A bullet twanged off the road beside us. A warning shot. We both stood too still to be anything but targets. I really didn’t want a bullet in the back of my head, courtesy of the Institute’s finest.
“Stefan…” I kept my voice low, aided by the demon accent. “Don’t.” The oily touch of Damien crept out of its hiding place, seeking my resolve in an attempt to weaken me. “Please.” I couldn’t stay demon for long. Too soon, I’d need to drop the fire or risk losing myself to the chaos. Stefan’s expression twitched. He’d sensed my internal battle. Of course he had. Chaos rushed through his veins.
Stefan’s hand shot out viper-fast and closed into a fist beside my head. I flinched away, about to turn on him, when I heard the crack of sniper fire. He opened his palm and presented me with a perfect ballistic-tipped bullet, captured in ice. It should have warped or exploded, but he’d somehow caught it midflight and deflected the pressure into the ice.
He leaned into me, the frosted tips of his hair melting as my fire lapped at him. “They just tried to kill you, and you want me to let them take a second shot?”
I flicked my gaze up. “Leave them. This isn’t our fight. Not yet.”
The sound of boots crunching in the frozen snowfall bounced around the mist, making locating our hunters virtually impossible. But I could see them in my mind, flanking us on either side, fencing us in. I could end this very quickly. They obviously knew that, hence the kill shot.
Stefan unfurled his glorious wings, sweeping them back with dramatic flare. The barbs chimed as they splayed. He flashed me a bright smile. “It is mine.” He flexed his shoulders and called his ice-armor. Frozen fractals slid beneath his skin, spouting bristles of ice.
“No, Stefan, please.”
He slid his gaze away, summoning a crude lance of ice in his right hand. I couldn’t let him do this. He’d come back looking for help. Well, help was here, and I wasn’t going to let him ruin his chance at ever coming back to himself. I pulled the latent heat into me and shoved it toward him. The air twisted and distorted between us. Then the wave hit him, instantly bowing his glorious wings, sending streamlets of water down his back. He snarled and turned, cocking his head, as though he couldn’t quite believe I would fight him.
I didn’t want to. We’d sparred before. I’d witnessed what he was capable of. Smarter and faster than me, he had all the tricks, all the finesse, whereas I was more of a flood-everything-with-fire kinda gal.
“You wanna do this now? Here?”
The enforcers tightened their circle. “Sure.” I grinned and beckoned him forward while I backed up. “Think you can get through me, Stefan? Because I’m not letting you hurt them.” Holy hell, what was I doing? Taunting a Prince of Hell was never a good idea.
He took the bait and stepped forward, moving toward me while I backed up. The evil passenger sucking on my soul clutched at my heart, sending a bolt of pain through me. I staggered, saw Stefan’s eyes widen, his gaze sharpen, and realized I’d tugged the tail of the tiger quite enough, and ran. The mist parted within a few strides, spitting me out onto a narrow street. The Charlestown timber-clad terraces towered over me, funneling me in the one direction. Head down, wing up, I ran hard. All I had to do was draw him away from the enforcers. Running, I could do. What my demon form lacked in strength, I sure made up for in stamina. The brittle touch of ice nipped at my heels. He was close. Looking back would only slow me down. So now that I’d got him away, what was I supposed to do?
I veered down a tiny alley, barely large enough to drive a car down. Ice galloped along the walls on either side of me, reaching and snapping in my peripheral vision. He wouldn’t hurt me. Would he? My heart raced, pumping acidic darkness through my veins. The hunt… The chase… Let him come. We will have him. The Winter King is ours.
Something inside me snapped. My control perhaps, at least a part of it. I still ran, still wove my way around trashcans, pounding the street in time with the beat of my heart, but I wasn’t there. Not really. Detached. Cut adrift. I reached for my control and felt it slip through my fingers like the string of a balloon. If I didn’t get it back, it’d be gone for good.
Stefan hit me from behind, simultaneously tackling me, while hooking an arm around me, so he could wrench me off my feet and slam me into a wall. My fire flared. Body numbed by the tackle, I yelped and almost collapsed in on him as the control I’d lost poured back into my body. I was back. What the hell had just happened? Denied, my demon snarled, and the sound rippled my lips.
