by Sarah Piper
“It’s the best of both worlds, really,” Aiden said. “Rudy has access to the demon’s power, and the demon has access to a physical body, which he can use as he sees fit, and claim fully when your uncle dies.”
“But if that’s true,” she said, “it still doesn’t explain the gun.”
“Perhaps he just wanted to frighten you.”
“That’s just it. Rudy’s addicted to power. If he had something more than that weapon, he would’ve relished the chance to use it against me, even if he’d only intended to make Silas compel me later. He gets off on terrifying me.”
“What are you suggesting?” Aiden asked.
“I think there’s something wrong with him. Like, maybe his power is fading or something. It might explain why he’s becoming so unhinged. I’m telling you, guys. He never used to be so sloppy and erratic.”
“I suppose it’s possible. I’ve never encountered a host before.” Aiden looked to Cole. “You?”
“Nah, but I don’t get out much. Matter of fact, hangin’ out with you fuckers is the most excitement I’ve had in decades.”
Aiden lifted his mug and smiled. “Cheers, then.”
“There’s something else,” Charley said. “At one point, Silas said he wanted to end me right there, but Rudy called him off. He said something about how I wasn’t theirs to end.”
“Do you think he was referring to the grays?” Aiden asked.
“I did at first, but that makes no sense. Rudy doesn’t want me dead at all. He needs me—he still thinks I’m helping with the Ravenswood job. Otherwise, why use Sasha as leverage if he was only going to let the grays kill me before the heist?”
“So either Silas changed the play at the last minute,” Aiden said, “or they were simply trying to frighten you.”
“That’s a hell of a risk just for a scare. If those grays had gotten into the dumpster…” Charley shuddered, then reached for the whiskey again. Right now, it was the only thing steadying her nerves. “Anyway, why did they want me to see the grays at all? They’d have to know I’d freak out, right? Rudy wants me focused on the job, not questioning my sanity.”
“Which means he probably assumed Dorian would compel you to forget the gray attack,” Aiden said. “Rudy’s a demon host working with vampires. He must know Dorian isn’t human. He must’ve known all along.”
“Then he’s also assuming I don’t know Dorian’s true nature.” Charley let out a bitter laugh. “Rudy probably thinks I’d run away with my tail between my legs if I knew vampires existed.”
“Your uncle underestimates you, Charlotte,” Aiden said. “A mistake he’ll live to regret, I’m certain.”
“You two got some nice theories,” Cole said, “but something tells me this ain’t about you, Charles.”
Charley cocked an eyebrow. “Charles, huh?”
“Just tryin’ it out,” Cole said with a teasing smile. “You good?”
“Actually, yes. I like it.”
“Figured you would.” Cole topped off her tea with another splash of whiskey, then took another swig. “Anyway, it was a setup—you got that right. All so those demonic dickheads could watch us in action.”
“I’m not following,” she said.
“Right before you and Red split up, he was ambushed by a Rogozin demon and two Duchanes bloodsuckers, yeah?”
Charley nodded. “That’s how I ended up alone outside Perk. Dorian was dealing with the ambush, and I ran ahead to find Sasha. That’s when Silas tossed my ass into the limo.”
“They knew your man was close,” Cole continued. “Knew he’d track you down as soon as he dealt with his attackers. They just needed enough time to threaten you, scare you shitless, and dump you in that other alley, where the grays were already on standby.”
“They wanted to see how we’d deal with the grays.” Aiden’s eyes widened with the realization. “Like a football team watching their rivals’ old games.”
“Which means those sonofabitches are planning something even bigger,” Cole said. “And now they know just what we’re bringing to the party.”
“Do you have any idea where Rudy might be holding Sasha?” Aiden asked gently. “Any other properties aside from his residence? Other associates who might have a place for them to hole up?”
