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

by DaCosta, Pippa

  “And if they find out I’ve had an Enforcer in here, what do you think they’re gonna do?” He made a derisive sound in the back of his throat then crossed the room and took the injector from my hand. His eyes bored through the mask of tattoos and locked onto me. For a few seconds, a cool, creeping, slither of power swept over me, and then he looked down at the injector in his hand, and the elemental touch was gone. “I tried to help a half-blood once... He died. I’ve never seen a man so screwed up in the head. The scars on his body... He was more animal than man. Poor bastard.” He placed the injector on the counter beside me and looked down into my eyes. Did he know what I’d been through? He couldn’t know the details, but if he knew half-bloods, he knew how the demons liked to ruin them. “You got balls coming into this part of town—coming to me. You’re gonna get yourself killed, half-blood. Until then, sure, I’ll help you. I like a challenge.”

  Carol-Anne nodded her agreement. “Can I trust you two not to kill each other?”

  Jerry grunted an ‘uh-huh,’ but I deliberately held Carol-Anne’s gaze. “Back in the parking lot, you said I was another’s property.”

  She nodded. “When you’re done here, come and find me. We’ll talk.” She’d lost her allure now that I’d seen her true form, but she had gained some of my respect. She hadn’t retaliated with all her available element in the parking lot, and for that I’d given her a few points for control. Had she come at me with as much force as I was ready to wield, we could have leveled the club and surrounding buildings. She’d sensed the chaos in me and refrained. Carol-Anne and her demon were smarter than they looked.

  After Carol-Anne left, Jerry asked, “How long did you say you’ve had that drug in you?”

  I took a leveling breath, trying to focus on the now. Sinking back against the counter, I rubbed at my forehead. A dull ache throbbed at my temples. “Six months.” My hand shook. I tried to hide it, but Jerry saw. He would have heard the weary sigh in my voice anyway.

  “That’s a long time without your demon.”

  I nodded and rolled my shoulders. “Do you know much about half-bloods?”

  “No.” The single world came out like a growl but with no ill-will behind it. “Rarer than hens’ teeth.” He appeared to be quietly assessing me. “You got control issues and you think PC-Thirty-Four is behind it? I can help you, but not here. Somewhere public.”

  “Why somewhere public?”

  “Because you’re not gonna to like it.”

  Chapter 12

  Starbucks was the last place on earth I’d imagined I’d be sitting next to Jerry. It was an hour before closing. A few other customers had laid claim to the comfortable chairs. Jerry and I found a quiet corner. He even bought me a latte, anticipating my need for a caffeine kick.

  “Okay, listen up.” He leaned forward like a football player hunkering down. His bulk and swirling tattoos could be considered intimidating, but his luscious voice countered the bulldozer effect of his appearance. He’d confused the barista, who hadn’t known whether to fear Jerry or swoon.

  I took a welcome sip of coffee and inhaled the aroma. “I’m listening.”

  “I get no sense of power coming off you… at all. But I know it’s in there. So we have a pissed off demon is my guess. She—it’s a she, right?” I nodded, licking my lips and let him continue. “Forget the PC-Thirty-Four—there’s something else going on, or you wouldn’t be asking me for help.”

  I mulled over how much to tell him. I had the potential to wield an extreme amount power, and not just in a demon way, more of a god-like way, if I drew from beyond the veil. Some demons knew this about half-bloods, most did not. I’d only recently become aware of it myself. “How much do you know about me?”

  He leaned back in the chair, filling it. “I know you sent Akil—Mammon the Prince of Greed—back to Hell.” Something like admiration shone through his tattooed mask.

  Technically, Hell with a capital ‘H’ didn’t exist. One man’s Hell is another’s Heaven. Hell was a catch-all term for the netherworld beyond the veil. “Do you know how I did it?”

  “No.”

  “I pulled every ounce of his element from him. I drained him dry.” I had guzzled a Prince of Hell’s entire wealth of power; summoned every last drop right out of his body, leaving him unconscious and spent. The tremendous load of power had nearly killed me. “But I couldn’t release it without leveling half of Boston, so I drowned it. Dumped myself in the harbor.” I shrugged. “Somehow I’m still here to talk about it.”

