Chaos Rises: A Veil World Urban Fantasy

by Pippa Dacosta

  Allard wanted me for his court. Something tugged on my memory, something from the hours poring over Institute files. I suspected I knew what he was planning. There were fates worse than death. And if Clayton Allard succeeded—if Azazel created a court, he would be unstoppable.

  * * *

  Returning to my room, I found a grocery bag sitting neatly on my bed with a single injector inside. It would have to do—anything to calm the runaway demon urges. I jabbed the injector into my neck without hesitating and waited for the drug to pump around my body, smoothing out the shakes in its wake. I needed to be clear headed if I was going to think of a way out of this. My submission act might have worked if my demon hadn’t gotten involved and upped the stakes. Damned demon urges. I knew I had it in me to fight. I’d survived the netherworld and the Fall, but I hadn’t expected to come face to face with Allard and rub his wings the wrong way. I’d licked him, practically propositioned him, in demon terms. He could have broken me in many different ways, but he’d held back.

  Had he broken Del that way?

  Pacing, I laced my fingers behind my head. Del had to be at Fairhaven somewhere. The hotel was huge. But for me not to be able to sense my brother was nearby meant Allard had him locked down, likely using the glyphs in the same way he’d subdued the prince.

  The prince… And Allard keeping half bloods, creatures that were usually destroyed for the abomination of being half human... Now it made sense. Allard had all the elements he needed: seven princes for seven sins, if the myths were to be believed, but also the seven elements of chaos, earth, air, fire, ice, water, and the crowning elements of control and raw chaos.

  Seven princes. Seven elements of chaos. A court.

  If Allard succeeded in bringing it all together, completing his puzzle, it wouldn’t matter that the veil was stronger than ever, that the netherworld was locked away and probably would be for another few thousand years. It wouldn’t matter because Allard had seen an opportunity to seize more than just power over a handful of demons abandoned in LA. He was creating a court, just like the one back in his netherworld home.

  My hotel door rattled, opened, and Torrent staggered in. I ran my gaze over his torn and bloodied clothes, his pale face, and the wild, haunted look in his eyes—eyes that accused. He closed the door and fell back against it. His right hand trembled, dripping blood. He’d buried his other hand inside his coat. If the blood soaking through his shirt was any indication, he was probably holding himself together.

  I made a move toward him, but he shot me an icy glare. A horrible twisting guilt writhed somewhere inside, the kind I wanted to cut out but couldn’t get away from. This was my doing.

  He made his way carefully to the bathroom, leaving smears of blood where his hands trailed along the wall. This was my fault.

  Torrent didn’t bother closing the door. He hunched over the sink and dropped the human act, letting his demon surge free. My vision blurred, eyes burning, forcing me to look away from the transformation. Even when he was done and he leaned over the sink, suddenly filling the tiny bathroom, I couldn’t quite see him clearly through human eyes. But I saw enough to know his beautiful wings were tattered strips of flesh.

  A treacherous gasp slipped free and would have been followed by a sob if I hadn’t gulped it down. I fell a few steps, but again, he turned that bitter glare on me, stopping me in my tracks.

  “What can I do?” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

  “Water,” he rasped.

  Water. The bath. I made sure to move slowly and deliberately, easing around him, careful to avoid his damaged wings. I tried not to think about how every inch of him trembled or about the clear claw marks raking his legs.

  I set the bath running and stared into it, feeling smaller by the second. He’d pulled his elemental touch right up against him like a shield, but as the bath filled, that smooth sensation reached outward, sliding over my back, finding its way to the water. The rest of him followed. He stepped into the bath, clamped his tattered wings closed with a hiss, and sank down into the water. He pulled his knees up against his chest, loosened his wings so they half hung limp behind him, and rested his forehead against his knees.

  I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that I hadn’t known what Allard would do, but it would have been lies. I bumped against the wall and slid down into a sitting position, drawing my legs up much the same way Torrent had. There was nothing I could say that would make it hurt less or help him heal faster.

