Wicked All Night

by Jeaniene Frost

  I didn’t have to worry about losing the handcuffs now. My father had embedded them inside my very skin. I wasn’t clear on how to get them out, but something told me that I’d know when the time came.

  “We need to get back at once,” Ian said. “If you’ve been hiding our bodies for over four days, that will translate into months back in our world.”

  I winced. Phanes, Morana, and Ruaumoko had such a head start on us. I only hoped it had taken time for them to regain their strength since they hadn’t been resurrected the normal way. I certainly felt like shit, and usually I felt great when I came back to life. But I hadn’t regrown a whole new body this time. I was back in my old one, and it felt starved and sluggish.

  “I’m ready to leave, if you’re up to it,” Ashael said.

  “Only one way to find out,” Ian replied, taking my hand.

  Ashael took Ian’s free hand. Naxos let out a loud, snorting whine and rose to his feet.

  “Sorry, you can’t come with me,” Ashael said. “I’ll come back for you if I can. Until then, farewell, my friend!”

  Naxos ran toward Ashael, but the whirling darkness took us all away.

  Several dizzying moments later, it felt like the three of us were vomited out of the vortex. We landed in a forest. Luckily for Ashael, it was night, so he didn’t have to immediately run for cover. I rolled onto my side, my hand slipping from Ian’s, who had also landed in a sprawl.

  “Worst. Headache. Ever,” he said with a groan.

  Headache? Vampires didn’t get those . . . “What is that?” I gasped, catching my first good look at Ian.

  Ashael jumped to his feet, drawing a curved dagger. “What?”

  “Ian’s head,” I said, shock making me sway. “What is that?”

  A new, ragged scar zigzagged from Ian’s ear all the way down to the back of his neck. For a second, it glowed with the brightness of a lightning flash. Then, it turned into the same dark red color as the other strange new scar on his back.

  “What the fuck is going on with you?”

  Worry sharpened my voice. New scars were impossible for vampires. At least, they should be. Sure, some vampires had old, faded scars from back when they were human, but once you changed over, any new injuries healed without a trace.

  “Don’t fret about it,” Ian said, sitting up.

  “Oh, she has cause to fret, all right,” Ashael muttered.

  “About what?” I nearly shouted.

  Ian gave Ashael a look that had my brother turning around as if suddenly fascinated by the tree behind him. Oh, shit. Whatever this was, it was bad.

  “Nothing we’re going to discuss now, until I’m sure of where we are,” Ian said, holding a hand up when I immediately began to argue. “We might not be safe, so a bunch of noise giving away our location isn’t a good idea, don’t you agree?”

  My mouth closed with a click.

  Ian flashed me a grin that made me angry as well as worried. Bastard knew I couldn’t bear to needlessly put him in danger, even if everything in me was screaming for answers.

  “Does your mobile still work?” Ian asked Ashael.

  My brother took out his cell phone, pressed some buttons, smacked it against his hand, and then finally tossed it aside.

  “Dead,” he said. “Told you it couldn’t survive inter-dimensional travel. I’m surprised it wasn’t smoking from all the electromagnetic interference it must have absorbed.”

  “The old-fashioned way, then,” Ian said with a sigh, getting up and starting to walk northward.

  “I could teleport ahead and tell you what I see to verify if we’re where we’re supposed to be,” Ashael offered.

  Ian let out a sardonic grunt. “Then you might get your eyes stabbed out with demon bone, giving Veritas something else to be cross with me about. No, mate. Stay close.”

  “Where do you think we are?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

  “Hopefully, just inside of Durham,” Ian replied.

  “Durham, North Carolina?”

  He chuckled. “No. Durham, England.”

  Chapter 21

  We continued to walk. After twenty minutes, I saw lights beyond the trees. I floated up until I was past the forest canopy to get a better look, surprised by how much effort it took. I must have exhausted most of my energy splitting and holding that acid lake in the netherworld.

  Oh, well. No deadly lake to deal with here. Just a stately manor with flowering vines creeping up past the second floor, giving the manor a red hue even though it was constructed from beige and gray stone. Some of the architecture dated to the fifteenth century, while other additions were clearly newer.