“She could be anywhere, Aiden. Especially now that we know he’s a demon. That opens up a whole new world of horrifying possibilities. God.” Charley closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. She’d been doing so well with the whole compartmentalizing thing, but all those fears and worries were doing their damnedest to break out of the box. “What if she’s hurt? What if Rudy—”
Aiden gripped her hand, cutting her off. “Your sister is clever and tough, just like you. I’ve no doubts she’s already making them rue the day they decided to mess with her. And just wait until we get hold of them. Talk about ruing the day.”
When Charley opened her eyes again, Aiden gave her a soft smile.
“We’ll find her, Charlotte. You have my word.”
“I know,” she said, if only because there was no room in her brain for any other possibility. Then, with a surge of renewed determination, “The original plan stands. We’ll hit Estas’ place in Woodstock tomorrow, see what intel we can find.”
“Let’s wait and talk to Dorian,” Aiden said. “I’m certain he’ll—”
“Try to talk me out of it, most likely. Unfortunately for that bossy vampire, I’m not the sit-home-with-my-thumb-up-my-ass type.”
“No, I suppose you ain’t.” Cole bit back a laugh, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “Bet Red never saw you comin’, did he?”
“To be fair, I didn’t see him coming either.” Charley smiled, but despite their kindness and willingness to help, she couldn’t hold it. “Anyway, with Rudy’s big demon reveal last night, and his connection to that Silas vampire, I’m more convinced than ever Estas has something on him. Maybe even something that can help us find Sasha.”
“All roads lead back to the same scheming demons and traitor vamps,” Cole said.
“And they all want me and Dorian dead.” Charley lifted the mug to her lips, but it was empty. “Awesome.”
“On the bright side,” Aiden said cheerfully, “some couples have nothing in common. More tea?”
Charley passed over her mug.
“We need time to set up another buy,” Cole said. “I came through with the cash last night—Estas trusts me now. So I’ll lure him out for another sale, dick him around at the meeting, and give you and Red time to snoop.”
“Perfect,” Charley said. “When can you set it up?”
“We need to wait for Red. He’s the bankroll here.”
“Not to mention he’d bloody well beat Cole’s ass if we went behind his back on this,” Aiden said.
Cole laughed. “He’d try, anyway.”
“Where exactly did you say Dorian went today?” Charley asked.
“Not to worry.” Aiden forced a smile, then headed to the stove to put the kettle on for Charley’s tea. “He’ll be back soon enough. He’s just… cooking up a little something in Queens.”
Chapter Four
“Ah, there’s nothing quite like the smell of fire-roasted demon.” Gabriel took a deep breath and grinned. “Reminds me of that time in Paris. Do you remember, brother?”
“Summer, 1941?” Dorian laughed, adjusting the flame on the blowtorch to its highest level. “Goodness, I haven’t thought of that trip in an age.”
“Father always said French demons burned the hottest.”
“And we certainly proved that, didn’t we?”
“Several times, as I recall.”
“Are you two fucking crazy?” The roasted demon in question—a vile, sniveling knob called Jordan, according to the embroidered patch on his mechanic’s uniform—squirmed in his chair. He was already nursing third-degree burns on both arms, and blood leaked from a gash on his head, courtesy of his own tire iron.
To be fair, he’d swung first. And that wa
s only after they’d walked in on him terrorizing a young woman in one of the auto detailing bays, his hellspawn brethren cheering him on from the sidelines.
If Dorian had any thought of going easy on the demons today, he’d lost it the moment he’d seen that sick little show.
Between Isabelle’s quick work with the binding magic and Gabriel’s quicker work with the tire iron, none of the assholes had a chance. After ensuring the woman wasn’t physically injured, Dorian compelled her to forget the demonic torment and escorted her outside to safety.
By the time he returned, Isabelle and Gabriel had everything under control.
Now, all five of the demons they’d found here were doubly bound—chained to metal chairs strategically positioned on top of devil’s trap sigils Isabelle had painted in vampire blood. The measures eliminated all possibility of escape—bodily or otherwise.
The chop shop itself was proving to be the perfect torture chamber—a mid-sized operation posing as a legitimate auto mechanic and detailing business chock full of power tools and sharp, heavy implements. Isabelle had spelled it to appear closed and gated from the outside, leaving them to do their business undisturbed.