Stefan leaned into me, forearm pinned against my throat. His element nipped at my flesh, sizzling and spitting against my fiery skin. I met his winter-sky eyes, saw the flash of his fangs behind his victorious grin, and laughed. I’d almost lost it. She—my demon—had gained the upper hand, if only for a few seconds. But it wasn’t her time. Not yet. I’d come back. Giggles tumbled from me.
Stefan’s ice armor had long ago dissolved, leaving him somewhat vulnerable, but no less magnificently demon. He frowned, confused, and I laughed harder. It was that or cry.
He eased back, mouth hooking into a lopsided grin. “At least I’m not the only one who’s crazy.”
I snorted, a sure sign I couldn’t control my hilarity, and Stefan spluttered a laugh.
“You have… no… idea.” I managed to say between snorts.
He backed up and shook his demon visage off with a chuckle. Blue jeans and a black tank top made him look almost normal. “You know you faced Wrath back there?” He ran a hand through his damp hair and shook out stubborn ice crystals.
“I did?” I straightened and then barked more laughter. My demon slunk off, disgusted with my emotional outburst. I only laughed harder as I slumped against the wall, exhausted but oh so wonderfully human. My clothes clung to the thin sheen of sweat. I wiped a hand across my forehead. “He was playing with you.”
Stefan balked and brushed a fleck of something off his arm. “I think you’ll find I was playing with him. Until you showed up.”
“Excuse me for trying to save your ass.”
“My ass?” His gaze slid from my head to my toes, sprinkling desire in its wake. A touch of delight glinted in his eyes. He might have closed the meager distance between us had we not been interrupted by a hooded figure emerging from a doorway, aiming the business end of an M16 at me. Beneath the hood, a filthy scarf covered his face, so all I could see was his sharp-eyed glare. He jerked the gun and his chin in unison, indication we should lift our hands, and stood with the innate arrogance of those familiar with guns and how to use them.
Stefan and I stilled. Was this guy for real? He wasn’t an enforcer. They all had rods up their asses. Plus he hid his face. He had to be a rebel, one of the street militia, civilians who thought they knew better than the professionals and usually bought themselves early graves because of it. I lifted my hands to buy time while I tried to read him. Dirty boots, scuffed and torn jeans stained with oil, and a size too big or in fashion, depending on his age.
Another guy, taller, leaner, moved in from the opposite end of the alley. His assault rifle didn’t fit as easily with his spindly frame, but his severe eyes peering through the wrapped scarf left no room for negotiation.
Stefan arched an eyebrow. He was thinking the same thing: amateurs.
“You don’t wanna do this,” I warned, startled by the normal humanity of my words. I was still coming down off my demon high and not exactly grounded. Stefan would be feeling it too: an itch to get back into the fight. These men had no idea they’d trapped monsters in that alley.
“Oh, I think we do, Charley,” the skinny one said.
I knew that voice. “Coleman?”
He tugged down his scarf and smiled tightly. “Nice to see you alive.”
“What the—?” I gawped and lowered my hands. “You’re with the militia?”
He nodded. “I’m not the only one.”
I swung my gaze back to the quiet guy and reassessed my appraisal. The dirty rag covering his face wouldn’t have fooled m
e for long. Ex-military. You could tell it in his deceptively relaxed stance. Carefully, I eased forward, in front of Stefan, and lifted my gaze, noticing how our captor had tensed his grip on the rifle. “Just know,” I warned, “if you lift that rifle, I’ll bring the fire to this party, and you don’t want that, do you…Ryder?”
Chapter Seventeen
Ryder tugged his scarf down and shrugged back his hood. His gaze rested on me for a few seconds before settling on Stefan. I expected a growl from Stefan but heard only his soft even breathing. Ryder wasn’t a threat to him, not any more.
“Goddammit, Muse. Can’t I do anything without you showing up to piss on my parade?” His words were hard, but his smile was soft.
I puffed out the breath I’d been holding. “You’re with the militia?”
Coleman moved up behind me, sidestepping around Stefan with deserved reverence. “Boston PD’s Special Response Team is what we are. You didn’t think we were going to sit on our hands while the Institute did whatever the hell they pleased, did you?”
