Speak of the Devil

by Jena Gregoire

  “Thanks, Chuck.”

  “You’re welcome, DD.” He closed the door behind him leaving her alone on the porch once again. Dez unlocked her phone and pulled up Vegas’ listing in her address book. After a deep breath, she tapped on his name and hit send. It rang twice, then he picked up. For a second, the words caught in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. Finally, she was able to manage one single word.

  “Hey.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dez

  As she drove out through the darkened desert to meet him, Dez felt no better following her phone call with Vegas. There was little to no emotion in his voice, and he didn’t sound at all happy to hear from her. When he picked up the phone, he didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. The conversation they did have was short. There was no warmth, no concern, no compassion. Cold. Totally unreadable. When he picked up the phone, she didn’t know what to say at first. A few uncomfortable beats of silence later, she finally mustered up one word.

  “Hey.”

  “Dez.” It was a statement of fact, acknowledging her, rather than a question. He didn’t sound surprised, nor relieved, to hear from her. The complete, total lack of emotion was somewhat of a slap to the face. She didn’t know what she was expecting to get from their first phone call after months, but it certainly wasn’t that.

  “I need to see you.”

  “Where?”

  “Northern Arizona. I can text you the GPS coordinates or the address. It will probably be quickest for you to fly into Las Vegas and drive from there. There are a few small airports around here, but not much you can fly directly into, and it’s only a little over two hours of driving from the city.”

  “Alright, I will let you know when I touch down.”

  That was it. He hung up without another word. As promised, he sent her a text when he arrived in Las Vegas: Landed. Be there in a little over two hours. She spent the next hour and a half pacing the length of Charlie’s house in an effort to calm her nerves.

  The drive to the little parking lot at the corner of Diamond Bar Road was not a long one, and the closer she got to her destination, the more Dez wasn’t sure this was such a good idea. Something inside her kept screaming at her, telling her she was driving to herself to meet the executioner’s axe. Of course, if things went badly, she could always escape by shifting into smoke, but she was trying to use her demon abilities as little as possible; the post-black-eyes crankiness she experienced wasn’t pleasant and ruined her mood for days.

  Deziree backed the Merc into the corner of the parking lot, giving her a view of the direction she'd come from and the direction she knew Vegas would be coming from.

  Dez reached up and turned the key back to shut the engine off. With the engine’s rumbling cut off, silence fell across the desert. Rather than sit in a silent void, Dez reached back up and turned the key slightly, Shaun Morgan’s voice blasting out of the speakers with the Seether song she'd been listening to while she was driving. She turned the volume down to a less deafening level, and then glanced at her phone to check the time. Provided he didn’t stop anywhere, the clock on the glowing screen told her Vegas should be there any minute.

  She shut the screen off and leveled her gaze on the horizon. Her anxiety about seeing Vegas again had created a perfect storm of mixed emotions, from giddy excitement to absolute dread. Her unease got the better of her, and when she noticed herself nervously fidgeting with the phone in her hands, she took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself.

  “This is ridiculous,” she scolded herself in a whisper. She opened her door and climbed out, hoping a little physical motion would dispel some energy and help her focus. She slowly wandered the parking lot while occasionally glancing at her phone to see how much time had passed. Finally, she heard the unmistakable sound of tires on rough pavement in the distance.

  Dez went to stand next to the Merc, using the car to obstruct anyone else’s view from what she was doing. She pulled her gun out of the holster, quickly checking to be sure the safety was off and there was a round in the chamber. She didn’t know whether or not she would have to use it, but she wanted to play it safe. Just in case.

  The metallic beige sedan slowed at the corner and turned into the parking lot. The tinted windows made it difficult to make out the features of who was behind the wheel, but Dez would know that silhouette anywhere. He cut the already quiet engine and opened the door. Her breath caught in her throat as his hulking frame eased out of the car. When Vegas' eyes locked with hers, Dez noticed his were glowing brightly. He only briefly looked away from her to shut the car door behind him, and then slowly started toward her. After a few steps, Dez’s heart began to frantically pound in her chest. In a moment of panic, not sure if the glowing eyes meant he was happy to see her or ready to kill her, Dez grabbed her gun and aimed it at the center of his forehead.

  “That’s close enough!” Vegas stopped where he was and continued to stare at her, his expression unreadable. “Before I get to why I called you out here,” Dez explained, “I need to know where we stand.”

  “Where we stand?” The tone of his voice was harsh and cold. Although there was no smile on his face, she was sure he was mocking her.

  “Yes,” she continued, “where we stand. I need to know exactly how much trouble I’m in right now. I need to know how much you hate me. Are you here to kill me?”

  Rather than words, Vegas took another step toward her in response. Mirroring his movements, Dez took a step back, never lowering her gun. Between the obvious flex of Vegas’ jaw muscles and the glow of his eyes becoming brighter, Dez guessed he was pretty pissed off.

  “Vegas, say something.” Dez did her best to remain firm in her standing, but the three words came out sounding more like a plea.

  “Please,” he replied. His response held no emotion and had no inflection.

  “Please what?”

