Devil May Care: A Muse Urban Fantasy (The Veil Series Book 2)

by DaCosta, Pippa

  I looked down and stepped gingerly around the shriveled pieces of flesh. “Jesus...” My vision wobbled. Tears blurred the vivid shades of claret and burgundy into a crimson river. The woman in the file, the bright young woman, didn’t resemble the slumped body. My brain struggled to put the two of them together and in doing so, reminded me I could have prevented this.

  My throat clogged. I staggered and reached for the wall. I tried to breathe, but an intangible weight crushed my chest. I turned and shoved past Coleman. Only outside the room could I breathe again. I didn’t need to read the chain to know what she’d been through. He’d cut into her, probably with his claws. I remembered how sharp they were. He’d meticulously removed her skin, piece by piece. I could only pray she’d died quickly.

  Coleman and Ryder followed a few minutes later. Ryder wiped beads of perspiration from his face. He sucked in a few fresh breaths through gritted teeth and then looked me over.

  Coleman held out a plastic bag, the sides stretched by the weight of the chain inside. I snatched it from him and dumped it on the floor at my feet. Perspiration tickled down the back of my neck. I dabbed at my forehead with a cool hand, not bothering to hide my tremors.

  “It’ll be a marine chain,” Coleman said. “Likely from the nearby docks. We found traces of salt on the previous one, along with demon DNA. This looks identical. Might even be cut from the same length. We’ll know more once forensics is finished with it.”

  I made the usual cut and covered my fingers in blood before wrapping them around the chain. No amount of mental preparation could have shielded me from the horror I witnessed when the metal memories flooded my thoughts. She’d died quickly, but not nearly quick enough. He’d made sure of that. He had a knack for keeping human bodies alive against the odds. Over and over, he’d brought me back from the precipice of death.

  I released the chain and stumbled back against the wall. “I know who’s doing this.” I mentally shoved back a threatening torrent of fear. The unwanted images swirled in my head, but I refused to focus on them long enough to give them purchase. I should have told Ryder everything. It probably wouldn’t have saved her...but it might have. She’d suffered because of me.

  Ryder and Coleman crowded closer. The two of them blocked out prying eyes, but I found their presence suffocating. I doubled over and placed my hands on my thighs.

  “I knew him as Damien.” The words fell from my lips, the truth tumbling forth. “He’s a higher elemental demon, and I’m terrified of him.”

  I was bundled into a car and driven downtown. Within twenty minutes. I sat in an interview at the local precinct with Adam Harper, Detective Coleman, and Detective Hill grilling me every which way about Damien. I’d dropped a veil of indifference over me, retreating behind cold, hard facts.

  Yes, Damien had been my owner. One of several, but he’d been the last. I’d killed him—or so I’d thought. An air elemental, he could use his element to suffocate, summon storms, and generally wreak havoc. But as demons go, he wasn’t anything special, not even immortal. It wasn’t his element that made him dangerous; it was his lust for pain. Coleman had tried to get me to open up about how exactly Damien operated, but even Adam stopped him there. I couldn’t tell them what Damien had done to me. Much of it, I deliberately didn’t remember. My human mind had trampled on those memories long ago for the sake of my sanity. To bring it all back to the surface now was more than I could face.

  I told them what I’d heard reading the first chain. You are mine, Muse. He was killing newly qualified Enforcers to get to me. Somehow, he knew the Institute employed me. All he had to do was kill each new recruit until he either found me or his actions brought me out of hiding.

  “Why now?” Adam leaned on the table while Hill and Coleman stood behind him.

  Hill stood mannequin still, her arms clasped across her chest. She nodded in all the right places, but her eyes were cold. She looked at me as though she thought my being half-demon meant I’d brought this on myself. As if I somehow had a choice.

  I sunk in my chair, shoulders hunched, and teetered on the edge of tears. There’s only so many scars you can open before the wound starts to bleed again. “Because I’m alone. Akil’s gone. I don’t have an owner. As far as Damien’s concerned, I’m fair game.”

  “Do you think this has anything to do with Stefan?” Adam asked.

  “What?” I frowned. “No. Why?”

