by Mina Carter
The crowds had thinned out now, a few determined stragglers moving in the same direction as Rat, their heads down and their steps swift. He didn’t blame them. No one hung about on these streets. Not unless they were insane, suicidal or possibly both.
He crossed a disused basketball court, pushing aside a loose panel of wire fencing to slide under before walking across to the gates. One hung off its hinges, clattering lightly against the fence in the wind. Turning left, he headed down a street with all the windows boarded up.
It was prime ambush territory but that didn’t bother him. Nothing that walked these streets was a threat to him. Few things that lurked in the dark would scare him. If anything, they should be scared of him. Especially with the shitty mood he was in after watching that asshole unicorn Gage fawn all over Baby.
His Baby. Not that he could call her that. Not yet. But he intended to one day.
His lips curled back into a snarl. All he wanted to do was turn around and have himself a little unicorn hunt. That bastard’s horned head would look awesome over his mantelpiece. Of course, it would mean he’d have to build a mantelpiece first, but for the satisfaction of hanging his coat on the slimy four-legged asshole’s horn every day, he’d suffer a little DIY.
Because of his simmering mood and his preoccupation with the soft little smile Baby had bestowed on the unicorn, he didn’t notice the circling pixie gang until he almost tripped over one of the little jerks.
“Hey, big guy,” the one he’d almost stepped on snarled. “Watch where you’re fucking going!”
Rat blinked in surprise, not needing to turn around to know he was surrounded. Eagerness and bloodlust from the pixies pressed against his senses. That lust called to him, to the part that was pure demon.
Demons dealt in lust and all other sins.
“Really?” he looked around, not ready to believe anyone was this stupid. Not even a group of dumb-fuck pixies like this. But in the best traditions of those too stupid to be allowed to breed and pass that idiocy on to another generation, the pixies didn’t appear to realize the crap they were in and grinned back at him.
He focused on the leader. The kid was no more than sixteen or seventeen if he was a day, with a bright pink Mohawk and an armful of tattoos that had been spaced out to try and make it look like he had more than he really did.
“Are you seriously this stupid or are you just making a special effort today?”
“It’s not us being stupid, old man.”
The youngster in front of him affected a swagger and a badass mofo in charge attitude that didn’t reach all the way to the backs of his eyes. This conversation was obviously not going the way he’d expected it to. As in, Rat wasn’t backing up in a panic or trying to run away like most of their victims.
Rat knew the score. He’d done this self-same song and dance more than a few times himself. Before his other side had come into play that was. After… well, the destruction of that city block wasn’t entirely his fault. The furor he’d caused had surprised a coven of stone-wyverns asleep on a rooftop and they’d leveled at least three buildings all by themselves. His mother had thrown him out of her city after that.
“After all…” the lad continued when it became apparent that no, Rat was not going to run away, nor did the likelihood of him breaking down in terror appear to be in the cards either. Instead, he just stood with his hands in his pockets and a bored look on his face. “We ain’t the ones trying to cross De Luca land without a mark.”
Rat’s eyes narrowed.
A mark was a tattoo given by a pixie clan to allow favored members of other species or nonblood family members to cross safely. It usually… always… came with a price. A protection racket so ancient human gangsters had also cottoned onto it.
Rat had never needed one. Oh, he’d been called in to see old man De Luca years ago, when he’d first decided to settle in this city, and a price had been discussed. Wisely, after he’d figured out exactly what Rat was, De Luca had decided that no price was worth pissing off a prince of hell and Rat had never had a problem in De Luca territory.
Most pixies recognized him by sight, or at the least recognized, if not exactly what he was, then certainly he was something they did not want to fuck with. Most were sensible enough to realize his pixie half was his less dangerous half. And most were sensible enough to realize that the safest place for them to be was not all up in his face snarling but across the other side of the city watching paint dry on a fire escape somewhere.
He’d been told, in those circumstances, watching paint dry could be absolutely enthralling.
Unfortunately, for them, he seemed to have caught the attention of the kindergarten crew out on a milk run. He had no doubt at all, that before they’d left their barrow, they’d been told exactly which street corner to loiter on (one much further into the safety of De Luca territory than this one) and given strict instructions not to piss off anyone bigger than they were.
AKA him.
Rat’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “One chance, sunshine. Walk away… while you still can.”
He didn’t move, his hands still in his pockets and his voice pitched to a no nonsense “you really don’t want to do this” level. One that any sensible person would back off from and consider the fact that although Rat was surrounded by a gang of the most vicious and violent assholes around—namely pixies—he wasn’t freaking out.
In fact, he hadn’t broken a sweat or batted an eyelash.
The wannabe badass in front of him was obviously not sensible. Instead, he stepped right up to Rat, his lip curled back.
“Yeah? You gonna make me, grandad?” he snarled and shoved the center of Rat’s chest.
Which was when all hell broke loose.
Grabbing the kid’s wrist in an iron grip before he could break contact and step away, Rat shoved his arm up and over, twisting the wannabe around until his arm was locked out. Then he shoved, his demon half savoring the crunch of breaking bone and the high-pitched squeal of pain that bounced back from the shadows.
