Demon Born

by Christine Pope

  Then he spoke. “That sounds very comfortable.”

  Which didn’t tell her a damn thing. She knew she didn’t have to worry about him shriveling up in sunlight or anything like that, because it had been broad daylight when he’d appeared at the house in La Cienega and had driven off the lesser demons Simon Escobar had summoned. But the demon lord still hadn’t dropped a single clue as to whether he really did need to sleep or not.

  And that also meant the next part of her instructions might be pointless as well. However, since she’d already embarked on this endeavor, Cat figured she had better plow ahead.

  Taking a breath, she said, “The bathroom’s the first door on the right. There are towels and soap and shampoo, and in the top drawer of the vanity, you’ll find an unused toothbrush and some toothpaste. I don’t really have any spare clothes, but — ”

  “Catalina.”

  His tone was quiet, but it was enough to stop the flow of words. She paused and made herself look at him again. Now he was smiling, and she didn’t quite know what to make of that.

  “You’re being very generous with your hospitality,” he said. “There is no need for you to worry about clothing, or any other items I might require. I will simply conjure them as the need arises.”

  “Of course,” she replied, feeling her cheeks heat somewhat. Good thing the light built into the ceiling fan wasn’t very bright. Or maybe his demon senses were so acute that he would have been able to see her blush even if they’d been standing in pitch darkness. “I suppose I should have thought of that.”

  “Well, this is probably the first time you’ve had a demon lord stay overnight,” he said, again with that amused note in his voice.

  “The first time I’ve had anyone stay over,” she admitted. “Well, my cousin Ignatio passed out on the couch the night of my housewarming party, but since he got up sometime before dawn and drove himself home, I guess that doesn’t really count.”

  As if a demon lord cares about whether your cousin had too many shots of tequila….

  But again he smiled at her. “Then I feel honored to be your first guest. Again, thank you for your hospitality.”

  For all their friendliness, his words had a note of dismissal to them, and Cat decided it was better to take his lead and call it a night. The day was beginning to feel very long to her, and she knew she needed to go to bed.

  Whether she’d actually be able to sleep was an entirely different matter.

  “Then good night, um — ” She stopped there, realizing she had no idea what to call him. “Lord of Chaos” wasn’t exactly the easiest phrase to slip into everyday conversation.

  “Loc,” he said. It rhymed with “woke.”

  “‘Loc’?” Cat repeated, hoping she’d heard him correctly. It was an unusual name, but then she supposed a demon lord probably wouldn’t go around calling himself “Tim” or something else equally innocuous.

  “For ‘Lord of Chaos,’” he supplied. “A small joke, I suppose.”

  “Oh, right.” It did suit him, in an odd way, suited the dark handsomeness of his borrowed features. The nickname also made him sound like a musician or model or something, but Cat supposed that might work to his advantage as well. “Loc it is. If you need anything, I’ll be right down the hall.”

  “I’m sure I will be fine, but thank you,” he said, gravely polite.

  That seemed to be her cue to leave the room. She managed to send him what she hoped was an encouraging smile, then turned and headed down the hall to the master suite. The door to his room shut quietly behind her, and although she knew she should be glad that he was respecting her privacy — and his — she couldn’t help wondering what he might be doing behind that closed door.

  Getting ready for bed, just like you should be, Cat scolded herself as she went into the master bedroom and then made sure her own door was firmly shut. It didn’t have a lock — she hadn’t thought there would be any reason for one — and right now she found herself wishing for some way to latch the door, even as she realized a lock wouldn’t keep out an ordinary witch or warlock, much less a demon lord like Loc.

  He’s not going to come in here, she told herself. Just because he looks human doesn’t mean he is human. He doesn’t have human needs or wants.

  That realization reassured her somewhat. It had been an impulsive move to invite him to stay here, and she definitely didn’t need to allow that kind of nonsense to take up space in her mind. She’d do what she could to help him, because she and the whole Castillo clan owed him one, but that would be the extent of their connection.

  All the same, she couldn’t quite keep herself from brooding over what she’d done as she lay down once her usual nightly routines were completed. The house was quiet, with no sound at all coming from the room down the hall.

  She shut her eyes and thought, Rafe is going to kill me when he finds out about all this….

  2

  Loc lay on his borrowed bed, eyes open, gaze fixed on the wood-beamed ceiling above his head. Although he himself did not need to sleep, the body he wore required rest, just as it also required food and needed to relieve itself at regular intervals. During the months he’d been trapped on this world, he’d learned to deal with such mortal requirements, and yet tonight he found it difficult to sleep.

  Truly, he had not expected Catalina — Cat, he reminded himself, knowing that she preferred the whimsical nickname — to offer him a place to stay. He had come here because he knew this was the place where she had settled, and he’d recalled how he had found it so much easier to reach out and touch her mind than it was with other mortals. At the time, he had simply thought that he needed the reassurance of someone familiar, someone to speak to, if only for a few moments. It had never entered his mind that she would offer him a much-needed place of refuge.

