by Jacey Ward
“Tell me,” Uvall barked.
“I promised her a Shroud of Protection for her child.”
“Her child?”
“The baby has HID. She’s half demon.”
Another ominous silence ensued and then suddenly, a low, sinister laugh filled the room.
“And you promised her a Shroud? You know you cannot give her such a thing, right? That is something only a lord of the Deviant underworld can provide for her.”
“She doesn’t know that,” Rowan laughed. “She thinks the spell inside the book will heal her brat.”
The world around Arya began to spin as Uvall’s chortle grew louder.
“Oh, that is fresh!” the demon howled. “She’s going to be pissed when she learns the truth.”
“It doesn’t matter. When I have the book, I’ll disclose her location anonymously to Dantalion’s minions, and they’ll deal with her. Permanently, I’m sure. She’s not going to be an issue for long.”
“Pity that,” Uvall sighed. “She sounds like she’d be an asset to my team. Ah well, you’ll simply have to find me another motivated thief.”
“And I will,” Rowan assured him. “I trained this one, after all. If not for the need to use that kid against her, she may have been useful for many centuries to come.”
“The good ones always fall,” Uvall agreed philosophically.
The cold delivery of that statement was the tipping point for Arya, and she spun blindly to stumble out of the shop before they could sense her there.
She’d been duped by Rowan! There wasn’t anything the priestess could do to save Jasmine.
And she had made a mortal enemy out of the only being who could help her save her baby.
Pushing her way out of the shop silently, she made her way to Circe’s car and zoomed away, tears stinging her eyes.
If Dante so much as sees me, he will kill me. There will be no explaining my case to him. He’ll listen to me about as much as I listened to him when he tried to tell me what happened that night. I got what I wanted, for him to feel betrayed, just as I felt back then, but at what cost?
She could barely see through the waterworks slipping down her cheeks, her breathing as labored as her baby’s had been for weeks.
There was nothing left to do except find a safe place to hide until Jasmine succumbed to her illness. No cure and no hope. She could hear the sound of her heart shattering in the stillness of the night.
And then I’ll find a way to return the book to Dante, and I will die too.
Chapter 10
The rage flowing through Dante’s veins was unlike anything he had felt in thousands of years. It seemed to have taken on its own form and lived inside his body like an entirely new demon, awash with fury.
Of course, he had experienced anger in the past, but nothing as white-hot and venomous as what he felt in the moments following Arya’s treachery.
“We’ll find her,” Shax reassured him. “She can’t have gotten far, boss.”
“Find that damned book!” Dante growled, pacing around the library. “And bring her to me alive!”
“Are you sure, Dante? If she has the book, I can take care of her for you.”
“Alive,” he repeated, the steel in his voice causing even Shax to shudder. “And untouched.”
He would deal with Arya in his own way.
But the fury burning through his body was not directed strictly at his one-time lover. He knew that she was working under Rowan, and possibly Uvall, and he was far more enraged by his own gullibility, and the sheer gall of the high priestess and his nemesis.
Whatever they had promised her would never come to fruition. And Arya would be on her knees, begging for forgiveness when he was done with her. But in his mind, a voice whispered, “Do you think you’ll ever be done with her? Really? You’ve thought of little besides her these last years…”
He chose to ignore the voice, not letting the leap of his heart dictate his actions toward her. But imagine it, having her in your power, as your prisoner, forever…don’t lie to yourself and say the idea doesn’t make your cock get hard.
But truthfully, as much of a bastard as Dante was, for the first time in his very long existence, the idea of bonding with a woman hadn’t made him run. To be honest, he had even pictured a future with the little bitch once or twice, with a beautiful home and family. Stop it! He shoved that thought violently out of his mind before he could become maudlin. He’d hold onto his anger any day before allowing a weakness like that to befall him!
Now the other two, Uvall and Rowan – they were a different story entirely. Shortly after Dante got his hands on them, they would be begging for death to take them. Then his traitorous mind flipped back to Arya, the look of rapturous pleasure in her eyes earlier that evening causing his chest to ache.
Does Arya hate me so much that she would risk a civil war over it? Simply because I disappeared after a one-night stand?
It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t claim to know Arya perfectly, but his instincts told him that she was not a spite-driven being, no matter how hurt she might have been.
But I have been wrong before, haven’t I? And you’re obviously more wrong than you’ve ever been before right now. The girl is trying to make a joke out of you.
“Bring me Rowan,” he growled to Shax. “And I don’t care if she’s unscathed.”
There was a knock at the library door and both demons tensed, watching as it swung inward.
“Hey, Dante,” Paul chirped from the doorway. “Dinner is starting and everyone wants to know where you are. They’re opening the phone lines to the public now too.”
Dante desperately wanted to tell his PR manager to set himself on fire, but he quickly reminded himself why the night was happening in the first place.
“I’ll be right there,” he gritted out.
Paul nodded slowly and eyed Shax suspiciously.
“I heard a commotion. Is everything okay?”
