by Sarah Piper
Chapter Twelve
You’re bound to a demon lord, Charlotte...
The words echoed through Charley’s nightmares, chasing her down every dark alley, into every fiery pit. She couldn’t escape them; even as Dorian held her in his strong embrace, tucked into his bed hours after they’d returned from Cole’s cabin, everything about his confession haunted her.
A demon claim. A slave of hell.
It all sounded so ridiculous and impossible—like something out of a low-budget horror movie. But she’d seen the fear in Dorian’s eyes when he’d said the words. She’d felt the desperation in his touch.
However impossible, it was real. All of her nightmares were real.
And all of them—Sasha’s kidnapping, her father’s murder, the attack by Rogozin’s guys when she was a kid, the demon mark—could be traced right back to Rudy. Charley might not know the specifics, but she was sure of it now.
Her uncle was a conniving, murderous, demonic shitbag who deserved to fester in hell.
The question was…
What the fuck was she going to do about it?
There was something supremely hopeful about the smell of coffee on a crisp fall morning, and when Charley made her way down to the kitchen, the dark shadows that had haunted her all night finally began to shrink.
Taking in the sight, she couldn’t help but smile.
Sunshine. Coffee. Friends. The vampire she was madly in love with.
It felt like the universe was conspiring to give her a second chance at a better day. Was there anything more promising?
“Good morning, beautiful.” Dorian rose from the table in the breakfast nook, where he, Aiden, and Cole had been huddling over a pair of laptops, a tablet, and enough printouts to wallpaper the kitchen.
“There’s our little speed demon,” Cole said, winking as Dorian came to press a soft kiss to her cheek. The wolf mimicked a crazy steering maneuver at the table, nearly knocking over his mug. “Thought maybe you’d snuck off to the racetrack to practice your sweet-ass moves.”
Charley laughed. “Coffee first. Sweet-ass moves later.”
Dorian handed her a freshly brewed cup, then wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and smiled softly—a look that was just for her.
Are you all right, love? he seemed to be asking. I’m right here with you.
She read it all in his eyes, and in response, she nodded and let out a slow breath, the last of the night’s tension evaporating.
Of course he was right there with her. And he always would be.
For however bloody long eternity lasts…
It was a promise, a vow, and it gave her so much strength, she felt as if they could accomplish anything.
Charley smiled again, warmed by the coffee and the support. No matter how cold and dark the night had seemed, the sun had found a way to rise again.
So maybe, Charley could do the same.
With one more adoring glance for her man, she joined her friends at the table.
“I’ll be back with you in just a moment.” Dorian pulled the phone from his pocket. “I need to check in with Isabelle.”
“Everything okay?” Charley asked.
“She’s planning to go to bat for us with Armitage’s senior staff in an hour. They’re reviewing FierceConnect’s latest counter-offer.”
“So there’s a chance the acquisition might happen after all?”
“We’re not sure. According to Isabelle, her brothers are still keen on selling to Duchanes, but she’s hoping to change their minds. Regardless of what they think of our offer, I still want everything to look legitimate if Rudy sends in additional investigators. With Aiden and me working out of the office this week, I don’t want to arouse suspicions.”
Charley nodded, grateful he’d thought of it.
As Dorian headed out to make the call, she turned her attention back to the paperwork spread out before her.
“I take it these are the Estas files?” she asked, skimming through a page of what looked like bank account numbers—probably for the buyers Rudy had already lined up for the Ravenswood art.
“Took a bit of doing,” Aiden said, “but Dorian was finally able to crack the file encryption and get us set up. We’ve just started sorting through it. Perhaps you can tell us what these numbers mean?”
He turned his laptop around so she could see what he was looking at—a spreadsheet containing what appeared to be random numbers and dollar amounts.
But Charley knew they weren’t random at all.
“They’re bids,” she said. “And the codes in the right-hand column are serial numbers to track the pieces they’re fencing. There should be a master sheet for the artwork somewhere.”
Cole handed over a few printed pages from the pile in front of him—a list of the Ravenswood artwork she’d cataloged for Rudy, complete with the corresponding serial numbers that matched the ones in the spreadsheet.
“How does all this fit together?” Aiden asked. “Seems fairly complicated.”
“With a major score like this, dealers will often line up buyers in advance,” Charley said. “When there’s more than one potential buyer for a hot piece, they’ll take bids or even early deposits. There’s probably a list of names somewhere—they keep everything in separate files to make it harder to put together.”
“Lucky for us,” Cole said, “we got you on the job.”
“That, and they’re getting a little careless,” Charley said. “Seems like this job has everyone on edge—not just Uncle Psycho.” She tabbed through the open files on the laptop until she found what she was looking for, then turned the screen back toward Aiden. “These are probably our bidders.”
“Those traitorous little shites,” Aiden said, a note of surprise coloring his voice. “Most of these knobs are high-ranking officials from other supernatural factions—vampire houses, witch covens, demons, shifter packs. The gang’s all here.”
