The Underground

by Michelle E Lowe

  “He is also unique. I’ll admit I was tempted. However, he lacks what you have.”

  “The demon blood,” Joaquin guessed. “The very thing killing me.”

  With a level expression, the Demon King nodded.

  “I have existed since life began. I have taken on many names throughout the centuries. In the beginning of Earth’s existence, I was simply an illness, a virus that killed anything I infected. In Ancient Greece, I developed selfawareness and evolved into my first form—a beast. Shortly after the extinction of a group of misfortunate deities, I became a divine spirit that was able to manifest my own small realm.”

  Joaquin was curious which deities had become extinct.

  “I started creating other daimōns. In later years, I finally took on a human form and received the title ‘Lucifer.’ I am whatever the culture believes me to be, even Demon King. My demon children are out there doing whatever it is they do, and sometimes what I want them to do. I’ve spawned them from my own flesh and, so, we are all connected.”

  “As I am to you?” Joaquin guessed.

  “Indeed. There is no other in the world like you, Joaquin Landcross. I desire for you to stand by my side.” He grabbed the knife from Benito’s extended hand and handed it to him. “Here.”

  Joaquin’s weak heart thumped irregularly against his throat. It was loads easier to tell Benito to piss off than it was a demon god. “I can’t kill my brother.”

  “Yes, you can. And easily, I might add.”

  “Pierce deserves to live. He’s done nothing wrong.”

  “Maybe, but he doesn’t wish to live anymore. He wants to be reunited with his . . .” He rolled his eyes while fluttering his eyelids. “ . . . his love.”

  His sarcastic tone indicated that the Demon King thought little of love.

  “How did Taisia die?” Joaquin asked hoarsely.

  “Coira’s gang shot her down. I saw the corpse myself.”

  Joaquin shook his head. “Taisia was in the Vaults this evening. I only caught a glance, but it was her. There is no way she could have been there while lying dead someplace else.”

  The Demon King considered that. “Hmm. You must have strong relations to the paranormal. What you saw was her echo.”

  Joaquin thought back to when he, Pierce, and Taisia hid inside that very room a couple of nights ago. He remembered what Benito had said about ghost sightings being merely echoes of where a person had been during their life. Had it been a mere imprint of her, stamped into the very space she had briefly occupied?

  “Taisia Kuzentsov is dead,” the Demon King said coldly. “She waits for Pierce in the In Between. Cut him loose from this world and let him be with her.”

  The sickness in Joaquin’s stomach formed, and he could feel himself being taken over by the beast. His arm moved up before his mind could give it permission.

  “Free him, Joaquin,” the cruel creature pressed. “And free yourself from guilt, fear, love, and regret. With a single strike, you can have everything.”

  His breath grew heavy, and he shut his eyes in an attempt to fight it off. He needed to think. Yet, when he opened them, he saw through a hazy cloud that the Demon King was grinning widely. The beast had risen, and he was too weak to fend it off.

  He gripped the knife and held it over Pierce’s chest in both hands, aiming the tip of the blade at his heart.

  “Do it, Joaquin.”

  A tear rolled down his cheek, so hot it felt like liquid fire. He was actually going to do it. Kill Pierce—his brother—as Freya had wanted. The muscles in his arms tensed, ready to act. Just one strike.

  “No, Joaquin. Enough,” came a female voice from inside his head.

  The knife began shaking in his trembling hands.

  “Who . . . who said that?”

  “You stay out of this,” the Demon King seethed. “This is no concern of yours.”

  Joaquin realized it wasn’t in his mind after all.

  “If you slay him, Joaquin, you will do irreparable damage to so many,” the woman’s voice said. “Put the knife down.”

  “No!” the Demon King bellowed. “He is mine!” To Joaquin, he said, “Your place is with me. Your inheritance can only be delivered by severing yourself from your mortal flaws.”

  Sweat dappled his skin. The Demon King was offering him everything he could possibly desire. Yet, the price was so steep.

  “Joaquin,” called the woman again.

