by Julie Kenner
Sure as Hell
By Julie Kenner
Copyright © 2007, 2014 Julie Kenner
Kindle Edition
Originally published in trade paper format by The Penguin Group
Excerpts from Hell’s Fury by Dee Davis, Copyright © 2007, 2014 by Dee Oberwetter. All rights reserved. Reprint only with permission from author. Please contact [email protected].
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They were the baddest of the bad, the illegitimate sons and daughters of Satan, who had managed to make love, raise hell, and milk life in a manner worthy of their heritage. Until the day the devil himself needs to name his heir apparent. So who will the next ruler of Sin City be?
As the second son of Satan, Nicholas Velnias is certain he has no chance of stepping into his father’s shoes. But when his older brother fails to win the keys to hell, Nick is suddenly the favored son. And the task to prove his worth is so simple he knows that he can’t fail—all he has to do is steal the soul of a woman. How hard can that be? After all, Nick steals bits of soul every day, infusing them into canvas and pigment to add that panache to the masterpieces that have brought him fame and fortune.
But when Nick meets Delilah Burnett, the innocent daughter of a preacher who’s bad for the devil’s business, all hell breaks lose. Because while Nick may have set out to steal the girl’s soul, in the end she’s the one who steals his heart.
Dear Reader,
We began critiquing together in early 1999, back when we were young (sort of), naive (not really), and unpublished (that part’s true). Since we were both determined to do something about the unpublished part of the equation, we committed to brutally and honestly reviewing and commenting on each others’ work (the brutality and honesty softened by the presence of coffee, tea, chocolate … and often wine).
Our standard ritual was to share a chapter of an ongoing work each week by email, then take turns critiquing the pages at the weekly in-person meeting. And it wasn’t long after this process began that we realized how successful the collaboration was, both on a professional and a personal level. Not only did we soon see our books bought by publishers (and then on the shelves!), but our friendship grew as well, eventually matching and overshadowing the ritual of critiquing (cue heartwarming music).
For years, we thought it would be fun to work on a book together, but we never had the opportunity or the idea. And then, one day …
We were sitting at a table during a conference talking about bad boy heroes. And who better to be the ultimate bad boy than a son of Satan? And if there were brothers … then maybe there were sisters, too, because writing wild child women is just as fun.
Needless to say we were excited about the idea. And, so Nick, Marcus, Lucia and Jezebel were born and, as such, gave us the chance to work together on a project, just like we’d been wanting to do for years!
We hope you enjoy reading the stories as much as we enjoyed writing them.
XXOO
Julie & Dee
‡
Chapter One
She was off her game.
Lucia Faucheaux sighed, and slipped the syringe back into her cleavage. Its weight was negligible, but the press of the cylinder against her skin fortified her.
And she sure as hell needed fortification at the moment.
Around her, women in ornate ball gowns swirled in the arms of men in perfectly pressed tuxedoes. The music of Strauss filled the room and the mouth-watering scent of exotic appetizers seemed to dance on the gentle breeze kicked up by the open patio doors. Across the marble dance floor, her gray-haired quarry sipped scotch and traded political stories with the ambassador to Spain.
The opportunity had been right there. They’d been alone on the side balcony. The better, he’d said, to see the view of the Rhine. She’d thought that she had engaged him, that he was taking her outside for an amorous interlude despite his new wife back home in Vienna. And why wouldn’t she think that? That was her special talent, after all. Getting close to men.
As a child, her father had taught her how to make the most of her dark, aristocratic good looks. She’d inherited her father’s midnight black hair, but her mother’s violet eyes were what really drew the men in. Under her father’s tutelage, she’d learned how to move through the world with the grace and skill of royalty. She’d always been a bit of an actress, and that had helped. She’d adapted to her environment, easily picking up manners of speech, turns of phrase, and nuances of etiquette.
Even now, she was moving gracefully, gliding through the ballroom with a smile and a nod, though her mind was anywhere but the festivities.
She had her father to thank for that skill. He had ensured that she easily mingled with kings, princes, pharaohs, and the like. She could make small talk in twenty-three languages, interpret political conversations, and insert herself into the most touchy of diplomatic situations.
All with a single goal: getting close enough for the kill.
Because from the day he’d come to claim her, her father had raised her to be his own personal assassin. An assassin who could get close to any victim. Be it a lowly country preacher or a politician having a crisis of conscience and considering doing a little good for the country.
Lucia was, quite simply, the best. And she had been for an eternity, it seemed.
Not tonight.
Frustrated, she reached out and snagged a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. She swallowed it in one gulp, then turned away from the baron, unable to look at him and the failure that he represented.
It had all been so easy. So run-of-the-mill. So . . . dull.
