Not when you’ve lived the better part of your life with secrets. It’s a hard habit to break.
“So I spend one night with you and you’ll hand over Lazarus?” Terrified by the prospect of letting Apollyon inside my head, I opted for backpedaling.
“Too late for that. We agreed that was off the table.” Beelzebub looked at his fingers, rubbing the tips together like he’d touched something grimy and wanted to get it off.
“We agreed that Jax wasn’t a bargaining chip.” Dane gripped the strap of his messenger bag, knuckles white as he took his frustration out on the small strip of fabric.
“After all these years, you still haven’t mastered the art of negotiation. I expected more from you, Sin Eater.” The demon tsked, wagging a finger as Dane’s hand slipped inside his bag, no doubt searching for something within it that couldn’t be construed as a weapon but could still do some damage. “Whatever you’re thinking, I assure you it’s a bad idea. I’m not exactly sure you appreciate your situation or who the fuck you’re dealing with. But if you violate the rules, I’ll be supping on your soul for dinner.” He made a slurping sound, licking his lips for good measure. “Now, slowly remove your hand from the bag and set your palms on the table. You will sit there and shut the fuck up while Jacqueline and I come to terms.”
Dane did as instructed, the muscles in his jaw twitching violently. His eyes narrowed, and all the ways he imagined killing the demon played across his face. There would be no living with Dane after this. If I’d thought he was overprotective before, I’d be lucky to pee without supervision after Beelzebub and I came to an accord.
“There’s a good boy.” Beelzebub winked at Dane, inciting further rage in him, before turning his attention back to me. “Now, let’s see, where were we?”
“You were about to offer something I’d actually be willing to trade for one lousy demon. My mind is hardly a fair price. You could at least do me the courtesy of attempting fair market value.” Crossing my fingers under the table that there was another offer, I hoped that the demon would take the “go big or go home” approach, see if I’d be dumb enough to go for it.
“Lazarus is of great value to me. The work he’s doing is of the utmost importance. You can’t put a price tag on that, and you certainly can’t just replace it.” The demon sighed heavily. Scooting his chair back from the table, he stood and smoothed the wrinkles from his pants. “I can see we are at an impasse. I’ll personally inform my master of our lack of progress today. No doubt he’ll be profoundly disappointed.”
With bated breath, I waited, prayed he’d turn around when I made no attempt to stop him. He’d opened the door before I broke down and called after him.
“Wait.”
“Jax, no. No fucking way. Are you insane? Everything we’ve done has been to keep him away from you, and you want to just let him in?” Dane’s face turned an interesting shade of red as he berated me for making what he deemed a horrible choice.
But it was the only choice.
Beelzebub drove a hard bargain. Nothing I offered would have met with his approval. I wanted Lazarus, and there was only one thing he wanted in return. I felt like the walls were closing in on me as I realized a trap had been snapped shut. I wasn’t the only one who’d made a deal with the Devil.
“Fucking Maloney,” I muttered loudly enough for the demon to hear. The smile that split his face confirmed my suspicions.
“Son of a bitch.” Dane’s fist hit the table, his chair flying back as he stood up. Before another profane word could leave his mouth, his hands flew to his throat. Struggling to breathe, he fought to remove a pair of hands crushing his wind pipe that weren’t actually there. Beelzebub was strangling him from across the room, without so much as lifting a finger.
“I tried to warn him.” Beelzebub shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal. “Anything you want to say to him before I drag him to Hell and make him the sole object of my attention?”
Dane tried to mouth the word “no” before his head lolled back, eyelids fluttering as he slipped slowly into unconsciousness.
“One night. No rooting around inside my head. I let him in, he says what he has to say, and he leaves. No tricks, no games.” The words were out of my mouth before I had time to consider if I’d left anything out.
“Done.” With a snap of his fingers, he released Dane, leaving him in a gasping heap on the floor. “I will deliver Lazarus to you as soon as demonly possible.”