  “English manor ahead,” I said when I was back on my feet.

  “Good. Then I didn’t miss my mark.”

  I shot furtive looks at Ian as we continued to walk. He must be in worse shape than I was, not to have flown up and checked for himself. Was it exhaustion from the effort it took to teleport us? He’d said Phanes’s realm had extraordinary shields blocking all from entering except Phanes and whoever Phanes brought with him. Ian had clearly found a way around that, but how? And how did his strange new scars factor into that?

  As soon as we were safe, I intended to find out.

  Lights blazed from several directions as soon as we left the shelter of the forest and stepped onto the manicured grounds of the estate. I gave a slight wince at their brightness, but Ashael cursed and leapt back into the tree line like his ass had suddenly been set on fire.

  “High voltage UV!” he snarled. “What the fuck, Ian?”

  “Eh, those must be new,” Ian replied in an unperturbed tone. “Still, this is why I told you not to go ahead of me. There are multiple salt bombs stationed around the manor, too.”

  Even from the tree line, I saw Ashael’s glare. “Where have you brought me? A demon-killing headquarters?”

  I raised a brow at Ian, too. Motion-sensor UV lights were not your average backyard décor.

  He waved an unconcerned hand. “Nothing so dramatic. They’ve just had unpleasant experiences with demons before and don’t want any repeats. Still, stay here until I have them turn off their UV lights.”

  With that, Ian continued toward the manor house. After an apologetic look at Ashael, I followed. Ian walked straight down the middle of the wide stretch of grass between the tree line and the manor; another security feature, though more subtle. Still, the lack of hedges, gardens, gazebos, and other lawn décor commonly found on such properties meant that anyone approaching the manor from the yard had nothing to hide behind.

  We had just reached the portico that bridged the driveway and the steps leading to the front door when I caught rapid movement in my peripheral vision.

  Ian caught it, too. He stopped and raised his hands in the universal gesture for surrender.

  “Don’t get antsy, lads. If I were an enemy, I wouldn’t walk straight up to the house. Tell Charles that Ian is here.”

  Must be Charles DeMortimer. My former dossier on Ian had included his closest associates, so from it, I knew that Charles had been a member of British aristocracy back when he was human. Guess he’d kept his ancestral estate these past three centuries.

  One of the guards repeated Ian’s directive into his communications device. Moments later, the manor’s front door swung open, revealing a tall man with spiky black hair and ivory-colored skin.

  “Ian!” Charles said, sweeping down the stone steps.

  “Double-check!” a feminine voice shouted from inside.

  Charles stopped before he reached us. Ian saluted in the direction of the open doorway behind Charles.

  “Good on you, Denise, for making sure I’m not an imposter, especially now that we have more than shape-shifting demons to fret about. An illusion master is on the loose, so don’t settle for only seeing if I can cross the threshold without invitation. Demand more proof.”

  With that, Ian hopped up the stairs, walked inside, and walked back out; something no demon could do.


  “Now,” Ian said. “Ask me something only I would know.”

  “Where’s your piercing?” Charles asked.

  Ian laughed. “Mate, thousands of people know that answer. Try again with a less obvious question.”

  “Now I know it’s you,” Charles muttered. “Since you insist, what’s the name of the ship that took us to New South Wales?”

  Ian’s face tightened in recollection. “The Alexander.”

  Charles closed the space between them and embraced Ian. “Good to have you back. After so long, we feared the worst.”

  Then, Charles let Ian go and turned to me. “Your turn. Tell me something only the real Veritas would know.”

  “Ian said he’d make you eat your own ass for insulting me the last time we met,” I said.

  A burst of laughter came from the doorway, where a brunette woman now stood. “Tell me that’s true. I’ll crack up all night imagining the look on Spade’s face.”

  This must be Denise, Charles’s wife. Her accent was American, and she’d called Charles by his vampire name, Spade. Must be his preference. I’d have to remember that.

  “It’s true, and I’m Veritas. Pleased to meet you,” I said.

