“Another?” Branigan asked, the bottle hovering above my glass.
I waved him off. “I’d better not.”
“Having a bit of a bad day, are ya?” he asked as he propped his elbows on the counter in front of me, bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief.
“As always.” I twirled the tumbler between my hands as he stared, assessing something.
“Are ya in trouble of some sort?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
At that, he scoffed. “Only one reason to bury yourself in a bottle before the sun falls, and it ain’t because ya can handle your troubles.” A man at the far end of the bar called for the barkeep, but he didn’t move. “Ya sure you’re all right?”
I smiled at him—a genuine one. “I will be soon. No need to worry.”
“I can’t very well let something happen to ya—I’m pretty certain your tab hasn’t been fully paid.” He winked at me as the man in desperate need of another bourbon shouted at Branigan until the young Irishman cursed at him in Gaelic and stormed over, bottle in hand. Whether that was to pour it or smash it over the man’s head remained to be seen.
Still smiling, I threw money down on the bar to cover what I owed, plus a little extra, and headed for the front door, but my smile fell once I was within ten feet of it. Evil wafted through, which was exactly what I’d wanted, but was now ill-prepared to deal with. Alcohol slowed my reflexes; it made the magic coursing through me sluggish. Fighting and killing a demon would be difficult enough—if doable at all—at my peak, and to take one on at anything less than my best would be reckless. Exactly what I’d promised Ivy I wouldn’t be.
I cursed loudly, which drew the attention of several males at the bar. One close look at the masculinely-dressed, unaccompanied female in the room, and a ruckus broke out. Shouts, complaints, and solicitations echoed through the establishment, drawing attention from passersby, who gawked through the glass in the door. A crowd formed, both inside and on the street, and I found myself engulfed in it, which, in hindsight, served me well. As I pushed my way toward the side door I was supposed to use, a pair of piercing green eyes peered in through the front door.
Demon…
Those eyes locked on mine through the mob, realization flaring in them before a large male stepped into my view, shutting out the demon.
“Shit…”
“What did you say?” the large man boomed. I heard the squeak of the front door as it opened and didn’t need to see who it was. What I did need was a distraction so I could get away from the demon.
“I said you look like a bloated whale in that ridiculous coat, you fat bastard!”
As the full weight of my insult registered, I punctuated it with a square hit to the jaw. He stumbled back into the crowd, creating a cascade of men falling into one another. A large pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, but all that served to do was add momentum to the punch I was throwing. He, too, fell, knocking into those behind him. I seized the moment and cut a path through the obscenity-shouting males, darting through the side door. A quick scan of the darkened alley let me know it was secure, and I sprinted away, weaving my way onto the busy street.
Normally, I’d have kept to the alleys and less-traveled ways, but I needed to blend in. The demon had already seen me, so the element of surprise was lost. In light of that fact, I stripped off my Carrick coat as I walked and let my hair down to trail over my back. To create the appearance of a skirt from behind, I tied the coat around my waist. It garnered me a few strange looks, given that it was too cold to be strolling down Broadway in little more than a white blouse—and the leather pants of the natives—but I kept my chin high and hurried down a few blocks to gain some distance from the demon.
The oppressive sense of evil had faded somewhat, but it was still present. Then, to the east, I felt another beacon of darkness appear from nowhere. And another just south. I was hemmed in by demons, and regardless of what else they were after, I knew that at least one was coming for me. They would have been so much easier to spot if I could see them as they really were, rather than in their human skins. They wore them like they were nothing; like they were their true forms and not the result of demon magic.
With hurried steps, I walked toward the Rutgers library in the Seventh Ward. It was several blocks away from Branigan’s, but it was the closest safe haven for witches, having been founded by a coven a couple of decades prior. Not long after my return from the demon realm, Ivy had told me about a series of underground tunnels that spanned the city; tunnels known only to witches and protected by them. Though I had not used that particular entrance, those who masqueraded as librarians at Rutgers could lead me to the room that held the warded door to the tunnels. If I could get there in time, I could go underground and get away. But with every stride I took toward safety, I felt time slipping by.
As I passed a narrow corridor between buildings, a blast of evil hit me right before a hand shot out and grabbed my arm. It hauled me into the darkened space, and I opened my mouth to chant a spell, but another hand smothered my words gently as my back was pressed against a body.
“Now, now,” a deep yet playful voice rumbled in my ear, “there’ll be none of that.”
Like hell there won’t.
My teeth clamped down on his palm until his blood ran down my chin, and he yanked it free. Taking advantage of his surprise, I ripped my arm free and spun away to face my enemy. The demon from the rooftop looked from his hand to me, irritation tainting his handsome face. As he stared, I called my fire. A flaming whip soon hung from my hand and coiled at my feet.
His gaze shifted to the weapon. “There will be none of that, either.”