  “I won’t ask again.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Dez shouted the question at him, her composure starting to crumble. “You didn’t ask anything!”

  Vegas began to take another step forward and Dez dropped the barrel of the gun and fired a warning shot at his feet. Finally Vegas stopped moving and began to speak.

  “You and I both know I could cross the space between us, take that gun out of your hand, and snap your neck, all before your brain would have the chance to send the signal to your trigger finger. I’m not here to hurt you.” His final sentence was slow and deliberate to emphasize his words.

  “I told you to stay back,” she replied calmly. “I can up and disappear. You know this. Don’t push me.”

  In a flash of movement, Vegas rushed at her, took her gun, and pinned her up against the side of the Merc. A low growl emanated from his chest as he stared into her now jet black eyes. Tears welled up, threatening her resolve.

  “Have you been given orders on me?” She managed to get the question out before a tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek.

  “No.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head. The months of wondering were finally over. No more over-the-shoulder glances. No more hiding out in seedy hotel rooms.

  “Wait,” she said, her head snapping up, a minor case of fury coloring her expression, “then why the hell are you being so bitchy with me?”

  Before her next breath, Vegas had moved, capturing her mouth with his in an all-consuming fury. Completely taken aback, Dez could do little but stand there and take it, shocked into submission.

  Momentarily coming to her senses, her anger flared. Using the weight of the car to brace herself, she shoved him, forcing him backward several steps before he came to a stop and stood his ground. She glared at him, not even sure why she was so enraged. His eyes were still beaming, the brutal golden glow lighting up the space between them. A thousand thoughts sped through Dez’s mind, but she could only focus on the fullness of his mouth. Don’t look at his mouth. Don’t look at his mouth. She kept repeating the mantra to herself as
she shifted her attention back to his eyes. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find anything there except animosity. An odd mixture of fury and longing crashed through her. She missed him. There was no denying that, but she couldn’t tell if he was feeling the same way. As far as she was concerned, they had burned each other equally in this situation. He left her hanging just as she had done to him. The phone works both ways, Michael. Her anger ebbed slightly and she could feel it draining from her expression.

  Realizing neither of them were actually speaking out loud, she decided she needed to say something. Anything. She took a measured breath in a vain attempt to get her thoughts straight, to form words, but as his all too familiar scent still washed over her, all she could think of were warm summer nights and home. Her head swam under the pressure, preventing her from concentrating on anything other than her desire to have his tongue on her skin. She tried to shift her attention to something else, but everything about him was breaking her resolve. The way his black tank top clung to his broad chest, the points of his tattoos peeking out at the edges, pointing to his broad shoulders and chiseled biceps, as if to say touch me. The way the dark blue denim of his jeans hugged, well, everything.

  She bit her lower lip and forced herself to look back up at his face. The almost feral stare she was met with instantly sobered her, bringing reality crashing back in. Finally, she managed to command herself to speak.

  “Vegas, I—“

  The rest of the sentence and all thought with it evaporated as Vegas crushed his lips to hers, stealing her breath again. She caved and gave into her need. She let go and surrendered to her baser instincts. No hesitation. No inhibitions. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the weight of his presence, the electricity that crackled in the air when he was close, the overwhelming effects of his nearness. For that brief moment, everything from the past few months — Cassandra’s betrayal, the plague of demons, Lucas’s death, months of a desperate kind of loneliness — ceased to exist. Only this overwhelming need to be touching each other remained. She hurried to remove the offensive barrier between them, but as she gripped on to the hem of his shirt, he tore hers unceremoniously from her body, the tattered pieces discarded like the useless pile of rags it had become. He dug his fingers into her thighs, lifting her up onto the trunk lid, pushing her skirt up in one smooth movement. The approving growl from Vegas at finding her sans panties sent shivers all the way down to her toes. She hadn’t exactly been planning on having sex with him but, in the moment, she was glad she hadn’t totally ruled it out either. She expected Vegas to make some snarky comment about her going commando, but there was no trace of that on his face, just his own burning need for her. His fingers left her skin for the briefest of moments as he undid his pants. Before she had too long to think about it, he was kissing her again with a fierce passion, stealing away her ability to conjure up any further coherent thought. He once again captured her mouth, swallowing her moans as he continued with the delicious torture of her body, taking her to the point of no return. The lyrics blasting from the Merc’s speakers drifted into the night, surrounding them as their passion consumed. Fuck me like you hate me. I love the sound when you come undone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dez

  Dez watched Vegas as he buckled his belt, then leaned on the side of the car and ran his hand over the top of his smooth head, a sense of anxiety being the only emotion she could pick out. She retrieved the keys from the Merc’s ignition and opened the trunk to find a replacement shirt.

  “You’re lucky I left the majority of my clothes in the car. Otherwise, I’d be going back to Charlie’s place half naked.” She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye and found him still looking down at the ground. “Hey!” she said to get his attention. He looked up at her, eyes still emanating that signature soft yellow glow. “Are we okay?”

  “Yes,” he responded flatly, finally looking her in the eye. “We’re fine.”