  Denise came closer, staring at me with avid curiosity. “You, too. I’ve heard so much about you, but none of them said how beautiful you were. And your hair! It’s stunning.”

  It felt odd saying thank you because I had nothing to do with either. My looks and my hair color came from my father.

  “How kind of you,” I settled on. She was beautiful herself, with long mahogany hair, hazel eyes, and roses-and-cream skin.

  “Now that we’re done with tests and introductions, I need you to turn the UV lights off and invite my other companion inside,” Ian stated.

  Instantly, Denise stiffened and Spade’s gaze frosted over.

  “You’re barking mad if you think I’d let a demon into my home,” he told Ian.

  Ian sighed. “He can be trusted—”

  “No demon can be trusted,” Spade cut him off.

  Their heads swiveled at my snort. I must be getting punch-drunk tired because I should have squelched it.

  “It’s just funny,” I said in explanation. “For thousands of years, I believed the same thing. Then, I found out that I had a demon for a brother. Karma’s a bitch, right?”

  Denise’s eyes widened. “You’re half demon?”

  I was too focused on the wonderful new smell in the air to be insulted by her tone. “No, but I have a demon half brother. His mother was a demon; mine was human, hence the difference.”

  “More importantly, I trust him,” Ian said, staring at Spade. “You know how rare those words are from me.”

  Spade unleashed a tirade of profanity that would’ve sounded more offensive if not for his upper-crust accent and British colloquialisms. I mean, telling Ian to get rodgered by a daisy chain of knives was almost poetic compared to how an American would simply say, “Fuck you in every hole!”

  “At least meet him,” I interrupted, and then raised my voice. “Ashael! Come out!”

  My brother materialized next to me, holding his coat up like a makeshift barrier against the lights. Ian and I moved behind him, blocking the UV glare from that side, but the marble portico we were under did the rest of the shielding.

  After a second, Ashael lowered his coat and gave Spade a pointed look. “Now you know your home’s weak spots when it comes to demons. You’re welcome.”

  Denise shivered. Her scent soured, too, making me realize the luscious aroma I’d caught before had come from her. Now, however, she smelled mostly of fear.

  “Tell them you won’t hurt anyone,” I said to my brother.

  Ashael bowed to Denise. “There’s no need to be concerned. I come in peace. I’m simply here to support my sister.”

  He must’ve heard me reveal our family tie earlier. From the quick look he gave me, he was pleased by it. Right then, I decided to reveal our tie to everyone it was safe to tell. Ashael needed to know that I wasn’t ashamed to call him my brother. If anything, I was ashamed of myself for my prior bigotries.

  “See? That’s settled,” Ian said. “Now, can we come inside? I have something important to discuss.”

  “I imagine you do, what with suddenly reappearing after months of no word,” Spade said, still eyeing my brother warily. “Veritas called you Ashael. I’m Spade.”

  Ashael laughed. “Impressive nerve, using that name to a black man’s face.”

  “It wasn’t a racial slur in the seventeen hundreds, when the prison-colony overseer only ever called me ‘spade’ because it was my assigned tool,” he replied in a flat tone. “Later, I kept the name because I never wanted to forget what I could overcome if I refused to let circumstances defeat me.”

  A slow smile spread across Ashael’s features. “More than a pretty face and a fancy house, are you?”

  “Much more,” Spade said bluntly. “But are you more than a race best known for damning people’s souls?”

  Ashael laughed again, this time lower. “I am, and to prove it, I’ll tell you my race’s most closely guarded secret: we actually can’t damn anyone’s soul.”

  “The fuck you say?” Ian sputtered.

  My mouth dropped open in disbelief, too.

  Ashael gave us a negligent wave. “Yes, I know—it’s a dirty trick, but a good one, right? Holds up well, too, because ninety-nine percent of the time, nice people don’t make deals with demons. Only terrible people do, barring the rare exception. So, when those people die and their souls go straight down? Boom!” Ashael clapped, and Denise jumped. “Reinforces our claim that we had the power to damn them. But we don’t. People damn themselves by their own choices. We have nothing to do with it, but far be it for us not to take the credit.”

