Deception

by A. S. Fenichel

  “You are putting me in a difficult position between what I know I should do and what I want to do.”

  “What do you want to do?” His voice hummed with intensity and shot directly to her heart.

  A lie would save them both the embarrassment and heartbreak marriage brings to couples who eschew the demands of society. A lie might save her, but break her heart. “I want you.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his head into her belly.

  He was everything good, and she’d never be worthy of him. She embraced him, cupping his head in her hand. Trembling, she combed her fingers through his shock of dark hair. “If we survive, I will marry you. Our lives are not our own in any other way. This at least shall belong to us.”

  The sun streamed in through the windows as morning took over for night.

  Dorian lifted his head, took her hands in his, and kissed them. Pure joy radiated from his face. “Thank you, Lilly. I’m going to make you very happy. I promise you that.”

  Chapter 11

  They continued to read the book. He adored sitting side-by-side and working together. Lillian was intent on finding the passage about prayer, but his heart pounded and his stomach leaped with butterflies from the moment she had agreed to be his wife.

  She had doubts. He’d assuage them. She feared society would reject her, him, or both. He’d sooth her fears, and over time, she would know destiny had brought them together.

  “Here it is, written in the margin. This is not Shafton’s writing.” She read from the book. “Prayer, especially from the mouths of those with a beating heart and souls belonging to another, strengthens the underworld and thus the master.”

  “How does this help us?”

  “If there is something humans can do to strengthen their world, then perhaps there are things that will weaken it as well.”

  “It is an interesting notion. Where do we begin?”

  She rubbed her eyes. “With a few hours of sleep. Then we should make an appointment to see Mrs. Higginbotham. She may have some ideas.”

  “I would like to go and see my mother and give her our happy news in person, if you do not mind.”

  She grinned. “We can stop on the way back from visiting the witch, if you like. I do not think there will be any raids on demons tonight. There is too much data to analyze.”

  “You really have no idea how happy you have made me.” Jumping with joy was not out of the question. If he hadn’t been so tired, he might have done so.

  “I am quite happy too, and it is not a state I have found myself in very often.” She took his hand and led the way out of the study and up the stairs to his bedchamber.

  The bath left for them had cooled while they continued to work, but they made good use of it to wash away the dust and grime of the night’s events.

  Naked, she climbed into his bed and snugged her backside tight against his groin.

  His cock jerked to attention and his heart thundered. “I want you.”

  She pushed her bottom toward him and wiggled.

  Pleasure spread from the contact of flesh on flesh. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

  “I thought you were tired.” She giggled.

  He slipped his arm around her and pinched her hard nipple until he elicited a whimper. “Are you going to marry me?”

  “I am.”

  “I may never sleep again.”

  She laughed and rolled onto her back. “You will sleep when you are sated.”

  He slid his hand along her flat stomach to the swell of her hips and down her creamy thighs. Lifting one of her legs, he maneuvered her so his shaft rested at her sweet spot.

  Her moan heightened his pleasure.

  Pressing forward only enough to feel her moisture on his swollen head was the sweetest torture. He slid his fingers between her folds and spread her wide.

  Ecstasy trembled so close, but he longed to hear her scream his name. He used two fingers to circle the sensitive bud at her core.

  Her hips pumped up and down, and her breath came in short gasps that fueled his excitement.

  He ached to be inside her and pressed his hips forward while continuing his attention.

  She gripped his upper arm until her short nails dug in.

  The exquisite pain fueled him beyond energy reserves. He slid back and pressed forward again.

  Lillian’s hips moved up and down in time with him.

  Adding pressure with the movement of his fingers sent her over the edge, and her slit clutched at him.

  It was heaven.

  She screamed his name and her body milked him. He closed his eyes, pushed down the madness, and held off his own release.

  Dorian wrapped his arms around her until the last wave of her pleasure passed. He rolled them so she lay atop him with his hard shaft still secure inside her.

  Her hips rolled forward and she gripped his chest. Red curls shrouded her face and tickled his stomach, chest, and face with every sway of her body.

  Torture combined with pleasure every time she engulfed his cock in warm wetness. He grabbed her breast and pinched the nipple.

  Her pace quickened.

  He slid his hand down until his thumb rubbed the distended bud between her legs. He could not hold on through another orgasm, and when she erupted, he exploded. Quaking with pleasure and joy, he clutched her thighs to keep her still. If she moved, it would be too much and he didn’t think he could take more. He gasped for breath and purchase on reality. She swept him away from everything outside what they did together. Magical.

  Her sheath pulled at him and cries filled the room. She collapsed on his chest, burying him in soft tresses and warm flesh.

  “You are magnificent, my Lilly.”

  “Mmm. I feel magnificent when I am in your arms.”

  He tightened his hold and gentled her to the mattress.

  Her head remained on his chest and her legs entwined with his. He wanted to talk about her feelings and all they had done and seen, but sleep claimed him too soon.