I smiled at him, then flicked my wrist, setting the whip into motion. A blur of fire snapped around him, cinching him around the waist. Fabric singed as I yanked my arm and sent him flying toward me. My knee drove into his gut with such force that he should have fallen to the ground at my feet, but instead, he stood before me, the soft glow of fire smoldering in his otherwise icy stare. With bare hands, he grabbed hold of the whip and snapped it in two as if it were a twig. I jumped back from him, fireballs in my hands ready to be unleashed, but the demon merely walked toward me as though my attack were of little concern. One by one, I launched the balls of fire at him—fire that would have killed humans and supernaturals alike—but he ducked and dodged with such blinding speed that his movements seemed like figments of my imagination.
I’d never seen anything like it.
“You’re wasting time,” he said, any hint of amusement gone from his tone altogether, “and you don’t have any to spare.”
“I have time to kill you,” I said, drawing my blades from their sheaths. My fire had had little effect on the demon, but he could bleed, I knew that much. The thought of carving him up piece by piece made me smile.
I whispered a spell to call the shadows toward me, darkening the alley until it was little more than a cloud of smoke, and I charged the demon, blades poised and ready to slice through his human skin. But as I jumped into the air to rain those blades down upon his neck, something hard drove into my belly, knocking the wind from my lungs and my daggers from my hands. I flew backward through the air until I struck the unforgiving brick of the adjacent building. Instead of crumbling to the ground in a wheezing lump, I stayed pinned to that rough wall, cloaked in shadow, as the demon pressed his body against me.
Those fiery eyes cut through the darkness as his face loomed only inches from mine. “While I appreciate your little display of skill, that’s not why I’m here.” I opened my mouth yet again to whisper a spell, but the clever demon saw it coming and covered my mouth. I bucked against him, but he merely leaned in closer, his taut body skimming my blouse, his leg splitting mine. His hold exhibited a strength it hadn’t before when he silenced me—one that could crush my jaw without effort. My body went still as I tried to think of a way out of my predicament, while that familiar feeling of evil shot through my body, fire and
ice ripping through me like a living, pulsing thing.
The demon, now visible as the haze of smoke and shadow cleared, smiled at my acquiescence. “If you do not wish for them to find you, then you must listen to me,” he said, as though I had any choice in the matter. “Blink twice if you understand.”
Thoughts, wild and frantic, ran through my mind in a desperate attempt to form a plan of some kind against the demon I couldn’t seem to beat—or even faze, for that matter. He’d bested me in every way without so much as trying. But what I found morbidly intriguing was the fact that, even after my attempts to kill him, he not only didn’t seem to want me dead, but also seemed inclined to help me out of my current situation. Which begged the question: why?
And there was only one way to get that answer. Blink. Blink.
“Excellent. Now, I will excuse your transgressions if you’ll forgive my shocking lack of manners. Unfortunately, I haven’t the time for propriety, because Xandros’ sentinels are searching the city for an item of great importance, and after last night, they are now searching for you, too.”
Searching for me? The demon outside the saloon suddenly made more sense.
“The good news is that they cannot track you—or me, for that matter—by feel, as he can, and even his ability is predicated on proximity. The bad news is that at least one now knows your face.” He looked down the alley as if he heard someone coming. “You would be wise to keep it better hidden from now on.” His free hand skimmed my cheek, magic crackling along my skin, before he lifted my long black hair and draped it over my left shoulder to cascade down my chest. Like a curtain, it hindered my view of the street—and passersby from seeing me. He turned his face away from the gaslight seeping into the narrow way, but I could feel those dark eyes on me, searching. Assessing. “Now, I’m going to release your mouth. I don’t think I need to tell you that screaming would be ill-advised.”
With that, he withdrew slightly and removed his hand. It lingered near my lips, as if he expected to have to slam it back in place. At that moment, a carriage with affixed lanterns rolled past the alley, illuminating the demon before me for a moment, and his full lips pulled into a half-smile, as if our predicament were amusing. I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do with that amusement, but in a flash, his body was pressed tightly to mine yet again. The surprising warmth of his cheek brushed mine as he positioned his head to shelter me from the view of anyone on the street.
“Get. Off. Of. Me,” I growled.
I could feel his cheek shift as his smile grew at my threat. “Still so full of fire, aren’t you? Even after all he did—all he took. Good. You’ll need that fire to destroy him.” He paused to pull back and look at me. “You’ll need me, too.”
Rage like I couldn’t fathom coursed through me, and I opened my mouth to spew a spell at him before torching him with a fireball, but I never got any words out. They were stolen by the mouth that suddenly covered mine, soft lips and the roar of fire in my veins silencing me as his firm body plastered me to the brick façade at my back.
I shoved against him, but he met my fight with a tiny laugh and wound his hand in my hair, holding me in place. And though that pervasive sense of evil I felt from him nearly overwhelmed my senses, I could perceive the passing of another demon—the one from the saloon—hunting me. The sensation continued past without so much as a moment’s hesitation; from the corner of my eye, I caught the coattails of a passerby, but nothing more. The feeling gradually faded, leaving me with only the demon pressed against my body and the anger burning inside.
And something altogether different pooling deep in my belly as he leaned into me harder.
With a quick burst of force, I pushed him away and punched him as hard as I could. My knuckles ached from the blow that had drawn blood from his lip. It knocked him back a pace or two, but otherwise had no effect at all. He smiled at me as he slowly licked the wound clean, eyeing me as though I’d done something he had not expected—something interesting.
