Carpe Demon (Carus #3)

by J. C. McKenzie

  “Explain.”

  He shook his head. “Not part of the deal. Ask your questions, Andy, the ones you summoned me for.”

  “Who is he? The Demon that sabotaged the Vampire summit.”

  “He has many names. Caacrinolaas, Caassimolar, Classyalabolas, Glassia-labolis, Glasya Labolas,” Sid pronounced each word and name slowly, watching my face. “But I believe you know him as Bola.”

  No reply or retort escaped my mouth. Instead, a big exhale of air made its way out of my lungs as I fell, face forward, and hit the floor.

  ****

  A throbbing pain stabbing my head behind the eyes brought me out of the fog. With my face planted against the floor, lips smushed into the rug and arms splayed to the side, only two reasonable explanations explained what had happened. Either an invisible Mack truck had barrelled through my living room and smacked into me, or I’d fainted.

  Crap!

  I hadn’t done that in decades. Ever since my botched Clint assassination, my inherent awesomeness in badass-ery had dissipated. Like a slow leak in a tire, each day I lost a little of the brutality I’d counted on as an assassin.

  Red’s head butted mine, and she licked my face.

  Gah! I swatted her away.

  “I was beginning to think I’d have to leave before you would wake and give me a proper farewell,” Sid said.

  Groaning, I rolled over to find the Demon sitting cross legged in the middle of the circle. Naked. Thankfully, he no longer sported a raging boner. Instead, he looked calm and relaxed, as if seeing my head bounce against the floor was a completely natural thing. Maybe it happened a lot in hell. I hauled myself up and mirrored his sitting position, carefully tugging my robe down to ensure my lady bits weren’t visible.

  “What can you tell me about him?” I asked.

  Sid tilted his head to the side. “I think you know him more intimately than I do.”

  Instead of heat spreading across my face, cold rage consumed my brain, prodding me to lash out. “How do you know about that?”

  “Bola likes to kiss and tell. He often shares the intimate details of his conquests.”

  “He didn’t conquer me.” My skin froze as my already cold blood turned to ice. Bola had violated me as had every male in my previous pack. He may have conquered my physical being with the help of his host body and Dylan, but he never broke me. Never.

  No one had.

  Red jumped onto my lap, and I unclenched my fists to stroke her soft fur. I wanted to bury my face into her plush coat and tune out whatever crap Sid had left to dish. But I didn’t. I needed to hear what information he had, so I ran my hands down Red’s side instead, and forced my breathing to slow down, and even out.

  Sid raised an eyebrow, and studied my lap for a minute. “No,” he said. “Bola didn’t break you, but he enjoyed you despite the restrictions of using a host body. Thoroughly. And frequently, if his tales are true.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and took another deep breath. My hand clutched Red’s fur. She yipped, and I released it. “Do you relish in sharing these details with me?”

  “As they’re not getting you off, not particularly, no. I’m a Seducer Demon, remember? You asked.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

  “Yes. And I will do so for free. Bola is a powerful Earl of Hell and commands thirty-six legions of Demons.”

  “Only thirty-six?”

  “Each legion contains anywhere from four to ten thousand Demons. Each general purposely hides their exact numbers. Always posturing for power and control, for favour with Lucifer.”

  I cursed. “Do you command any legions?”

  Sid tilted his head at me, but remained silent. Right. Why would he answer that?

  “What else?” I asked.

  “He is the master of manslaughter and bloodshed, and can control people to make them either love or kill each other. I don’t think I need to tell you which of those two options he prefers.” Sid paused long enough I thought he was finished, but just when I was about to speak, he snapped his fingers. “Oh. And he has a hard-on for science.”

  “He always appeared human, taking one of the Were bodies when Dylan had him summoned. He wore the Were’s scent, too.” A shudder racked my body.

  “He lacks a human form, and hiding his scent is one of his talents.”

  “Any weaknesses?”

  Sid tsked and shook his head.

  Technically, Sid had met his end of the bargain. But rah-rah for me, it didn’t appear like he wanted a dismissal, and a little night remained for more discussion. Anything I could glean from him now would be an added bonus. Hell, after my performance, I deserved some sort of deal.