It really had been a bloody brilliant idea.
“He’s definitely crazy,” Gabriel said to the demon now, arcing his thumb at Dorian. “Me? I’m just bored.” In a blur, he grabbed the blowtorch from Dorian’s hands and raked the flame across the demon’s thigh, cutting clear down to the bone.
The demon howled in agony, his screams echoing off the concrete floor.
Music to Dorian’s ears.
He no longer cared about Accords violations, or demonic retribution, or his own dubious moral compass. These bastards reported to Rogozin, which meant they were connected to Estas, who was connected to Rudy, who’d kidnapped the sister of the woman Dorian loved.
Furthermore, if Dorian followed the chain of command from Rogozin up through the levels of hell’s top management, he’d eventually reach the demon lords—one of whom was under the mistaken impression he had a claim on Charlotte’s life.
Dorian was more than eager to set that particular record straight. If he had to brutalize a few hellspawn minions in the process? Well. Who said mixing business with pleasure was a bad thing?
“Aiden was right,” Dorian said brightly. “Torturing demons is definitely a two-man job. Mind if I give it a go?”
“By all means.” Gabriel passed him the blowtorch, the mirth in his tone a stark contrast to the ice in his gaze.
Not since childhood had Dorian felt so connected to his little brother. As much as Dorian had judged him—despised him, even—he was certain if he looked in the mirror now, he’d find the same frigid determination in his eyes, the same cold cruelty that had earned Gabriel such a merciless reputation in Las Vegas.
Perhaps it should’ve bothered him—how close he felt to his own darkness. His own savagery.
Instead, it only fueled him.
He grabbed the demon by the throat and brought the flame to his eye, melting it in an instant.
“Stop! Stop!” Jordan bellowed, piss soaking through what was left of his torched pants. “I’ll tell you anything! I swear it!”
“That’s what you said fifteen minutes ago,” Dorian reminded him, unrelenting in his torment. The skin around the demon’s eye socket blistered and blackened, smoke wafting up from the wound. Fat, juicy tears leaked from his remaining eye.
“I mean it this time!” he cried. “Just… God, please stop! Please!”
Dorian finally backed off. “God? You’re a demon, for fuck’s sake. Show some self-respect.”
The demon turned his head and spit out a mouthful of blood, but offered no witty comeback, no threats, no curses.
Demons could withstand unfathomable amounts of pain, but now, he was utterly broken.
Perfect.
“What does Rogozin want with Duchanes vampires?” Dorian asked, handing the blowtorch back to Gabriel.
“I… I don’t know,” he panted.
“So you and your friends haven’t been cavorting at Bloodbath—a known Duchanes establishment?”
“Point of clarification, brother,” Gabriel said, “Bloodbath is a former Duchanes establishment. Your friend at the NYPD made certain of that.”
“Very true, Gabriel. Thank you.”
“Do I look like the club-hopping type? Fuck.” Jordan slid partway off the chair, his ruined eye still smoldering, his legs trembling. “All I do is work. If I’m not here working on the cars, I’m running my ass all over Queens like a fucking errand boy.”
“What sort of errands?”
“Drop-offs, pickups—shit like that.”
“Dorian!” Gabriel gasped and pressed a hand to his chest, his voice laden with mock concern. “I believe he’s referring to… to drug trafficking!”
“Rogozin has lots of different businesses,” Jordan said. “I don’t ask questions. I just do what I’m told.”
“Were you doing what you were told when you kidnapped a teenaged girl?” Dorian asked.
“What? Look, I’m not saying I’m the most upstanding citizen, but kidnapping a girl? No. No fucking way.”
“Right. Because you have so much respect for women?”
“Look, that bitch you saw in there? She had it coming. Her brother tried to welsh on his deal, and—”
“Now that was definitely the wrong thing to say.” Dorian grabbed the torch and scored a fresh gash across the demon’s chest, carving his flesh open from one shoulder to the other. “Women are not property to be bartered in deals.”
“Fuck! Fuck! I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Fuck, man, I’ve never been more sorry in my life. I swear.”