  “That’s when the Institute recruited you?”

  Recruited me. Right. More like they fished me out the water and incarcerated me. “Something like that. I’ve not been able to reach my demon since that night. But earlier, I had a little scuffle with Carol-Anne, and my demon came then... but she wasn’t right. I had no control whatsoever. ” I tapped my temple. “No communication. There’s something else too… Nose bleeds, headaches. Like there’s a pressure building in my skull.”

  Jerry sat motionless with just his eyes moving as he read my face. The tattoos masked his features, making him tricky to read. “You realize, half-bloods are impossible. A human body shouldn’t be able to contain an elemental demon. It’s physically and mentally impossible. Something about how you and your demon are tied together goes beyond scientific explanation. You shouldn’t exist. It’s a wonder you’re not a jabbering lunatic.”

  I sometimes contemplated whether it would easier if I was. “I try not to think about it. Doesn’t change anything. I’m here—despite the odds.”

  “I can help you reason with her, but I can’t bring her back. You’ve got to get PC-Thirty-Four out your system. There’s no way around that. Can you get your hands on the antidote?”

  I grinned. I’d thought about stealing the antidote, but it was kept locked away in the heart of the scientific department. “You can’t just walk in and take it. Finger print scans, retina scans, voice recognition. Hell, they’d ask for your DNA if they could get away with it.” Adam could get it with ease.

  “Your demon is screwed, Muse. We can reach out to her, try and calm her down. It won’t solve your problems, but it might prevent you from lashing out and killing someone.”

  Like the thugs in the van. I tried not to think about how easily I could have killed them. They’d been lucky a water elemental had been on hand to douse the flames. “How do we reach her?”

  “Hypnosis.”

  I blinked. “What...? Now?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d want me try it somewhere without witnesses.”

  Good call. No, I most definitely would not want to be hypnotized alone in a room with this guy. Sure, he had a voice that could melt arctic ice, but that didn’t mean I was going to let him poke around inside my head while I clucked like a chicken.

  I eyed him suspiciously. “Is it safe?”

  He gave his answer some thought. “Usually.”

  “Do you routinely hypnotize demons?”

  His wolfish grin tucked in his cheeks. “Among other things. I’m just gonna... relax you, see if we can tempt her out.”

  Well, it beat being tied to a bed and drugged up to the eyeballs. I told Jerry to hit me with his best shot. He sat beside me and angled his chair toward me. It all felt rather peculiar. “You’re just going to relax me?”

  “Yeah, no funny business.” His deep voice rumbled.

  “No offense, but you work with demons on a daily basis. I’m not sure I want to trust you.”

  “You think I’d be alive if I screwed over my patients?”

  “Is that what the tattoos are for? Protection?”

  “Yes.”

  I frowned. “Alright, let’s do this. But shouldn’t we have a safe word or something?”

  He laughed and told me to lean back and close my eyes. I didn’t expect hypnosis to work, but I was willing to give it a try. What was the worst that could happen? I listened to the seductive bass tone of his voice as he told me to imagine the safest place I could
. That in itself was no mean feat. The concept of safe was not one I was familiar with, so I tried to picture somewhere I felt happy, a beach with my bare toes scrunched in the sand, the sea breeze on my face. I let the sound of the sighing waves chase away my fears and lift a ton of burden from my shoulders. I tilted my face to the warmth of the sun and closed my eyes.

  Jerry’s voice ebbed and flowed, lapping at my consciousness. I couldn’t hear the individual words, but I felt the effects of them. The sun warmed me through, lifting my mood. I tasted the salt air on my lips and sighed. Was this what freedom felt like?

  A shadow fell over me. I opened my eyes. The sky above had darkened. A bank of storm clouds rolled in off the sea. I might have shivered, but the warmth from the sun hadn’t faded. I looked at my hands and watched curiously as sprites of fire danced across my palms. I knew what loomed on the horizon. Lifting my gaze, I saw a huge pair of eyes burning through the clouds, their irises swirling with molten fire. An enormous blackened hand reached out.