  This world was a confusing, chaotic place, and to be lying here now, with the whisper of the leaves telling him tales carried on the night wind, seemed so far from what he had experienced during his time on this plane that he was not quite sure what to make of it. Oh, he had never feared for his life; the borrowed body he wore might be weak enough, but the soul it concealed was as fierce as ever, and he knew he could have easily snuffed out anyone who dared to lay a hand upon him. It was more that he’d never before encountered such a cacophony of souls, a place where so many fought for their own agendas, their own petty triumphs. On the plane where he had sprung into existence, he had always been the lord and master, and the lesser beings who dwelt there had known to obey his every command.

  Here on this world, he had no such authority, and knew that he must do whatever he could to blend in and pass as one of them, even though there was much about this place he found grating, from the constant traffic in its cities to the way most of the denizens of Earth seemed to spend their days with their faces glued to their phone screens, rather than interacting with one another. More than once he had had to swallow his pride, only because he knew that to annoy one of those whose assistance he sought would surely do him no good.

  But none of those witches and warlocks, those hoarders of black texts and brewers of forbidden potions, had possessed the knowledge required to send him back whence he had come. He had kept his true identity secret, of course, and had pretended to be a mere mortal seeking the power to summon demons, and yet it had not been enough. All he had for his efforts was an indecent proposal from a witch in Barcelona, who’d told him that she couldn’t summon demons from hell but would like to send him to heaven, if only for one night.

  He was not so innocent that he didn’t understand what she was asking. However, he had no interest in such things, and his refusal had not been polite. Blazing with wounded pride, she had ordered him from her house. He’d left because it was certainly not worth his time trying to explain to her that he had no interest in participating in such distasteful acts with anyone, and that his rejection had not been personal.

  At the same time, he’d wondered whether he should select a human appea
rance that was less appealing. Doing so might have helped him to avoid such awkward encounters, and yet he was reluctant. Although he was not sure he wished to admit such a thing to himself, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had harbored the notion that he’d chosen this form because he thought Cat Castillo might like it, and if he ever needed to see her again, better to do so wearing a face that would not be cause for fear or alarm.

  Not that she’d reacted to him in such a way when she’d first seen him, so many months ago. She had been startled, of course, but he hadn’t seen any disgust in her expression, only interest and curiosity. Perhaps it was because she’d already touched minds with him, and therefore knew he was nothing she should fear.

  Which could also have been another reason why he’d come here when all his other options had been exhausted. Her spirit had drawn him toward this place like a beacon, and it had felt all too natural to speak to her again, although he had not reached out to her mind until they had physically spoken, since he thought that might have been intruding too much.

  She had shown no fear earlier this evening, either, when he’d taken on his true form for a few seconds to prove to her who he was. That same flare of awe, but nothing else.

  All this made him wonder why he lay here so wakeful tonight. The bed in this room was much more comfortable than many he had slept on while he performed his search, and the fan overhead kept the air from feeling too warm and stagnant. And since he had begun his day many, many hours earlier, in a slum outside Sao Paulo, he should have been happy to be here in the sanctuary that Cat had provided.

  And yet….

  She had looked well, in her pale, filmy dress with her arms bare. When he had seen her before, she’d been wearing bulky clothing that might have sufficed to keep her warm but was also very good at hiding much of her form. Now, he had seen far more of her than he had previously, and although there was no good reason for him to do so, he found himself dwelling on that first glimpse of her he’d caught as she’d come down the gravel path from the house, loose strands of hair waving around her face in the breeze, that same breeze blowing the thin silk of her dress against her long legs.

  Why was he thinking of such things? Human women held no allure for him, as that witch in Barcelona had found out quickly enough. For some reason, though, Catalina Castillo seemed different, possibly because of the way he could touch her mind. He was unable to do such a thing with anyone else, and that peculiar quality made her stand out that much more from the throngs of humanity.

  And perhaps…just perhaps…it was also because he knew that she would never recoil from him, no matter which form he wore.

  Do not let your thoughts wander there, he told himself as he turned over onto his side. In a way, it was exciting to have so many different positions available to him in this body, where his wings would never get in the way. True, he hadn’t needed to sleep while inhabiting his true form, but still….

  She has offered you sanctuary because she knows you have no place else to go. It is pity and nothing else that led her to make the gesture.

  Loc did not think he liked the sound of that. He certainly did not wish to be pitied, he who had once commanded legions of demons and called an entire plane of existence his own, who had dwelled in a tower of basalt and whose every need was met instantly. But, thanks to that miserable waste of flesh Simon Escobar, it seemed all that power and majesty had been stolen from him. Whether Loc would ever get it back was certainly debatable at best.

  You will, he thought, more because he knew he must believe in eventual success if he was going to continue to exist on this alien world. In the meantime, though, you have a place of refuge, and must do your best to manage until something changes.

  What that change might be, he had no idea.