“Touch me again and I’ll kill you.”
My threat did not faze him in the least—which seemed fair, given that all my other attempts had fallen flat. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, so they say,” was his only apology.
Not wasting another moment, I began an incantation under my breath. Warmth from the fire growing in my hands spread through me as I called forth my magic, lighting the corridor once again. The demon looked at me curiously. “They will plague this city until Xandros retrieves what he came for,” he said, as though I posed no threat.
“Then they will die, as will you.”
“Ah,” he said, stepping closer, “but you alone cannot kill a demon.” His smile spread to a grin as he reached out and cupped my hands in his, snuffing out my flames. “As I said, you will need my help to end him, Oleander.” Shock cut down my anger as I stared back at the demon who had rendered my power useless with his touch. “I am not your enemy.”
“All demons are my enemies.”
“Be that is it may, in this regard, our desires align.”
I canted my head at him. “And what is your desire, demon?”
His smile fell for a moment. “For you to call me by my name, which is Zen, and for you to see that this is less about what I desire and more about what I don’t. I do not want another demon king, and that is exactly what Xandros, with whom you’re well acquainted, will be if he succeeds in finding the Demonheart Opal—the heart of the former demon king himself.”
“You lie,” I said, the words a snarl on my lips.
His amusement returned. “Constantly, but not now. Not about this.”
I snatched my hands away. “And if that’s a lie?”
He shrugged. “Then you’re in quite the conundrum, aren’t you, Oleander?” His brow furrowed as he mulled something over. “You know, you don’t look much like an Oleander. It’s too delicate for you. Too feminine. You need something shorter. Something better suited.”
“My name doesn’t—”
“Andy!” he exclaimed. “That’s it! I shall call you Andy.”
“If you want to die, you will—”
“Now, Andy my dear, you should consider my offer to help you destroy the one who nearly destroyed you,” he said with a slight bow, undaunted by my growing rage. “I will be in touch soon to get your answer. And please do forgive me for being so untoward. I generally like to get to know a woman first before I back her against a wall.”
With an infuriating wink, he disappeared down the darkened alley, then altogether.
I looked at my hands, smoke still billowing from my extinguished palms, and took a moment to allow my brain to catch up with all that had taken place. Demons were hunting me. Xandros wanted the heart of the former king. And the enemy of my enemy had just offered his assistance in carrying out the task I’d dreamed of since my escape from the demon realm—but only after he’d forced himself upon me.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and spat on the ground.
Ally myself with a demon? I’d sooner end my own life.
CHAPTER SIX
It was noon the next day by the time I finally put together a story that I could tell the others regarding what I’d learned the previous evening. Telling them the truth about my demon encounter would only have brought about a two-hour-long fight about how best to proceed, and I had no interest in that. Taking two truths and blending them into a lie was a much simpler way to convey the facts without resulting in hysterics. Ivy might have been able to handle the real story about my encounter in the alley, but the others would not. Willow would withdraw, Hazel would panic and stop making any semblance of sense, and Petal would burn herself out doing all she could to track the demons down mentally.
How easy it was to rationalize my decision.
I pulled on the French cavalry boots I’d stolen from a particularly deserving woman-beater months ago and threw on my coat before heading downstairs.
“Miss Nightshade—”
“I�
��m afraid I’m in quite a rush, Mrs. Whittle. I should be back for dinner,” I called over my shoulder as I stepped through the front door. I closed it behind me, shutting out her protestations.
The boarding house was several blocks away from the guild, but I enjoyed the walk. With my eyes protected by my glasses, the sun cutting through the chill of the late-fall air warmed my face. The city, though crowded and dirty, was not without its dark charms. Perhaps that was why I liked it here. We were kindred spirits in that regard.
I didn’t bother to knock when I reached the nunnery. Instead, I pushed the door open as though I were welcome, which wasn’t always the case. Sister Mary Jacob and I had a tenuous relationship at best; at worst, I feared the old bat might knock me unconscious and burn me at the stake. Though she knew nothing of witches or magic in general, she was convinced that I was evil and thrust her rosary out whenever she saw me, as though it alone could ward me off. It was endearing in a strange way. It made me like her more—at least until the day she’d thrown a pitcher of holy water at me and soaked me through. From that day on, hostility had reigned between us on the rare occasions we’d crossed paths.
Thankfully, the elderly nun was nowhere to be seen as I stalked the halls. However, Willow was soon at my side, startling me with her stealth. I gasped when she touched my elbow, earning me a faint smile from the quiet Daughter of Water. “I was hoping to see you today,” she said softly, her melodious voice cutting through the silence.
“How fortuitous, for here I am.”
“One of the girls we rescued last week—from the boarding house that was actually a brothel—”
“I remember which one.”
She nodded. “I believe she may be a Daughter of Fire. I’d like you to meet with her and see if I’m correct.”
“All right. How old is she?”
A Curse of Nightshade (Witches of the Gilded Lilies Book 1) Page 5