  I jerked myself awake and darted my gaze around Starbucks. I was alone. Jolting up in my seat, I scowled. Jerry had left me. Everyone had gone. Hadn’t they noticed the sleeping girl? Surely the barista...

  A demon stood at the counter, rapier claws tapping on the glass cabinet as she eyed the paninis. I identified her from the single ragged wing relaxed behind her. When extended, it would tower over her at twice her height, but without its opposite, it was useless. I was on my feet and inching forward without realizing at first that I’d moved. Her scorched skin fizzed with dancing embers, as though lava flowed beneath the crusted surface of her flesh. She had a definite feminine physique, curved and lean like a panther, built for agility and speed.

  As I came around the edge of the counter, she turned her amber eyes toward me. A smile peeled her lips over curved ivory fangs. Two horns swept back against her skull. They might’ve resembled jet-black hair if it wasn’t for their sharp tips kicking out a little behind her ears. Her face vaguely resembled mine, the way a sister’s might.

  She gave her wing a twitch, dislodging a dusting of ash that sprinkled the floor at her bare feet. She slowly faced me. Her eyes looked me over with curiosity, like the slightly bored gaze of a cat observing its owner go about her daily routine. She didn’t appear angry or frustrated. We were one and the same. I knew what she felt because I felt the same. We were kin. Connected on a cellular—possibly a metaphysical—level.

  I took a step closer and lifted my hand, reaching for her. I couldn’t help admiring her. Despite missing a wing, she really was a creature of deadly beauty. Perhaps all the more beautiful for the scars.

  She snapped her head to the side and fixed a furious glare over my shoulder. “He’s here.” She hissed and recoiled, back arching and hackles rising. A growl rumbled beneath her words and sparked a blaze of horror in me. I glanced back. The swift motion unbalanced me and sent the coffee shop into a spin.

  I flung open my eyes and gulped air. Jerry’s vice-like grip clutched my arm. My fingers dug into the arm of the chair so hard I’d snapped a nail. A devastating ache pounded against the insides of my skull. Jerry told me to breathe slowly, to calm down, but I couldn’t. A man stood in the doorway. His ankle-length black coat sparkled with rain. He didn’t look dangerous, but he did look out of his time and place. As his dull eyes scanned the crowd, he swept back his shoulder length, tar-black hair back from his hawkish face. I’d seen that face before: the solid cut of his jawline, his hollow cheeks and dead eyes. I’d felt the elation strum through him as he’d choked the life out of his victims.

  I sprang from the chair. Jerry bellowed my name. Nothing could have slowed me down, not even Hellhounds. I’d have welcomed a game of tag with the hounds again if it meant escaping him. I scooted around tables and shoved chairs and people aside in my blind rush to get away. Throwing myself through the opposite exit, I stumbled onto the sidewalk, and launched into a sprint. I darted across the road. A horn blast didn’t slow me down. Head down, arms pumping, I ran until my lungs scorched and my leg muscles burned.

  * * *

  The Stone’s Throw was unusually busy. Although most establishments wouldn’t class seven customers as busy. The television blathered from high above the bar while a pair of young men played pool. The clatter of the balls rattling in the table pockets set my teeth on edge. A couple deeply engrossed in one another ate fries at one table. The remaining customers propped up the bar. I worked my gaze over each of them, assessing for threats before reaching my intended target.

  Ryder hunched over the bar. His left shoulder sagged beneath his jacket. A pang of guilt undermined my resolve as I approached from behind, taking a wide arc around the empty tables to avoid catching his eye. I eased my trembling out-of-breath body onto the stool beside his. He slid his gaze from an empty shot glass in front of him up to me. His chin bristled with stubble. His tight red eyes didn’t lighten at the sight of me. They hardened, and I got a sense of what a demon must feel when they look into Ryder’s eyes right before he pulls the trigger. The little pang of guilt I’d felt earlier tightened a knot of regret.

  He waited a few seconds, snorted a curse, and straightened. I immediately clutched the gun inside my jacket. His frown cut deeper. “You ain’t gonna shoot me again, lil’ firecracker.”

