Dark Gift

by Kim Richardson

  I looked at Jax, my boiling blood seeming to burn through my skin. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” But when I looked at the detective, at the calculating gleam in his eyes, I could tell he was silently agreeing with Jax.

  Crap. What the hell was Jax thinking? The human police weren’t prepared for this. They’d end up just being another demon meal. The police where already scared half out of their minds. Mixed with their religious beliefs, the demons would feed on their fears. That fear was intoxicating to demons, and they’d be drawn to the easy targets.

  I felt the blood leave my face when I caught Ethan and Jax sharing a look. Jax wanted this. I could see it in his face. He wanted to use the human police as bait. Damn. What the hell had happened to him in the Netherworld?

  My thoughts drifted to that kiss we’d shared, a threesome-kiss really, considering it had also involved Jeeves. But there was nothing there. I felt no emotions except for anger and a little repulsion at his heartless view of human life.

  “It’ll work,” Jax insisted, but all he was doing was sending these humans to an early grave. A quiver rose through me, tightening in my gut. I wanted to punch him, but I managed to keep my hands where they were.

  Detective Walsh turned to Jax, his mouth pursed in thought. “I like your idea,” said the man after a long moment of silence. “We’re going to follow Jaxon’s plan.”

  I stood with my hands on my hips, angry. “You’re making a mistake,” I said, talking fast.” You do this, people will die.”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you.” The detective’s pudgy face met mine, and this close, I realized I was taller than him. “Thank you, Miss Sinclair. But I won’t be needing your services anymore.”

  My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t help it. Crap. There went some seriously good money down the crapper. Thanks, Jax.

  Jax smiled at me, knowing he’d just cost me money and possibly a long-term contract with the New York City Police Department. His stance was confident, like he’d just won the first round at poker. It sent a warning through the pit of my gut. He was changed and not in a good way.

  “We all want the same thing,” said Ethan, seeing the anger in my posture and my face. “We all want to stop these killings before it gets worse. We just want to catch these bad guys, same as you.”

  “Bad guys?” You mean demons. I raised my brows but I felt ill at the smug look on Jax’s face.

  Son of a bitch. More anger fanned to life.

  The detective’s phone rang and when he looked at it he paled. “Detective Walsh,” he answered and quickly moved away from us to be out of earshot. But from the tension in his voice I knew he was speaking to the mayor.

  “I want to see the body.” I didn’t wait for permission, although I’d just been dismissed, as I brushed past Jax and headed towards the gurney.

  I never thought I could hate Jax, knowing the hell he’d been through, but right now that burning, enraged sting in my gut felt very much like hate.

  I rushed towards the lump I figured was the head. My heart pounded as I reached over, grabbed a fistful of the cloth, and yanked it up, pulling it over the victim’s head and down to her chest. The stench of blood and carrion flooded over me. The scent of urine joined the other smells. I let the sheet fall. Her face was grotesquely swollen with dark, savage bruises. My eyes traveled down to the mess of blood, loose flesh, and guts that were barely holding inside the mutilated cavity of her abdomen.

  I knew instantly that she was a half-breed, and the scent of earth mixed with pine and vinegar told me she was a witch. Damn. My heart clenched. She was young. Not much older than me. And they had tortured her. Mutilated her. And for what? They were seemingly unconnected dead half-breeds but shared similar patterns of death.

  Silently, I moved down the body slowly, my gaze moving towards her chest as I angled my head so I could read the letters. I wanted to see for myself if what Jax and the detective said was true.

  My eyes moved to the five letters carved into her chest—and my heart stopped.

  I felt a wash of panic. No. This can’t be.

  Jax came out from behind me. I could smell him, his expensive cologne, but my eyes were fixed on the word carved into the witch’s chest.

  “Rowyn, what’s the matter?” asked Jax. “What does it say? Rowyn! What does it say!”

  I clenched my jaw. It wasn’t that I was purposely not answering or trying to keep this from him, even though all he deserved was a good ol’ fashion ass whoopin. The words wouldn’t come. My mouth wouldn’t open, like I’d sewn my lips shut.

  I felt like I was having an out of body experience, floating above my own body and staring down at it. I felt myself detach from reality.

  This can’t be happening.

  I felt sick. Bile rose up to my throat and I strained to keep it down. I stared at the demonic word carved into her chest, feeling my knees about to give in.

  And when I felt Jax grab my arm, I let him. I didn’t even flinch. “Rowyn? What does it say? Tell me!”

  But I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell him what the five-letter word staring back at me was.

  This had to be some sick, twisted joke. It had to be. Because the word that was carved into the witch’s chest wasn’t a word. It was a name.

  And the name was ROWYN.

  13

  “And it spelled ROWYN? Are you sure?” asked Tyrius for the third time as we drove off from my grandmother’s place and across town with both baals sitting in the front seat. Tyrius sat next to me while Kora huddled near the passenger-side window.

  “Positive,” I answered as I slowed the car at the next stop sign, making sure not to throw off both cats before speeding up again. “It was my name, Tyrius. My freaking name was carved on that witch’s chest.” I swallowed hard, still remembering the pained look on her face and knowing they’d written my name on her while she was still alive. Damn.