  Cat woke up earlier than she normally did, probably because she knew there was a disguised demon in the spare bedroom down the hall, and the last thing she wanted was to have him knocking at the door while she was still lying in bed wearing the tank top and panties that were her summertime sleeping attire. Just the mere thought was enough to spur her to climb out of bed and go to the bathroom, then get in the shower and give herself a quick spritz. Luckily, she’d washed her hair the day before in preparation for her father’s birthday party, and so she didn’t have to bother with it much. The braid she’d worn it in had left fun little ripples all along its length, so she combed it out and left it loose on her shoulders, figuring she could always braid it up again if it got too warm later in the day.

  Jeans and a sleeveless embroidered Mexican blouse she’d bought down at the Plaza, and flat sandals and some silver jewelry, and she figured she was fit to be seen. Well, almost — she quickly brushed on some mascara, followed by lip gloss, then slowly opened the door to her bedroom and peeked down the hall.

  The door to the guest room was still shut, and she couldn’t hear any sound coming from within. Did that mean the demon lord — Loc, Cat told herself — actually was still asleep, or had he disappeared sometime during the night, deciding that it wasn’t such a good idea after all for him to be staying here?

  Such a departure would make her life a lot easier, although she found herself experiencing a pang of disappointment at the thought that he might already be gone.

  Crazy, she thought, and headed down the stairs. Still there was no sign of life in the guest room, so her other theory, that he was here but awake and waiting for her to make the first move before he emerged from his bedroom, seemed to be off the mark as well.

  Trying not to shrug, she went into the kitchen. After a moment’s hesitation, she started a pot of coffee, making enough for two people just in case Loc really was still around. She could save the leftovers for iced coffee later in the afternoon, although generally she tried not to drink too much caffeine late in the day.

  Just as she was pouring some into her favorite hand-glazed mug, a deep voice said, “Good morning.”

  Somehow, she managed to keep herself from splashing the hot liquid on her hand as she started. “Good morning,” she said evenly, then turned to see Loc standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Once again, he wore human clothes, faded jeans and those same scuffed motorcycle boots he had on last night, although today he wore an untucked shirt in a deep purple shade with a rough weave of brighter colors worked through it.

  Guatemalan, her mind instantly catalogued, recognizing the fabric as the kind produced in home-based textile shops in that Central American country. Well, he had hinted that he’d traveled the world in his search for someone to send him back to his own plane of existence.

  “Coffee?” she added, hoping she sounded normal and not at all rattled by the presence of a demon lord in her kitchen at eight o’clock in the morning. “I mean,” she added hastily, “if you drink it.”

  “I’ve acquired the habit,” he replied as he came farther into the room. “That smells good. Sumatran?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It sounds like you’ve become something of an expert.”

  “I’ve had many varieties in my travels.”

  Since Cat wasn’t sure how she should respond to that comment, she settled for giving him a nod while at the same time fetching another mug from the cupboard. Once it was filled, she handed it to him. “I have cream in the fridge if you want it. And the sugar is in that little blue bowl over there on the other counter.”

  His gaze traveled to where she’d indicated, but he shook his head. “Black is fine.”

  Black as his bat wings, which were now hidden…black as the heavy dark hair he’d pushed back from his brow. Seeing him now, in the morning light that poured in through the window over the sink, Cat saw he was really even more spectacular than she’d thought, with those long lashes that partially hid his dark eyes, and the muscles that bulged against the short sleeves of the shirt he wore. And the thing that made him all the more gorgeous was his complete ignorance of his appearance. She got the impression that he’d chosen this form because he thought it would make it easier to w
ork with humans, and cared very little as to whether it was attractive or not. For all she knew, he really had no frame of reference when it came to human beauty.

  Which meant that putting on even the minor cosmetics she now wore had probably been a waste of time, but she figured she’d worry about that later. In a way, it was sort of freeing to be around someone who had no concept of appearance and all its myriad ways of affecting behavior.

  On the other hand, though, he was just so damn distracting.

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t have a lot of breakfast food on hand. Usually, I just have yogurt or a piece of toast. But I can run down to the market and get something else if you want.” That seemed the safest thing to do; she didn’t think she was quite up to taking him out to breakfast.

  Her offer elicited a small smile — a genuine one, though, with nothing mocking in it. “Catalina, that’s not necessary. I told you last night that I can get anything I need…or anything you need. It is only fair, considering you have offered me shelter.”

  “Then get yourself whatever you usually eat for breakfast,” she said briskly, figuring that should be safe enough.

  One eyebrow lifted as he considered her suggestion. “I have had many things — scrambled eggs and bacon in Portland, Oregon, a baguette in Paris…some kind of steamed dumplings in Beijing. Most of them have been good in their own way. Human food is actually quite fascinating. So why don’t we have something to eat that you would like?”

  Cat hesitated. She hadn’t been much of a breakfast person for quite some time now, but, on the other hand, she didn’t want to offend her house guest. And it had been a very long time since she had eaten one of her childhood favorites.

  “Chilaquiles?” she suggested, and he frowned slightly.

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten that.”

  His response surprised her a bit, since chilaquiles were a popular breakfast dish in Mexico, and it sounded as though he’d hit quite a few places during his trip around the globe. “Get me the ingredients, and I’ll make them for you.”