Stay down, I urged Cyon as he tried to push my body into another attack. We needed to save our strength. Maintain our sanity. Lamia’s peal of laughter rang out as she turned away from me and left the interrogation room, looking like Benson again thanks to the mask’s magic.
I cracked my neck, spit blood, and stumbled to my feet.
“What are we going to do?” I mumbled.
“We get out of here,” Cyon replied, his voice a dry whisper.
Rage boiled under his controlled voice. Morgal had played us both for fools, but for Cyon, the betrayal was a repeat of their ancient history. His fury was so deep that it felt like I was being burned from the inside out.
“Chill out,” I said. “Just stay calm and we’ll get out of this.”
Cyon didn’t respond. I had never felt this kind of overwhelming emotion from him before.
I eyed the locked door of the interrogation room and then turned my attention to the one-way mirror. Was escape possible? There was a demon inside of me, which gave me a considerable edge. Increased strength and stamina, heightened reflexes, a savage proclivity for violence and combat. But I wasn’t willing to harm innocent cops to break out of this place. Besides, I was unarmed—and, despite my new abilities, not bulletproof.
My thoughts broke off as the door opened again. Benson entered. He regarded me with a shocked expression. There was no trace of Lamia’s crazy arrogance in the man’s features.
Looks like the real Benson finally made it, I thought.
“What the hell is going on, Raven?” he asked.
Where to begin, buddy?
Could I persuade the detective? I doubted my bleeding face inspired much confidence.
Cyon must’ve come to the same conclusion. He decided to take action without consulting me first. My demon claw shot out at the stunned detective. It snapped around his wrist, the talons drawing blood. Benson gasped. Guttural sounds in an alien tongue burst from my chattering lips.
Damnit Cyon, what the hell are you doing?!
He didn’t answer. The demon was in full control.
A beat later, Benson’s eyes rolled back, showing the whites.
“I’m sorry, Raven, but this is where we part. It has been…interesting. Thank you for your hospitality.”
What was the demon babbling about? A second later, I received my answer.
I started to shake all over. It felt like someone was sucking the air out of my lungs and draining my blood at the same time. Benson’s skin was hot to the touch against my reptilian demon hand, but Cyon refused to let go.
And then Benson’s eyes rolled back again, returning to normal—except for a momentary flicker of demonic red. A weight lifted from me, and I slumped forward. My mouth worked spasmodically, desperate for precious oxygen. I blearily stared at Benson as the door of the interrogation room flung open and armed cops poured in. A yawning emptiness gripped me as the officers tore me away from the detective. This time, no magic trick had disguised my actions. To the cops watching us on the other side of the one-way mirror, I had just attacked the detective like a rabid dog.
As the officers slammed me to the cold cement floor, my gaze met Benson’s. I recognized Cyon’s wry expression in his features.
As Benson, now under Cyon’s possession, turned away from me, I eyed my right hand. The demon skin was gone, the limb having returned to normal. And so had my physical abilities. The increased strength, speed, constitution—all gone. I was human again, regular old Mike Raven. The demon had ditched me for a better ride, having decided the detective would be his fastest way out of this place. His vengeance took precedence over everything, even our partnership.
This development should have made me whoop with joy…so why did I feel like someone had cut off one of my limbs, torn away an essential part from my soul?
13
7 Hours Earlier
Archer kept stealing glances at Raven’s sleeping features as she got dressed. In the early morning sunlight trickling into the bedroom, the man looked at peace. She couldn’t bring herself to wake him up. Raven deserved his rest. He’d been through hell and back and needed a break from all the horrors. She could give him that, at least.
More battles lay ahead, and they both better be ready. The incident at the movie theater served as a sharp reminder of the formidable enemy they faced. Last night, they’d scored a victory, but the war had just begun.
Guilt nagged at her as she slipped out of the loft. She remembered all too well their first night together and how low she’d felt when she woke up alone the next day. Her early departure wasn’t payback; she had forgiven him. Even understood why he had been scared of pulling her into his world of monsters and demons. Things were different now. She was different. She’d become a monster herself. She’d taken human life and sought redemption as a vampire hunter. Tracking vampires had seemed like the right path, but under Skulick’s guidance, she soon realized this mission went beyond battling one breed of evil. The forces of darkness took on many forms. The cult they were up against was a perfect example of how humans could be as monstrous as vampires. These fanatics had sold their souls to the devil. Someone had to stop them.
That’s why she left the loft without saying goodbye to the man snoring away peacefully in the next room. There was work to be done. Raven might not realize it yet, but she would help him take down this super cult.
This was her city, too.
Outside, the November sun warmed he features as she headed for her motorcycle. The heat was a nice change of pace from the freezing temperatures she had braved a few weeks earlier when they duked it out with the witches. She wished she could somehow skip winter this year, take off to some tropical paradise and sit out the cold months. It was an appealing fantasy, but Archer would never abandon the city during its time of need.
She swung on the bike, zipped up her black leather jacket, and slipped on the helmet. While she carved down city streets, wind tugging her exposed skin, she tried to focus on the plan, but her thoughts kept turning to last night. She hadn’t planned to go to bed with Raven, hadn’t even seen him since they defeated Malcasta. She didn’t regret it…but that didn’t mean they should give into their passion again.