  We stayed like that until the hotel had fallen quiet and dawn started to filter through the windows. I’d watched his beautiful scales painstakingly stitch themselves together, but it would take days to heal properly, if he could. He was in pain. The shivers and ragged breathing were enough to tell me that, but he didn’t make a sound. Not a word.

  “Del is a chaos demon,” I finally managed to croak out, my voice even more broken. “We were both created in the Boston Institute Laboratories. Project Gamma and Delta.” I sighed, no longer caring what he knew. The least I could do was tell him the truth. “Delta was always dangerous.” I paused, wondering if Torrent was listening. He hadn’t moved. I might have thought him asleep if it weren’t for the rapid breathing. “When Allard found us, we were lost and starving. We’d never been without the Institute before, and after we escaped the netherworld, we just…we just ran. The Institute taught us about life outside the lab, but we’d never really lived it. We don’t know how the world works. Then the veil fell, and we almost died.” I swallowed hard. “Allard found us on the streets, said he knew what we were, and it felt like we had someone on our side. He promised we’d be safe. We believed him.” It seemed ludicrous now, believing a demon, the very creature we’d both been designed to kill. We’d had little alternative. “Del took PC-Thirty-Four to hide what he was, but also to control the chaos. It’s…it’s a terrible thing. He’s my brother, and I love him, but…the chaos… It’s wrong. It shouldn’t be here in this world. Chaos isn’t right here.” My voice broke and not just from my dry throat. I remembered the lure of chaos, remembered how it had called to me, how the Institute had made me fight my own brother because nothing else could stop him. I’d gotten through to him then, but if Allard was luring the chaos out of him, he might already have been beyond my reach.

  Torrent turned his head, rested his left horn on his knee, and blinked at me. Then he closed his eyes, and his demon dissolved, leaving a bloodied man in the bath, complete with raggedy wet clothes.

  “Allard is creating a court.” I rested my wrists on my knees. “I don’t know what the coronam does or what part it plays, but he told me I’d be part of his court. I only know one demon court. Seven princes rule the Dark Court in the netherworld. At least, that’s what the Institute files say.”

  “He’s not a prince.” He sounded gravelly, and I hoped with all my ice-encased heart that it wasn’t from him crying out. The thought of Torrent on his knees while Allard laid into him in all the imaginative ways Allard could, made saliva pool in my mouth. “Vanessa said he wasn’t a prince.”

  “No, but he has one in the basement.”

  Torrent’s eyes widened. “There’s a Prince of Hell here? On this side of the veil?”

  “Yeah, he’s caged. At the moment, anyway.”

  “He’ll escape.”

  “Well, yeah. But he’s been down there since the Fall, and he didn’t look like he was going anywhere anytime soon.”

  “You’ve seen him?”

  I nodded, remembering the demon with the burned wings hunched over in the cage. “I think Allard wanted to show off his trophy.”

  Torrent leaned back and sunk his shoulders below the water. “He can’t believe he can control a prince. What one of the Seven is he?”

  “Allard called him Li’el, the Prince of Pride and probably an air elemental, making a full house of elementals. Allard has his court.”

  “But we’re half bloods. We can’t be anything else.”

  “Doesn’t matter. There’s nothing half
about our demons. Before the veil fell, we were powerful badasses.” I tried a little smile, but Torrent wasn’t looking at me. He stared at the wall in that odd way he had, like he was somewhere else, maybe wishing he was someone else. “Allard told me the netherworld princes killed their queen. A court has a king and queen.”

  Torrent slid his green eyes back to me. “Don’t tell me. He naturally wants to be king.”

  “What self-respecting demon wouldn’t? Vanessa said we’re all his pawns. She was right. He’s got his elemental demons. He has a prince. He clearly has the knowledge, probably straight from the prince himself.”

  “So who’s the queen?”

  “If Del is chaos, then the last element—and his opposite—is control. I guess Allard could be setting himself up as the opposite. I don’t think it really matters whether the king and queen are male and female. It’s more about balance.”

  Torrent’s cheek twitched. “He’s not as controlled as he appears—” His voice cracked, and he turned his head away, clenching his jaw.