Just another one of her father’s targets. A politically connected Austrian baron with ties to significant social welfare programs. A straightforward elimination request, complete with the perfect event for the assassination: a private party thrown by a wealthy American entrepreneur who had purchased and renovated a dilapidated German castle. All of society had been invited to ooh and aah over the excellent restoration. And Lucia’s name was, of course, at the top of the guest list. Simple. Straightforward.
Just get in, nail the guy, and get out. She’d done the same thing countless times over the centuries. So why in Hades was the job suddenly so difficult? Why had she dragged her feet preparing for this kill? Why had she not experienced that tingle of anticipation as her driver had chauffeured her to the party? Why had she lost her focus?
It was a question she hated to pose because she feared the answer. Self-analysis had never been one of her strong suits for exactly this reason: look too closely at yourself and you’ll surely find a flaw.
Flawed. She fought a shudder. The very word disgusted her. She’d been raised to be perfect, and to now find herself at such loose ends . . . well, to say the situation was unnerving would be one hell of an understatement.
She thought back over the evening with the baron. Yes, she’d been less than enthusiastic about the assignment, but she’d never doubted that she would ultimately pull it off. No doubt, that is, until they’d been on the balcony.
He’d leaned in toward her, and she’d been so certain that he’d fallen for her charms. She’d eased the cap off the syringe, planning to inject it into his thigh, then wait for the massive coronary to hit.
She’d never made it that far. Because instead of leaning in to kiss her, he was leaning in to show her his wallet and the photographs he’d tucked inside. Photos of his wife. Of his kids. Even of his dog.
Utterly pedestrian! But oh, how he loved his family.
Something had twisted in her hea
rt, and she’d hidden the syringe away. She simply couldn’t do it.
The failure was completely humiliating and utterly inexplicable.
Was she losing her edge? Was she having a midlife crisis?
The cause of her failure was completely elusive, but one thing was certain: she needed an attitude adjustment. Desperately.
No sooner had the thought entered her head than the movement around her seemed to slow and then, suddenly, freeze. It was as if she were the only living thing in a diorama of the restored ballroom. To some, the effect might be unnerving. Lucia, however, felt only mild irritation.
“I’m not in the mood for hide-and-seek, Daddy,” she said, turning in a circle as she surveyed the room, wondering where her bombastic sire would deign to appear.
A flurry of movement by the bandstand caught her eye, and she watched as a whirlwind of black and red seemed to glide across the floor, like a cyclone that couldn’t quite touch down. Her skin warmed, and every hair on her body seemed to prickle as threads of lightning shot across the room, converging on the ephemeral column.
A crash, a smash, and then there he was. Her father. Standing in front of her in all his dark glory, looking sharp and seductive in his finely tailored tuxedo and buffed wingtips.
The room snapped back into motion, with none of the occupants being the wiser. And as far as Lucia could tell, no one had noticed her father’s unusual arrival. Or, for that matter, the smell of sulfur that still lingered in the air.
“Are the pyrotechnics really necessary?” she asked, moving into his open arms.
“Not in the least,” he said as he swept her onto the dance floor. “But they are ever so fun.”
She lifted a brow. “Are they? Even when no one knows? You froze them. What’s the point of showing off if you’re only showing off for me?”
“Perhaps I thought you needed the reminder.”
The casual remark hid a hard edge, and Lucia stumbled over it, losing her footing as she debated the best way to answer her father. He’d been stern from day one, expecting only perfection from her. She was the oldest, after all. Even when Jack had come along and—being the oldest boy—completely captivated her father, he’d never stopped demanding her best.
And she’d been more than happy to give it. Her father had needed her, and after the loss of her beloved mother, she’d jumped to the task. While her brothers and sisters followed a myriad of paths, she’d been the only one to really stay in the family business, report directly to her father, and get her hands dirty. Even Jack had played the administration game, his occasional parlor trick hardly worthy of his heritage.
She, however, had played an essential role. And up until recently, she’d been damn good at her job.
Lately, though . . .
“Lucia . . .”
She looked up and saw concern in her father’s eyes. She couldn’t help but smile. The man was an absolute devil, and yet, like every father, he was completely smitten by his daughters. Even after thousands of years, that inalienable fact still amused her.
“I’m sorry. I blew it. A momentary lapse. Nothing to worry about.”
“And I wouldn’t be worried,” he said, “if this were the first time.”
She sucked in an involuntary breath. He couldn’t possibly know that! Yes, she’d hesitated on her last four jobs. But she’d forced herself, and managed to handle the assignments, just like she’d expected to handle this one. True, on the last one, she’d been spared by the fact that her target’s private plane went down over a Florida swamp, but if he’d landed safely, she would have been right there to—
“The plane,” she said, suddenly realizing. “You did that?”
“I wasn’t confident the job would get done,” he said. “And it had to be done.”
