Sins of the Damned (Fallen Cities: Elisium Book 2)

by Elena Lawson

  “Told you.”

  She sections off my hair, and I’m reminded of the first time I asked to have my hair done at a real salon. It was my fifteenth birthday, and I had it done bright green. I bought four more colors at the salon before I left, knowing that Ford wouldn’t deny me on that one special day of the year, and especially not with an audience about.

  No, he’d stand there with a strained smile, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned on the wall and watched from a near distance, refusing the hairdresser’s offer for him to sit in the waiting room.

  From what I remember, Tori definitely seems to know what she’s doing.

  “And by the way, I’m not here just because Kincaid asked me to be here. And I’m not doing this because I feel any sort of, I don’t know, obligation or pity or whatever. You’re good shit, Paige, and you really needed your hair done. Kincaid just gave me a good excuse to close up shop for a bit.”

  My face flushes, and I’m not entirely sure why, maybe it’s the drink.

  “Sales have been shit anyway,” she continues. “Besides, I’m always there when a friend needs me.”

  A friend? Is that what we were?

  I’d never had one before.

  Well, aside from Artemis, but that was different. He was like…a surrogate little brother or something. I felt a sense of responsibility for him.

  “I’ve never really had one,” I admit before I can think better of it. “A friend, I mean. You’ll tell me if I do it wrong, right?”

  She pulls her glass from her lips and nearly spits out her drink as a fit of laughter takes her, but the laughter quickly fades when she sees the look on my face. Maybe realizing just how serious I was about that first part.

  “I’ll tell you,” she offers and goes back to separating and lifting out strands of my hair. “Now, let’s get this looking good enough to make Kincaid want to see it in a just-fucked style, yeah?”

  “Tori!”

  “You cannot honestly tell me you didn’t rip up your V-card and set it on fire for that bastard.”

  She raises a brow and I…I don’t know what to say other than, “What’s a V-card?”

  Tori looks at me like I might be from another planet.

  “Your vir-gin-ity,” she enunciates, and I flush scarlet, taking a long, slow drink of my cocktail to soothe the flare-up.

  “I knew it.” Her violet eyes sparkle, and she grabs a chunk of pink dye to get started on my roots. “Tell me everything. Is he hung? Does he like weird shit? I bet he likes weird shit.”

  I’m not going to lie, it makes me so much more at ease to know that she doesn’t know what he likes. Because if I had to compete with the angelic goddess that is Tori…

  Well, I just couldn’t.

  “Um, define weird shit.”

  “Shit, girl. We’re going to need another drink.”

  She finishes hers and moves to snatch mine away, forcing me to down what remains in the glass so she can refill it. A giddiness spreads through my nerve-endings, and I find I’m grinning like an idiot and can’t stop.

  “Maybe a little less of the ’ol nectar of the gods for you, huh?” she says, taking notice of my expression with a slightly pained smile. She puts less of the fizzy clear liquid in the next one for me, running to the bathroom to top it up with a bit of water instead.

  “Do I want to know what I just drank?” I ask, giggling when she sets the next drink in my lap.

  She sucks her lips in and thinks about it for a second. “Probably not. Maybe don’t tell Kincaid, either, ’kay? I kind of forgot that you’re, you know…”

  “New?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “Aren’t you going to have another one?” I ask, gesturing at her empty cup.

  “Nah. One of us needs to stay vigilant against all the terrors of Elisium.” She leans in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “But if you ask me, I think the only thing you’re in danger of is dying of boredom. I’d lose my mind locked up inside day and night.”

  I chuckle and take another drink as she settles back into doing my hair. “So this ‘weird shit.’ ”

  She glances up at me in our reflections in the vanity mirror with a quirk of her perfectly manicured brow.

  “You want a run down?”

  “I’m not entirely sure what’s normal, so…”

  “Okay. We’ll take it from the top then. Hmm, where to start.”

  She taps a finger against her chin, leaving a smear of vivid pink there that I’m not sure she notices. “Ah! I know. Butt stuff. That’s always a good place to start.”

