The Devil You Know

by Jena Gregoire

  “No, I am going to go back to my place,” he replied. “I have people waiting to hear from me. Call when you wake up. I'm organizing a meeting with my coven to assemble a team for South America.” Kade took Dez's hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow.” After his goodbyes were through, he left quickly.

  Lucas stretched out and yawned. "I'm turning in too," he said.

  "The spare bedroom is all yours." Dez pulled her blanket tighter around herself. She turned to Vegas and asked, "Are you ready for bed?"

  A mischievous light filled his eyes as he smiled. "Very ready."

  "Keep it down in there!" Lucas called after them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Michael

  “Close the door, please,” she requested, dropping the throw blanket she'd been wrapped in at the end of her bed. He detected something unsettling in her voice.

  “What's wrong?” he asked.

  “I am going to show you something and I don't want you to freak out. I need you to know that I would never hurt you.”

  “Hurt me?” he asked, chuckling. "I don't think you'd hurt me."

  “Sit down.” Again, he did as she asked. She shut her eyes for a moment and when she opened them back up, she stared at him. “Do you feel it?”

  “Feel wh—” His words were cut off. He doubled over at a rush of pain in his abdomen, then looked up at her in shock.

  She released the pull of the hellfire and a tear streaked down her cheek.

  "I'm so sorry," she said, falling to her knees in front of him, more tears streaking down her face. "I don't know when it started. I just woke up and could feel the ability there.”

  "You have the power to call hellfire," he stammered, totally aghast and disarmed.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I feel terrible for hurting you. I'll never ever use it. I won't ..." She buried her face in his neck. "I don't know why this is happening. It's like he's changing me, like connecting to those memories has made me more like him. I don’t want to be anything like him."

  She was obviously terrified. Dez wasn’t one for outward displays of emotion, never mind full-on crying jags. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her this upset or scared in all the time they’d known each other.

  "No," Michael said, putting her at arm's length. "Look at me, Dez." He locked eyes with her. "You are not like him. No matter how many times you get into his head, you're still you. You may be a little different, but you are still Dez. Don't ever forget that. "Who knows, you've probably had the power in you this whole time and didn't know it. It’s not like you were ever pushed to embrace your demon side. Maybe simply not accessing it suppressed it."

  "We don't know for sure," she said, wiping her eyes. Vegas pulled her into a tight hug.

  "I can prove it," he said, releasing her and striding toward the door. He opened it and craned his neck into the hallway. "Lucas," he called quietly. "Come here, please."

  Dez heard footsteps coming down the hall and then Lucas spoke up. “If you guys are about to ask me to join in, let me just say now, I am not interested. He's my brother, and you're Deziree, and that would just be all kinds of weird.”

  “Get in here,” Vegas said, tugging him by the arm. “Read her.”

  “Her aura? Sure.” Lucas looked at her for a moment and then said, “Your aura is black but saturated with purple. As though someone took watered down roofing tar and mixed it with an equal amount of purple glitter.”

  “Is it getting darker?” she asked.

  “I won’t lie to you, it has gotten darker over the last few days, but the purple has also become deeper, more mixed in. Almost like it was oil and water before and recently, they've found a way to blend and become one.”

  “See?” Vegas asked. “You're not one of them. You're different. I know it; Lucas can actually see it.”

  “What's this all about?” Lucas asked.

  Vegas looked at Dez, letting her know it was up to her to tell if she wanted to. She appreciated knowing he wouldn't tell anyone, even his own brother, without her permission.

  “I can control hellfire.” Saying it out loud made her feel a little better, like she didn't have anything to hide.

  “Seriously?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Think of it this way: now you'll save a ton of money on ammunition," Lucas said with a grin.

  Dez grabbed a throw pillow from her bed and launched it at Lucas's head. He ducked just in time and it flew past him into the hall.

  “Thanks, Lucas,” Vegas said, shaking his head. “Now go get some rest.”

  Lucas left the room and Vegas closed the door behind him.

  "See? No worries," Vegas said brightly. Dez climbed into the bed and once she was tucked underneath the comforter, Vegas turned off the overhead light, leaving only the glow of the side table lamps to illuminate the room.

  He rummaged through his suitcase and changed into a comfortable pair of sweatpants. When he climbed into bed, he turned off the bedside lamp and Deziree had trouble remembering why it was she wanted to go to sleep. She rolled over to face him, briefly marveling at the handsome face she never got tired of looking at. She lifted her head so he could lay his arm out for her to use as a pillow and she contentedly curled up in his arms. As she drifted off to sleep, she almost thought she heard him whisper I love you. It didn't matter if he had said it or not, she smiled at the beauty of the sentiment. She found through all this, through all the questions and the terror ... she loved him too.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Dez

  The next morning, Deziree woke up to the aroma of coffee and bacon. She'd slept in later than normal and if those smells hadn't been lingering in the air, she probably would have been hard pressed to drag herself out of bed. Her growling stomach demanded food. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and made her way to the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” she said in the middle of a yawn. Both vampires were sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee with empty plates in front of them. She gave Vegas a kiss on the cheek as she walked behind him.