  Dez slipped a little black t-shirt over her head as she walked over to stand in front of him. She looked in his eyes for a long moment and her heart sank. The warmth he used to look at her with was completely gone from his eyes.

  “Look at you,” she said and her own eyes started to well up with tears. “We’re not fine. You’re not fine. You appear to be calm, I think, but your eyes are lit up like fucking Broadway. You’re pissed. Just say it.”

  “I’m not angry with you, Dez” he replied, anger edging into his voice.

  “Convincing,” she sarcastically answered in a clipped tone. He closed his eyes for a moment and as he opened them again there was a pleading there.

  “I’m not angry. I’m starving. I haven’t fed in far too long and I don’t have back up anymore.” Back up? It took Dez a minute to make the connection, but when she finally did, she felt horrible.

  “Tempero,” she whispered, and he nodded . Without Cassandra or Dez around, he had no one to make Tempero, the serum which controlled his blood cravings. “Damn it, I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s get you back to Charlie’s house. I’m sure his wife has all the shit I need to make a batch.”

  Dez started toward the driver side of her car, but before she could get very far, Vegas reached out and grasped her wrist, lightly pulling her back to him. He kissed her, a sweet, soft kiss, completely contradicting the look in his eyes. She broke the kiss and pulled back slightly. Taking a deep breath to remind herself that they needed to get him fed, she closed her eyes for just a moment.

  “As much as I’m enjoying this little reunion of ours, you need to eat.” She stepped back and held up her keys, jingling them slightly. “Plus, I need to explain to you why you’re here.” Dez took Vegas by the hand and pulled him off of the car. “Leave the rental.”

  After retrieving his belongings and tossing them onto the back seat of the Merc, Vegas climbed into the passenger seat and laid his head back with his eyes closed.

  They arrived at Charlie’s house and were instantly greeted by the sound of glass smashing and Harley yelling angrily at the top of her lungs.

  “Calm down now or so help me I will vanquish your ass!”

  Harley was standing in the kitchen staring around the room with an infuriated look on her face when Dez walked through the front door.

  “See?” She was still yelling as she gestured toward Dez. “I told you they would be here soon!” When the room was quiet for a few moments, she turned to Dez. “Can you please take him with you the next time you leave? I am begging you.”

  “If I could,” Dez replied, “I would, but how exactly would I force him to go with me?”

  “Oh, there are ways,” Harley answered as she eyed the seemingly vacant air. “But if he doesn’t stop throwing temper tantrums in my home, I will track down the most annoying person I can find and bind him to that person’s favorite object.” Crouched down on the floor, Harley swept the remainder of the shattered glass into a dustpan. She stood and dumped it in the trash can, then looked at Dez and winked before continuing to speak to thin air. “I can fight fire with fire. You think things are frustrating right now? Just wait until you find yourself bound to guy who collects stuffed kittens and spends all day every day listening to polka through a professional sound system cranked to top volume. It would only be about eighty years or so, but do you really want to spend the next eighty years of your eternity like that?”

  The house was completely silent as she waited for a reply.

  “I am so sorry, Harley.” Deziree felt horrible for being gone for so long, but she had a hard time suppressing a laugh as she watched the little witch threaten what no one else could see.

  “You should be,” Harley replied. Then she turned to Vegas. “So, you must be Michael.”

  “I am,” was his taciturn response.

  Harley spoke to Dez out the side of her mouth as if no one else could hear her. “You didn’t mention he was so broody.”

  “He’s usually not,” Dez replied. “Would you mind if I raid your witchy supplies? I need
to throw something together for him.”

  “Sure,” Harley replied. “Go to the big corner cupboard and take anything you’d like. May I ask what you’re making?”

  “Tempero. It’s a—“

  “Ah, the serum. I’ve heard about it but never seen it made. Michael, how long has it been since you last fed?”

  “Almost two months.”

  “Wow,” she said, astonishment in her voice. “That you made it through the flight over here without killing anyone is a bit of a miracle. Dez, go ahead and make the Tempero. Charlie and I will be right back.”

  “We will? Where are we going?” It was obvious that Charlie had no idea what his wife had planned.

  “You’ll see.” With that, she grabbed him by the hand and the two of them walked out the door. Once they were alone, and although his eyes were still glowing brightly, Vegas visibly relaxed.

  “Care to explain the flying dinnerware and Harley’s habit of yelling at no one in particular?”

  “Oh, you’re going to love this,” Dez replied with a smile. “Or you’re going to be a little freaked out. It could go either way.”

  “Dez, I’m a vampire and my girlfriend is a demon hybrid. There isn’t much that’s going to freak me out.”

  “Oh yeah? How about this? That little display was Lucas.” His reaction was as she expected. Disbelief and astonishment warred in his eyes for control.

  Full on disbelief in his eyes, he finally broke the silence. “Lucas? “How?”

  “Well,” Dez replied as she added more ingredients to the concoction in the ceramic mixing bowl, “we aren’t really sure yet, but we know it’s him. It seems we didn’t completely lose him after all. We can’t see him, but he’s there, and he’s got some sort of message for us. All I know is it involves witches. I put a halt to everything to get you here.”