Even though I want to, she thought, admitting to herself that no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, this was more than just a one-night stand. This was the beginning of something much more.
Loving Mike Raven was crazy. For crying out loud, Raven was possessed by a demon. A demon! Any sane individual would know this couldn’t end well, but she hadn’t been able to resist him. Their connection ran far deeper than physical attraction. She recognized herself in Raven’s haunted gaze. Understood his pain. Experienced his loneliness.
They’d lost so much in the last few months. Friends. Jobs. Mentors.
And almost their souls.
They both faced the darkness every day, both within and without, yet they kept on fighting. Despite his possession, Raven had turned the demon into a formidable weapon for good. She’d seen Raven fight the witches and wield his new magical sword like he’d been born with it. And now he was delving into magic.
Black Magic, she reminded herself.
She shivered when she thought about the dangers Raven faced. The temptation. Maybe a battle for Raven’s soul still lay ahead, but his chances were far better if she was in his corner. She would help him bring down this cult. And she would stand by his side when he confronted the archdemon Morgal.
Speaking of demons, Archer knew little about the entity that now dwelled within Raven. The details remained shrouded in mystery. Mostly because Raven didn’t like to talk about it. Maybe, as time went on, she would learn more. She could sense the creature though, could recognize the beast in the way Raven moved and looked at his enemies. He had always been a fighter, but he’d become a warrior. Gone was the boy struggling to step out of his mentor’s shadow. The last few months had turned the occult detective into a man. He was more mature now—and she wasn’t talking about
some new gray hairs in his beard. The monster hunter seemed more world-weary and cynical but also wiser.
And as the demon had given Raven an edge, perhaps he had softened the infernal nature of the beast. After all, the demon had granted them a night of privacy—not exactly the behavior she expected from a servant of darkness. But where did they go from here? Archer doubted the demon would leave Raven’s body every time they got together. Was their relationship doomed, or would she be giving herself to both a man and a demon?
Reality broke her out of her anxious thoughts. Up ahead, a rundown Irish pub jumped into view. Archer parked her bike right in front of the bar where she could keep an eye on it. The neighborhood was as shabby as the establishment she was about to walk into, and her motorcycle could attract the wrong attention.
She expected to find the place deserted, but to her surprise two old-timers sat at the bar, nursing beers like they were coffees while leafing through the morning newspapers. They eyed her curiously. Not too many females frequented Brennan’s at this time of day, or at least not ones that looked like Archer.
She paid them no mind and searched the bar for Ronny, her former CI. She found him behind a stack of dirty pint glasses, busy switching out a keg. He flashed her a grin and rose to his feet. Ronny Marquez was twenty-eight, tall, and muscular, his black shirt hiding a body covered in gang tattoos. She had busted him five years earlier for selling drugs but had sensed he could prove valuable. Instead of jail, Ronny had become a criminal informant. They weren’t friends but respected each other. Archer had given Ronny an opportunity to turn his life around when no one else cared a damn about his future. And Ronny never forgot the chance the rookie cop had taken on him.
They hadn’t seen each other in over a year when she approached him a few months ago. She had begun her campaign against the bloodsuckers and needed more street intel. Ronny had put his criminal past behind him, but he still kept his ear close to the ground. The dive bar drew its share of shady clientele, and Ronny knew everyone by name. If a hooker went missing, a druggie ended up dead in a dumpster, or a group of suspicious individuals squatted in some derelict building, Ronny heard about it. He was on speaking terms with lowlifes and lost souls, and his information had helped her locate the daytime hiding places of Marek’s vampires.
This time she wasn’t here to chat about vampires. The Crimson Circle held their auctions in abandoned buildings—theaters, sports stadiums, museums, places befitting of an occult auction. These off-the-grid locations projected an air of mystique and attracted little attention from the authorities. Last time they’d spoken, she’d asked Ronny to contact her if he heard anything about an upcoming event. He had texted her late last night, and she’d promised to meet him first thing in the morning. She’d meant to tell Raven about it, but she wanted to make sure she had a real lead first.
Ronny nodded at one the beer taps. “You look like you need a drink.”
Archer shook her head. “I’m all about caffeine in the morning.”
“I brew a mean pot of coffee.”
“Sold.”
A moment later, she took her first sip of Ronny’s brew and jerked wide awake, but for all the wrong reasons. This stuff could’ve knocked out a vampire.
“Good shit, huh?”
Archer nodded with a plastic smile, praying Ronny’s cocktails tasted better than his coffee. Then again, judging by the clientele of this dive, they only cared about the alcohol content of the drinks.
He waved at her to follow him to a nearby table where they could have some privacy. The two old-timers pretended to read their papers, but Archer sensed they had been hanging on every word.
Once seated, Archer cut right to the chase. “So you got something for me?”
“I’ve heard whispers about the old abandoned Assembly of the Saints Church. Some folks have spotted strangers scoping out the church.”