“Paul, get the fuck out. This is a private matter.”
“Oh sure, sure,” he replied hurriedly, backing out of the room. “I was just going to say that – “
“Now!” Dante snapped, turning back to Shax. “If you find Rowan, you’ll find Arya. She may have already brought the book to her.”
Shax waited, sensing that there was more to the order.
“If you see Uvall…” Dante continued, gritting his teeth.
Instantly, his mind fluttered back to the night he had met Arya, but his memory wasn’t of her, it was of the mess Marbas had made of his life. The barfight, the death of another demon, when his cousin had been sent to purgatory for eternity. And Dante had been stuck going along for the ride for the coverup.
I can’t kill Uvall. It won’t be a year in limbo if I do – it will be an eternity, hanging out with that piece of shit. I have to find another way, one where my fingerprints aren’t all over it.
“Don’t do anything if you find Uvall,” Dante finished. “Just bring me Rowan and find Arya Ambrose.”
Shax nodded and disappeared after Paul.
She played me for a fool and I didn’t suspect a thing. She’s only a sorceress and she manipulated me with her beautiful eyes and sad face. I’m an idiot.
Yet Dante had such a difficult time accepting that was the entire truth to what had happened. The emotion he had seen in her couldn’t be faked, could it? There was still something there, something between them which had survived the misunderstanding, even if she didn’t fully realize it.
The woman had stolen the most priceless artifact in the world and you’re still thinking about how succulent she tastes. You don’t deserve to be a lord of the Deviant underworld. You’re weak! Punish her!
To his relief, the rest of the fundraiser went off without a hitch – in spite of his minimal involvement, and by one a.m., security had cleared the estate of all the lingering guests.
Paul and Dante sat at an abandoned table in the ballroom as the staff cleaned up around them.
It never ceased to disgust Dante that the uber rich were such slobs.
They have absolutely no respect for anything, he thought disdainfully. You’d think they’d be more aware of their precarious situation on the earth and take a bit better care of it.
“That was a huge success, D.C.!” Paul announced gleefully. “We raised twenty million in total. They really should build a new wing and name it after you.”
The moniker was finally something he could fire at, and turning his swirling, blood red eyes on the man, Dante shot him down hard with a single look. The man dropped like a singed leaf, smoke floating up from his body dramatically.
“I don’t give a shit about a new wing,” Dante growled to the twitching body lying on the floor, the satisfaction of his outburst short-lived. “I care that this boosted my stock.”
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,” Paul replied, struggling to draw a breath after the blast of power knocked him out for a bit. He coughed dryly, patting the top of his head to check for flames. “You have the endorsement of all of the biggest celebrities.”
“That’s because our pharmaceuticals feed their neuroses,” Dante retorted. “It’s in their best interest to side with Carmichael Industries. Even Pfizer can’t compete with our quality, and everyone knows that. Still, when you get a couple of nervous old men listening to Fox News…”
Paul nodded in agreement, struggling to stand slowly, his hair still smoking dramatically.
“Quite right,” he hacked. “But that’s what you pay me the big bucks for,” Paul reminded him, stiltingly. “And I think everything went perfectly. You have nothing to worry about.”
“You better be right,” Dante muttered, but he felt confident that at least that problem in his life was over.
Now to conquer this mess.
“Thanks for… a fun night, boss,” Paul called, both of them knowing he meant ‘thanks for not frying me crispy, boss’. He saluted weakly as he turned to leave. “I hope you find whatever it was that was stolen from you.”
Dante tensed.
“What do you know about it?” he demanded and Paul shrugged.
“Nothing,” he replied simply, and Dante believed him. After all, he was just a clueless mortal. Even if he had seen the book, he wouldn’t know what it was.
And Paul doesn’t strike me as the reading type anyway.
“But I heard some of the security guys say the suspect was that gorgeous redhead I saw you with earlier. That’s what I was going to say to you in the library before you sent me on my way.”
“What about her?”
Dante couldn’t keep the sharpness from his tone, but the mere mention of Arya was enough to send his skin into a full body prickle.
“Well, I guess you know her because you were talking to her, but I swear I’ve seen her somewhere else before.”
“Her name is Arya Ambrose,” Dante said slowly, his eyes boring into Paul’s unsuspecting face. “Does that name mean something to you?”
He shrugged nonchalantly and shook his head. Dante sank back into his chair with disappointment.
“No,” Paul replied. “But I think she’s around the modeling scene quite a lot. I’ve seen her at Fashion Week a few times.”
Dante gaped at him.
“The modeling scene?” he echoed dubiously. That was the last place Dante could imagine the luscious redhead. And it wasn’t for lack of looks. But her personality did not scream runway or make-up shoot.
“She’s a model?”
Paul stroked his beard pensively.
“I don’t think so. I think she comes to support her friend, a model named Circe. That girl is supermodel material alright.”
He released a low whistle and fanned himself with a hand.
Dante’s head cocked to the side and he stared at the man, half-excited, half-doubtful.