He’d barely pushed the youngster away to curl up in his own world of pain when the rest rushed him. For the next few minutes his world narrowed down to punches and kicks, blocks and twists.
The alleyway filled with more crunches and squeals of pain as he worked his way through them, breaking bones with surgical precision. Through it all, though, he made sure not to seriously injure or kill any of them. They were little more than kids and, while he might be a demon, he wasn’t a murderer.
It took less than a couple of minutes for him to work through all of them, the ground around his feet filled with softly moaning bodies. Those that could walk started to drag their companions away, watching him with fear-filled expressions in case he came back for a second round. He ignored them. Kicking someone when they were down was not his thing. No challenge in that.
Instead, he focused on the two figures at the end of the alley. How long they’d been there, he wasn’t sure, but that was the way of things with them. Suited and booted, they looked like they’d stepped from a fancy boardroom and were nearly identical with their slicked back hair and widows’ peaks.
There the resemblance to businessmen ended. For those who had the sight, demon sigils crawled up the skin of their necks and onto their cheeks. Rat didn’t bat an eyelid as he strode toward them.
He knew who they were, of course. There wasn’t a demon who didn’t. They were from Jhinks & Sons, the best lawyers in hell and on an exclusive retainer to the throne. Few beings in existence had less morals than a demon, and lawyers could be one of them. Lawyers who were also demons? Rat was sure that broke some law of the universe or something… but there the Jhinks guys were, standing right in front of him like unwelcome party guests.
Why they came in pairs, he had no clue, but they always did. Not always the same pair either. These two he’d never seen before. Perhaps they bred them somewhere…
“I don’t suppose I can persuade you two to fuck off. Can I?”
/> They didn’t reply, stepping to the side as a line of fire traced down the wall between them.
“Worth a try.” Rat sighed as it became the outline of a door, which then opened into a corridor lined with fire.
Home sweet home.
* * *
Rat didn’t speak to the bully-boy lawyers. He simply let them trail after him as he walked through the corridors toward the court. They’d done their job and gotten him back to hell. No more conversation was needed.
Of course, he knew that. Had he argued, the resulting… conversation would have been a lot more bloody and brutal than his little chat with the pixies. Possibly with more property damage. While he could have taken the silent twins behind him, they wouldn’t be the last. His father would just keep sending them until he got what he wanted—Rat back in hell.
It was easier to just see what the old goat wanted, tell him to take a long walk off a short pier, and then he could get back to his life. It was pretty much the pattern all his interactions with his father had followed.
The corridors all looked the same but it made no difference which one he took. Hell itself was sentient. It would herd him where it wanted him to go. He just had to hope it wasn’t to one of the eternal pits of despair on the third level. As far as he knew, no one had ever escaped from the pits.
He heard the court before he saw it. The raucous noise was almost deafening the nearer he got, and the corridor opened up into the large hall of his father’s throne room. At least, he assumed from the huge throne at the other end of the room—he squinted. Bone? Really? His dad was pandering to cliché again then—that this was indeed the throne room of His Majesty, Lakai Di Telosa, King of all Hells.
Who was currently standing in the middle of the cleared floor, stripped to the waist. His rune-covered skin was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his fists clenched as he stood over another demon.
Rat’s lip curled back from his teeth in recognition. Lord Zarek. Asshole extraordinaire, and the demon who had made it his personal mission to make Rat’s few visits to hell (even demons had access rights apparently) when he was a kid… well, hell. Literally.
“But, Your Majesty,” the demon protested, his whine grating on Rat’s nerves, and he’d only been in the room a few seconds. “The law is the law. A half-breed cannot be invested as Crown Prince of hell.”
Half-breed. Crown Prince. Since he was the only half-breed prince of hell, those two things should not be put in the same sentence. Ever.
Snarling at a couple of lower-level demons, he strode forward.
“I’m with horny,” he announced, not wanting to actually agree with Zarek on anything, but he was left with no choice. “I’d make a fucking terrible crown prince.”
Lakai looked up, his face splitting into a broad grin as he spotted Rat. “And there he is, the man of the hour. Welcome home, son!”
Rat’s eyebrow winged up to try and bury itself in his close-cropped hair. “The last time I was here you tried to have me assassinated before I left the premises.”
Lakai’s expression was blank, a slight frown on his face as though he were trying to remember something that wasn’t there. It didn’t surprise Rat at all. Lakai had many children, and he was well-known for trying to kill off any threat to his rule. Obviously, his own kids fell under that banner.
He quickly recovered, though, a smile over his face and his demon form receding as he strode toward Rat. Zarek took that opportunity to beat a hasty retreat, scuttling off. No doubt to lick his wounds or go beat up some lower-level demons to make himself feel better.
Rat watched him go with a curl of his lip. Zarek was everything he hated about hell. A bully-boy who beat up on others to maintain his position at the top of the pile. But, much as he hated the system (which was, incidentally, pretty much the same as every playground the world over), it didn’t mean he wanted to move into hell and fix it, even if the job did come with a snazzy crown.
