I can only assume Anna’s father will bring her to New York, or attempt to escape with her. But if they run, the demon lot will give chase, and they’ll be found. Either way, Anna is doomed.
I am twisted up inside like a rope in intricate, nonsensical knots, so full of anger and hatred I can scarcely hold it in. I don’t know how I’ll make it through this night. I don’t know how I’ll be able to watch what torture the Dukes have in store for Anna.
All day I’ve tried to put on my straight face and close off my heart to any feelings, but this is too big. I can’t numb myself. I can’t block it out. I don’t even know how she feels for me anymore, but it doesn’t matter. I know how I feel, and watching her suffer will kill me.
On the way to the hotel I stop at a spirits shop and use my fake ID to buy bourbon. I have to keep a tolerant buzz tonight in order to hide any possible bond that might show between me and Anna. Only the twins’ father, Astaroth, would have the ability to see it, but that would be enough to have the both of us killed. The five of us take a cab to the hotel and sit silently. Waiting. The tension in the room is like static electricity. I’m pouring bourbon into my flask when Kopano gets a call from Belial.
“Pick up Anna on your way to the summit. She’s in room 433. Same hotel as you.”
“Yes, Duke Belial,” he answers smoothly.
Of course Belial would ring Kope to collect her. I stare at the wall and shake my head.
We leave soon after that, sliding into our coats and winding scarves about our necks. My body is heavy as we take the lift down to Anna’s floor.
Kopano knocks on her door, and she opens it slowly. She smiles hesitantly when she sees it’s us. Nobody but Marna smiles back. Anna looks fit in a pair of black trousers with black heels and a puffy gray coat. Her hair is down and she’s exuding such a sweetness I have to look away before she meets my eye.
We leave to walk to the comedy club where the summit will take place—fucking demon humor. The six of us are the only people in Times Square who aren’t laughing and talking, plastered, or nutters. My fists are shoved tightly into my jacket’s pockets, and I cannot unclench them.
I keep Anna in my sight, and each time I feel her eyes on me, soft and warm, I want to close my eyes and savor it. Instead I lock my jaw and let the flavor of hatred roll around on my tongue.
I wonder if Belial has told her the rules about a summit—how Neph are not to speak unless asked a direct question. I wonder if Belial has taught her to lie with confidence when the Dukes question her. I wonder if—holy shit . . . is Anna still a virgin? My father will know. My fists clench tighter.
When we turn down the street where the summit will take place, I fall back to walk beside Anna. My eyes scan the area for immediate dangers. I’ve been listening out for Dukes all day, trying to catch any snatches of conversation that might give clues about what they’re after tonight, but it’s all bollocks. They say nothing of importance, so wrapped up in their own enjoyments.
Being next to Anna soothes me, and I can finally relax my hands and take them from my pockets. I want to look at her, but I’m afraid I will grab her and run.
It’s a cruel fate that Anna showed up at my gig that night last summer. It’s cruel that I opened my heart for the first time in my life to the one person who could so utterly annihilate me with her goodness. It’s a cruel fate that I pushed her away to keep her safe, only to lose her anyhow.
But she does have the hilt—the Sword of Righteousness that the nun gave her. I wonder what kind of damage she could do with it tonight. How many Dukes could she kill before she’s taken down? Does she have it in her?
We’re momentarily halted by a load of people spilling out of a club. Anna’s arm brushes mine, and I feel the back of her hand against my palm, then her pinkie winds around mine, deliberately connecting us while it’s too crowded for anyone to notice.
I am flooded with a blinding sense of joy at this simple contact from Anna—this small gesture that shows I still mean something to her. Recklessness overcomes me, and while the street is too crowded for anyone to notice, I pull Anna by the pinkie and she follows easily. I’m holding my breath, so hungry for this moment I can hardly stand it.
I lead her quickly into a small alcove stairway where we rush down, away from the others. It’s dark and smells of damp earth as I turn her to face me and press my mouth to hers. She doesn’t push me away; she pulls me closer. She meets my fierceness with her own, and together we heat each other in the icy air. Our frozen noses and cheeks thaw. Even the air around us steams with warmth. We cling and taste and breathe each other’s breaths.