“Why do you know so much about the scene?” he demanded. To his surprise, Paul didn’t even have the good graces to blush with his answer.
“I’m a feminist, man. I support the ladies where I can.”
Dante rolled his eyes.
It’s a lead, he thought. Arya has remained off the radar for this long. It’s worth a shot – I’ll take anything at this point.
“I’ll have security look into it,” he said, reaching for his phone to text Shax.
“Sure. Have a good night, boss. I hope it all works out.”
“Oh, it will,” Dante promised. “There’s no doubt in my mind that it will.”
He waited for Paul to leave the ballroom before continuing his text to Shax.
Instantly, the message bubbles appeared and Dante waited impatiently for Shax’s double thumbs to finish typing.
After what seemed like five minutes, he replied.
Dante gritted his teeth and rose.
He would need to meet them in the cellar where the high priestess’ screams could not be heard, and her power could be neutralized.
There would be no mercy for the double-crossing witch. Before he was done with her, she would tell him everything he wanted to know; about Uvall and Arya.
A spark of morbid excitement shot through him and Dante moved toward the staff hallway, striding swiftly down into the basement of the mansion.
In the wine cellar, he waited, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.
The beginning of a plan was formulating in his mind, a way to rid himself of all problems, Uvall included, once and for all.
He heard the creak of the basement door.
Finally.
A moment later, Shax dragged the high priestess inside the dank room, her clear blue eyes unusually clouded with fear.
“Dantalion!” she gasped. “Whatever you think I did, I – “
“Where is the Chasm, Rowan?”
“I – I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she protested, but even without his inherent sixth sense, the lie was obvious on her face.
“I’m going to give you one chance to tell me where the book is,” Dante explained conversationally. “If I don’t like what you’re telling me, I’m going to start removing those ridiculously long fingernails, one by one.”
“I swear I don’t have it! He tore my place apart! He knows it’s not there!”
“Did you give it to Uvall already?”
“No!” she choked. “I never had it, Dante, I promise!”
“Shax, remove the fingernails on her right hand.”
She immediately gave up the fight.
“Arya Ambrose!” she squeaked. “She used to work for me, but she went rogue, got power hungry – “
“Let me guess,” Dante interjected smoothly. “She teamed up with Uvall and decided to rob me of the book?”
“Yes!” she screeched excitedly. “That’s exactly what happened! I can help you find her! She has a house in Hawthorne Hills. I’ll give you the address!”
Dante glanced up at Shax, nodding as the high priestess spouted the location.
“Go find her,” he instructed.
“Please, Dante! If I had known what she had planned, I would never have let her do it!”
“You never know when to shut up, do you?” he asked. “You think I believe for a second that you aren’t behind this?”
Her face paled and she shook her head vehemently.
“I swear! I – “
His horns protruded from his head, face contorting into a mask of red rage as he covered the short distance between them.
A slightly forked tongue jutted out from between his lips.
“You are going to take care of Uvall for me,” he hissed. “Silently and without a fuss.”
Her mouth gaped and she reeled back, her slender hands waving as if to ward him away.
“Nooo!” she moaned. “I can’t do that, Dante! He’ll kill me – “
“You didn’t care if Arya got caught, did you?” he sneered, his face twisting into the
façade of the monster within him. “You were likely going to turn her in after you got what you wanted. You’ve always been a traitor, Rowan. Selling out your own. I should have banished you to the Snowlands eons ago.”
Suddenly, a smirk developed on her features, the small smile twisted and malevolent.
“You have no idea, do you?” she whispered, a twisted laugh escaping her throat. “Arya has kept the secret from you for years, and yet you still think she’s innocent.”
Dante eyed her warily, torn between wanting to strangle the life out of her and listening to whatever stall tactic she was using.
“Rowan, even for a sorceress, you are a shitty liar. And that’s saying a lot,” Dante scowled. “Stop talking and listen.”
She laughed shortly.
“All right,” she agreed. “If you don’t want to know why Arya stole the book from you…”
Rowan stared at him and he felt himself growing angry.
“I don’t give a shit why she took it,” he lied.
“No?” she purred. “Why do I feel like you’re the one lying now?”
Dante was not one to strike women or children, but in Rowan’s case, he was almost willing to make an exception.
She’s not a woman; she’s Jezebel.
“You have exactly one second to spit out whatever bile you are dying to vomit.”
When her mouth curved into a smile, Dante felt his anger rise again, but with it, a seed of doubt. Her blue eyes shined deviously as she gloated.
“Arya took the book because she believes there is a spell in it that she needs.”
Dante grunted in annoyance.
“You’re really too much,” he muttered.
“She thinks it contains the Shroud of Protection,” Rowan continued, seeing that she was losing her audience.
“And I wonder where she got that idea,” Dante snapped, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
“You’re not asking the bigger question, Dante,” she replied. “The question is, why does sweet Arya need a Shroud of Protection? What is plaguing her so terrifyingly, that she would practically invite her own murder to deal with it?”