  He tilted his chin up while shaking so fiercely he believed his body would break apart. A woman with long, curly hair flowing down to her waist approached from the stairs. She was dressed in a burgundy velvet gown with long sleeves made of lace. Her mature face held so much wisdom.

  What the hell was she doing here? He thought perhaps in his present state of mind he was hallucinating, but the Demon King acknowledged her, as well. Her presence made everyone else vanish.

  “What the Demon King told you about gaining remarkable power is true,” she said unhelpfully. “But he has lied to you about one thing.”

  “You have no right to be here, Orenda,” the Demon King growled, yet took no action against her as she leaned toward Joaquin.

  What she whispered to him changed everything.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Reason

  Joaquin gasped and snapped his head up.

  “Do it, Mr. Marsh,” Benito urged.

  Joaquin looked down. He held the knife in his hand. The woman and the Demon King were gone.

  Was it all some sort of trickery of the mind?

  “It’s all right, Mr. Marsh,” Benito assured him.

  Joaquin turned his gaze to him. Everyone waited anxiously. The cave was filling with the smoke from the fire off their torches. Joaquin returned his attention to his unconscious brother. The sickness began rising in his stomach once again. Benito smiled from ear to ear as Joaquin raised the knife.

  Taisia is alive.

  Benito’s smile vanished when Joaquin jabbed the knife into his collarbone.

  The cold air grew colder still as a deep, loud voice hollered, “No!”

  Joaquin thought little after that.

  He tucked an arm under Pierce’s shoulders and another behind his knees and said without realizing it, “Mother of Craft, give me strength.”

  Joaquin hoisted Pierce up and hurried toward the stairs. Terrifying screams screeched out from the members of the Hellfire Club. A figure no more than four feet tall jumped into Joaquin’s path. Its body was glossy red and black as if it had been turned inside out.

  Stay away from them, fiend! came Orenda’s voice.

  The creature snarled through long, pearl-white fangs. It scampered off like a chimpanzee, hissing as it went. It joined others like it, leaping on the closest person and tearing into them. There were many demons ripping into people as if they were meat-filled Christmas presents. Red liquid and chunks of flesh flew from black cloaks. Everyone screamed and begged for mercy. The Demon King stood amidst the bloodbath, clutching his dark hair and yelling in such a high-pitched tone, it could have started a cave-in. It certainly made Joaquin’s ears ring.

  Joaquin turned his attention on the stairs and the brother in his arms. His plea to Mother of Craft seemed to have boosted his might. With little effort, he carried Pierce out of the cove while the Demon King took his aggression out on the Hellfire Club.

  Joaquin slung Pierce over the saddle of his horse as if he were a sack of grain, mounted, and rode out of Gilmerton.

  * * *

  Faolan sat at the edge of his bed with Coira’s naked body sprawled out behind him. When she eventually ordered him to fetch Pierce for her, it was too late. He’d already offered himself to the Hellfire Club as a sacrifice. Although Coira wanted Pierce to torture, she knew better than to send Faolan in against the Demon King.

  Faolan looked over his shoulder at her. Many times, he’d envision the most gruesome ways to kill her. He only needed a few moments in order to redecorate the room with her body and everything
inside it. He raked his hands through his soft hair and stood. Without making a sound, Faolan got dressed and left for the rooftop.

  When the warm light of the morning sun touched Faolan’s face, he closed his eyes and inhaled the cool air. One thing about his predicament was that he had learned how to relish such simple pleasures.

  He looked out over the world as he exhaled. He stayed there for a long time, until the streets began filling with people going about their daily business. He needed to get to his hustling.

  When Faolan exited the hotel, someone whistled from the front door. He turned to see a tall man leaning against the wall.

  “Joaquin?” Faolan asked.

  “Aye,” he said, approaching.

  Not many things surprised Faolan, but having Joaquin there instead of with the Demon King had definitely caught him off guard.

  “What the hell are ye doin’ ’ere?” he asked just before the gun jabbed into his stomach.

  “You and I need to have a chat,” Joaquin snarled.

  He grabbed Faolan by the arm and dragged him to the side of the building, where he slammed him against the wall. Joaquin pressed the pistol against Faolan’s chest.