  Adam’s lips turned down. He held my gaze as though waiting for me to reveal something and then leaned back in the chair. The cheap plastic creaked. “Damien’s getting his information from somewhere. Stefan seems the most likely source. How else would this demon know you’re an Enforcer?”

  I blinked rapidly. “Stefan didn’t know that. He went through the veil before you got your hooks into me.”

  Adam waited a beat. “Your employment was inevitable.”

  I glared at him. My hands clenched into fists so tight that my knuckles paled. Heat flushed across my skin. I slowly adjusted my position in the plastic chair and straightened my back before leaning both arms on the table. “Stefan wouldn’t tell Damien a damn thing.”

  “You knew Stefan for a week. He’s in hostile territory, searching for a way out. You didn’t part on the best of terms. Perhaps he feels he has no other choice. In his position, I’d use all available means of escape.”

  “You’d sell me out for a subscription to selfish-bastards monthly.” I stood so suddenly my chair bounced back and clattered to the floor. “Yeah, I only spent a week with him, but I can guarantee I know him better than you ever will. Your own son wished you were dead, and I gotta agree with him.”

  Coleman must have sensed the interview spiraling toward physical harm. He stepped forward with a hand out, attempting to placate us. “Stefan has motive and means—”

  “Motive? What? You think Stefan deliberately sent Damien after me?” A snarl rippled across my lips. The room contracted in on me.

  “That’s not what I meant, Charlie, and you know it.” Coleman rubbed his forehead and puffed out a sigh. “We all need to calm down. Given that Stefan’s trapped outside our jurisdiction, he’s not my concern right now. Stopping Damien is. Charlie...” He paused, my narrowed glare giving him reason to hesitate. “We’ve got enough info for now. Go home. Get some rest. I’ll call you if we need anything else.”

  A quick nod was all I could offer in return. Shivers rippled through me so damn hard I was afraid my voice would fail me.

  Adam thanked Coleman and Hill for their time while I seethed by the door with rage simmering beneath my skin. I wished looks could kill. Adam was right about one thing. When I got my demon back, he was toast.

  Chapter 7

  Tree branches tear at my bare arms. My sore feet pummel against the loose earth. I stumble and fall hard against a bank of gnarled tree roots. Pain arcs up my side, but it soon becomes lost in the agony radiating through me. Teeth gritted, I will myself back to my feet, and even though my lungs burn, and the air drags through my teeth, I somehow find the energy to keep running. This time, maybe this time, he won’t find me.

  A swollen moon, bruised purple by the wash of clouds in the night sky, watches over my escape. I’ve waited weeks for the full moon to rise. I need its light. Sometimes, the night is so thick it clogs my throat. Tonight though, the air is clean. It tastes like freedom.

  Eyes watch from the shadows as I burst through the undergrowth. I jump fallen branches and weave around trunks of the ancient trees. The things that wait in the dark won’t risk attacking. Not yet. But if I fall too many times… if I stop to catch my breath...

  I’d rather be torn apart by lesser demons than return to him.

  He must know by now that I’ve escaped. He’ll be looking.

  I look up through the skeletal branches. Aside from the moon, the sky is an endless black. Dipping my chin, I summon all my reserves and run faster. My leg muscles burn, and my chest tightens. I duck and dart, hissing as claw-like twigs snatch at my flesh. My
wings snag behind me. I’m yanked back, pulled at an angle. Unbalanced, I stagger and fall into the branches’ brittle embrace. Barbed creepers coil around my ankles. I kick out, but the vines twist higher and hook into my legs. A rumbling growl bubbles up from inside. Liquid fire flares across my skin. It washes over me. The creepers burn to dust in a blink.

  A grumbling snarl ripples somewhere behind me. My heart leaps into my throat. I claw apart the smothering bushes and scramble free. Fire drips from my flesh and sizzles on the damp leaves. I’m on my feet. My leg muscles bunch, ready to spring forward. Something heavy and cold hooks around my wrist and yanks my arm back so violently I’m spun around and dragged off my feet. Face down in the mulch, the chain around my wrist tightens, almost wrenching my arm from the socket. I cry out and then try to gulp back a scream.

  I’m trembling so hard I bite my tongue and taste blood. Tears sizzle on my cheeks. I barely made it to the shoreline. I ran so hard. I thought I had a chance this time. I thought I was free.

