by Jacey Ward
“Well…yes…” Shax mumbled and Dante could see that he didn’t want to deliver the news, but the head demon already knew what he had come to say and he saved Shax from having to utter the words aloud.
“Uvall is here then,” Dante sighed, leaning back into the cushioned chair and staring out onto Lake Washington. Shax nodded, shifting his yellow eyes away.
“He has been here for a number of months it seems.”
Dante grunted softly.
“Any word on what he wants or should I assume the worst given these recent developments?”
“Nothing concrete yet, boss, but you are still much more powerful than him. No matter what he has planned, he must know he can’t succeed, not with your legion.”
Dante agreed but he knew the fight would be epic anyways. He was certain he could override the rogue demon but at what cost? Memory of the last civil war was still fresh, despite it being a millennium ago.
“Keep your ears open and if anyone learns where he is, I am to be notified at once. I need to shut this down before he does something stupid. He’s not known for his patience. That’s to my advantage – if I can catch him before he acts.”
“He’s been here this long,” Shax offered almost timidly. “I wonder if he hasn’t just uprooted himself for a change. Peacefully?”
Shax was just playing devil’s advocate but Dante was not fooled.
“If that’s the case, he should have informed us of his arrival. No, he’s here to stir up trouble.”
Shax nodded slowly and shuffled toward the door.
“All right, boss. I’ll keep you informed.
“There’s something else I need from you, Shax.”
The giant waited and Dante suddenly wished he had not spoken.
You’re being stupid. Nothing good can come from this.
“I need you to find out about a sorceress named Arya Ambrose. She’s here in Seattle. I need to know where.”
Shax blinked slowly, shifting through his memory.
“Haven’t I looked for her before?”
“You did and you found nothing. I’m telling you to look again. Arya Ambrose.”
“Yes, boss. Should I approach her if I find her?”
“No!”
The word came out like a gunshot and Shax started.
If Shax comes upon her and sees she’s a tiny redhead with a killer ass, will he clue in, especially because I just asked him to find her ten seconds after we discussed the robberies? Smart as bricks, Dante.
“No,” Dante said firmly, trying to hold back the aggression that had sprung up in him at the thought of Shax putting his hands on her. “Just send me what you learn. And don’t touch her.” Why the hell had he added that on? Fuck, smooth move, shit head. Now Shax is going to wonder for sure…
“Yes, boss.”
He ambled out the door and left Dante to glower at the water, lost in thought.
What are the chances that he’ll turn up anything this time? I sent him all over the earthly underworld to find her but he didn’t learn a thing. She couldn’t have just disappeared off the face of the planet.
And yet it seemed as if she had done precisely that.
According to the private investigator he had hired, Arya’s social security number was inactive, her apartment in South Park rented by a Lycan who did not know her. He had tried to remember the name of the Valkyrie who had been with Arya that night but aside from the redhead who had stolen his breath, Dante could recall little else about that night.
He couldn’t even be sure he had heard the goddess’ name that night.
She consumed me whole that night and she continues to do so. But she’s here and I will see her again, I know it.
His mind darted back to the matter of the thief on the Strip.
Arya is a sorceress. A high priestess is involved with the thefts. Could there be a connection?
He found it difficult to reconcile the passionate, sensual woman he had known, albeit briefly, as a cunning artifact robber.
I never did learn what she did for a living though, did I?
Dante groaned loudly and rose from the chair, suddenly feeling suffocated in the glass box. He needed some air to clear his head.
You’ve got way too much on your mind. There is no affiliation between Arya and the robberies. You’re just hoping for any connection between you and her, no matter how dark.
Yet even as he left the sunroom, Dante could not shake the sense that things were about to become even more complicated in his life.
Chapter 6
The sweet smell of opium touched her nostrils as she entered the stairwell, her skirt sweeping along her ankles as she managed the winding decline into the bowels of the building.
From the outside, no one would be the wiser, the grey building windowless and industrial, just like so many others on the Duwamish Waterway. No one would ever suspect what lay beneath the cold cement floor in the impossibly built basement.
A familiar hum met her ears as she ventured lower, the temperature falling, humidity intermingling with the wafts of smoke until she landed at a door of cast iron.
She did not need to wait, the gate swinging inward to allow her entry and slowly, she flitted through, eyes adjusting to the dimly lit hallway effortlessly.
The din increased, a sea of murmuring but none of it distinct, a light headedness overcoming her body as she crept deeper into the cavern. Abruptly she stopped and peered into a doorway, still and waiting.
“Come in.”
She pushed her way across the threshold, the air thickening around her as she entered the dungeon, alight with hundreds of candles.
This feels like home, she thought, pausing to close her eyes and revel in the moment, knowing it was fleeting.
“Sit.”
She obliged, reluctantly parting her lids to look at the being before her, his shoulder-length blonde hair shimmering against the flickering wax light.