I blinked at Coleman and tried to come to terms with the shrewd man standing before me and the ways in which he didn’t match the clean-cut detective I’d helped in the past. Nope. I couldn’t do it. This was Coleman, for hell’s sake, the coffee-drinking, curious detective who’d hired me as a consultant to answer questions about all things demon, the one taking notes about their weak spots, their end-game, and who wanted to know all about Akil and the other princes. Well, maybe the signs that Coleman had been up to something were there. But Ryder?
“The militia?” I asked again.
He grunted. “I reckon I got some explaining to do.” His smile died when he regarded Stefan. “Just so we’re straight, I don’t trust you. I don’t know what you are, but it sure ain’t my partner. If I see one fuckin’ flake of snow where it shouldn’t be, I’ll kill you.”
“You can try.”
I winced and sliced Stefan a frown. He shrugged a shoulder.
Ryder glowered and eased his gun down to his side. “A temporary truce until this shit is over. Agreed?”
I nodded and slid Stefan a glance, suggesting he might like to do the same. He sighed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as though considering it. If I knew him, he’d be curious. This was Ryder, the Institute’s numero uno enforcer, working incognito for the militia.
“Sure,” Stefan drawled. “But don’t expect me to play nice if you turn that gun on me.”
There, we were all friends. Sort of. In an awkward, Mexican standoff kind of way. Coleman and Ryder escorted us back to their warehouse base. It looked as though the SRT has taken up residence in a recently abandoned call center building, complete with booths. Only these booths were filled with guns and people who evidently knew how to use them. We were greeted with suspicious glances, but the crowd milled around as though we were their own, not two half bloods with enough power between us to level a city. They’d spray-painted protective symbols on the walls, floor and ceiling, which I was grateful for, considering I was having trouble taming my demon instincts, but the markings wouldn’t have any effect on Stefan. Ryder knew that. However, he didn’t know how Stefan had joined the Prince of Hell club. I wasn’t entirely sure how he would react to that news. Frankly, I was surprised he hadn’t already tried to put a bullet in Stefan. As far as I knew, the last time they’d seen each other, Stefan had stabbed me, and I’d effectively died in Ryder’s arms. That sort of thing tends to leave a lasting impression.
“Coffee?”
I beamed at Coleman. “Do you need to ask?” He grinned and set about working a machine, dumping his rifle on the counter beside it.
Stefan hung back, reading the room with his sharp gaze. He saw me watching him and moved closer. His easy stride and relaxed posture utterly belied what he was capable of. “Coleman, you’re taking a big risk bringing us here,” he said, coming right out and saying exactly what I’d been thinking. “You saw us back there, right? You know we’re demon.”
“Half demon.” Coleman raised a plastic cup at Stefan, who declined the offered coffee with a shake of his head. “Tomorrow, we move. We never stay in one place long enough to become a target.”
Stefan scanned the crowd again. The low murmur of dozens of voices created a comforting background hum. His gaze settled on Ryder and lingered as his old friend chatted to a woman, the both of them engrossed in conversation.
Stefan and Ryder had worked together for a long time before I appeared on the scene. Ryder had briefly been charged with Stefan’s ‘rehabilitation,’ and when it became clear Stefan had no intention of reining in his demon, Ryder had been tasked with Stefan’s termination. He should have shot Stefan on sight. Ryder was not acting like the Ryder I’d come to appreciate as a friend, and Stefan knew it too.
Coleman dumped a load of sugar into my coffee, remembering I liked it sweet. He handed it to me. “What were you doing on the street back there? We caught the radio chatter and knew a demon battle was in progress, but when we arrived on-scene, the enforcers were already there. The fog rolled in, and we couldn’t make out who was fighting who.”
I recalled how Stefan had plucked a sniper’s round out of the air before it could smash through my skull. “I’m not entirely sure who was fighting who either.” So much for the Institute accepting my offer of help. They’d gotten me out of their facility—probably with the intention of taking me down once their precious base was a safe distance away.
“Ryder wanted to talk with you, so we stuck around. It’s good to see you, Charley. Just a shame it’s not under better circumstances.” Coleman slouched against the counter and ran a hand down his face. “I can’t believe how bad things are.”