That felt too easy. In my haste to stop Beelzebub from walking out of the bar, ending our talk and taking my boyfriend with him, I was certain I’d left something out, some line not to be crossed. The Devil is in the details. How many times had I heard that?
Chapter Seven
The walk back to the apartment was quiet and tense, with Dane brooding the entire way home, no doubt about the deal I’d made and the fact that he’d been bested by Beelzebub. Right on cue, he let me know exactly what he thought about the arrangement as soon as the door clicked shut behind us.
“You are not going through with this. Call Tobias. There has to be a way to get you out of this.” Dane yanked open the fridge, condiments and jelly jars rattling in the shelves on the door as he took out some of his frustration on looking for a beer.
“Bottom left drawer.” The drawer labeled vegetable crisper in our fridge had an entirely different purpose, storing the varied selection of Oliver Brewing Co. beers.
“I know where the beer is.” Slamming the fridge door, he hooked the bottle cap on the edge of the kitchen counter and popped it open. “God damn it, Jax. I’m not going to let you do this.”
“Dane, watch your language. Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.” With a soft gasp, I mocked him in an attempt to lighten the mood.
He wasn’t amused.
“How can you be so fucking blasé about the whole thing?”
“Is this me being blasé?” The cut on my palm from Maloney’s bargain throbbed and still seeped. At least Maloney had been telling the truth about that. “I thought I was just trying not to lose my shit, seeing as how I got backed into making another massively stupid deal. Which, as my shit luck would have it, is indirectly another deal with the Devil.”
“I see now that ‘blasé’ may have been a poor choice of words.” Backpedaling from his accusation that I was somehow indifferent to my situation, Dane polished off the beer and tossed the empty into the recycling container next to the counter. “I’m still talking to Tobias. You were set up. You shouldn’t have to go through with it.”
“Call him. Ten to one he tells you it’s above board and I have to uphold my end.” Taking deep breaths, I tried to find my center before the anger and frustration over my idiocy caught up with me. As much as I wanted to blame Tobias or the Principles for letting me walk into a trap, I really had no one to blame but myself. I hadn’t asked enough questions and had let Maloney manipulate me.
Dane’s fingers flew across the screen of his smart phone, no doubt giving Tobias a piece of his mind as well. From the scowl on his face, I’d have wagered the conversation wasn’t going his way. My suspicions were confirmed when he slammed his phone down on the counter.
“This is…” He ran his hands through his hair, scratching his scalp. “You’re not. You’re just not. End of discussion.”
Biting back a snide remark about how it hadn’t been much of a conversation, since he’d barely used his words, I went to the fridge and helped myself to the beer he’d failed to offer. Taking a seat at the kitchen counter, I swiveled sideways on the stool to face him and waited out his foul mood. Never one to stay hot-headed, Dane was always quick to gather his wits and return to the level-headed partner I relied on.
This time proved to be the exception.
“It’s not a matter of what I want to do or what you want me to do. It’s a matter of what has to be done, and I’m the only one who can do it. It sucks. You’re either with me or you’re not. I can’t choose for you.” Taking another swig from my
beer, I rested my arm on the counter, confident he’d see things as they were, rather than how we wanted them.
“I’m not going to sit here and just watch you go through that. Don’t ask me to.” Dane grabbed his keys off the counter, clutching them tight in his fist.
“I’ve never asked for more than you were willing to give.” And that was the truth of it. I’d never asked for him to whirlwind his way into my life, and never expected anything more than what he offered. Or less. And this was definitely less than he’d promised. Less than the man who’d jumped in front of a spear hurtling toward me in an effort to save my life. Less than the man Thomas had damned himself to save. Anger swelled, a slow burn like the fires outside in my city, working its way up from my belly into my chest until it roared with a ferocity that wasn’t entirely for Dane but directed at him all the same.
“No, you haven’t. So why does it feel like too much?” With that, the Sin Eater walked out of the apartment and quite possibly my life.
