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

by DaCosta, Pippa

  Shivers seized him. The ice he’d shielded himself with started to melt and retreat. He clamped his eyes closed and clenched his teeth. The electric blue veins of energy throbbed beneath his pale skin. “I... can’t.”

  “If that thing gets through...”

  “Muse, I can’t. It. Won’t. Let. Me.” He opened his eyes wide and clutched at my arm, dragging me closer. “What have I done?” he breathed, then released me and clasped both his hands against his head. He roared.

  I covered his hands with mine. He bucked against me, but I held him fast. “Close the veil, Stefan. That thing can’t come through.”

  I felt rather than heard Akil. It was always that way with him, like I had internal radar attuned specifically for his power signature. I snapped my head up and searched the scattering crowd, then saw him walking toward us as though taking an afternoon stroll in the gardens. Was he smiling? Right then, I hated him for his nonchalant devil-may-care attitude. He’d probably been watching all this from inside the crowd, choosing the right time to make an appearance.

  Nobody hindered his approach. Self-preservation finally kicked in, and the crowd scattered like roaches when the lights go on. In the next step, he shrugged off his human vessel, revealing Mammon. I had a few seconds to absorb the sudden transformation from suave bastard to lava-veined Prince of Hell, when he spread his wings and launched himself skyward.

  Mammon was huge, but the gargantuan dragon-like Larkwrari demon gnawing at the veil in its attempt to be free could crush him inside one of its talons. I caught the glow of the elemental blade flickering beside Mammon’s dark outline before the beat of his wingspan blocked my view. The dragon-demon saw him and swung its colossal head round, snapping its jaws in the air with a thunderous snap. It twitched the whiskers on its snout and appeared to measure Mammon with a curiously intelligent glean in its green eyes. The black scales coating its serpentine length shivered, and the resulting rumbling sounded like a passing train. If the dragon got free, there wouldn’t be much left of Boston.

  Fire danced across Mammon’s wings like red lightning through storm clouds. A heat haze distorted the air around him, warping my view of the dragon still trying to wrench itself free of the throbbing wound in the veil. They appeared to be assessing one another, weighing their odds of survival. The dragon could swallow Mammon whole, but he wouldn’t be the sort to go down easily.

  The dragon snorted and pulled back, rising up with a growl that shook the earth. I couldn’t watch but found it impossible to tear my gaze away.

  Fire and flame broke over Mammon, enveloping him in liquid heat. As the dragon lunged forward, Mammon tucked his wings in and dove down beneath the dragon’s reaching jaws. The dragon twisted back on itself, chasing Mammon’s aerial acrobatics. Its talons grabbed for Mammon, but he flung his wings open and pulled up short. The talon missed him, but the beast passed close enough for Mammon to sink the elemental blade into its flesh. The dragon flung its head back and roared.

  I flicked my gaze down to Stefan lying cold in my arms. His blue eyes were unseeing. He still trembled. His breath continued to hiss through his teeth, his body rigid, as he fought the onslaught of pain. Maybe the presence of that thing held the veil open until it made the journey through. One way or another.

  Ryder skidded to a halt beside me and dropped to his knees. “What can I do?” His face held all the stubborn determination I’d come to rely on. He checked me, seemingly unconcerned, as he peered into my demon eyes. It’s not easy looking a demon in the eye, but Ryder held on.

  “Just stay with him. I have to help Akil.” I straightened and checked the mayhem around us for any sign the Institute was about to snatch Stefan while he was down, but their attention was on the enormous dragon wriggling through the wound in the veil. I caught sight of Adam barking orders into a radio and heard the familiar thwoop-thwoop of helicopter blades. They’d likely shoot first and ask questions later; never mind that Akil was their best chance of stopping that thing. They’d fill them both full of bullets.

  I jogged deeper into the gardens, trying to get as close to the battle as possible. I couldn’t fly, not with one wing and a broken wing at that, and I wouldn’t even know where to start, but there was one thing I could do and that was feed Mammon more power than he could handle.