  I now have a working knowledge of every form of sexual weird shit on the planet. And maybe some stuff that she picked up from those who came straight from H-e-l-l because…why? Just why?

  It turned out what Kincaid and I had done thus far was fairly typical, and I had to wonder if he was taking it easy on me. If he was holding back. Surely after a lifespan as long as his you would acquire some…different tastes.

  Like acquiring a taste for scotch. Or finding after years of thinking you hated olives that somewhere down the line you must have changed because they don’t taste so bad anymore.

  Regardless, I had to hand it to Tori. Unlike last time where she seemed to worry just as much as I did, she was really keeping it in check this go-round. Maybe it was because she sensed just how stressed I was about the fact that Kincaid left, and even more so now that it’d been nearly two days. She was acting as my one-woman distraction. She took over after daily training with Lady Devereaux was through until I would inevitably fall asleep.

  I knew it might take some time to find the other necromancer, but I wished he would just check in. Was it that hard to use that staff of his? Did it drain him each time like using the Scepter drained me?

  “Come on, let’s go tan on the roof or something,” Tori says, coming out from my bathroom after a shower. I’d given her my room and taken to sleeping in Kincaid’s. Taking it upon myself to clean up the mass of destruction he seemed to be perfectly fine living in on the rare nights he was home nowadays. I could do nothing about the holes in the walls, but c’est la vie.

  It was as good as it was going to get.

  “Tan?”

  “Yeah,” she replies, tipping her head upside down to scrub dry her short, black hair. “You know, like, under the sun. It’s hot as hell today and there’s still a couple hours until sunset.”

  “I know what tanning is, I just…”

  “Would rather mope about instead?”

  I sigh dramatically. “Fine. I don’t have a bathing suit though.”

  “No need.”

  She drops her towel.

  “No one will be able to see us on the roof. We’ll go nude. I hate tan lines anyway.”

  I supposed modesty wasn’t a trait Nephilim or Diablim possessed. I tried not to stare before I spun around.

  “Or you could lend me a bra and panties if—”

  Downstairs, the blaring noise of a bell chiming echoes up to us, halting Tori mid-sentence. I didn’t think I’d ever heard that doorbell before. The short burst of adrenaline in my blood kickstarts my ability, and my mental feelers extend out almost of their own accord.

  I sense them. They aren’t demons. Not even Diablim.

  “It’s…”

  “Uh, Tori,” Artemis calls from outside in the hall. “There’s a really intimidating angel dude at the door. He brought friends.”

  “Fuck,” Tori hisses and rushes to pull back on her towel, clearly flustered. It sets my nerves even more on edge.

  “Angels?” I question her. “Why would they be here?”

  She flits her violet eyes to mine for a brief second, and in them I see a worry that turns Artemis’ chili sour in my belly.

  “Stay up here. I’ll deal with it.”

  She quickly tugs on yesterday’s shirt and hops into her pants as she leaves the room, foregoing undergarments completely. I move to follow her out the door, but she grips the door frame, her eyes bursting with the gl
ow of igniting power within. “Don’t,” she says. “I don’t know what they want. It’s safer if you stay in the house.”

  But they’re angels, I want to argue, doesn’t that mean they’re the good guys?

  I nod instead, remembering the way the diviner looked at me that day at the police station in St. Louis. With disgust. Hatred. And the way the red-headed angel at the Midnight Court looked on with smug satisfaction while Dantalion fell. While Kincaid left and Tori dragged me away.

  No, I think. Perhaps they aren’t the good guys after all.

  I hear the door creak open downstairs, and I tiptoe down the hall. I won’t go down, I just want to be able to hear better. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I move to join Artemis at the edge of the bannister, pressing myself tightly against the wall to avoid notice. Casper joins us, rubbing himself across my shins in a weaving pattern as though nothing is the matter. Useless demon cat.

  “What are they doing here?” Artemis mouths, sidling up next to me.

  I shrug. “Don’t know.”