  “Do you like Bola?” I asked. That’s it, McNeilly. Just sit back and chit-chat with a Seducer.

  “Like? Demons don’t like, silly girl.”

  “Just a bunch of sociopaths, then? Well, that confirms a couple of things for me, at least.”

  “We don’t emote wishy-washy feelings. When we feel, it is not done halfway. We hate, covet, lust, love―”

  I snorted. Love? Who was he kidding?

  Sid narrowed his eyes at me. “Yes, some of us are capable of love. It is an extreme, fevered emotion. We do excessive emotions, and we do them well. We don’t like.”

  “Getting a little touchy over my word choice.”

  “Just making a point.”

  “Didn’t like it?”

  Sid pursed his lips.

  “Fine, then. What extreme emotion do you feel when you think of Bola?”

  Sid paused and then something in his eyes lit, ablaze with fire. “Hatred. I despise him to the very core and depth of my being. Death is not suitable for him. I wish him obliterated, ruined, destroyed, yet still alive to feel it all, to experience failure and pain so intense he can only scream soundlessly at the agony. I wish to—”

  I held my hand up. “I think I get it.”

  Sid’s lips widened in a slow smile.

  “So if I needed to hurt Bola, badly, you’d help?”

  “For a price.”

  “What? Even if it means you get what you want?”

  “I want you to pay my price more.”

  “More naked dancing? You can’t be that hard up for strippers in hell.”

  Sid’s mouth, opened and ready to comment, snapped shut. He blinked a couple of times before speaking. “My, my, you’re judgemental. I don’t think you should make assumptions about people based on their profession. Would you want people to do that to you?”

  Is a Demon really preaching one of the commandments to me right now? “No, I wouldn’t want them to judge me, but it wouldn’t mean they were incorrect. Are you going to explain your pricing scheme, or not?”

  “My price will be different for assisting with Bola. Information for dancing is fair, but interceding with an Earl of Hell? That requires…more.”

  “Aren’t you Satan’s assistant? Doesn’t that rank higher than an earl?” I had no clue. Demon hierarchy wasn’t covered in any books I possessed, and they didn’t have courses on the subject when I went to university. Maybe now? Demonology 101? Mental note: look that up later.

  “Technically yes, but in some ways it means I am more accountable.”

  “With great power comes great responsibility?” I tried to quote comic books as often as possible.

  “I’ve heard that from somewhere, but yes.”

  “It’s from one of the best comic book characters ever.” When Sid replied with a blank stare I waved it off. “So what would the price be?”

  “Blood,” Sid said. “I want your blood.”

  Chapter Nine

  “I have measured my life with coffee spoons…”

  ~T.S. Elliot

  After the dawn brushed Sid off the face of this realm and swept him back to the nether regions of hell like the dirty scum he truly was, I bribed Ben with a twenty-four pack of his favourite Canadian beer to scent-wipe my apartment, and after he finished, I took a nap.
I’d learned long ago lack of sleep resulted in loss of control. I may have successfully beaten my beast twice without going on a rampage, but there was no guarantee I’d be successful again, especially if sleep deprived. Caffeine could only do so much.

  My eyes closed, and my body sank heavy into my mattress. A weighted numbness overcame every limb, while the crickets and birds outside sang me to sleep with a melodic lullaby.

  And then the buzzer sounded. Wha? Ugh. No. Go away. I pulled my blanket over my head, and buried my face into my soft pillow.

  It’s almost noon. Are you still asleep? Tristan’s voice purred in my mind.

  What? Oh no! I must’ve broadcasted my thoughts, and being a Were, Tristan heard it. Noon? My head bounced up, and I stared at the digits on my clock. Red and glaring, 11:49 stared back at me. I’d been asleep for almost six hours. Crap!

  I swear I just closed my eyes, I said to Tristan before flinging back the cotton sheets. With a long stretch, my limbs loosened and relaxed.

  Then I remembered what I’d learned last night from Sid. My shoulders tightened, and my feras became agitated. The beast stirred.

  Fly away, my falcon demanded.

  It’s okay. I’ll come back later, Tristan said, interrupting my panic attack. You need to sleep.