  Firmly planting my stance, I shook my hands and threw my head back. I saw the belly of the dragon and occasionally caught a glimpse of Mammon weaving around it, trying to find a weak point in its armor. The thunderous snarls, roars, and growls gave a good indication of Mammon’s success, but all he appeared to be doing was making it angry.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I spread my fingers and called to the slumbering heat beneath the city. Warmth rode over me. The planted seed of Damien’s darkness pulsed in my chest like a drum beat. A stuttering fissure of doubt stalled my attempt until I shoved it aside and regained control. Reaching for the veil is like opening a door inside your mind. It was always there, a part of the mental furniture in my head. I lifted my hands and reached my will inside the veil. The power snapped back at me, angry and chaotic. I staggered, momentarily surprised, and then thrust my will once more into the wound and hooked into the reservoir of heat beyond.

  Once I’d overcome the unexpected resistance from the veil, my element flowed easily. It spilled out around the heaving bulk of dragon and funneled down into me. The pressure of energy pushed against my control. Jaw clamped closed, I hunkered low, gathering the storm force of power. Burning embers, fire, and flame spiraled around me, creating a vortex of blistering heat. My demon, the part of me that hungered for destruction, laughed her bubbling power-poisoned laughter. She wanted to let it all go, to ride the wave of destruction and burn the city to the ground. My heart raced. My body burned with hungers and desires. She pushed at my control and tried to lure me into the light. It would be glorious. I’d be free. I slapped her down. I couldn’t fail to maintain control.

  The alien dark inside me gulped down the chaos. It gorged. Damien’s laughter scratched the inside of my skull. Get out! I snarled.

  Head up, I fixed my gaze through the whirlwind of superheated air to the dragon and Mammon. The moment my thread of power reached into him, he stumbled mid-flight, twisting as though I’d hurt him. I doubted he experienced pain. It was more likely a sudden explosion of pleasure that momentarily blindsided him. Locked on, I thrust my hands up and channeled everything I had, every molecule of heat, every fragment of power—I threw it all into Mammon.

  He threw his wings back, muscular demon body ridden hard by the river of molten energy. Flames embraced him and burst outward in a shower of hot ash and fizzling embers. Fire devoured him until only a liquid inferno remained. The dragon took a swipe at Mammon’s fiery form, but its talons sailed through the rippling heat. With a sonic boom of a cry, it yanked its foreleg back. The wail cut through my skull. Windows of nearby buildings exploded outward. Car alarms shrilled. I struggled to keep my head clear and my control tethered. As I fed the flames with raw power, Mammon’s molten figure enlarged. Veins of energy sparked through the vague outline of his limbs and across his wings, but really, he might as well have been a thundercloud of fire for all the form he retained.

  “Drive it back...” I shoved my thoughts toward him with no idea if he’d hear me or not. For all I knew, I was creating a monster just as bad as the dragon: a monster that might turn on us once it had beaten the dragon. This was the part where trust actually starts to have meaning, and I didn’t trust Akil.

  I heard his laughter, very real, inside my head. He knew my thoughts.

  “Drive it back, Mammon...”

  The veil’s boreal shimmer fractured. The dragon heaved forward, dislodging a few of its scales. A back leg emerged. Its claws dug into the veil, and its muscles bunched. It ducked its head, twisted its body, and rumbled a deafening roar. It was coming through. I heard Mammon’s laughter in the air, not just inside my head, and I had a horrible sense of dread. Please no, don’t let this be the part where
Akil turns around and screws us all. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Demons are, after all, creatures of habit.

  Mammon dashed forward as a singular wave of liquid fire consumed the dragon from its snout, over its gnarled face, down its serpentine flanks and around its legs, to the point where the veil clamped closed around its hide. The dragon lit up the sky, its entire body aflame. It let out a gurgling, wet groan and snapped ferociously at the air. Its talons raked across its flesh as it sought to sweep off the fire, but the blaze had taken hold. Black smoke bellowed. I smelled the oily, acrid odor of burning demon.

  A helicopter hovered in my field of vision. Another swung in from the left, and both opened fire. Their bullets may have helped, but it was virtually impossible to see past the fire. I sensed someone standing off to my left, and once I noticed them, I felt the presence of others behind me. I couldn’t take my eyes from the dragon still feeding the flames as I was. I just hoped whoever stood beside me didn’t take it upon themselves to tackle me.