Sipping my coffee, I watched Ryder stroll around a few booths to reach us. Stefan immediately tensed, and the touch of cool energy fizzed against my skin before vanishing under his control.
“Hey,” I hedged, not entirely sure whether I was meant to be happy to see him or if another argument was brewing. “I gather Adam doesn’t know you moonlight for Boston PD?”
“No, and I need to keep it that way.” His gaze wandered to Stefan standing sentinel beside me and then snapped back. “I need to talk with you. Privately.”
I frowned, not entirely sure if Stefan was tame enough to be left in a room filled with people who would kill him if they knew he was a Prince of Hell.
“Go.” Stefan smiled. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. Don’t go all Elsa on me. No ‘letting it all go,’ okay?”
“Cross my half-demon heart.” A glimmer of laughter touched his eyes.
I wanted to ask Stefan about Wrath’s words—he’d called me Asmodeus’s daughter, among other things. It appeared I’d been promoted from half-blood whore to a longstanding Prince of Hell’s daughter, and I wanted to know what it meant. “Don’t go anywhere.”
He nodded. “Be quick. We don’t have much time left, and I need to know what you discovered about the Institute’s half bloods.”
“Okay, it’s not good though, so don’t get your hopes up.”
I followed Ryder’s generous gait out of the main floor, up the stairwell, and out onto the roof, where he nodded to a guy and appeared to take his place on watch. Mist spritzed my face, clinging to my hair and cooling my flushed skin. It felt good to be back out in the night air, but it also meant my demon was free again, and her thoughts immediately muddied mine. A penetrating ache seeped from my chest. By the time Ryder and I reached the parapet wall at the edge of the flat roof, I had a hard time keeping the pain off my face.
“I’m sorry.” Ryder leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms. His lips turned down in disgust. “I’ve been an ass. I should have told you. I Just—”
“What’s going on? This isn’t you, Ryder. The Institute is your life.”
“No. It’s not. I make it look that way so nobody gets hurt.”
His shoulders dropped. He looked out over the peaceful city of Boston. The f
ine breeze feathered his hair across his forehead. From the rooftop, it didn’t look as though the demons were creating chaos in Boston. A siren chirped somewhere. The sound carried gently through the air, but otherwise the city slept.
“I have a daughter. Did you know that? Her name’s Kerry.” I did know but only because Akil had told me. “And a wife. Ex-wife. She’s…better off without me. They both are. But the Institute is threatening me, Muse. Using my daughter as leverage. I’ve questioned Adam for years. His ethics, his double standards. I’ve seen him sanction things… Horrible things. I know what he did to Stefan, and the others. And you. I know a lot more than you think I do. I told myself it was all for a good reason, but that became a lie over a year ago.” He sighed. “They threatened me after I shot Dawn, said they’d take my daughter away if I didn’t follow their goddamn rules.” Ryder sucked in a deep breath. “Coleman came to me right after his partner, Detective Hill, was attacked by Damien, and you went missing. He demanded that something be done and wouldn’t take no for an answer. That’s when he told me about the PD’s Special Response Team. I should have told Adam. I didn’t.”
I’d been so certain I knew Ryder. But he had secrets too, secrets I hadn’t earned the right to know. An alien burn smoldering somewhere deep inside quickened my breath. Damien awakening. I winced and squeezed my eyes closed, swallowing back acid. It wouldn’t be long now. Hours, if I could hold him back that long.
“Muse?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” I smiled brightly. There was nothing Ryder could do, and he had enough to deal with. “I had no idea, Ryder. About any of this.”
“I’ve always doubted Adam, but I’m a soldier. It’s not my place to question the likes of him. I might have let it go, but then he put me in charge of terminating Stefan. His own goddamn son, Muse.” He spat a disgusted curse. “I joined SRT right after. I know Stefan’s gone. I know that. But I just can’t do it.” Ryder grimaced, and his face cracked with despair. I struggled to keep from throwing my arms around him. “If he wants his son dead, the bastard can do it himself.”
Drowning In The Dark: #4 The Veil Series Page 11