.

  “Thank you, but I don’t need or want anything else,” she protested. “Honestly, I’m happy leading a simple life.”

  “In relative poverty? There’s nothing wrong with being wealthy. A person with more resources can do greater good in the world than someone without resources.”

  “Maybe,” she said, “but not necessarily.”

  “Why would there be all this wealth on earth if humans weren’t supposed to enjoy it? Those who are good are rewarded, sometimes with material prosperity. That’s what you believe, isn’t it? Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  “Don’t tease me,” she said. But it was hard to pretend she was angry.

  “If I’m good, will you reward me?” he said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to pull her against him.

  A shiver ran through her. He was about to kiss her right there, in front of all those tourists.

  For a moment, she wishe
d he wasn’t a demon and that she wasn’t an angel. She wished they were just like the rest of the crowd, normal people who came to Vegas for a bit of fun. People who could meet each other as human beings and not worry about the responsibility of lost souls or the consequences of falling from divine grace.

  “But you’re not,” she said, more to herself than to him. She pulled away and continued to walk.

  He strode beside her, the same little half smile tilting up one corner of his mouth. What he didn’t seem to realize was that nothing could ever happen between them. She would never allow it.

  Julian felt giddy, like a youth in the first blushes of love. As he readied himself for dinner, he stood before the gilt-edged mirror in his dressing room.

  What a surprise today had been. In the shop, he’d felt genuine pleasure in choosing clothes to offset Serena’s exquisite beauty. He also took pleasure in dressing well himself. He whistled a little as he admired the fine cut of the black, French-cuffed dress shirt he buttoned now. Appreciated the exceptional tailoring of his bespoke suit as he slipped on the jacket, made to measure on London’s Savile Row.

  He considered his reflection in the mirror, wondered what he looked like through her eyes. If they’d still been human, would she have found him attractive? Either way, human or not, he would never have had the chance to find out if he hadn’t coerced her, threatened her brother’s life. The thought of it depressed him somewhat. But no matter. She was here now, and for the next six days, she was his.

  He wandered out into the living room to wait for her. Harry was there, arranging Julian’s business correspondence neatly on a side table.

  “How was your flight from L.A.?” Julian said jovially, sauntering over to the wet bar to peruse the selection. He poured himself a finger of single-malt Scotch, tossed in a few cubes of ice.

  Harry frowned at him, blinking a little before he returned to the mail. “Uneventful, sir. I brought Nick Ramirez as you asked and checked him into a suite two floors down.”

  “Very good, Harry. Care for a drink?”

  “No, thank you, sir.” The assistant paused, obviously distressed by something as he looked more carefully at Julian. Then he said, “There’s something different about you today, sir. You seem almost…”

  “What is it, man? Spit it out.”

  Harry swallowed, paused, before he finally said, “Happy.”

  Julian could not remember the last time someone had said such a thing to him. Over the past two centuries, he had felt things in the vicinity of happiness. Pleasure, certainly. Gloating, yes. Superiority, of course. However, he had kept even those feelings under tight rein, within rigorously controlled limits. True happiness, no. Never. The suggestion came almost as an insult to him, and brought a frown to his own face.

  “Never mind, sir,” Harry said, clearly relieved to see his boss frown. “For a moment there, it did seem like there was something different about you. Like you were becoming less demonic.”

  Both men laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Julian took a swallow of whisky to cover his shock. With a wry smile, he told Harry, “When pigs fly.”

  The damage was done, though. Silence fell between them, and then Harry left quickly, as though he didn’t want to risk seeing any more happiness. As he shut the door, Julian knew that what his assistant had sensed was correct.

  Serena was changing him.

  “Play fair,” she’d said last night. “Don’t lie, don’t cheat.” He’d thought it impossible when she’d spoken those words last night. Strangely, this afternoon, he’d felt no desire to use his usual manipulative tactics. What a delight it had been watching her wide-eyed response to the delights of Las Vegas. Although she had tried to pretend they didn’t, the gimcrack facades and the glittering lights had impressed her. Watching her experience the Strip was like seeing it himself for the first time.

  Every moment he spent with her, he was a little more honest, a little less demonic. Even though she’d denied it, she was making him good, without even trying.

  Since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, everything had changed.

  She had triggered something in him. Had reached the slivers of memory that had lain dormant in the deepest recesses of his mind. Had sent his thoughts reeling back to his human life, to a far-distant past that was at once satisfying and disturbing to remember.

  It was terrifying. It was wholly unacceptable. It had to stop.

  He must destroy her immediately. By doing so, he would destroy the last vestiges of his own humanity, would lay to rest the part of him that still yearned for the goodness of his human life. The part that still hoped. Still dreamed.