  “Good morning,” he replied, not looking up from the laptop screen where he was doing more research.

  “Breakfast smells amazing,” she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee at the counter behind him.

  “There's plenty here,” Lucas said, thumbing through news headlines on his phone. “I think I may have made too much.”

  “No, sir. You can never have too much bacon,” she said, shoveling a stack of it onto her plate. "I could eat a whole pig right now."

  She glanced up at Vegas and smiled. He turned to smile back at her but he jolted backward, bumping his coffee mug and spilling its contents on the counter. Lucas jumped, so startled he dropped his phone.

  "Dez, sweetie. Have you looked in the mirror yet today?" Vegas asked.

  “No, I came out here as soon as I smelled the coffee. What's wrong with my face, do I have wrinkle lines from the pillow?” she asked, stepping away from the counter to look in a mirror hanging in her living room.

  "Holy shit!" she yelped, jumping back from her own reflection. Her normal crystal blue irises looked like spheres of black glass. "What ... what the hell is wrong with my eyes?" she yelled hysterically at no one in particular.

  "Just ... just calm down, Dez," Vegas said, trying his best to placate her.

  “Calm down?” she screamed. “Really? Calm down? Look at my eyes! I look like a strung out rat!”

  She turned and ran for her bedroom. Turning on the lights above her vanity mirror, she looked at her eyes again. She opened her eyes as far as she could with her fingers, examining them up close. She was a little relieved to find they were not completely black. The irises still had flecks of blue scattered throughout the black space. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. She heard Vegas enter the room and close the door.

  “Dez,” he whispered.

  She shushed him and he went silent, sitting on the corner of the bed. She breathed and conce
ntrated, willing her eyes to change back to their normal color. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. She opened her eyes and was once again looking at the familiar pale blue she was used to. She heaved a sigh of relief.

  “What the hell was that?” she muttered. She kept staring at her eyes in the mirror, terrified they'd turn black if she dared look away again.

  “Something else we will have to grow accustomed to, I suspect.” He walked up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror. “You didn't look like a strung out rat.”

  “I didn't feel any different.”

  “I bet it's just like the hellfire. Maybe it's just another one of your undiscovered powers.” He was rubbing her shoulders, hoping to relieve some of her tension. Seeing her eyes hadn't blackened after a few minutes made her feel better. She sighed again, trying to will away her stress.

  “Now I really do need coffee."

  Vegas ushered her back into the kitchen. Lucas had cleaned up the spilled coffee and refilled his and Vegas's mugs. He had gone back to his newsfeed as if nothing had happened. She figured he would have had a snide remark to make, but he hadn't said anything.

  “Would you like some cheese?” he offered with a smile, batting his eyes in mock innocence.

  And there it is, she thought.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Dez

  After breakfast, Deziree made her planned phone call to Cassandra. The time difference from New York to Venice wasn't a problem as it was only a matter of six hours. New York's 11:38 AM was only early evening for them.

  Rather than sitting in pajamas all day, she multitasked, putting Cassandra on speakerphone while she dressed.

  “Deziree,” she greeted, “how are you, dear?”

  “I'm well,” she responded. “We are back in New York at the moment.”

  “Were you able to find anything?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” I'm going to Hell for this. “We haven't had any sightings of the demon either. I have no clue where it is and nothing to go on.” Deziree was careful to cover up as much as she knew as possible. She hated the thought of dragging Cassandra into this mess any further than she already was. She could only be in one place at a time and as long as that were true, she couldn't always protect Cassandra. Not knowing the traitor's identity severely limited the amount of information she could divulge.

  “Well,” Cassandra said with a sigh, “thank you for trying anyway. It's more than some around here are doing. Everyone is spending all of their time gossiping about the whole thing and none of it trying to come up with a solution. Each coven has people out looking for anyone with black eyes, but the demon could simply wear sunglasses to disguise that feature. Without knowing where it is going or what it looks like, our hands are pretty well tied.”

  At the mention of the demon’s black eyes, a knot formed in the pit of Deziree’s stomach. She wished she could confide in Cassandra over all the changes she was going through.

  “At least people are looking,” she finally said. “It’s better than doing nothing.” Deziree tried to think of a crafty way to segue into asking about how to close the gate but couldn’t come up with anything clever. Instead, she chose the direct method. “Hey, I have a question for you.”

  “Of course, dear. Ask away.”

  “Say we aren’t able to stop the demon in time to prevent him from opening the gateway. What then? I mean, you said it takes blood to close it. What exactly did you mean?”

  “A sacrifice,” Cassandra replied. “However, you can’t just throw any poor soul into the gateway. That would be far too easy. This may sound harsh, but if that were the case, we’d just jailbreak the worst criminal in existence and use him or her. The spell requires a sacrifice born out of love. The person must willingly spill their blood and give up their life in the name of love.”

  “Who made the sacrifice when you closed the gate before?”