  * * * *

  When Abigail Higginbotham opened her door to her small cottage outside of town, Dorian hid his surprise. She smiled and welcomed them into a small parlor. Frills and lace covered every surface. Paintings of every kind hung on every spare inch of the white walls. Porcelain trinkets adorned every table.

  “I have just fixed a pot of tea. Will you join me?”

  “That is very kind,” Lillian said.

  He sat on a chair more suited to a child and covered in white lace. Certainly, at any moment he would find himself on the floor, in a tumble of broken wood and torn fabric.

  Abigail poured the tea. “How may I help you?”

  He was relieved to get right to the point and not have to bother with small talk. “There are a few things we hoped you might shed some light on. The demons seem to know our movements before we make them. Even last night, though we surprised the guards in the cave, the master was quick to respond and nearly pulled Lillian into his realm. Can we be further shielded from their view?”

  Her eyes widened. “If what you say is true, there is little I can do. Someone within The Company is giving the master information.”

  Lillian put her cup and saucer down. A runner of white fabric with pink stitching covered the small coffee table. “We have suspected as much. It means someone last night went and warned the master, but they did not have much time due to our quick response.”

  “We will have to think about who might have had the opportunity. Since the hunters were all with us, it has to be someone else.”

  “Was there something else?” the witch asked.

  Lillian told the witch about the humans praying to the master or at least to the gateway to his realm. She also told her about the information they found in the book. “Do you know what any of this means?”

  Abigail sighed, finished her last sip of tea, and put her cup down. “I am discouraged to hear that the master has human worshippers. I’m not sure why he might n
eed them, but as we know, he uses human strength to infuse his own power. He did so with the countess when he ascended. He had hoped to use her death to save himself the pain of recovering from entering an unnatural state.”

  “Unnatural state?” Dorian’s heart raced.

  “The master has no place in our world. He plans to change it to suit himself. When he’s strong enough, he will block out the sun. Humanity will die without the sun, but until that time, he will use them. If those people worshiped of their own volition, the promise of some reward must have been very great. Perhaps he promises everlasting life or a place at his side when he rules. I cannot say.”

  “How do we reverse what they are doing?”

  “I do not know, but I will give the problem some thought. You are right. If we have the power to strengthen him, we also have the power to weaken him. There is balance in all things.”

  Lillian stood. “Forgive us for rushing out, Miss Higginbotham. We have much to do today.”

  Dorian followed her to her feet. “One last question if you do not mind, Mrs. Higginbotham?”

  Abigail walked with them toward the front door. “Anything.”

  “How do we close the gates? Now that we have found one, how do we render it useless?”

  “If you can find me the exact wording used to open the gate, I may be able to attempt a spell to close it.”

  “We shall try to get you the information.” Lillian shook her hand and turned toward the door.

  “Thank you for your time.” He offered his hand and she took it.

  Pain spiked up his arm to his head as if a nail had skewered him through the temple. His mother’s face burned in his eyes.

  He pulled his hand away.

  Abigail’s eyes were wide. Her cheeks went pale, and her forehead creased with pain. “I’m sorry. You must go to your mother’s home. Something terrible has happened.”

  Dorian practically tore the door off the hinges. “Lilly.”

  “I am with you.”

  He pulled the carriage door open, and Lillian jumped inside. “The marchioness’s townhome.”

  The driver whipped the horses into motion while Dorian still hung half outside the carriage.

  Lillian gripped his arm. “What on earth happened?”

  “I cannot say. I saw my mother’s face and felt excruciating pain. Besides that, I only know what Mrs. Higginbotham told me.”

  The carriage hit a dip in the road, and they both had to grab hold of the seat to keep from flying into the ceiling.

  Once in town, the driver took the turns at dangerous speed. Dorian’s body slammed against the side of the carriage, and Lillian toppled on top of him. He righted them both. The carriage turned the other way, and he held the window frame to keep from crushing her. They arrived at the Montalembert townhouse and stopped short.

  Dorian’s entire body tightened with dread. He took the steps two at a time and rushed through the open front door.

  Several maids were wailing.

  The butler sat on the steps with his head in his hand. He had a rag to stay the flow of blood from a wound on his forehead. His skin was deathly white and sweat dripped from his chin. Two footmen lay unmoving in the doorway leading into the front parlor.

  “What in the name of God happened?”

  The housekeeper, Mrs. Milne, stepped from the parlor. Her face was pale and tears streaked her cheeks. “My lord, they took her. We tried to stop those monsters, but there were too many of them and we were unarmed. I would have died to stop them. I would have died….”

  He pulled Mrs. Milne into a hug and patted her back. He knew these servants for years. Many of them had been with the family since he was a boy. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t their fault. If anyone was to blame, it was he and Brice for getting involved with the demon hunters to begin with. “You are not to blame. Go and help Jenkins.”

  His mother often spent her mornings reading or writing letters in a private parlor at the back of the house. Books and papers littered the floor. The small writing desk lay shattered along with the rose damask chair where he’d seen his mother sit a thousand times.

  A note rested among the shards. It had been positioned face up in the center of the mess. Dorian picked up the message, and dread filled his bones.