  There was that ache again. I got to my feet, suddenly needing to be somewhere else so I didn’t have to see the raw pain in his eyes. “You can borrow some of Del’s clothes.”

  After rummaging through Del’s closet, I tossed a shirt and some pants into the bathroom and closed the door, giving Torrent space.

  I’d never really felt guilt before, not at the depth I did then. I considered myself a good solider. The times I’d fought, I’d hurt people. Once such time, I’d attacked an Institute assistant. I’d blamed it on my demon, but Del and I both knew it was all me. The assistant had been…friendly—friendly in ways that hadn’t felt right. And so I’d broken his hand and dislocated his shoulder. I’d felt the slippery sense of guilt after that. But with Torrent it was much, much worse.

  I pressed my hand against the window and peered out over the dark strip of Santa Monica beach, sorry teetering on my lips. Torrent had trusted me, and I’d given him up to Allard. Then I’d defied Allard, enraged him to the point he’d dearly wanted to kill me, and he’d taken his frustration out on Torrent. I had to be the worst friend in the world.

  Torrent emerged from the bathroom. His wet hair stuck out at ruffled angles, and his eyes had lost some of their luster, but at least he wasn’t bleeding or limping. “Can you get me close to the prince?”

  “I can try. There are glyphs guarding him. I don’t know if I can get through without Allard. If he… If he catches us…”

  Torrent’s smile dashed across his lips—there and gone again in a second. “What can he possibly do that he hasn’t already?”

  Take your wings, I thought and hated myself all over again.

  * * *

  In that quiet moment between dawn and daylight, the demons rested, and the hotel foyer was virtually empty. I kept my head up and my element close, projecting confidence. If I looked like I was supposed to venturing in to the basement, I hoped no demon would challenge me. The basement wasn’t guarded. The glyphs did the guard work. Those on the door pulsed as we approached.

  Torrent hissed through his teeth. “I see what you mean.”

  The push wasn’t nearly as strong against me. I did feel an unsettling scatter of unpleasant needles, but the second I gripped the handle and shoved the door open, the deterrent washed over me.

  Torrent wasn’t so lucky. He staggered back, flinching out of the way of the door. “I can’t go down there.” He looked past me at the stairwell like it was about to swallow him whole. “How can you stand it?”

  Sure, I felt the unpleasant waves and the odd awkward feeling like I’d walked in on something I really shouldn’t have, but I could push through it easily enough.

  “I can’t,” he said again and grumbled a curse. “It’s the demon in me. I can’t go any further.”

  “Go back to my room. Wait for me there. I won’t be long.”

  I hoped to be in and out in less than ten minutes anyway. Nobody had to know.

  The glyphs’ power lapped at me with each step down into the basement, but like before, it wasn’t strong enough to elicit a reaction like Torrent’s. Allard had said if I didn’t have PC34A in my veins, I’d have felt the glyphs more keenly. Interesting.

  I jogged down the steps, aware that I would have a hard time explaining this away should Allard catch me. But if I couldn’t go up against Allard, I needed another way to get to him: something—someone stronger than me, stronger than Allard.

  The basement lights rippled on, and there he was. I paused in the doorway, struck by the prince’s beauty. Artificial lights couldn’t diminish the glisten of his black as night skin, but they did eat at the stark bone structure of his wings. He was still hunched over. His skeletal wings draped down his back and across the cage floor.

  I’d moved forward without any memory of doing so. With each step, the glyphs pushed harder and harder until I was forced to stop a few yards from the cage.

  His shoulders rose and fell along with his steady breathing. I licked my lips and stretched my hand forward, pushing through the invisible wall. If I could get close enough to the cage, there was a chance I could break it open with the right tools. Harder. My demon squirmed and pulled back as though she could fling herself from my skin. Teeth gritted against the throbbing pressure, I gave it my all, reaching harder, pushing deeper, and touched the cool metal cage. A spark ignited and slapped me. I recoiled with a gasp and staggered back, cradling my tingling hand.

  I’d touched the cage.

  If I’d had cutters, I could have broken inside.