  He’s behind me. I can sense the whispering touch of his element crawling over my flesh. I don’t want to see. My claws sink into the earth. I close my left fist around a handful of dirt. If I can blind him, maybe I can unwrap the chain... Because if I don’t... If I can’t get free. The things he’ll do...

  I tense, but his foot comes down on my lower back. He leans his weight into me, grinding my pelvis into the ground. Stones and roots dig into my ribs. His cool hand grips the rise of my left wing, and he laughs. The sound of that laughter clamps hold of my heart and freezes my thoughts. I try to turn my head to see him, but I only see his silhouette. The moon casts him in shadow. A shaft of light dances off a blade. He drops the chain and holds the scimitar high over his shoulder.

  My thoughts scatter.

  “I... warned... you.” He spits the words down at me. His spittle vaporizes as it drips onto my back.

  Begging won’t stop him; my mewing only excites him. My best chance is to remain quiet and still. I pant. My lungs burn, but I try to keep the fear locked away, to hide it from him. He knows. Fire pools outward around me. Tiny flames dance as they consume the fallen leaves. If I call the fire, his punishment will be worse. His grip tightens on my left wing. His claws press against the membrane. One by one, they puncture my skin. I flinch and swallow back my cries. He closes his fingers around a bone.

  “No, please...”

  When the blow comes, a shock of agony jolts through every muscle in my body. My jaw locks, until the scream escapes, echoes in my ears, slices through my skull, and pierces the night. I buck beneath him. My body blazes, but it’s no use. Hot blood spills over my back and sprays across my face, into my eyes, my mouth. Damien tosses something misshapen into the undergrowth. I can see parts of the thing protruding through the leaves. It doesn’t make sense. What has he done?

  He walks slowly around me and stops so close all I can see are his legs and the tip of the sword. Viscous black blood drips from its edge. My blood. He crouches down and coils the length of chain around his hand. “You. Are. Mine. Muse.”

  I can’t see him clearly. Something is wrong. I can’t feel the pain anymore. My entire left side throbs, but it doesn’t hurt. Blood dribbles over my shoulder. I turn my head and try to focus, but my vision blurs. A filter of acceptance falls in front of my eyes. I struggle to focus, but I can see that my left wing is gone. Just a stump remains. Blood bubbles up and dribbles across my back.

  I know what it is he threw away.

  He laughs again. I close my eyes.

  * * *

  Tears are useless things; tiny droplets of salt infused water, insignificant and pitiful. I hadn’t cried for Stefan, even when they’d told me he couldn’t return. I hadn’t cried when they’d stolen my demon from me a second time, when I woke with a yawning chasm of emptiness where she should have been. But I cried that night when the memories returned. I staggered retching into the shower.

  Scalding hot water pummeled my pink and vulnerable flesh. Steam bellowed around me, and I cried so damn hard my body ached. I buried my head in my hands and fell back against the slick tiles. Sobs juddered through me. I slid to the floor, pulled my legs up against my chest, and squeezed myself into a tight self-embrace. I cried until my voice failed, and the water ran cold.

  Adam, Ryder, Coleman and Hill, they had no idea what I’d done to escape my owner the first time around or what had been done to me. I’d barely touched on the details in the interview room and had no intention of laying my scars bare for them to pick at. Adam didn’t need any more excuses to examine me under a microscope.

  Still, I preferred them to Damien. The thought of him sent me into a fit of dry heaving. Not only had I—a lowly half-blood as far as any demon was concerned—done the unthinkable and killed my owner, but I’d trapped a Prince of Hell on the other side of the veil. It just so happened that Prince had been keeping the other demons away. Now he had gone, it was open season on me, and Damien hadn’t hesitated. If he caught me, death would be preferable to his alternative.

  Chapter 8

  Awaiting Adam’s assessment of my situation, I wandered the Institute’s many levels. The complex was a rabbit warren of old buildings and warehouses, all consumed over time by the sprawling embrace of the Institute. I’d been living on site for months and hadn’t yet scratched the surface of its maze-like layout. On the inside, it bustled like a university campus with people coming and going from different departments and areas of expertise. Weapons, Science, Public Relations, Training. On the outside, it looked like an abandoned industrial park. Unusual graffiti riddled the outside walls, the perfect camouflage in a city environment. That graffiti looked right at home in the forgotten neighborhood of industrial units, but it also had intricate symbols etched into it which nullified elemental energy. No full-demon could pass through the exterior of the Institute. The magic didn’t completely subdue elemental magic—they need to be able to use the demons they capture—it worked as a perimeter fence. I could only get through the barrier because of my half human body. The Institute knew what they were doing when it came to demons. Nobody could argue that.