  “Tristane,” I hear Tori say, her voice a disinterested drawl. “To what do we owe the magnanimous pleasure of your company. Ah! Isolde. You’re here, too. How nice.”

  “Victoria,” the angel replies. I know it must be him because his voice sends shivers up my arms. Its honeyed, malice tone making me want to swoon and run for the hills all at the same time. “Is the master of the house at home?”

  “Afraid not. Though I’m guessing you already knew that.”

  I swear I can hear the angel smiling when he speaks again. “Too bad. We’ve come for a brief audience with his newest acquisition.”

  “Then you’ll have to come back when her master arrives.”

  “I have orders, Tori, don’t test me.”

  “As do I, Tristane.”

  My pulse thrums against the barred cage of my ribs, and I must look as worried as I feel because Artemis’ hand curls around mine, holding it tight. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “She’ll get rid of them.”

  Why wasn’t I so sure?

  And where the hell were Kincaid’s henchmen. He said he’d be doubling the number of them outside guarding the house.

  “What’s this?” Devereaux’s croaking voice joins the others downstairs, and I’m not sure why, the woman is the bane of my existence, but I feel almost compelled to rush down there and shoo her away.

  She’s old. She’s Diablim. She shouldn’t even be here.

  “Devereaux,” Tristane croons. “I’d ask how you managed to get here, but I think I may already know.”

  I hear her huff in reply, and without looking, I already know she’ll have her hands on her hips. She’ll be staring him down like he’s a stubborn toddler and she’s going to have to get out the wooden spoon. It’s a look she’s given me a hundred times this week.

  “We’re here to speak with Paige. She’ll need to accompany us for a brief conversation, and we’ll deposit her back here unharmed when we’re finished.”

  “Unlikely,” Devereaux mutters. “Like Victoria already told you, pinhead, the master isn’t at home. You’ll have to come back.”

  “Are you disobeying a celestial order?” Another voice, feminine with bite, rises above all the others. “Because that would be very unfortunate for you.”

  “Wait,” Artemis hisses, but I’ve already slipped my hand out of his and am halfway down the stairs.

  “We can talk here, can’t we?” I ask, gripping the bannister so hard I hear the wood groan under the pressure of my fingertips.

  Tristane stares past Tori to find me. He’s just as I remember him, but with the sun staining the sky a bright and vivid gold behind him, he looks even more like an angel now than he had before. His aura pulses with almost blinding light, making his polished copper hair look more gold. His steely eyes burrow into me while his lips slither into a full smile, showing two straight rows of teeth.

  The woman at his side has a strong aura, too, but it’s clear to see she is not a full-blooded angel. Even though her perfect blonde hair would be the envy of any god.

  “Ah,” Tristane expels cheerfully. “There you are.”

  Tori cuts me a scathing glare before turning back to face the angel and his retinue of three Nephilim. “I’m afraid Paige won’t be joining you. Come back when Kincaid returns.”

  I peer out, looking for help from the outside and catch sight of two of Kincaid’s men standing sentry at the bottom of the drive. I suppose messing with angels isn’t in the job description. Useless.

  Tori moves to close the door on them but Tristane’s polished mahogany boot stops her from closing it completely. Long fingers grip the edge of the door and force it open. The smile is gone from his angelic face when he regards Tori this time, and I rush forward to wrap my hand around her wrist and tug her back.

  Judging by the stark white of her fisted knuckles, she was thinking about punching a fucking angel.

  I’m no rocket scientist but that has bad idea written all over it.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Victoria,” he warns her, and in his icy stare, I see a flicker of truth. He really doesn’t want to hurt her. I look between them and for the first time notice a tension there. Something more than just the fact that he’s come to collect me and she’s here to keep me safe.

  “It’s fine,” I blurt. “I’ll go with you.”

  “The fuck you will,” Tori snarls, peeling my hand from her wrist.

  I grab her hand and jerk my chin back toward the stairs. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  Her nostrils flare.

  “Can you give us just a minute?” I ask the angel on our doorstep, and he removes his hand from the door but doesn’t budge from blocking our ability to close it.