  That was still vulnerable.

  He would seduce her at last. He would do it slowly, taking care over the next few days to melt her reserve, to weaken her defenses. He would enjoy watching her struggle to maintain her cherished self-control. Then he would pounce, finishing the task with all the skill he’d honed in these two centuries of devilry and debauchery.

  Serena entered the room, jarring him out of his thoughts.

  Time seemed to stall, as it had the first moment he’d touched her a week ago in his club. Instantaneously, he forgot the worries that had surfaced during his brief discussion with Harry.

  All he could see was her.

  What surprised him was how casually she wore her beauty. He’d known so many beautiful women, but many of them had been vain and affected. They’d been worse by the time he was done with them, grasping and desperate after they’d ruined themselves through gluttony and greed.

  But not Serena. He was struck by the realization that she wouldn’t change, not even if he plied her with a king’s ransom in gold and jewels. Now, as she stood before him in that beautiful dress, it was not the gown he noticed so much as the woman in it. She was ethereal, angelic. Magnificent. And yet, she held her graceful body with a sense of humility he had never witnessed in another being still incarnated in flesh and blood.

  It humbled him. For an instant, he actually considered letting her go, sending her back to Los Angeles to tend to her lost souls and her task of spreading divine love.

  But now, especially after what Harry had said, he knew he could not.

  There was no way he would ever let her go. Not in a week.

  Not ever.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, the gruffness of his own voice surprising him. He struggled to find words to express the pride he felt at having her by his side. Even if he had to trap her into staying there. He gave up attempting to search for a compliment that would not sound patronizing or irreverent. Knew that any further appreciation would just send her defenses up and make things even more awkward.

  He took her hand, tucked it into the crook of his arm. As they walked to the door and mounted the elevator, he began to ramble. It was odd for him, as he was usually so firmly in command of language. But he found himself unable to stop. He talked the whole way down, describing the construction of his new nightclub in an overabundance of detail that made her gorgeous periwinkle eyes start to glaze over. He talked as they crossed the lobby of the hotel, through the casino, past the shouts of the winners and the cries of the losers, the calls of the blackjack dealers. He talked as they approached the hotel’s premier restaurant, pausing only to speak to the maître d’ so that the waitstaff could locate their host.

  “Corbin Ranulfson’s table, please,” he said.

  Serena looked up, her blue eyes enormous with shock. She recognized the name. Of course.

  “Didn’t I mention we would be dining with Corbin? He’s my business partner,” Julian said, frowning down at her. On his arm, he felt her fingers tremble.

  Corbin had a reputation for a brutality that had only been sharpened in the several centuries since his human life had ended. A descendant of Norman warriors, Corbin had a streak of pure cruelty that other demons feared and envied. He had no regard for mortal authority and answered to only one creature in all of existence: the devil himself. Julian had thought it wi
ser to cultivate him as an ally, rather than an enemy. So far, their business partnership had been problem-free, but Julian sometimes felt that dealing with the older Archdemon was like walking on a field of land mines waiting to explode.

  Serena bit her lower lip as the waiter guided them through the sumptuous open space of the restaurant. They walked in silence through the dramatic room, past velvet draperies in deep blood-red and gold that hung from the ceiling. Past tables full of other diners, who turned to stare with envy and undisguised lust. Finally, they stopped at a large booth that overlooked the rest of the room.

  In the booth sat the hotel owner, chatting with a dark-haired woman who had her back turned to them. As they approached, Julian wondered who Corbin’s latest companion was, glancing at the glossy black curls cascading over the slender curve of the woman’s exposed back. He thought idly that there was no way her beauty could match Serena’s.

  “Julian, m’boy,” Corbin called, raising a hand in greeting. His companion turned.

  She was every bit as gorgeous as she had been the first day Julian had seen her, sauntering beside a canal in Venice, over two hundred years ago. And he was willing to bet she was every bit as evil.

  “Chila,” he said, blurting out the nickname he’d used when they’d been lovers.

  “I don’t answer to that anymore,” she said, pursing her mouth just like she’d always done when she was displeased.

  She’d lost almost all trace of her Italian accent, just as he’d lost his English one, many years ago. Like him, she’d become an American at heart. But her homeland was still there in her voice, if only in the slight musical inflection that was not quite native to these parts.

  “Call me Lucy, if you must, but you know I prefer Luciana,” she said, fluttering inky lashes over pale green eyes. “How long has it been, amore mio? Ten years? A dozen?”

  He’d spent so long trying to forget the last time he’d seen her. But it was still branded into his memory, there along with all the other times she’d betrayed him over the centuries. His stomach jolted, threatening to toss its contents. He held it down and smiled urbanely, forced himself to bend and kiss her hand.