  “Li’el?” My voice leapt into the quiet and was met by silence.

  He didn’t move.

  “I can help you.” If I took a few more hits of PC34A, if I buried my demon so deep the glyphs would have no effect on me, I could get to him. I knew it. “I want to make a deal. If I get you out, you have to swear you won’t kill, maim, torture, or in any way hurt me or my brother…or Torrent,” I quickly added.

  He still didn’t move. What if he couldn’t hear me? Or what if he could and releasing him unleashed something far worse than Allard?

  The Prince of Hell who’d broken me and Del out of the Institute could have lit the entire sky on fire. What could this one do if he was free? Was I trading one minor demon with high aspirations for an ageless, immortal, nightmare? What if this cage was the best place for him?

  But Allard had him here for a reason, and it wasn’t just to add to his stock. Li’el would escape. Wouldn’t it be better to have him on my side when he did?

  “Li’el, I can’t do this without assurances from you. I need to know you won’t…” Won’t what? Be demon? Lay waste to LA? Kill thousands of innocent people?

  This wasn’t going to work. Even if he could assure me he wouldn’t wreak havoc, demons lied. They lied, they cheated, they manipulated, and none more so than a Prince of Hell.

  I gave my head a quick shake and sighed. Unleashing a prince to stop Allard would be a mistake. Everything the Institute taught me about these demons—what little they knew—was that they were utterly, unequivocally, demon. You don’t get to be a Prince of Hell by being nice or helping little half bloods in trouble with their owners. I couldn’t let him out, but maybe he’d talk with me?

  “Li’el… Can you hear me?”

  For a few moments, nothing happened. A feather—one of only a few left—broke from his right wing and spiraled through the air. Before it could hit the ground, a puff of air sent it twirling out of the cage. It landed softly at my feet. I regarded it carefully, not believing for one second that its appearance was luck.

  Crouching, I poked at the feather. When it didn’t bite, I picked it up and settled it in the palm of my hand. Had he heard and replied in the only way he could? Silky smooth and as light as air, so black that light soaked into it, the feather meant something. A sign, I was sure of it.

  “We have a deal?” He didn’t move or reply, and no more feathers fell.

  Maybe it was just a feather. Or maybe I’d
just made a deal with a Prince of Hell?

  I tucked the feather gently into my pocket and hurried from the basement.

  Chapter 19

  “Bolt cutters.”

  Torrent turned his back on the window and frowned. “What?”

  I kicked the door closed, pulled the feather free, and waggled it. “I can get him out.”

  His frown deepened, and he looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Wait a second. You want to free a Prince of Hell? How is that in any way better?”

  I stopped beside him, holding the feather between us. He recoiled slightly like the feather was a steel trap. His hand went to his key pendant, but when he noticed I’d noticed, he let go.

  “I can’t beat Allard,” I said. “There was a time I could have, before the veil fell… Anyway, he’s a higher demon, and he has my brother. The longer we delay, the more Del is in danger, and so are the rest of us. The prince gave me this feather.”

  “He gave it to you?” Torrent spluttered.

  “Sort of—”

  The door opened. I knew it was Allard by the sudden surge of his element and the way tension shot through Torrent.

  Quickly, I tucked the feather inside my bra. Allard had never been interested in that part of my anatomy. Torrent saw where I’d stashed it, flicked his gaze away, and bowed his head, keeping his eyes low and off Allard. Standing as close as I was, I heard his teeth grind.

  “Gem,” Allard said, calm, and controlled. I turned and plastered what I hoped was an innocent smile on my face. He either didn’t buy my smile or didn’t care. “There will be no more PC-Thirty-Four.”

  “But—”

  “How long before your system is completely free of the drug?”

  Time. I needed time. Time to find some more PC34A, to fill my veins with it and break the prince out. “I don’t know.” Four to five hours, depending on demon activity. I knew because the Institute had it tested over and over. “Maybe twelve hours?”

  His frown cut deeper. “You have six hours. Have your demon ready. If you don’t, I can’t guarantee your survival during the ascension.”