Charley shrugged. “Estas is a demon. And don’t take this the wrong way, but a lot of you guys are loaded. It makes sense he’d hit up the supernatural community first.”
“He’s not hitting them up because of the money. He’s doing it because they believe the pieces have occult value. Witches in particular are known for purchasing rare art and antiquities. Anything from the home of the vampire royal family is bound to be in high demand, especially so soon after the death of the last king.”
“So all these fuckers know Ravenswood’s about to get robbed?” Cole shook his head. “Can’t trust anyone these days.”
“Precisely why I don’t.” Dorian had just returned from his call, and now he settled into the chair next to Charley, his brow creased with new concern. “Present company excluded, the world is full of cutthroats and sellouts. It’s no wonder Father kept his circle small.”
“Dori.” Aiden laughed. “Your father’s circle was a straight line. He didn’t even talk to his own family.”
“Probably for the best.”
Beneath the table, Charley gave Dorian’s thigh a gentle squeeze. “Did Armitage reject the counter offer?”
“Not yet. Isabelle’s been reviewing their financials with the CFO all morning. Apparently, they’ve discovered some serious anomalies they haven’t been able to reconcile.”
“Let me guess.” Cole picked up the tablet and woke it from sleep mode. “Armitage’s little mini-mages are embezzling from the old man?”
“The opposite, actually,” Dorian said. “Billions of dollars in venture funding no one can trace, siphoned into top-secret projects the C-level staff know nothing thing about. Isabelle has stumbled into a real mess.”
“Take heart, then,” Aiden said with a grin. “Perhaps the Redthornes aren’t the most dysfunctional supernatural family on the eastern seaboard after all.”
Dorian rolled his eyes. “We can always count on you to find the silver lining.”
“It’s what I live for.”
“Yeah, about that…” Cole blew out a deep sigh, then passed the
tablet to Aiden. “Think I just found some shit even you can’t turn into sunshine.”
“What the hell is… Oh, dear.” Aiden’s eyes widened as he scrolled through the documents. There was no smart-ass commentary, no bright-side banter, no nothing. He was silent for so long, Charley started to worry something had actually broken him.
“Out with it,” Dorian finally prompted.
“It would seem Vincent Estas is more than just Rogozin’s dirty art dealer. He’s also a demonic contracts manager.” Aiden’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “And this lifelong opus of debauchery and malfeasance belongs to one Rudolpho D’Amico.”
Charley’s heart leaped into her throat. “Is that how he became a host? He made a demon deal?”
“I’m not sure about the host part,” Aiden said, “but he definitely made deals. Lots of them—starting when he was just a teenager. It’s all here—all of his requests. All the relevant documentation.”
“A teenager?” Charley couldn’t believe it. “That means he knew Rogozin when…”
Her words trailed off before she could finish her sentence, and the old fears knocked around inside her, squeezing her lungs tight.
Don’t struggle, D’Amico bitch…
Dorian slid his arm around her, pulling her close. Even without the words, he knew exactly where her mind had gone.
Charley leaned on his shoulder, trying to keep her breath steady.
If Rudy was involved with demons that far back in time, then he damn well knew Rogozin was a demon when he’d dragged Charley and her father to that abandoned pizza joint on Long Island.
Not so tough when Daddy’s not around, are ya?
Aiden continued to scroll, shaking his head in disgust, though his eyes held a touch of sadness. “It seems your uncle was quite… desperate.”
“For money, right?” Charley scoffed. Wasn’t it always about the money with him? “Rudy was obsessed with it long before we got into the family business. He resented my father because Dad always managed to get better jobs than him. Even if it was just a minimum-wage gig at the auto parts store, Rudy always had something shitty to say about it.”
“Charlotte, it’s…” Aiden sighed and exchanged a heavy glance with Dorian, then passed over the tablet.
Charley couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She didn’t want confirmation of what Rudy had traded away in exchange for all that cash.
She was pretty sure she already knew.
You’re bound to a demon lord, Charlotte. Someone promised you to him…
Dorian took the tablet and read through the file, a dark sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t think money was the source of your uncle’s resentment toward his brother, love”
“Then what was it? My father spent most of his life in a dinky little trailer park. It’s not like he had anything to envy.”
“Apparently, there was one thing.”
“His piece-of-shit Toyota?” Charley let out a bitter laugh, but the look in Dorian’s eyes was dead serious.
“Your mother, Charlotte.”
“My… what?”
In Dorian’s rich accent, the words felt completely out of context. The suggestion that her mother—a woman who’d marched unceremoniously out of their lives decades ago and never looked back—could have anything to do with this demon business was beyond absurd.
But no one else seemed to think so. Especially not Dorian, who looked at her as if his own heart was breaking over the revelation.
The coffee in Charley’s stomach turned to cement.
With trembling hands, she took the tablet and scrolled through the files and photos, each one punching a fresh hole in her chest.