  No. No. I’m up now, I said to him. No way did I want to be left alone with my thoughts right now. Just give me a second. I need caffeine.

  I brought some. His words rang like magic in my head, and a loud sigh escaped my mouth. The tension from my shoulders released.

  I think I love you, I said.

  I hope you’ll say that and mean it one day.

  My heart spasmed before picking up the pace, pitter-pattering in my chest like a drummer’s tambourine. The conflict of my warring emotions doused the momentary happiness caused by Tristan’s words.

  After throwing on the closest available sweats and T-shirt, I shuffled to the bathroom, ran a brush through my hair, admitted defeat in that department, and then brushed my teeth. I might not be runway ready, but at least I had minty-fresh breath—a must when around Weres and Shifters and our acute sense of smell.

  “Tristan,” I greeted the Wereleopard as I swung open the door. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight of him. Just under six feet tall, and built like a rugby winger, his body fit mine like the perfect missing puzzle piece. Bright sapphire eyes, porcelain skin and brown hair so dark, it looked black in most light. I wanted to rub my body against his, and purr.

  With angelic good looks, his complexion made him appear youthful, maybe early thirties in age, but I knew from his ability to quickly shift and some of his previous comments, his age was much, much more. Just another mystery of Tristan.

  Want, my mountain lion purred and pawed at my skull. She wanted the Alpha. I did, too, but I also harboured intense feelings for Wick. Tristan was reason number one why I wasn’t with the Werewolf Alpha, and vice versa. I used to make fun of heroines falling for two guys. Now, I got it. But this couldn’t go on forever. I needed to choose between these two dominant men, or turn them both loose and go solo. My heart constricted with the conflicting emotions.

  “Andrea.” Tristan leaned in for a kiss.

  I hesitated for a fraction of a second before meeting him halfway. When his lips brushed mine, a zing of energy travelled to my toes. Only one other man had that effect on me.

  “Come on in.” I stepped back allowing him entry, but he handed me a steaming coffee in a takeaway cup before gesturing for me to precede him into my apartment. He paused to shuck his sneakers off. I wished he’d gone first. His ass in form-fitting dark denim provided a world-class view.

  Instead of jumping him, I put my nose to my coffee’s sipping hole and inhaled deeply. Cappuccino, topped with cinnamon. Mmm. My favourite.

  “How’d you know?” I asked, referring to the type of coffee.

  “I take an interest in everything about you. On our date, you ordered one for dessert.”

  Totally forgot that. “Huh,” I said. I had no clue what type of drink Tristan liked. How bad a person did that make me?

  Hell already had a place reserved for me. Falling for two men—who did that? I didn’t even know them well enough to identify their favourite drink. My muscles stiffened, and my chest tightened around my heart.

  Tristan stepped up behind me, caught both arms and pulled me into his body before wrapping me up in a delicious hug. The skin on the back of my neck warmed as Tristan leaned down and spoke into my ear. “I like lattes with full fat milk, cream is even better.” His chest rumbled against my contracted back muscles as a purr filled the room. “In case you wondered.”

  Geez. Maybe Tristan read minds, too. He certainly knew magic. Instead of tense muscles, my body threatened to melt into a puddle of goo.

  I turned around in his arms. “It freaks me out how well you read me.”

  Tristan smiled and spun me out in a dance move completely foreign and alien to me. I almost dropped my coffee on the wood flooring. When I danced, it was all instinctual, animalistic. I still had no idea why it appealed to Sid. I’d seen myself in a mirror. I looked like a possessed terrier chasing a squirrel. But the move Tristan just made? It screamed formal training.

  Pursing my lips, I watched him take a seat, all grace, reflecting a prowling leopard beneath his skin. Not that I minded the view or the visit, but why was he here? At least I had enough sense to get Ben to scent-wipe and clean the blood-stained rug instead of waiting to bring in the professional Witch cleaners. My place looked tidy and smelled fresh instead of reeking of blood, salt and Demon.

  “So what’s new?” Tristan asked.

  “You came all this way for a progress report?”

  Tristan tsked me. “I came all this way to see you and use the ‘what’s new?’ line as an excuse.”

  “Oh.”