His attention snapped back to his father, who was now looking more mortal than Rat did, striding toward him with a broad smile.
“Come now. That was just to toughen you up. Character building!”
Rat didn’t argue as Lakai draped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him further into the room. Gone was the rune-scarred skin and horns, and now it was like looking into a damn mirror.
Rat had no idea what his father actually looked like. He wasn’t sure Lakai did either. Not after so long. His appearance changed depending on who he was around. He’d seen his father look like his older brother, Seren, like Rat himself and a whole host of others.
“Character building? I broke nearly every bone in my damned body,” he replied, rolling his shoulders so his father’s arm fell off. He stepped away quickly, making the movement look natural.
“What do you want, Dad?” he asked bluntly. “Cause I got shit to see and people to do. You know how it is.”
Lakai just smiled, ascending the steps to his throne, which yes, was made of bone. Seemed daddy dearest was binge watching way too much of a certain kind of show at the moment. Rat wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if a dragon or two had flown overhead. The big, scaly sort, not a shadow like his B…
He shut that thought down fast. As a half-demon, he had a little protection from others ferreting around in his head. Other demons that was. Lakai was an entirely different matter. If he wanted in someone’s head, he would get in—either by smashing through their mental barriers or directly through their skull. It all depended on how much patience he had at the time.
Unfortunately for many people, he was not a patient man and had gone through a phase of drinking from the skulls of his victims. That had ended when his maids had refused to clean up because of the skulls littering the place. His then-concubine had pitched a fit and threatened them all, which had earned her a one-way trip to the pits. Concubines could be replaced, but good home-help? Priceless.
“What do I want?” Lakai mused as he lounged elegantly on his throne. He rubbed at his jaw, now sporting stubble identical to Rat’s. “I’m sure you know what I want.”
Rat sighed, already bored with this game of cat and mouse. He didn’t particularly like being cast in the role of rodent either, despite his nickname.
“You want me invested as crown prince for some reason. Although I can’t work out why. As Zarek pointed out, I’m a half-breed. You have full demon kids. So why me?”
Lakai dropped his hand, the suspicion of a smile flirting with the edges of his mouth. Rat’s attention was divided for a moment as a female demon broke away from the crowd around him, the sway of her hips designed to elicit lustful thoughts in the mind of anyone who saw her. Her dress was more a collection of straps than an actual garment, only just preserving the modesty she obviously didn’t have.
He looked back at Lakai, his jaw tightening as the demoness wrapped herself around him. Ten years ago he’d dreamed of a succubus pandering to his every whim… now though, every cell in his body rejected the knowing touch of her hands. They roamed over his chest, but when one wandered down toward his crotch, he grabbed her wrist, a small shake of his head warning her off.
“Why you?” Lakai continued as though his son hadn’t nearly been groped right in the middle of the throne room. Although, given where they were, groping was considered light entertainment. “Because you’re more than just a demon. You’re the product of two of the most vicious species on the planet… you’ve survived here in hell and in the mortal realm without, I might add, the protection of a family like your mother’s people. You’re a loner, used to relying on yourself and not trusting anyone. I can’t think of anyone better to take the throne when the time comes.”
Rat just stood there, his face impassive, and ignored the burst of pleasure that sent waves of warmth through his chest. His father didn’t mean that. He was just messing with Rat’s head, and Rat wasn’t going to listen to a word of it.
“And Nerissa there is part of the deal. If you want her to be,” Lakai nodded toward the sh
e-demon trying to free her hand so she could shove it down the front of his pants. Rat growled at her, not wanting her red-taloned fingers anywhere near his cock.
“No. Not a chance,” he said, managing to disentangle himself from her clutches and shove her away. She stumbled backward with a look of astonishment and then anger. He doubted anyone had ever said no to her.
Lakai grinned, his expression sly. “Is that no to Nerissa, or no to the crown?”
“No to everything,” he growled, turning to stomp away back down the corridor. “Now if you’re done, I have a life to get back to. I don’t need all this shit.”
“You’ll be back!” Lakai called after him, his voice smug. “Call me!”
“Yeah yeah…” Rat grumbled as he called the door back to the mortal realm and stepped through it. “Hell’ll fucking freeze over first.”
He couldn’t be king of hell… not when he had a dragon queen to charm.
Chapter 4
The next evening Rat was back at the PPA offices. He’d spent all day tracking down leads on his minor cases before heading into the office. Mostly his day had been uneventful. No demon lawyers loitering on the street corner to drag him down to hell for another chat with daddy dearest. He did see a couple of pixies, who looked shame-faced and avoided looking at him. So they should. After last night’s conversation with his dad, beating up on some more pixies would help him get rid of some tension.
After adding to his case files, he logged off and left the office. As always this late on Friday night, the place was packed with people. He had to weave between operatives on his way to the locker room. The PPA offices were more inclusive than a traditional office building. Hell, the whole company model was totally nontraditional. Because of the nature of its work and operatives, the PPA was more family than business.
Iliona never turned away a paranormal in need of work. Whatever their skills, whether they’d make operatives or not, she found them something. Whether it was cash in their pocket or a place to stay, she ensured they got it.