This stolen kiss tells me everything I need to know. Anna still wants me. Still cares for me. Still needs me.
We break the kiss and I press my forehead to hers. Our breath clouds around us, too hot for the winter air. I watch her as she touches my face, and I can’t understand how anyone could want to hurt her. I don’t want to live in a world where someone like Anna Whitt is in danger for being who she is.
I would trade places with her if I could. In fact, if Anna is to die tonight, so will I. I won’t let her die alone.
When Ginger orders us up from the stairwell, back to reality, everything is a blur. I take a long draw from the flask, relishing the burn and how it dulls my senses. Is this what it’s like, when you know you’re going to die? I’m a zombie as we make our way down into the comedy club for the summit. A dead man walking.
The six of us sit as far from the Dukes as possible. The Aussie Neph guarding the door doesn’t find the knives hidden in the compartments of my boots. I bend down at our table while everyone’s busy and take them out, sliding them into my pockets. Blake notices, his jaw tightening. He won’t look directly at me, but he’s blinking and I know he wants to ask me what the hell I’m thinking.
I lace my fingers over my abdomen and lean back. When the time comes, I don’t want him involved. I don’t expect anyone to try to save me.
I drink more.
Father takes the stage and I stare without expression as he cordially welcomes the Dukes and Legionnaires and Azael, the personal messenger of Lucifer who might’ve been the spirit circling Anna at that party before Belial showed—still don’t know what that was about. Father welcomes Rahab, the Duke of Pride, to the stage, and I feel the burn of bile and bourbon rising as Rahab reminds all of us Neph of our place in the world.
“Your life is not your own. You were bred to serve us. . . . There is one among you who has been warned, and yet still chooses poorly.”
Has been warned? Was Anna ever warned? I wait for the bomb to drop, but Rahab never even looks toward Anna. He stares toward a middle table full of Neph.
“Gerlinda. Daughter of Kobal.”
Bloody hell. My eyes shoot around the room as it all becomes clear.
It’s not about Anna. They’re after another Neph.
I school my body and my face not to react. I must not exhale loudly or slump with relief. I sit rigidly and take a celebratory sip of bourbon, though I’m quite buzzed enough to block any bond from showing.
I lean forward and steal a glance toward Anna, and the look on her face punctures my heart, deflating my relief.
She is staring at the stage and the Neph Gerlinda with unguarded horror, as if she might scream or cry as the Dukes begin to heckle.
No, Anna, I want to say. Sit silent and be grateful. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. You don’t even bloody know her . . . but since when has that mattered to Anna? She is a bleeding heart for injustice, and I know it will scar her to witness this. I don’t particularly want to view this show myself, so I know it’s a million times worse for her.
Shite, she needs to just stare at the wall and try to block it out or something. But every time I glance down she’s fervently watching, even moving her lips.
Please, Anna, please. For the love of God, keep your damn mouth shut.
She is making me so nervous. If she can just make it through this, we’ll all be all rig
ht. I know it’s cruel of me, but I don’t care about Gerlinda or what’s happening to her onstage. I can block it out. I can only hope Belial has taught this skill to Anna.
I’m beginning to sweat in this stupid button-up shirt. It’s freezing outside, but a thousand degrees in here. I undo the next button on my shirt and take another drink. Gin shoots me a “stay still” glare.
The entire room tenses and I look up for the first time, allowing myself to fully see what’s happening. Rahab has raised the gun to the Neph woman’s head. I’ve never seen anyone die before. I start to shift my eyes away when I hear a lovely voice call out from several seats down, and my heart stops.
“No!” Anna shouts.
Oh, my God. Her voice rings in my ears, echoing. No, no, no . . .
Everyone turns toward our tables, staring in shock. Rahab yells, “Which of you dares to speak out at this sacred summit?”
This cannot be happening. Why, Anna, why? Why can’t you be a silent bystander just once?