  My rambling brought me to the library. The room was called a library, but it was more like a store room. Rows of high shelving units housed countless books, mostly foreign and all antiques. Almost nobody used the library, not when all the information could be found on the Institute’s cloud network. It had been forgotten and discarded, a victim of progress. I often visited it when awaiting some assessment of my behavior.

  I poured myself some vending machine coffee. The machine hissed, gurgled, and spat. I noticed a handful of other people in the library. One young woman sat in one of the comfy chairs, legs curled under her, nose in a book. She flitted between a substantial hardback and a dog-eared paperback, and then scribbled some notes on a pad. Nica Harper was Adam’s daughter, Stefan’s younger half-sister. She and I had our differences, not least of which was the fact she blamed me for her brother’s untimely departure.

  She sensed me watching her and peeked over the book. I lifted my dishwater coffee. She made a face and shook her head, her blond ponytail swishing behind her, and then buried her nose back in the book. I settled into a chair next to hers and took a sip of my coffee. I grimaced. It needed more sugar. And real coffee.

  Nica smiled and finally tore her attention away from the books. “Tastes like something died in the machine.” It really did. “You’ve been doing well. Top of the class. You must be pleased.” As she spoke, her face came alive, blue eyes brightening. She was one of those people who couldn’t seem to sit still, as though she had surplus energy. If you spent enough time with Nica, her enthusiasm rubbed off on you. I missed that. I missed her. I didn’t really have friends. Akil didn’t count. Friends don’t threaten to kill you with the intention of carrying it out. There was Sam… Akil killed him.

  “The other Enforcers say I do so well because I’m half demon.” I shrugged.

  She nodded and closed the large hardback with th
e title The Art & Implications of Summoning Demons with a thwump that echoed around the library. “It’s difficult. Stefan he... he had to fight every step of the way to prove himself. After a while, he just stopped caring what they thought. He never had to prove anything to me.”

  I dropped my gaze, and my coffee suddenly seemed very interesting. I hadn’t expected to come into the subject of Stefan so quickly. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Her hand swept away the apology. “It was his choice. He did what he had to do.”

  “I know but, I...” I had told him to leave. Looking into Nica’s face, I couldn’t bring myself to admit it. “I was so angry. He should have told me everything.” Instead of piling lie upon lie, like bricks in a wall.

  Her eyes fluttered closed. She sucked in a breath and sighed. When she opened her eyes again, they sparkled with unshed tears. “He did what he could, and kept us both alive. Had Akil stayed, we’d be dead. And yeah, my brother lied to you, but sometimes you gotta do the wrong thing to do the right thing.”

  Ouch. I may even have flinched. She was right. I hadn’t understood at the time, but now, with a bit of perspective, I knew why he’d lied. He didn’t have a choice. But my realization had come too late. I’d told him I never wanted to see him again. Ever. I’d got my wish.

  “I just miss him, you know.” She picked a lose thread from her skirt. “When I was little, I didn’t care that he was half demon—I didn’t even know what it meant. He was just my brother. We looked after each other... We grew up here, did you know that?” I shook my head. “I had everything I wanted. College, proms, friends. Our father, Adam, he gave me everything I asked for, but when I talked about Stefan, he’d sorta... I dunno...” Nica’s delicate fingers quivered as she tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “It was as if Stefan didn’t exist.” She blinked, and a fragile smile lit her face. “But I’d always tell Stef about school... about friends and the crazy stuff we did. He never once resented me. He could have.” Her words trailed off, and her gaze drifted for a few moments. “I taught him how to read. The Institute—Dad—they weren’t interested in his mind. All they cared about was the ice demon inside him. But he was smart. He wanted to learn. This place,” she glanced around us at the forgotten books and silent aisles, “he liked it here. I come here a lot. It helps…”