“Fucking coward!” The bottle flew from my hand, smashing against the door in a spray of glass and beer as it clicked shut. He heard it, I knew he did, but didn’t bother to come back and defend himself or smooth things over.
Never go to bed angry. I’d heard that somewhere before. I wondered what the advice was when you were both angry and you were going to bed alone. Only I wasn’t alone. Not really. Once I slipped off to dreamland, I’d have company of the worst sort. Guilt momentarily won over anger as I recalled the opportunities I’d had to tell Dane about the Devil’s efforts to pry his way into my mind. Would he have stayed if he’d known how vulnerable I really was? How close I’d come to giving in?
My mind wouldn’t stop, the questions, mistakes, regrets all on repeat. The more my mind raced, the more I knew sleep would elude me and I’d fail to uphold my end of the agreement with Beelzebub. Grabbing the closest bottle of alcohol, I stomped back to my bedroom and flopped onto the bed. Turning the bottle around to see what my random selection had netted me, I belted out a bitter laugh as a picture of the little devil on the Fireball label mocked me.
“Tastes like heaven, burns like hell. I’m sure he would say the same,” I said out loud to no one other than myself. Planning on downing the bottle, I twisted off the cap and tossed it onto the floor. “Bring it, bitch.”
Taking a swig of the whiskey, I stopped before the amber liquid hit the back of my throat. I wasn’t alone. My mind still closed off, I knew it wasn’t the Devil, but I recognized the power. My internal warning system went off. I’d felt this power before. In Purgatory. Apparently the powers below didn’t trust me to keep my word. I’d been assigned an unholy sentinel to make sure I upheld my end of the bargain. Swallowing, I gave my invisible babysitter the finger and took another drink. And then another.
I barely remember the bottle rolling from my hand, the sound as it hit the floor with a dull thud, spilling what little contents were left onto the floor.
Dreams – nightmares, really – thrashed about in my mind. Horrible memories of the life I’d lived before the night I’d first met him on that bridge, the light from the street lamp illuminating him in a false halo. Images of him – that night and other nights, including our most recent escapade when he’d managed to lay hands on me – reared up but were swatted away just as quickly, replaced by one horrible memory after another of the men I’d grown up with. The yelling, the fists, the belt. And then he’d come again, each time portraying the hero, the one who’d set me free from all that pain. All that misery. Why didn’t I see it? Why wouldn’t I just let him in?
Little Jax, little Jax, let me in.
Using my name in place of that of the pig wasn’t lost on me, even in my drunken state. He was the wolf, the hunter, and I would do well to remember it. I’d gone into this hurt and angry, piss-drunk and without a clear mind. If I was lucky, I’d wake with nothing more than a hangover, but I doubted it very much. It had been one mistake after another, all of them leading to this moment, and I’d done exactly what he wanted. Let my insecurities and weaknesses get the better of me, let him come to me when I was broken and without all my defenses.
Jacqui-girl. My name, the soft knocking in my subconscious. Jacqueline. His touch, soft like velvet in my mind. For the first time in months, I let my guard down and let him in.
“Not the approach I would have expected after our last encounter.” Trying for casual, I folded my arms across my chest as we stood across from each other in this dreamland.
“What were you expecting?” He held out his hands, turning them palm up in question.
“I’m not sure. Not this.” I gestured to his casual appearance, low-slung jeans and white button-down shirt only half done up, bare feet. He looked like he’d walked off the cover of a romance novel. I‘d have been a liar if I’d said he didn’t look good, which of course was the point. “I stabbed you. More than once.” Shrugging, I held out my hands in the same questioning gesture.
“Did you think I would let that come between us? You’re meant for me, Jax. Born for me. This is only delaying your future. The one by my side. It’s in your blood.” Suddenly behind me, he ran a hand down the back of my shirt, along the shoulder blade that bore the demon-wing tattoo. “This is who you are, your father’s daughter. Elioud, born of both light and dark but capable of such wickedness.” Apollyon’s lips found the tender spot on my neck, laying the gentlest of kisses before I could step away.