  Your noble blood will make me whole again, as it rips you apart at the cross that is no longer holy.

  Lillian leaned over his shoulder. “My God, he’s going to use the marchioness’s blood to restore himself.”

  “The cross that is no longer holy?”

  Jenkins stumbled through the door. “Holyrood, my lord. It means holy cross.”

  Dorian rushed from the house. He called back, “See that a surgeon is called to care for that cut, Jenkins, and all the other injured.”

  The driver was about to change out the horse. Dorian grabbed the animal and swung up. He grabbed Lillian’s arm and pulled her up behind him. Ordering the driver to follow them to the shambled church, he kicked the beast into a gallop.

  He kept up the breakneck pace until they approached Holyrood’s ruins.

  Lillian slid to the ground and pulled her blades. “We cannot allow the master to become whole again.”

  “That is not a concern.”

  “I know this is your mother, Dorian. I do not want anything to happen to her either, but if the master regains his power, we are all doomed.”

  He swallowed down bile and pushed forward to the stairs leading down into the demon’s sanctuary. “My mother’s blood will do the master no good.”

  Fires burned in a dozen cauldrons around the room, setting the walls glowing. Two durgot priests canted until the noise vibrated from the ceiling.

  Halfway down the steps, which curved around the circular wall, Dorian jumped and rushed toward the center of the room where his mother was strapped to a stone altar.

  When her son came into view, the marchioness’s eyes were wide and she screamed. “Go back.”

  Dorian circled to the right and Lillian to the left.

  The second demon held up a broadsword. He circled the other and continued the chant. He countered Dorian’s stabbing blow.

  Steel on steel vibrated up his arm. He spun to come at the demon again from the other side.

  One of Lillian’s throwing knives lodged deep in the durgot’s eye. He gurgled and dropped to the ground.

  The chanting stopped.

  Between Dorian and his mother, a black vortex opened. A man emerged as if suspended in the center of the whirlwind. Black hair surrounded his pasty flesh, and his dark eyes were ringed purple.

  Lillian grabbed Dorian’s arm and yanked him back from the master.

  “It is good you are here, hunters. You should witness my greatness. All of your kind will soon know and fear the new master of your world.”

  Pulling away from Lillian, he ran around the gap and toward his mother.

  * * * *

  Lillian ran in the opposite direction, looking for an angle to throw another knife. The durgot kept the marchioness between them, and she could not risk it.

  Dorian was less than a foot away, and she was maybe ten feet from the altar.

  The demon’s blade sliced through his mother’s throat. Blood spilled from the wound and pooled on the floor.

  Dorian’s face twisted in a mask of pain. He swung his blade and sliced the durgot’s throat as it had his mother. Its body crumbled by the altar.

  Serenity settled over the marchioness’s expression, and her lifeless eyes stared at nothing. Her features softened, and she was gone.

  Dorian grabbed her. The bellow that echoed through the chamber was pure devastation.

  Lillian’s chest ached with his agony.

  The master laughed.

  She turned, putting herself between the creature and the altar.

  “You can do nothing. Her blood flows and soon it will strengthen me. His blood too will add to my healing. You are not even worthy of killing.”

  The blood ran down from the alta
r through a series of crevasses cut in the floor in the shape of the sign of the master. Ruby red, Dorian’s mother’s blood made its way toward the vortex.

  The master opened his mouth as if to welcome the taste, spreading his arms in an embrace.

  What could she do? Her heart raced. Swiftly, she took the sai from her right boot and hurled it toward the demon’s heart.

  It lodged there, but no blood flowed around the blade.

  The blood on the floor reached him. His eyes widened.

  Lillian looked for signs of the master’s recovery. She expected him to grow larger and more formidable, but he only stared.

  Black oozed around Lillian’s sword. He pulled it free, looking at the wound. His eyes widened, his face paled and the rings under his eyes darkened. He looked at the altar.

  Dorian cradled his mother’s body and wept. Her blood filled the crevices in the floor.

  The master’s roar filled the space, barraging the walls and knocking her off her feet.

  His image faded until it was transparent.

  His screamed cracked the dome ceiling. The large lantern crashed to the floor next to where Dorian held his mother’s body.

  Lillian held her ears against the torrent.

  The twisting of the void sped up, grew smaller, and disappeared with the master.

  Lillian removed the long coat she wore into battle, walked to the altar, and covered the marchioness. She had no idea how to help Dorian. There was no help for it. They had done their job, and his mother had paid the price.

  The master’s message was clear. Even in his weak state, he had the power to get to the people they loved. Still, something had gone wrong. The blood of the marchioness had not strengthened the master, and Lillian’s sword had wounded him.

  All the people Lillian truly cared for were hunters. They could take care of themselves, and in war, there is always death. She knew some of her friends might die. She hoped they would have glorious deaths in battle and not end up like the woman before them.

  “Dorian, we must get out of here.”

  His face streaked with tears and twisted with rage and pain.

  Her heart ached for him.

  He stood. “I will not leave her here.”