Spreading her skirts around her in a fan, she peered at him, her rear resting against the thickness of the pillows.
“It’s how you remember our past, isn’t it?” he asked and she chuckled softly, nodding.
“I miss it,” she confessed. “Before all the technology and electricity pulsating through the earth, disrupting all our natural frequencies and destroying our mojo.”
“You are not the only one who feels like that,” he assured her. “That is why we choose to stay below; where it is dark and untouched.”
“I wish I could too,” she sighed.
“Perhaps one day we all will again.”
She did not bother to ask him how that could ever come to be. She suspected she knew very well what he had in mind.
Instead, she only smiled and waited for him to ask the inevitable question.
“Well?”
“I have recovered the last of the Lanuarius Collection,” she replied, pulling the brooch from her cleavage and handing it to him.
He reached toward her, his long fingernails pinching the garnet and bronze brooch and drawing it back toward him to study it closely.
A small smile crossed over his fair features and he nodded slowly.
“Your girl is good,” he said. “She has gotten everything I’ve asked for…almost.”
Rowan’s lips curved into a slight smirk.
“She does what I ask of her,” she corrected, slightly annoyed that he was not giving credit where it was due. To her mind, it was she who was good, not Arya. After all, where would Arya be without her, but living in some dilapidated apartment on the Strip.
“Where is the rest of what I demanded?” he asked, bringing her back to the present and she cringed inwardly.
“You must exercise patience,” Rowan sighed. “I – “
She was unable to finish the sentence as she flew to the ground, her throat ensnared within his outstretched hand.
Her blue eyes bulged from their sockets as she stared beseechingly at him.
“Are you suggesting that I lack patience?�
� he hissed and she felt the bones of her windpipe bend as she fought violently to shake her head, her blue eyes wide with contrition.
How could she have forgotten his wrath so easily?
“I have been nothing but patient. I feel like the only thing I do is sit around twiddling my thumbs waiting on word from you.”
She was losing consciousness, black dots dancing before her eyes, and then he suddenly released her.
He was sitting back on his pillow as if he had never moved and Rowan gasped, choking as she struggled to breathe.
“How much longer will it be, Rowan?” he asked, his tone conversational. “This is becoming ridiculous. Do I need to find another priestess for the job? You are not the only one who – “
“No!” she cried, rubbing her throat to increase the circulation. “Please!”
He pierced her with icy eyes, the prisms hypnotic as they studied her face.
“How can you be sure she will get it?” he asked. “It is quite a risk to take, no matter what the price. Does she have a desire to die?”
Rowan shook her head.
“She is vindictive.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“She has a personal connection to Dantalion?”
Rowan stilled her thoughts, certain that the powerful beast was trying to read her mind.
She offered him a knowing smile.
“A personal dislike,” she replied evasively.
There was no reason for the demon to know about the child. It was the only leverage she had, the only way to gain the upper hand against the demons if she should ever need it.
I may have lied to Arya about the spell being in the book, but I did not lie about my desire to own the earthly underworld. There is a way to defeat the demons in that book and I will find it.
“Ensure it is enough, Rowan. When will she get the Chasm?”
“In two weeks there is a gala at Dante’s estate. She will be among the guests.”
He smiled as he nodded.
“Very well. I have waited this long. A fortnight will not kill me.”
Rowan rose and swallowed, smiling demurely at him.
“Until next time, my lord.”
She spun to leave, the sense of comfort she had felt upon entry completely diminished with the threat on her life. One day, they would have the world back the way it had been, a realm where the immortals reigned without the mortals tainting everything they touched.
First, she would use Uvall to help her achieve that reality, and then she would end all the demons once and for all.
Chapter 7
Circe’s saffron eyes did not mask her concern as she jerked her head up from Jasmine’s bedside. She raised a hand from Jasmine’s forehead, her irises almost the color of burnt honey, they had darkened so intensely.
“Her fever is out of control, Arya. She’s too small to stay like this for much longer. Gods only know what kind of damage all this is causing to her insides.”
The sorceress did not need to be told how quickly her daughter was declining. There was nothing she could do at this time except to ply the child with mortal medicines and continue with the spells she knew to keep the fever at bay. In three days, she would have the Chasm of Guile in her hands and Rowan would fix the spell to make Jasmine well.
If she did not screw it up.
“I know,” Arya mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and biting her lower lip.
She turned away from the door and ventured into the bungalow, leaving Jasmine to sleep. She was beginning to feel as if she never saw the girl awake anymore and it unnerved her. She feared that one day, Jasmine would simply slip off to slumber and never wake again. She remained constantly watched, and between her and Circe there was always a loving body within reach, but that did little to alleviate Arya’s distress.
I have to go back to Rowan and see if she can concoct anything at all, even if it’s a band-aid effect. I only need three days and I don’t know if Jasmine has it left in her.
“Arya, what are you going to do? We can’t sit around and watch her…get worse.”