Her mother’s records—aliases, addresses, personal details. Thousands of emails between her and Rudy. Transcripts of online chats—declarations of love, arguments, apologies. Pictures of the woman from the time she was in junior high all the way up to more recent shots—pale and gaunt, cigarette dangling from her mouth, barely recognizable as the formidable mother in Charley’s memories.
There were other pictures too.
Charley’s parents dancing at their high school prom, and then her mother making out with Rudy in the limo afterword.
Rudy and her mom holding hands on the beach a few years later, her father nowhere in sight.
Rudy and her mom snuggling together in the booth at the diner around the corner from their trailer park, years after that.
Her mom in some seedy motel bed, covering her face with her hands, a smile peeking out from between her fingers.
Her mother.
Her uncle.
Holy shit.
They’d been having an affair for decades—starting when they were in high school, long before Charley was even born. Putting this together with what Charley knew of her parents’ history, she figured her mom must’ve bounced between the two brothers for most of her teen years and into her twenties before finally marrying Charley’s dad.
And then, she continued bouncing, keeping Rudy on the sidelines the entire time.
According to a particularly heated email exchange, Rudy had even assumed he was Charley’s father at one point, but a paternity test later proved him wrong.
Thank fucking God.
Charley didn’t want to read the emails. Didn’t want to see the photos. But she couldn’t look away.
The truth revealed itself, one little file at a time.
Rudy had been in love with her mother forever. Obsessed with her. And she strung him along through all of it, making promise after promise, only to push him away again the minute someone better or richer or more interesting came along.
It was still going on; the most recent photos were taken at an apartment complex in Florida—her mother’s place, she assumed—just a few months ago.
Briefly, she wondered if her mother had asked Rudy about her and Sasha.
And in that moment, the faintest pang of sympathy struck her heart.
She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t deny it. Because beneath all the revulsion Charley felt toward her uncle, she understood his pain—the soul-crushing emptiness of a desperate, lifelong chase for the affection of a woman who couldn’t care less.
“He blames me,” Charley said. “Sasha too. He says it’s our fault my mother didn’t choose him. That if she hadn’t gotten herself—and I quote—knocked up with those empty-headed little sluts, she would’ve run away with him in a heartbeat.” Charley set the tablet down. “I can’t believe he managed to keep this secret for so many years.”
“He had some help,” Dorian said.
“That’s what I don’t get. Why does Estas even have all this personal stuff? Why would Rudy give it to the demons?”
“It’s part of his file—his agreement,” Dorian said. “If Rudy made a deal with Rogozin in hopes of winning over your mother, the demons would’ve wanted to know everything about her.”
“Why?”
“Demons can’t force someone to fall in love any more than vampires can compel true desire. They can only force the circumstances that might bring people together. By knowing everything there was to know about your mother, the demons could ensure Rudy was always on her path, one way or another.”
“Someone should’ve clued them in to the fact that my mother is incapable of love. Would’ve saved everyone a lot of time.”
“The demons wouldn’t have cared. They prey on the desperate, and they don’t offer guarantees.”
“So Rudy became a demon host, binding himself to hell for eternity, just for a chance with my mother?”
“The file doesn’t include the specific terms of his contract, but yes, I think that’s a fair assumption. It’s like he also performed other duties for Rogozin as well. Errands, introductions, criminal acts. When it comes to demon deals, the possibilities are endless.”
“Where the rest of the contract?” she asked.
Dorian shook his head. “We’ve got files from one flash drive. This is likely just the tip of a very large, very da
rk iceberg.”
“Charles,” Cole said, halfway through another stack of papers on the table. “Was your daddy’s name Paul D’Amico, by any chance?”
Charley nodded, her heart stalling out as Cole passed over the stack.
“What is it?” Dorian asked.
“It looks like… copies of my father’s will.” She flipped through several pages of legalese. “Two different versions. In one version, he left everything to me. The penthouse, the artwork, his liquid assets—all of it.”
“But you said most of his assets went to Rudy,” Dorian said. “Unless—”
“Version two is a forgery. That’s how Rudy got his hands on everything.” Charley’s insides burned with anger. She wanted to kick herself for not realizing it sooner. “I should’ve known my father wouldn’t have left me high and dry like that, but at the time, I was just so out of it. I didn’t question anything.”
“You were heartbroken,” Dorian said gently. “Of course you didn’t.”
“Does the name Travis ring any bells?” Cole asked, picking up another sheet of paper. “Looks like he’s the one behind the forgery. Named here as an interested party—a human contractor brought in on the One Night Stand job and retained for Ravenswood.”
“Travis?” Charley sucked in a sharp breath. “But we didn’t meet him until about a year after my dad died.”
“According to this,” Cole said, turning to another page, “Whenever Estas sells something from One Night Stand, Rudy and Travis pocket the proceeds. Looks like they’ve got a similar deal set up for Ravenswood.”
Charley glanced down at the forged will again, tears blurring her vision as the bitter truth burned through her heart.
Rudy and Travis were behind her father’s murder.
She’d known. Deep down, she’d always known. She just hadn’t wanted to believe that her uncle could orchestrate the killing of his own brother.