  “So what’s new?”

  “Aside from a rampaging Demon running around slaughtering innocent norms and supes alike, and my dear old master ordering me to find out who it is?” I shrugged and ignored my racing heart. “Not much.”

  Tristan blinked and leaned back. “Maybe start at the beginning?”

  “Right.” I sat down beside him to recount the events, first at the Vampire summit and then when Stan called me out to the crime scene in Steveston. I skipped Sid. I had to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come out. Sitting so close to Tristan made my skin hyperaware. Every movement, every breath, every facial expression of his sent my neurons into a tizzy, racing around and stirring up all sorts of things; things I shouldn’t want or act on until I’d officially chosen a mate.

  If Tristan sensed my conflict, he didn’t show it. He’d reached for my hand about halfway through my explanation, but otherwise, just listened. He took it all in, occasionally drinking from his coffee cup, or stroking a finger down the top of my hand.

  “What’s your next step?” he asked after I finished.

  “Tell Lucien the name of the Demon.”

  “You know it?”

  “Yeah. It’s Glasya Labolas.” A sour taste engulfed my mouth as if saying Bola’s name soiled my taste buds. Chills shivered across my skin, and my head became light and dizzy. I watched Tristan’s face intently. Luckily, no flickers of recognition flashed across his face. Not sure what I’d do if he knew of him. Would it change anything between us? Not really. Maybe.

  “How’d you find out about the Demon?” Tristan rested his elbow on the plush back of the couch, and propped his head on his hand.

  I held my breath, gulping down air every once in a while to stay quiet. I had to tell him, but how? How could I word the truth and hide my shame? I released a long breath, and met Tristan’s sparkling gaze. His eyes narrowed a little, probably picking up on my apprehension, but he waited, patiently, like a cat.

  I squared my shoulders and spoke. “I asked another Demon. Turns out it takes one to know one.”

  Tristan hesitated before nodding. “Same Demon you asked about the Kappa?”
/>   “Yup.” I stared at my hands.

  Tristan frowned. “Why do you smell wrong?” His nose flared, his hand dropped from his face and he straightened. “Guilt?” He stilled. “What price did you pay?”

  I forced my shoulders down from my ears and exhaled a long breath, leaving my lungs dry and empty. “The Demon I summoned is called Sid the Seducer. He has some sort of interest in me, but I’m not sure what. Maybe it’s just because I’m Feradea’s chosen. He said something once about how Demons liked to defile the treasures of the gods.”

  “Defile?” His head jerked, his body tensed.

  “I danced for him. Last night and the time before, when I needed information about the Kappa. That’s all. No defiling. He doesn’t get to touch me. He stays in the circle the entire time.”

  “But?” Tristan asked, not missing a beat.

  “But I’m naked. When I dance. For him.” Smooth, Andy. My skin flushed and trembled with heat, pores sweating. With my chest tingling and nausea roiling in my gut, I gulped down my shame and waited for Tristan’s response.

  His chin lifted, and his nostrils flared, tightness creased his face. His gaze grew distant, the beautiful sapphire replaced with leopard yellow. Quiet spread across the room, and the mundane sounds of life surrounded us: the distant hum of someone’s washing machine, the rumble of light traffic in front of the building, the idle conversation of a couple walking their dog down the sidewalk.

  Tristan drew in slow steady breathes. For a second, I worried he might combust, but then his expression softened, and his shoulders relaxed. The leopard yellow receded, and his brilliant blue eyes returned to normal.

  “I’m not going to lie, Andy. I don’t like it.” His tone remained stiff, and a bit deeper than normal. “I certainly don’t like that some Demon has seen all of you, and in a way only a lover should.”

  “But?” I asked, trying to keep the hope out of my voice, and failing. I still had a tough decision ahead of me mate-wise, but the idea of Tristan walking away right now stabbed my heart like a sharp blade.

  “But…” He took another deep breath. “I get it. I’m not an idiot, Andy. I know you worked for the SRD as an assassin. I know you have an animal magnetism that appeals to norms, and even some supes. I feel it. You must’ve used it to your advantage to lure your targets. How could you not? Your body and magnetism is a tool, an advantage, and a deadly one.”