The words made her physically sick to hear aloud, even though they had been ricocheting through her mind for weeks.
“I’m not sitting around and…” she couldn’t finish the sentence, her voice cracking as she slipped onto a wooden chair and buried her face in her hands, her silken tresses slipping over her fingers.
“There must be something we can do,” Circe said urgently. “I know you’ve considered everything, but – “
“There is a spell,” Arya interrupted, slowly raising her head but shifting her jade eyes away from her best friend. There was a reason she had not told Circe what she had planned. Actually, there were several reasons.
“What?” she gasped. “What is it? Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“I didn’t want to curse myself,” she lied.
“What is it? How did you find it?” Circe demanded and for a moment, Arya considered blowing off the questions but she knew that it would not serve her well to avoid the issue any longer. If anything happened to her while she was at Dante’s mansion on Saturday night, Circe would need to take care of Jasmine…for as long as her daughter had left.
Nothing is going to go wrong, she told herself, gnawing on her lip with such intensity, she tasted blood. You won’t get caught – you’re the best thief on the strip or Rowan would have had someone steal the Chasm a long time ago.
She didn’t remind herself that Rowan had probably never had a talented thief that was this desperate – desperate enough to die in order to steal the book.
“Arya! What do you have?” Circe insisted, her face suddenly appearing a couple inches in front of hers and Arya started.
“In the Chasm of Guile, there is a spell,” she started slowly. “Only a high priestess can perform it but it works on hybrid offspring.”
Circe gaped at her, a half-smile forming on her lips as if she expected Arya to laugh and declare her words a joke.
“The Chasm of Guile,” she echoed. “The demon bible.”
“It applies to all immortals,” Arya replied, still averting her eyes. Circe knew her too well and even without reading her thoughts, the Valkyrie could sense something wasn’t adding up.
“And how would you intend to get your hands on this Chasm?”
There was still amused skepticism in Circe’s voice but it was clear she was beginning to realize the sincerity of Arya’s intentions.
“Rowan has…coveted it in the past,” she offered, but Circe immediately picked up on the hesitation in her tone.
“And?”
Arya didn’t answer immediately. She knew once she told Circe what she had planned, her friend would do everything in her power to dissuade her. That was the reason she had not told her in the first place.
Moreover, Circe didn’t know the truth about Jasmine’s father, only that he was a demon who had never called her again after a one-night stand. Circe had no reason to suspect that her former lover was the most powerful demon in the Deviant world.
Arya had no doubt what the Valkyrie would have done if she knew.
After learning about her pregnancy, Arya knew she couldn’t live in the dingy apartment in South Park. It was too dangerous for a child and it put them at great risk for Dantalion Carmichael learning about his daughter.
It’s not Jasmine’s fault that her father is a cunning liar, and no matter how rich he may be, I don’t want his influence over her.
She never stopped to ask herself if she was the pot or the kettle, being a renowned thief herself.
During her pregnancy, she upped her thieving game, taking on as many clients as she could and squirreling away enough money to move from the seedy Sapphire Strip to a middle-class neighborhood in Hawthorne Hills.
After the birth of her baby, Rowan’s jobs became higher paying and enabled her to sustain herself and Jasmine in relative comfort. Arya bought a small house under a stolen alias and maintained a low-profile life.
She would never understand why I needed to do it on my own, especially after the way he lied to me and then…discarded me. The words hurt, even after all this time.
Of course, Arya had considered demanding money from him in the beginning, especially when the smoke cleared somewhat and she realized who she had invited into her bed that night.
I was so stupid! How could I not have realized it? He was wearing an outfit which cost more than the club we were in. You knew he was a demon. How did you not put two and two together?
But out of context, she’d had no reason to question who he was, even when he had been honest about his name. Arya had just been too enraptured in the sensation, in the strange prisms of his ever-moving irises.
In her anger, she wanted to threaten him and scream at him, all the while pleading with him to explain why he had left her so abruptly and without reason.
You have no one to blame but yourself, Arya reminded herself. You foresaw that you had no future with him and you blatantly ignored it.
In the end, Arya knew that she needed to cut the idea of him from her mind, no matter how much he snuck back in at the oddest times.
“Arya, what is it? What are you going to do?” Circe growled. “I don’t like the look on your face.”
Arya inhaled shakily and finally met Circe’s eyes boldly.
“I’m going to steal it,” she announced firmly. “And when I do, Rowan will enact a Shroud of Protection over Jasmine.”
“You’re going to steal a Chasm from a demon overlord.”
The sentence was flat and Circe’s yellow eyes lost all their light as she stared, her expression blank.
“Yes,” Arya said. “And don’t try to talk me out of it, Circe. I will do anything for Jasmine.”
Circe studied her face for a long moment.
“I don’t understand,” the Valkyrie said slowly, beginning to stalk about, her long body shifting slightly to emulate a cat. “If the Chasm can be borrowed and it is to save one of their own, why would you need to steal it, Arya?”