  “I need you to tell me something, and I need you to answer honestly.”

  “All right,” Faolan said nonchalantly.

  “Is Taisia dead?”

  Faolan started piecing the parts together.

  “Ah. So, that’s it, eh?”

  “Is she?”

  Faolan blinked slowly and answered at length, “No. She’s not.”

  Joaquin lifted the gun away. Not that the weapon concerned him, anyway. Joaquin lowered it to his side and placed a hand on his forehead. Apparently, he was shocked.

  “Bloody hell,” he gasped. “I almost killed Pierce for nothing.”

  “I know.”

  Joaquin eyed him “How?”

  “The Demon King. Met him, did ye?”

  Joaquin straightened up and demanded in a serious tone, “Tell me everything.”

  Faolan did not have to say a word, but he did anyway.

  * * *

  The prickly dryness in his throat was the first thing Pierce noticed. It felt like he had drank sand. Next came the pounding pain in his head. It felt like someone was stabbing a nail into his brain. His eyelids were crusted shut, and it took some effort to open them. Rubbing his eyes, he rolled out of the bed he lay in and tried to stand. When he did, his legs buckled. He caught himself on the bedpost, where his dapper coat hung. He sat back down on the edge of the mattress. The amount of chloroform that short Italian cocker gave him was still holding him in its firm grip. A blade of light cutting in between the drapes showed he was inside someone’s chambers. Another hotel, perhaps?

  Joaquin. Blast it all!

  Pierce planted his face in his palms. Regrettably, he was still breathing. If the bastard had simply done the deed, not only would Joaquin be healed and off being all godlike someplace else, but Pierce would have also been reunited with Taisia.

  Damn him!

  He pried his hands from his face and immediately, his tears fell when seeing Taisia’s blood staining them, as well as his shirt and vest.

  Balling his hands into tight fists, he screamed through gritted teeth. He clutched the back of his head and cried while rocking back and forth.

  The lock clicked and the door opened.

  “You bastard!” Pierce shouted as Joaquin entered. “You just couldn’t do it, could you?”

  He wanted to strangle Joaquin, and he got up to do so when his legs gave out, sending him down to the floor on his arse.

  “Pierce,” Joaquin cried, rushing to him.

  “Get off,” he snarled when Joaquin tried to help him up. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me!”

  As Joaquin stepped away, Faolan strolled on by.

  “What are you doing here?” Pierce demanded.

  “It’s so dark,” the hustler complained, throwing open the drapes.

  Golden morning light burst in. Pierce squinted and shielded his face. “Fuckin’ hell. Isn’t Scotland usually rainy?”

  “Faolan has come to explain some things,” Joaquin said.

  Pierce pulled himself up onto the mattress. “Oh?”

  Faolan moved to stand in the center of the room. “Aye. First off, ye have to understand that what I did, I had to do.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Pierce, shut it,” Joaquin snapped. “Let ’im speak, eh?”

  Pierce scowled at Joaquin hatefully.

  “Your woman isn’t dead,” Faolan said unexpectedly.

  Pierce’s jaw dropped and he lost his voice for a moment.

  “She’s alive?”

  Faolan nodded. “Indeed.”

  “That’s impossible.” Pierce shook his head. “I saw her get shot down.”

  “Pierce, listen to him,” Joaquin urged.

  “Shut it!” Pierce fired back. He pointed his finger at Faolan. “You were there when she was killed. You saw the whole bloody thing.”

  “But she is alive,” Faolan insisted.

  His anger rose. He didn’t understand what game Faolan was playing at, but it was cruel.

  He grabbed his bloodstained clothing and pulled on them. “Don’t tell me this when we both saw her dead! When her blood is all over me!”

  “That wasn’t her,” Faolan explained, holding up a hand. “The woman who died was Nachton Dewar, a local whore of the Underground.”

  Cold pricked his gut. To keep from vomiting, Pierce clutched his stomach with one hand and planted his forehead in the palm of his other.

  “Stop it,” he demanded in a low, angry tone. “Just stop talking.”

  “Ye were fooled into believing it was her,” Faolan went on.