  Then, with a guttural snarl, the dragon writhed backward, wriggling its burning body back through the hole in the veil. The fire sloughed off its scorched flesh and coalesced into Mammon. The veil snapped shut with a thunder clap that rumbled across the city. It was over.

  I fell forward, body wracked with tremors. I’d never felt so utterly spent in all my life. I had to think hard about breathing. Draw the air in, let it out again. Draw it in. Let it out. My demon unraveled herself from my mortal body and retreated to where she could lick her wounds and recuperate. On my hands and knees, clothes clinging to me, my body slick with perspiration, I breathed in... breathed out. Breathe in. Breathe out. The darkness rumbled a satisfied chuckle.

  I was crying. I barely noticed.

  “Are you... are you okay, Miss?”

  I didn’t recognize the young man when I eventually turned my head to look at him. He stood within a few feet of me, red hoodie, baggy jeans, iPod draped around his neck. Other strangers loitered behind him, watching me curiously. They were just ordinary people who’d been caught up in the spectacle of the netherworld trying to make its presence known.

  I sat back, vision rocking as my stomach churned. More people stood around me, not terrified, just... concerned. I sobbed and covered my mouth with my hands. I couldn’t lose it yet. Not like this, on my knees in a crowd of strangers.

  They’d just witnessed a one-winged elemental she-demon summon the heat from another world and bolster the defenses of another demon, this one battling off a dragon eyeing up Boston as its own all-you-can-eat buffet. They should be running and screaming, collecting a few pitchforks and blazing torches, but they weren’t. The people of Boston are a hardy breed. Nothing fazes them.

  “Do you need help?” a woman in a tartan skirt and heavy overcoat asked.

  I blubbered. Gulped it back. “No... I’m—” I croaked. “I’m okay.” I tried to move, but my legs wouldn’t work. The young man, his red sweatshirt damp from melting snow, reached out a hand. I eyed it warily. He wasn’t afraid of me. He didn’t want to hurt me.

  He helped me to my feet. The park was filling with people. The snow had melted, apart from the occasional, slushy pile. The people of Boston wandered through the abandoned police barriers, a soft murmur building around them. The police tried to seal off sections where bits of Larkwrari demon had fallen.

  “I saw what you did...” The young man said. He smiled warmly and nodded, not needing to say the words.

  I wanted to brush the thanks off with some witty reply but couldn’t find my voice. I hobbled alongside my new friend toward the Washington statue, needing to know if Stefan was alright. He and Ryder weren’t there. I managed to thank my Good Samaritan and told him I was fine, even though I really wasn’t. His eyes said thank you, and it was all I could do not to fall on the floor and sob my heart out. Beat me, hurt me, fight me and I’ll bounce back, but be nice to me? I folded quicker than a banker in a high-stakes poker game.

  I slumped against the statue and rallied my thoughts. Nica was dead. Stefan hated me—might even want to kill me. I searched the clear sky. Akil had vanished, as I knew he would. And Damien was trapped inside me. Well, damn. There was another way of looking at it all. The snow had melted. Damien couldn’t hurt anyone else. Stefan was free of the netherworld. Wherever he was, he would be okay. I wasn’t giving up on him, even if he had given up on me. Akil would be back. If not, I’d summon the suave bastard so I could get my answers. I was alive. I’d survived the netherworld. I’d incinerated a horde of demons. I’d controlled enough power to help Mammon drive a dragon back across the veil. I was still here. All right, my demon had a broken wing, my shoulder burned, and my face ached. Yes, I had a whole scrapbook of new memories I’d like to burn, but the nightmares hadn’t destroyed me. I was the wretched, half-blood girl who beat them all.

  So fuck off, netherworld. The demons can’t have me. Akil can’t have me. Nobody gets to tie me up and chain me down. Not anymore.

  The Institute staff were giving each other high-fives and slapping their co-workers on the back. Smiles all round. I caught sight of Adam standing by a cop car and staggered toward him. He looked as though he might be debriefing some important officials. They all wore somber expressions. His left arm hung in a sling; courtesy of Stefan’s earlier threat to kill him. My shoulder throbbed in sympathy.

  Adam saw me coming and barked an order. A couple of young Enforcers danced to his tune and came running, hands on their holstered weapons. They’d have PC34 injectors within reach.