“Oh.” She licked her lips, not at all sure what to say. Finally, she drew in a breath and tried a completely new tactic: the truth. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Damn, but she hated admitting that. This was what she did, what she’d always done. And the thought that she could be losing her edge—losing her purpose—positively terrified her.
“My dear,” he said, “it’s so simple. You simply need a change.”
“A change?” But even as she said it, she knew he was right. She’d had the same job for thousands of years. Of course she was ready for something different. After all, didn’t all the modern psychologists suggest that most people needed to do something new every ten years or so? If that were the case, then she was seriously behind the curve.
“A change,” he confirmed. “And a whole new set of priorities.”
She cocked her head, intrigued by the tone of his voice. “You have something in mind. You didn’t come here to slap my hand for screwing up the baron’s assassination. You came for something completely different.”
He stroked her cheek. “Such a perceptive woman.”
“Come on, Daddy,” she crooned, easing closer, “tell me.”
The music stopped, and they paused long enough to applaud the orchestra. He held out his hand, and she put her fingertips on his palm. “Have I ever failed to treat you like royalty?”
She considered answering in the affirmative, but decided that now wasn’t the time to discuss his parenting skills in detail. “No,” she said as he led her off the dance floor. “I’ve always been a princess to you.”
“And now you have the opportunity to be queen.”
“I’m listening.”
“You say that you are growing weary of your current position. That is a sentiment I am very familiar with, as I have grown weary of mine.”
“You’ve . . . what?” Surely she’d heard wrong. Her father, the Prince of Darkness, had grown tired of lording over his subjects? That couldn’t be right.
He waved the question away. “It was inevitable. The job pressure. The daily demands of the workplace. I used to have so much free time to enjoy myself. Now I have duties to attend to.”
“You make the job sound so appealing,” she said, dryly.
“Jack certainly thought it was.”
Her head cocked at that. “You offered the position to Jack first. Of course. How foolish of me not to assume so right away.”
“I offered,” he said, with a slight bow of his head.
“And?”
“And he accepted the challenge. Then he failed.”
“And now you’ve come to me?”
“Essentially.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes by turning to pluck a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter. “In other words, you approached Nick, as well. And Marcus, too. I assume they both failed as well, or else you wouldn’t be here talking to me.” She took a sip of wine to cool her rising temper. “Did you approach the sons I don’t know about, too? Surely in all these millennia you have sired more than six children.”
“My darling Lucia, you wound me.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“As a prince myself, of course I sought a prince to fill my shoes. But after the abysmal performance of your three half-brothers, I realized that my thinking was far too narrow. I needed to look for a queen. Regal, beautiful, and able to bear the weight of the position.”
“Mmmm.” She wasn’t about to say more. Her brothers may have been her father’s first choice, but they’d failed. And now that she was being handed the opportunity, she wasn’t about to risk losing it by criticizing her father’s approach. After all, she had two younger sisters. She’d be damned if he’d skip over her and go straight to Jessie. Or, even more humiliating, her baby sister, Lola.
“Are you interested?”
“You know that I am. When do I start?”
“There are a few details that must be attended to first,” he said.
She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I see.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Ah, Lucia. Don’t fret. It’s nothing. A trifle. A task you could handle in your sleep. But I would be remiss if I handed over th
e keys to my kingdom without requiring a demonstration of your worthiness, don’t you think?”
“I think that I’ve been displaying how worthy I am ever since I slipped the poison to the pharaoh.”
“Ah, yes,” he said wistfully. “Your first assignment. How young and eager you were.”
“And how old and jaded I am now.”
“Nonsense. You are as beautiful now as you were then.”
“I have good genes,” she said, unable to stop her smile.
“Indeed. And I would think you would want to keep them.”
She forced herself not to react to that tidbit of information. Her beauty came from both father and mother, but her immortality . . . well, that was from her father alone. And he was in a position to take that gift away.
“What is the task?”
“A simple assassination,” he said. “No different from what you have been doing for years.”
“That’s all?” Surely, it couldn’t be so simple.
“That is all.”
She licked her lips, both tempted and confident.
Still . . .
She couldn’t deny the fact that she’d failed in that very task just moments ago. If she accepted her father’s challenge and failed again . . .
She closed her eyes, banishing the thought. This evening on the balcony had been an aberration. One that she could certainly have overcome had the incentive been enough.
She wouldn’t fail. Not again. Not with stakes this high.
“Who?”
Her father smiled, and Lucia knew that it was all over. She’d shown curiosity; she’d shown weakness. And now the ball was in her father’s court.
To his credit, he didn’t gloat. Simply held out a hand and allowed her to take the picture that materialized there in a puff of smoke. A distinguished-looking man with a full head of gray hair and a hint of mischief in his eyes. Under other circumstances, Lucia might suspect that she would enjoy dining with the older fellow. As it was, she steeled her heart. This man was her ticket to freedom. She’d do what she had to do.