Archer cocked an eyebrow. A church seemed like the least likely place on Earth to hold an occult auction. She sighed. This lead was turning into a dead end. The former CI continued, clearly aware of her doubts. Ronny might’ve never gone to college, but his emotional intelligence was off the charts.
“You’re not buying it huh? A cult wouldn’t choose an old church for one of their social events, right? But hear me out. One of my regulars told me the other night that a group of dangerous looking men is now guarding the church, and they’re packing. I think something is about to go down.”
Archer shook her head. “I will look into, but as you said yourself, a church seems like a weird choice for a group of devil worshippers.”
“That’s because you don’t know the full story about this place.”
Archer frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Ronny’s voice became a low whisper. “The church has a history.”
Archer considered the statement for a beat. “I know they turned the church into a nightclub at some point. What was the place called again? Club Link, right?’
Ronny nodded. “That’s right.”
“Didn’t the club shut its doors about five years ago, around the time we first met?”
“The good old days.” Ronny grinned, then his expression turned deadly serious. “That’s not what I was talking about, though. There was a shooting at the church twenty years ago. The priest had started an affair with a married woman. Husband got wind of it and showed up with a rifle during mass. Killed his wife, the priest, and himself. After a tragedy like that, it’s hard to pick up the pieces. The murders tainted the place, and the bishop decided it was best if the church closed down.”
Archer mulled this over. “That was way before my time as a cop, but I remember hearing about the murders.”
Ronny wasn’t done yet. “The church shut down. A building like that, in a rundown section of the city, you would think it would become a haven for druggies and squatters. And it did at first. But rumors spread that the dead priest and his murderer haunted the church. Five years ago, someone finally took a chance on the property. Some nightclub promoter snapped up the place and turned it into Club Link. In the beginning, the place was a hit. But all too soon, one tragedy after another hit the place. Drug overdoses, a few rapes and stabbings, plus a performer fell off a stage and broke his neck. Soon the crowds stopped showing up, and the owners gave up. It’s been empty since then. Everyone in the neighborhood avoids the place.”
“I can’t blame them,” Archer said.
“Here comes the best part. I spoke with a local priest, Father Martinez—you know him? There have been rumors that when the church shut its doors after the murders, they forgot to deconsecrate the property.”
“Oh shit,” she breathed. As a Catholic, Archer knew the consecration ritual turned a manmade building into a house of God. Deconsecration did the reverse, removing a blessing from a holy place and turning a church back into a secular structure.
“I see you didn’t skip Sunday school. You know what I’m talking about. The place never stopped being a church when they opened the club. They transformed a holy place into a drug-infested den of debauchery. Probably pissed off the man upstairs.”
Archer doubted it. Skulick had taught her about how hotspots for black magic energy were created. Between the tragedy and turning a holy place into a cesspool, the church must’ve attracted the forces of darkness. Suddenly, the church seemed like the perfect place for the Crimson Circle to throw their latest shindig. Archer had to check out the site as soon as possible.
“I think you sold me on this idea, Ronny. Thanks, man.”
She slipped him a hundred dollar bill, but he pushed it back at her. “How many times have I told you that your money isn’t good in here? Now, a kiss? That’s a different story.”
Archer smiled and shook her head. Ronny was a charmer, but she had no interest in him romantically. She planted a quick one on his cheek and got up. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t kicked my butt and thrown a pair of cuffs on me five
years ago. If you ever feel like doing that again...” Ronny grinned ear to ear.
Archer shook her head. “Hey, watch it now.”
“I’m just kidding. I know your heart beats for someone else. Just be careful. Those guys sound like bad hombres.”
“They are. But I can handle myself.”
“Don’t I know it, girl.”
Archer walked out of the watering hole. The brilliant sunlight outside made her blink after the darkness of the bar. She straddled her motorcycle and cranked up the engine.
It was time to go to church.
14
Cyon surged through the bustling precinct and never looked back. Controlling a new body felt odd. He disliked abandoning Raven, but his former master had left him little choice. He had to stop Morgal before it was too late, and fighting his way out of the station inside his old host would have been a suicide mission for both of them. He doubted the heavily armed cops would have let Raven saunter out of the building.
A vision of the monster hunter’s bullet-riddled body flashed into his mind. Yes, this was the better option for everyone.
So why did he feel guilty? He was a servant of darkness, a demon from Hell. He didn’t owe Raven anything. The young man had been one more instrument in his quest for vengeance, a chess piece he’d played to the best of his abilities until his opponent forced him to give it up. The monster hunter meant nothing to him. He had always been a means to an end…hadn’t he?
Cyon clenched his new host’s jaw. This was ridiculous. He was headed into the most dangerous battle of his life, and he was wasting time dwelling on a mortal. The old Cyon would have discarded Raven without a second’s thought. But as much as he hated to admit it, the last few months had changed him. Possessing Raven for so long had allowed him to reconnect with the man he had once been. The witch Bavmara had claimed his mortal body, heart and soul, and ultimately served him up to Morgal, sealing his dark fate and turning a former hero into a monster. He’d spent so long in the dimension of darkness that he’d almost forgotten the light.
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