  “Then how did Dagon eat Ian’s soul after he died?” I asked, reeling.

  Ashael grimaced. “It’s forbidden, but some demons have the ability to hold souls inside themselves to absorb their residual energy. Like temporary housing, with benefits. But they can’t do it permanently. Eventually, Dagon would’ve had to release Ian’s soul as well as the others inside him to their final destination, which he would have had nothing to do with.”

  “You’re swaying,” Denise said in alarm.

  I hadn’t been aware of it, but with how I was suddenly leaning against Ian’s new, tight grip around my shoulders, I must have been.

  “You’re the one who should be shell-shocked,” I murmured to Ian. “You thought you were damned, and all along, it was a trick.”

  “Yes, and that’s information that would have been very helpful before,” Ian said, with a hard look at Ashael.

  “Don’t glare daggers at me,” Ashael said in a mild tone. “Dagon’s claim on you had already been dealt with by the time we became family through Veritas.”

  Ian still wasn’t finished. “What’s the point in making deals with people, if in truth the demon gains nothing?”

  “I didn’t say demons gained nothing,” Ashael corrected him. “I said that demons can’t damn souls. But the brands demons put on people after a bargain is akin to sticking a hose into a car’s gas pipe to siphon petrol. We obtain a tremendous amount of energy through the brand, all while leaving the vehicle—or person, to abandon the car metaphor—intact.”

  “Nathanial,” Denise whispered. “For centuries, he thought a demon owned his soul. When he finds this out—”

  “Don’t tell him.” Now Ashael’s voice was sharp. “Don’t tell anyone. You needed something to prove I could be trusted. I gave it to you, but if you start bandying this knowledge about, other demons will come after you like the proverbial wrath of hell. There’s a reason this secret has been kept for eons. People who talk about it soon find themselves permanently silenced.”

  “Veritas needs to sit,” Ian said, which I thought was an odd change of subject, until I realized my legs were buckling.

  “I’m just tired,” I said, surprised that my fangs popping out m
ade me lisp the words. My fangs hadn’t caused me to lisp since I was a brand-new vampire, and . . . Mmmm. Denise smelled good.

  “Mmmm,” I said out loud, leaning to take a deeper whiff.

  Spade shoved himself between me and Denise, giving me an appalled look. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Smelling your delicious wife,” I replied without thinking.

  Denise blanched. Ian tilted my face toward him, which I fought because the pulse in Denise’s throat was mesmerizing.

  “When’s the last time you fed?” Ian asked me.

  Gods, had Denise bathed in blood and baked goods before coming out here? She must have, because she smelled like a Cinnabon-flavored artery.

  “Don’t know.” Dammit, I lisped again! That’s what I got for being so tired, even my tongue felt heavy.

  “Judas’s bleached bones!” Ashael snapped. “Didn’t you feed from some of the blood bags I brought you?”

  Spade flew Denise away before I replied. Statues on pedestals around the doorway smashed to the ground from his swiftness.

  I swallowed. “I’m sure that wasn’t necessary—”

  “It is if you haven’t fed in over two weeks,” Ian said, exasperated. “Why didn’t you feed from the blood bags Ashael brought?”

  “I took sips here and there, but I didn’t take more because you needed them. I also didn’t count on being in stasis for almost a week.”

  Ian rolled his eyes. “Endangering yourself to protect me yet again! I wouldn’t have died if you’d have fed from one or two of those bags, but you might’ve died if you’d ripped out Denise’s throat, because not even our centuries of friendship would have stopped Charles from trying to kill you for it.”

  “Ian is right,” Spade said, returning after slamming the door behind him. “Now, if you can manage to control yourself for a few minutes, I’ll have some other blood brought to you.”

  “I wouldn’t have ripped her throat out,” I muttered. Probably not. “Even if I had, I couldn’t have killed Denise, with what she is,” I added defensively.

  Charles glanced at Ashael before giving me a warning look. My brother caught the exchange and snorted in amusement.