The room begins to spin as they bring Anna to the stage. My stomach rolls. I move to the edge of my seat, and I see Kopano grip the table edge in front of him. All eyes in the room are on Anna, but Belial slightly turns and eyes our group of Neph in the corner. With one hand at his side he cups it downward and presses down as if to say Stay seated.
Does he have a plan?
It’s taking every ounce of my energy to remain seated while Anna is up there under Rahab’s scrutiny. I have no idea how she can manage to appear both fragile and strong all at once.
Father waves a hand in the air, and my stomach drops when he speaks. “Good Hades, Belial! She’s still a virgin!”
The room gasps in unison. Blake flinches next to me, and Kope scoots forward. Marna covers her mouth, but Ginger slaps her hand quickly down.
The Dukes argue about how to deal with Anna and why she is still pure. All I can do is stare at her face, at the fear in her creased brow. By now, Rahab is furious that his show’s been interrupted by an insolent Neph, and he’s ready to punish her with or without her father’s permission. He shoves Gerlinda out of the way and hits Anna in the side of the head. My hand is in my pocket and I’m halfway to my feet before Blake grabs my arm like a steel vise and yanks me back down.
Anna gets up again, standing strong as she takes yet another hit. The sound of her involuntary cry makes me struggle to take in air. I want her to reach for the hilt and murder him. I want him dead. Why isn’t she using the sword?
Rahab points to the gun on the table and snarls at Anna. “To make amends for disrupting our session, you will complete it for us. You will kill her yourself.”
Shite. She will not pull that trigger. And he knows it. Everything with these bastards is a test or a game. And the rules are always stacked to ensure our failure.
“Raise the gun,” Rahab tells her.
I know with sudden clarity—this is the moment we’ll both die. Only a miracle can save Anna now.
Only a miracle . . .
My vision blurs for a split second, and a foreign urge stirs deep within me. I have never spoken to God. Never asked Him for anything. But for the first time ever . . . I want to pray.
As Anna stares down at that gun, a silent prayer stutters its way from my heart.
Save her. Please. I’m begging You. You’re the only one powerful enough. I will do anything. If I live, I will stay far away from her. Please, just don’t let them kill her. Take me instead. Don’t let her suffer. . . .
“Last chance,” Rahab says. He raises the gun to Anna’s head and cocks it. When I hear the click, I’m on my feet and my knife is out. Rahab will be dead before he has a chance to pull the—
What the bloody hell is that? A gigantic light splits the back of the room and sends out a glow. Did someone open a door or turn on a spotlight? I look at Anna and find she is the only one not looking at the light.
She’s looking at me. And then Kopano, who’s standing two seats down. She gives her head an almost indecipherable shake, and I feel an overwhelming urge to sit. It takes me a moment to realize she is using her silent compulsion, and I want to scream.
The room brightens further and Rahab lowers his arms. All of the attention has turned away from Anna, to the light. I squint as I try to look at it. Abruptly, I fall back into my chair and stare.
Angels. The Maker sent angels. Is this . . . did He answer my prayer? Or is this coincidence? I begin to shake, overcome by the beings pushing into the room. The Dukes are falling back and scrambling to move away. Neph jump up and run, huddling against the walls in fear. The angels eye the room sternly and I have no doubt they would gladly take out every one of our stained souls if the Maker gave the order. I want to run onstage and snag Anna away, but the angels move forward.
“It is not her time,” says the angel in front, nodding to Anna. “She will serve as a test to many souls.”
Not her time . . . I exhale in a rush. They really are here to save her.
Oho, Rahab is livid. A purple vein has taken prominence in his forehead. To see the Dukes crapping themselves might be the highlight of my life.
“Fine,” Rahab says with a deadly smile. “It is not her time now. But it is hers.”
The bastard raises his gun and shoots Gerlinda in the face. Anna shrieks as the girl tumbles back, dead. The angels rise up in unified indignation, and I lift a hand to block the brightness.
Chaos breaks loose as Rahab orders everyone out of the room. Neph push and shove to get to the exit. Where is Anna? As the angels retreat and the light fades, it’s turned into a damn near trampling spree.