“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.” Rounding on him, I stepped back and put a few more feet between us for good measure. “I let you in. That was the deal. But keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
“I can feel you tremble beneath my touch, Jacqueline.”
“Out of disgust.”
“Fear? Are you afraid of me? Afraid that some part of you, some part deep down and locked away, answers to my call? Wants what I have to offer?” The Devil reached for me, closing the feet between us in a blink.
“Yes.” The truth fell from my mouth in a breathy voice I hardly recognized. It was fear of that and more. The fear of weakness and what would happen if I allowed myself to fall. Something in me stirred, the part he called to, a yearning so deep and dark, erotic as it was painful.
“Don’t fight it, Jax. Let go. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He backed me up against a wall that hadn’t been there a moment before. The void we’d been standing in changed, morphed into something familiar. His room. He’d tried to take me there once, in a different dream. I’d blocked him then, refused to let him in. Not like this time.
He pressed me against the wall, body molded to mine as he called to the Elioud, the darkness that lived within me. The traitorous bitch answered, clawing her way up from the depths where she’d been buried. Closing my eyes, forcing them shut as his hands slid down my waist, the Elioud in me wanted nothing more than to writhe against him, the master who’d called her. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, drowning in desire. His wanting, my need. A need I hadn’t known was there until I let him in, until he’d awoken the evil inside me. His mouth closed on mine, silencing the whimper that had begun when he leaned in. Tears streamed from my eyes, dampening my cheeks. I was losing the battle with him, with myself.
I needed a way out, a way back from the thoughts and feelings he was pumping into me. This wasn’t me, wasn’t who I was. I couldn’t fall, wouldn’t fall. Think, Jax, think. It was my dream, after all. Didn’t I have some say in what happened here? By will or divine intervention, the tattoo on my arm blazed, burned my flesh from the inside out. A reminder of oaths taken, promises given. A rosary appeared in my left hand, the smooth, cool beads a relief against my hot skin. Without thinking, I pressed the beads against the bare chest exposed through his unbuttoned shirt, flinching when I heard the faint sizzle as they burned his flesh.
“That’s the second time you’ve marked me.” He grabbed my empty hand, forcing my fingers to glide along the smooth skin covering his ribs.
Damn it all that he wasn’t the cloven-hooved beast
with forked tongue and tail described in stories to scare little children. No, he’d kept his angelic form, all the better to trap his prey with a handsome face and fine body. Taut skin stretched over perfectly proportioned muscles. For a moment desire swirled again, making me lightheaded and weak-kneed, and then my fingers ran over the imperfection. A scar. I’d done that; I’d wounded him.
“I healed all but one. A reminder of you. If the blade had been longer, you’d have pierced my heart along with my lung.” He moved our fingers along the ribs on his left side before I could jerk my hand away. “And now you’ve seen fit to give me this. Another token, and over my heart as well.” He pulled back his shirt, exposing the cross and beads branded into his flesh. “I think I’ll leave this one too. A reminder of one I used to hold dear, and the one I still do. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”
“You got your share of licks in the last time we met.” Two knife marks marred my shoulder blades, ruining my wing tattoos. Though he seemed to think it added to the effect.
“Something to remember me by until our next meeting.” Apollyon ran a finger across my palm.
White-hot pain flashed behind my eyes and in the palm of my right hand. I tried to open my hand, see what he’d done, but the pain was too much. My fingers curled inward, almost into a fist.
“I’ve thought of little else.” Gritted teeth didn’t lessen the anger or hatred in my voice.
“Why, darling, you say the sweetest things.” He leaned in, ran his tongue along my cheek, before he disappeared and the walls I’d built inside my mind to keep him out were firmly back in place.
I woke on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, tears still leaking from the corners of my eyes. My throat raw and burning, like I’d been screaming for hours, I reached toward the nightstand and the glass of water sitting on top of it.
A glass of water I hadn’t put there.
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