  Cassandra was quiet for a moment. When she answered, her voice was laced with regret. “Adamo Riccetti gave himself to close the gate. Adamo was a good boy, an enthusiastic witch. He was also madly in love with your mother. She was just a couple of years older than he was, but it didn’t stop him from following her around like a little lost puppy dog. He had gone to visit her under one false pretense or another. Everyone knew the real reason: Adamo dreamed of one day making Catalina his bride. He just never mustered up the nerve to tell her how he felt. As he told it, he arrived at her home that evening and knocked on her door. Rather than her usual warmth, he was greeted with Catalina’s terrified screams. He opened the door and found her on her floor, her face beaten and bloody. Her clothes were torn and she was shaking violently. We still don’t know why the demon left her alive that night. Three days later, Adamo volunteered to be the sacrifice. Catalina was so damaged from her attack, he knew there was no chance of them being together. Rather than watch it happen to more people around him, spending the rest of his days mourning what could have been, he chose to give his life. He loved your mother deeply and sacrificed himself because of that love. When we were ready, he joined us when we went to the open gateway. After they spoke the blood oath incantation with the stone, he cut a line across his palm and simply walked into the gate. The moment his body made contact with the gateway’s energy, it started to seal. It looked as if someone were quickly mending the tear between realities with a needle and thread.”

  “Did my mother love him back?” Dez asked.

  “I think so,” Cassandra replied. “I’m not sure his sacrifice would have worked if she hadn’t. They would have made a good match too. They were both so sweet and caring. Had the demons not punched their way through into our realm, I imagine they probably would have had a long and happy life together surrounded by their sons, daughters, and lots of grandchildren.”

  The line was quiet for a long moment, and then Cassandra continued. Deziree checked her clothes for wrinkles, smoothing her hands over her blouse.

  “Your mother really was a good woman, Deziree,” Cassandra said. “She had a kind heart. I wish you could have known each other.”

  Dez never talked about her mother. It wasn’t due to strong emotions on the subject. It was due to a complete lack thereof. The day Deziree had been born, her mother refused to even look at her. Being born the bastard child of a demon to a woman who was an unwilling party in the conception hadn’t allowed her mother to see her as anything more than a monster. Cassandra had taken her in when she was only a few hours old, hiring wet nurses to handle the care she was unable to give being a vampire. By the time she was old enough to understand Cass wasn’t actually her mother, her biological mother was long gone, having died by suicide soon after Deziree was born.

  She harbored no ill feelings toward the woman. Catalina had been broken in the worst possible way and was unable to come back from it. Through Deziree’s entire life, Cassandra had been the only mother she had ever known, and she didn’t bother wasting time crying over a woman she had never met.

  “I do too,” Dez admitted, “but I think I got a pretty good substitute out of the deal.”

  “Oh thank you, dear. I tried to do the best I could, given the circumstances.”

  “Well, I think you did a wonderful job.” Deziree busied herself with applying light layers of makeup to her face. “Hey, I have to get going. I am going to go check on things at Onyx today. I need to make sure no one burned the place down while I have been gone. I will talk to you soon, okay?”

  “Very good,” Cassandra replied. “Talk to you soon.”

  Deziree went out into the living room where the men waited for her.

  “Did you guys get all of that?” she asked, dropping herself on to the couch.

  “We did,” Vegas answered. “So if we can’t stop this guy ahead of time, the only way to close the gateway is a sacrifice grounded in love.”

  “Yes, sir,” she affirmed. “That means the only option is to stop Asmodeus because a sacrifice is out of the question. I don’t car
e what it takes. That is not happening. Got it?”

  “Loud and clear,” Lucas responded. “Can I ask one question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “How exactly do you plan on closing the gateway if he manages to get it open? And also, what about the things that end up coming out of it?”

  “That's two questions, but both have the same answer,” she told him. "I don’t know. We will just have to make sure it doesn’t get that far.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Dez

  That evening, Deziree went to Onyx. The whole way there, she silently prayed her car was alright. The night she stayed with Vegas, they had walked to his brownstone rather than driving and her custom 1951 Mercury Coupe had been sitting there for the last week. She was sure Jack wouldn’t let anything happen to it, but that didn’t stop her from picturing some punk kid, late at night, deciding it would be funny to rake a fistful of keys across the hood leaving jagged scars in the dark, cherry red paint, effectively ruining the beautiful dark purple ghostly flames. The more she thought about it, the more she wished the cab driver would step on it.

  When they finally pulled into the parking lot, she paid the driver quickly and all but sprinted to her car. She inspected it for scratches or other damage. She was happy to find the Merc was exactly as she'd left it. Satisfied, she crossed the street to Onyx. The door was unlocked.

  The bar was dark but Dez could hear someone moving around in the storeroom. She knew it was still much too early for the staff to be there.

  “Hello?” she called out. She heard a crashing noise and then Jack's familiar voice.

  Jack appeared at the storeroom door carrying two full boxes of liquor. "Oh hey. You're back. You're back kind of early. How was your vacation?" he asked.

  "Terrible. I'm taking a real one in a few weeks. What are you doing here so early?"