I search for Anna, working my way through until I see her golden head. I call out to her, and she tries to press back into the crowd to get to me. I don’t know why it’s so important for me to touch her in that moment, but I need to feel her, to prove to myself she’s alive. We finally link hands near the exit, but Belial pulls us apart. He practically carries her out and shoves her into a cab, where she is whisked away. Anna and I watch each other through the back window until she’s out of sight. She’s safe. Adrenaline still charges through my body. I turn and walk briskly with the running crowd, getting as far from the Dukes as I can.
After an hour of wandering, I sit on a park bench in Manhattan and stare down at my shaking hands in the glow of a streetlight. I don’t know where the others have gone. I simply stare at my hands, in shock that there’s still blood of life pumping through them. My breaths are still hot against the cold air. My boots are still solid on the ground.
When you’re certain you’re going to die and then you live, it’s a strange sensation. But I don’t dare feel relief. I don’t dare feel anything. I don’t even startle when a hand comes down hard on my shoulder and I look up into the face of Belial. He jerks his head for me to follow him, and turns to leave without waiting. I shove my hands into my pockets and follow a few feet behind him.
I follow him into the underground, where we take the train to the end of the line in New Jersey. I follow him until we’re at a packed bar in Hoboken, clear of the Dukes in New York City. And then I sit in silence at the end of the bar as Belial orders five shots of Wild Turkey and throws them back one after the other, before sitting on the edge of the stool beside me.
He puts one giant hand on his thigh, and the other arm drapes along the bar beside me. He leans forward, boxing me in, and talks under his breath in a low, lethal tone.
“I saw you tonight. If any of the others had seen your little show, you’d be dead.”
My jaw is clenched. He must not appreciate my I-don’t-give-a-shit expression, because he points a hefty finger at my face.
“You listen to me right now, kid, and you listen good.” His eyes. He is beyond furious about what happened tonight. “You stay the hell away from my daughter. You understand me?”
I swallow hard, but my throat is still dry. “I was planning to, sir.”
“You’re no good for her.”
Stab.
“I agree, sir.”
He narrows his beady brown eyes as if searching for sarcasm. I am too numb to manage any sort of sarcasm or wit.
“You think you’re in love with her?”
I don’t answer this, and he plows forward.
“You think she loves you? That she’s meant for you? Wrong, lover boy. My girl’s meant for bigger things. She loves everybody and everything. You’re just a stray she’ll eventually forget about. Understand?”
Everything he’s said is true, but that doesn’t mean my insides aren’t ripped out. It doesn’t mean there’s not a part of me that somehow hoped I was wrong and that Belial might see whatever good thing Anna sees in me. But Belial sees the real me. The unworthy me.
My lips move, “Yes, sir,” but only dry sound comes out.
“You are not a safe option, not as a friend, and not as anything else. If Anna wants to pal around with Neph, it sure as hell’s not gonna be you. She can fall for that son of Alocer all day long, but I’ll be damned if I let the son of Pharzuph fuck with her heart.”
I grit my teeth. It feels as if a boa constrictor has encircled my chest. I give a tight nod.
“I know you thought you were cute tonight, playing Romeo like a God-damned fool, but the bullshit ends right now. If you ever endanger her again—if you dare to contact her or so much as look at her, I have friends who will make your death look like an accident. Am I clear?”
To see myself through his eyes—to be reminded so sharply and clearly of all the reasons I’m unworthy of Anna . . . it’s like a series of stinging slaps across the face. Belial’s eyes bore into me and his nostrils flare. I give him another nod, my neck stiff. He rubs his goatee down and pushes back from the bar.
Belial leaves me there in Hoboken, where I sit until they kick me out. I walk the streets in darkness, hoping to be finished off by drug dealers or gangs, but it turns out the bad guys are never around when you need them.
Perhaps I should pray for an angel of mercy to put me out of my misery. No, I will not pray again. I’m thankful Anna was saved, but having my own life spared feels like a fluke, and I dare not remind the Maker I’m still here. Still, I will make good on my end of the bargain.
Sweet Temptation Page 16