  “Restrain her,” Adam ordered.

  I smiled, might even have laughed a little. After everything he’d seen, he still wanted me in chains. The Enforcers though, they didn’t much like the idea of tackling me. They hung back beside their fearless leader and his crowd of officials. My eyes warned them; Touch me, and just you wait and see who has the power here.

  “Where’s Stefan?” No quiver. No tremble. Cool clarity.

  “You tell me.” Adam turned to face me. “The last I saw, he was about ready to slaughter a crowd of people.”

  “Yeah, well, considering who that crowd mostly consisted of, I have to say I can’t blame him.” Stefan wasn’t with the Institute. That was good news. I had to assume Ryder had him, and in Ryder I could trust.

  “Muse, get back to the Institute. We need to wrap this up. It’s a Public Relations nightmare.” Adam frowned, aging years.

  Yeah, an arctic storm in the summer and dragons in the sky, it was going to be tough to hang all that on climate change. “I’m not going back. I quit.”

  Adam bristled. “You don’t get to quit. Make your way back to HQ, or I’ll have you escorted there.”

  The Enforcers at his side weren’t going to do anything. The look in their eyes was one of mutual respect. They’d seen what I could do, what I’d done. Apparently their boss had been looking the other way.

  I held Adam’s gaze for a few moments. I wasn’t part of their solution. I wasn’t theirs to experiment on. I arched an eyebrow and gave him the middle-finger salute. His distinguished face screwed up. His skin flushed. His mouth fell open. He huffed and puffed, scrambling for the words to chastise me.

  I turned and walked away. He ordered the Enforcers to restrain me, but didn’t push it when they refused. His gaze scorched my back. It felt good. It felt right, like a step in the right direction when lately, all I’d been doing was stumbling further and further toward chaos.

  Chapter 32

  Boston is one of those cities where you can buy a Starbucks coffee, take a walk while drinking it, and find yourself outside another Starbucks at the exact moment you finish it. Useful, because I was running on caffeine alone.

  Coleman had bought the coffees. We traded small talk as the mid afternoon sun beat down on the bustling street. He had his coat slung over a shoulder, had a folded newspaper tucked under one arm, and with his shirt sleeves rolled up, he walked a brisk, no-nonsense pace. The ordeal four days ago didn’t appear to have affected him in the sl
ightest. He still breezed along while I struggled to keep up. My shoulder throbbed with a bristling heat. The wound Damien had dealt refused to heal. My head buzzed as though rammed full of steel wool; thanks in part to my demon pacing her metaphysical cage. Her emotional fallout tangled up with mine.

  The Institute cellphone juddered in my pocket. I’d considered tossing it in the trash but hadn’t yet been able to go through with it. I plucked the phone free, pausing outside Old City Hall. Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees scattered about the courtyard. I had two missed calls from an unknown number and a text consisting of two words, “He’s okay”, I assumed it was from Ryder, but when I tried to call the number back, the line was dead. The other missed calls, eight in total, were from Adam. From previous voice messages, I knew what he wanted. He’d asked me to return as a freelance Enforcer. No strings attached. I didn’t have to live at the Institute. I could have my own apartment. My own life. That man bargained like a demon.

  I sucked in a deep breath and remembered the copies I’d made of the Subject Beta file. The pages had been virtually destroyed by the assault of water, fire, and blood. I’d tried to peel the sheets apart and glue unburned bits back together, but all I managed to salvage were scraps.

  I switched off the phone and shielded my eyes from the sun’s glare. Adam knew the truth. I couldn’t cut ties with the Institute, not until I knew what Operation Typhon was.

  “Okay?” Coleman asked.

  “Yeah.” He didn’t know me well enough yet to pick up on the anxiety plucking my nervous gestures. In the four days since the garden event, all I had managed to do was run and hide; caught between the necessary evil of the Institute and the threat from the demon population, including the unwanted attentions of my father should he ever send his she-man Levi to retrieve me. As far as demons went, I was persona non grata: too powerful to let wander free unmolested, too human to be a perceived threat. I’d already avoided an attempt on my life by a wily demon masquerading as a taxi driver. Coleman’s offer to take me for coffee provided a welcome distraction from my rapidly deteriorating lifestyle.