  Pierce thought about that.

  Fooled. Of course. Faolan worked for Coira, and, somewhere along the way, she had learned about Taisia and Joaquin and that Pierce was with them. She then sent Faolan over and used Salvia chemical—the same trick he had used on the guards in Newgate Prison—to manipulate his mind into believing that Taisia was in danger.

  “You bloody cocker,” Pierce seethed at Faolan. “You told Coira about us, didn’t you?”

  “She commanded me to.”

  “And you couldn’t lie?”

  “No.”

  “No,” Pierce huffed. “Course not. You’re loyal to Coira.”

  “Don’t, Pierce,” Joaquin cautioned.

  Pierce gathered enough strength to stand—wobbly, but at least he was standing. He approached Faolan, pushing Joaquin away when he tried stopping him.

  “It’s not what ye think,” the hustler declared.

  “Isn’t it?” Pierce challenged him. “You came to me, spouting off about how Taisia was in trouble. You’re the one who had a brief chat with that tall bugger at the chapel who suggested I give myself over to save Joaquin. How much is Coira paying you to do this, eh?”

  A dark expression passed over Faolan’s face like a shadow. “Money? That’s what ye think?”

  “You’re just another of her little pooches taking orders, aren’t you?”

  “Best watch it,” Faolan growled. The low rumble actually mimicked that of a beast.

  Pierce didn’t take heed. “A fuckin’ submissive pup!”

  It happened so fast, Pierce didn’t realize what had happened until he found himself unable to breathe.

  “I’m a slave!” Faolan yelled, holding Pierce against the ceiling with a hand pressing hard on his chest.

  Despite the pain, Pierce was rather shocked by the hustler’s strength.

  “Faolan,” Joaquin cried out, rushing over to them, “let him go!”

  Pierce’s back was pinned against the ceiling. The pressure to his lungs was great, cutting off his air as Faolan held him completely suspended off the floor.

  “Shoot ’im,” Pierce rasped out at Joaquin.

  “Wouldn’t do ye any good,” Faolan said darkly.

  “Please,” Joaquin pleaded. “
Let him go.”

  Pierce believed he would blackout. Then Faolan let up on the pressure and Pierce dropped to the floor facedown. His entire body rattled from within. He couldn’t pull air into his lungs fast enough.

  Joaquin dropped to his knee beside him. “Are you all right?”

  Pierce clasped his brother’s arm to lift himself upright. “I . . . I’m fine,” he gasped, clutching his chest with his other hand.

  “Christ,” Joaquin chided. “You don’t know when to shut your trap, do you?”

  Faolan scowled while looking down at them. “I’m no soldier to that woman. I belong to her,” he said, sounding much different now.

  “You belong to her?” Pierce said with what strength he had left. He mulled it over a tick before saying, “Fuckin’ hell! You’re the demon?”

  Faolan remained quiet for a long moment, then gave a slow blink and said at length, “I am Thooranu, named after the Incubus who impregnated my mother thousands of years ago.”

  Pierce worked to clamber to his feet. Joaquin strained to assist him, his weak muscles unable to do much.

  “Wait,” Pierce interjected. “You’re a, erm . . .” He snapped his fingers. “ . . . a Cambion demon? A demon that’s half human?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re Coira’s slave? How?”

  “I got careless,” Faolan explained. “Ever since I could remember, I have been mischievous and crafty and curious. In my adolescence, I played pranks on people and cheated them in games. I even stole from the old gods and goddesses.”

  Pierce remembered Indigo once mentioning a thief that had stolen from deities.

  “From gods and goddesses?” Pierce inquired. “Did you take knowledgeable items, by any chance? Books and scrolls? Perhaps even a few death masks?”

  Faolan cocked his head sideways and knitted his eyebrows together. “How did you guess?”

  I’ll be damned!

  “Never mind.” Pierce waved it off. “Not important. Where is Taisia?”

  “Coira could have her anywhere. In the hotel or somewhere in the Vaults.”

  “Most likely in the Vaults,” Joaquin spoke up. “I believe I saw her there.”