  “A minute. No more.”

  I drag Tori toward the kitchen, and Casper pads along cheerfully behind us, his little bell jingling.

  “You can’t trust them!” she growls once we’re more than likely out of earshot.

  I shake my head. “I don’t, but I’m not going to watch them hurt any of you just because I refuse.”

  “Kincaid will kill me.”

  “Let her speak to them,” Devereaux chimes in, hobbling into the kitchen with us. She gestures to Casper who’s resumed brushing himself over my shins and purring like an idling engine. “If they meant Paige any harm, her bonded demon would be protecting her.”

  “Her…what?”

  I grimace. “Guess I forgot to mention that.”

  “No shit.”

  “It won’t do us any good to start a war on Asmodeus’ doorstep while he’s away,” Devereaux adds.

  “He’ll kill all of us if they hurt her,” Tori warns the old Necromancer, and she purses her lips.

  “I’m afraid we’ll die much sooner if we refuse their order. I’m still quite strong for an old lady. So are you and so is Paige. But I doubt even the three of us can stand up against a full-blooded angel and three high level Nephilim.”

  Tori groans loudly and grabs a fistful of her hair as though she means to pull it out. I get the sense that Devereaux is right, and she doesn’t like it one bit.

  “Fine,” she says finally. “But you are not leaving. If they want to talk to you, they can do it here.”

  Devereaux and I share a look.

  We both know that if they demand it, I’m not going to be able to argue.

  “How hard would it be to strip an angel of his soul?” I ask, just wanting to understand if I have any chance at all should it come to that.

  She smirks. “Just as impossible as stripping a demon’s.”

  I wink, trying to lighten the mood. “So not technically impossible, then.”

  “I can’t believe this shit,” Tori mutters to herself before brushing past me back the way we came.

  Devereaux and I follow, and Artemis gathers up the courage to come downstairs to join us, though he hovers just behind.

  Tori jabs a finger at Tristane, and I might be imagining it, but her skin turn
s even more ashen than usual. It looks…almost like stone. “You can talk to her right here, asshole. You have five minutes.”

  Tristane shakes his head, sending his loose copper hair sweeping over his brow. “I’m afraid that won’t do. We’ll be taking Paige to a secure location. But you have my word we’ll return her before dawn.”

  “Dawn?” Tori demands. “What the fuck do you think this is? Rent-a-Necro? You don’t get to just come here and take her.”

  All traces of humor leaves Tristane’s expression, replaced with the threat of violence. “You’re lucky my orders are not to keep her, Victoria, or else I’d happily take her from you and not return her at all.”

  Tori splutters for a response, her face turning a shade of ashen red before the color fades and her shoulders slump, defeated. “Then take me, too. I’ve been charged to watch over her, Tris. You know what he’ll do to me if he returns to find her gone.”

  “Your safety is not my concern anymore. It was your choice to deal with demons. Now you’ll reap the consequences of that decision.”

  “Tell him I made you let me go,” I offer to Tori and then turn to Art and Devereaux. “If Kincaid gets back before I do, tell him I’ll see him at dawn.”

  “Let’s not make a fuss,” Devereaux replies, patting me lightly on the bum to send me staggering forward. “Just take care of our girl. If she’s harmed, you’ll have more than one pissed off demon to contend with, you hear?”

  Tristane nods his understanding and takes me by the arm, sending a zap of spirit energy coursing through me like a fucking live wire. He recoils as though burned and moves to press a hand to my lower back instead, prodding me down the stairs to the open door of a black town car.

  “You made the right choice,” Tristane tells me.

  I whirl on him when we reach the car, letting the full force of my power show in my eyes. I can already feel the edges of his soul. I wonder if he can feel the press of my phantom fingers trailing over its ridge. “Don’t make me regret it.”

  21

  They take me across the city. Farther than The Freakshow, more to the west, to the outer edge of the city’s limits. By the time the car stops outside of an old, decrepit church, the sun is just moments from poking its bright brassy head down below the horizon.