Dorian returned the blowtorch to Gabriel. “You’re doing a lot of swearing today, Jordan, but not a lot of sharing. So tell me—what is Rogozin’s relationship to House Duchanes?”
The demon remained silent.
Dorian glanced at Gabriel, who took a step closer with the torch.
“Come on!” Jordan cried. He was fading now, his breathing becoming more erratic. He’d lost a lot of blood already, and the pain alone was likely enough to drive his human vessel into unconsciousness, even if the demon himself could withstand the agony.
He was still lucid, but Dorian knew they didn’t have much time.
“Duchanes,” Dorian said again.
“Look, Rogozin doesn’t waste his time with vampire bullshit,” the demon said. “Duchanes? Yeah, I seen him around, but he’s not part of the crew.”
“You’re certain? Certain your boss isn’t working with Duchanes vampires to break a few more demons out of hell? Build an army, perhaps?”
“I told you—Rogozin doesn’t give a fuck about vampires. Doesn’t give a fuck about bringing in more demons either. Our numbers are rock-solid.”
Dorian smacked him twice on the ruined cheek. “Slightly less solid after today, perhaps.”
“You don’t get it. If Rogozin wanted an army, he’d fucking build one. Meat-suits are a dime a dozen in this city—everyone’s looking to make a deal.”
“If he doesn’t want more demons, then what is he after?”
“Same as every other supernatural in this city.”
“Fae pussy?” Gabriel blurted out.
Dorian rolled his eyes. “Must you always be so uncouth, brother? Honestly.”
Jordan spit out another mouthful of blood. “Rogozin wants territory.”
“Where? Manhattan?” Dorian asked.
“Nah, that’s bloodsucker domain. Too much trouble. Rogozin wants to expand our enterprise in the boroughs, maybe set up shop in a few more states.”
“Chernikov’s territory?” Dorian glared at him, shocked at the revelation. The two factions had a lifelong rivalry, but going after Chernikov’s holdings was a suicide mission, even for the most powerful demons. “Rogozin wants to make a play against bloody Chernikov?”
The demon shot him a one-eyed glare, his silence all the confirmation Dorian needed.
“Is he looking to start a war?” Dorian asked.
“Look, you didn’t hear it from me, okay? But Chernikov… He’s been ramping shit up in a big way. Pushing his guys to close more deals, giving them quotas for souls. Rogozin doesn’t like it.”
“Well, Chernikov is top dog for a reason. You don’t get there by resting on your laurels, Jordy.”
“This is different. Bigger.”
“How?”
He clammed up again, lowering his gaze.
Dorian was nearly out of patience. “What do you know of a man called Rudy D’Amico?”
The demon’s face paled behind the wounds. “I… nothing. I mean, I’m not—”
“Are you familiar with a vampire called Silas?”
“Who?”
“Were you or were you not involved in the kidnapping of the human girl? One who’s safety and wellbeing are extremely important to me?”
“Look, guys. I don’t know where you’re getting your intel, but all this shit is way above my pay grade. I never heard of a vampire named Silas. And all I know about D’Amico is he’s some kind of demon thief who’s got a lead on something the boss wants real bad.”
Dorian’s heart sputtered. Was he referring to Charlotte? To her soul? Was it Rudy who’d brokered the deal with the demon lord, selling out his own niece for a better position in hell’s ultimate army?
“What something?” Dorian demanded.
“Again, above my pay grade.”
“Is there anything not above your pay grade, you worthless fuck?” Dorian kicked his chair, and the demon flinched. “You report directly to Rogozin, do you not?”
“So?”
“Who does Rogozin report to?”
“The fuck you think?”
“I think,” Dorian said, leaning in close, “you and your brethren should’ve spent less time stealing cars and more time studying the Shadow Accords. If you had, perhaps you would’ve known to show some deference to me today, and you’d be walking out of here with your balls still attached. Alas…”
Dorian nodded at Gabriel, who cranked up the flame and shoved it near the demon’s crotch, just shy of his most prized possession.