  I might. He couldn’t know the turmoil churning my thoughts. Given how I must have looked—hair bedraggled from my sprint through the rain, my eyes constantly darting back at the door—he should have figured something was up.

  My hand lingered on the gun. “I don’t trust you.”

  Ryder shook his head with a bark of laughter. He lifted his shot glass and hailed the bartender. “I take my job seriously, Muse. An’ right now you’re a tickin’ bomb.”

  I tilted my head to get a look at his wounded left arm inside his jacket. “You’re not on the job.”

  He quirked an eyebrow, let the bartender refill his drink, and drawled, “No, I’m not on the damn job, thanks to you.” He set the drink down on the bar and glared at it, jaw working as though chewing on his next words. “You know,” he said, facing me, “I did everything I could to help you, and this is how you repay me?” He gestured at his arm in the sling. “Dammit, I thought we were friends.”

  I released the gun and slouched against the bar. I bowed my head. My hair fell forward, curtaining my face. I couldn’t see his expression and didn’t want him to see mine. “I’m afraid, Ryder. So damn afraid. I’m alone, and I’m so messed up. I need my demon back. I need her. Can you get me the antidote?”

  “No.” The shot glass rattled on the bar.

  I tucked my hair back and carefully lifted my gaze. I expected to see disgust, but he hadn’t judged my words. He looked back at me, waiting, expectant, but not criticizing. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  His lips had turned down. “I don’t know much about you, but I never figured you one for givin’ up.”

  He was right. He didn’t know me. I barely recognized myself. I held Ryder’s gaze, determined not to look away. “My owner is out there. I saw him. He will find me and the things he’ll do to me… you have no idea...the things he’s done…” I flinched but didn’t pull away. “I need my demon back. Adam had no right to take her from me. I can’t survive like this. I’ve got a target on my back, and the Institute can’t protect me.” I paused to control my rapid breathing. Ryder held my gaze as though he knew I needed his strength. If he looked away, if he pitied me, if he judged me, I’d fold. “This isn’t a game. Those other women had it lucky. He killed them within hours and butchered them when they were dead. Believe me, Damien can make death last a lifetime. I don’t want to have to go through that again, Ryder.” My voice cracked. “I can’t.” My sight blurred. “I won’t.”

  He absorbed my words. His fingers teased around the rim of the shot glass. Finally, with a ragged sigh, he straightened and raked a hand through his hair. “Shit, Muse. I wanna help you, but Adam is the only one who can get you that antidote.”

 
“Can you get me inside the Institute without spiking an alarm?”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. He knew what I was asking. If he did this for me, his devotion to his career would be in question. I’d never met anyone who lived and breathed the Institute quite like Ryder. He had nothing else.

  When he finally met my gaze, resignation softened his eyes.

  ”Please,” I said.

  He leaned closer. “If I do this for you, I want a guarantee you won’t rain fire down on the Institute, or on Adam.”

  I tore my gaze away and grimaced at the thought of holding back. The one thing I knew my demon and I agreed on was our mutual hatred of Adam. I’d dreamed night after night of the things I would do to that bastard when I got my demon back. He’d reared Stefan like an animal, sent Nica in to spy on a Prince of Hell, and he’d nailed me to the floor by stripping my demon from my soul.

  “You hate him. I get it. But you know the Institute is important. Hell, Muse, you’ve see the number of demons crossing over, same as I have. We need the Institute. Tooled up, you could destroy Adam, the Institute, and everyone in it.” He knew me better than I’d thought. “Did you know they use you as an example of what a Class A demon can do? They rank you right up there with the Princes. What you did to Akil that night on the pier, the power you and Stefan threw around... Don’t use that against us, Muse. You’re better than that, better than the goddamn demon inside’a you. I need your word, right here, that you won’t turn against the Institute. Ever.”

  “The things Adam’s done. He locked me up like an animal, treated Stefan like a lab rat —”

  “I know what he did to Stefan. Better than you do.” Ryder lowered his voice. The corner of his mouth turned down in a snarl that didn’t quite make it to his lips. “If you want your demon back, you gotta give up on revenge. You gotta work with us, Muse, not against us.”