  I was wired tightly, barely able to focus on the road. My name etched into that witch’s pale skin kept flashing before my eyes. I blinked. But there it was again, floating in my line of sight, plaguing my vision.

  The cuts were deep, hacked two or three inches into her chest. Chunks of flesh still hung on thin threads, showing me pale bones peeking through. The letters were cut with clear and even strokes, as though the killer had taken the time to carve them out perfectly to make them legible. It wanted to make sure there was no mistaking the name. My name. ROWYN.

  My head swam in a chaotic swirl of emotions, confusion, fear, anger, and guilt. I gritted my teeth as another wave of bile rose up in my throat, threatening to come out. My belly twitched and I forced myself to take a breath. Calm down, Rowyn.

  “Demon balls,” grumbled Tyrius, his ears flat on his head as his tail lashed out behind him. “This makes no sense at all. None. Why put the word half-breed on two of the victims, only to change it to your name?”

  “Because they’re screwing with me. That’s why,” I answered, blinking fast, knowing it to be true. An ill feeling slipped between my thought and reason as I realized these killings had been about me all along. It had always been about me. They’d killed those innocent half-breeds and tortured them because of me.

  “It’s a game,” I said, and I heard a slight tremor in my voice. Not from fear, but from a deep, dark fury that only wanted one thing—to kill. “It’s always been a game,” I growled, feeling the blisters forming on the bottoms of my fingers from gripping the wheel. My blood pounded in anger.

  I was going to get these bastards. I was going to find them, and then I was going to kill them, very, very slowly—and I was going to enjoy it. I was going to do to them what they did to those victims, and then some.

  “Rowyn, you’re speeding,” said Kora suddenly. Her sweet high-pitched voice always surprised me. I released my foot from the gas. Shit. I was going forty over the speed limit. I let out a long breath and focused on the road. Getting into an accident would be royally stupid right now.

  Tyrius let o
ut a sigh and then scooted over to me and pressed his paw on my thigh. Tension slipped from me, and sensing it, he leaned until his body pressed against my leg. “Calm down, Rowyn, before you give yourself a heart attack.”

  “I am calm.” No I wasn’t. I was literally jumping out of my skin sitting down.

  “We’re going to figure this out,” said my furry friend. “I promise. I’ve never let you down. I will figure this out.”

  “We both will,” Kora encouraged.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. I struggled to breathe. Those deaths were on me. And it hurt like a broken knife across my soul.

  “Why would the demons do that?” questioned Kora. I looked over at her startling golden-colored eyes, filled with anger. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why, Rowyn?”

  “They’re calling her out,” said Tyrius, before I could answer. “They want her to find them. They want to make sure she knows they know who she is.”

  Bastards.

  The tension in the car spiked. In an angry motion, I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable, but only managed to worsen my stiff neck. I pulled my attention back to the road ahead of us, feeling a cold sweat trickle down my back, and I was shaking from the surge of excited energy that spiked through my body. I was going to need a shower, a very long shower.

  “I also think killing half-breeds over the easier human targets says something too,” added Tyrius after a moment, and I heard Kora meow in agreement with him. “I just don’t know what. But I’m going to find out.”

  I had thought about that as well. Why kill half-breeds when they were stronger and more resilient to demons than the soft, easy human flesh, and a favorite for all demons? Yes, pure demons hated half-breeds, but it wasn’t about that anymore. It was about me. They’d killed the half-breed and tagged her with my name. And there was only one reason they’d do this.

  “They want me to be blamed for this,” I said, looking at both cats. “They used my name like a signature, so I’d take the fall for the killings.” It was the only explanation that made sense at the moment. Like I didn’t have enough problems. I didn’t need this right now.

  Tyrius swore. “If the Gray Council gets word of this... if you’re found guilty...” A small growl escaped Tyrius. “You know what that means, right?”

  “A big ol’ noose around my pretty neck,” I said, hating the quiver in my voice. “There would be no trip to the Silent Gallows for me.” No. They’d kill me.

  “The Gray Council can’t be that stupid,” said Tyrius. “Okay. I take that back. They are uncommonly stupid, but you can’t deny basic logic that you wouldn’t put your own name on your own victims. That’s Elementary Murder 101.”

  “I would if I was psychotic and I wanted to take credit for the killings,” I said with a shrug.

  Tyrius swore again. “It almost feels... who’s ever doing this....”

  “It’s personal.” I knew I was right. Why else write my name in bold letters for me to find? A cold chill slipped up from the base of my spine and slithered over my neck.

  Tyrius became quiet. “You’ve got your long list of enemies,” he said after a lengthy moment of silence. “And it keeps growing. Any ideas who’s doing this? Who profits the most from your death?”

  I raised my brows. I had to think about that. My first thought was the Legion of angels. But putting bodies up for display wasn’t their style. Angels were secretive. The last thing they’d want was to alarm the human population. But it was more likely they didn’t like to get their hands dirty when it came to half-breed affairs.

  No, it wasn’t the angels. The angel essence Tyrius had felt at the crime scene had to be residue from Jax and Ethan who’d been there before us.

  Everything about these killings screamed demon, but it could also be planted clues left for the sole purpose of making me think it was demons, when in fact it wasn’t. I was so screwed.

  “You think it’s the dark hag Evanora?” asked Tyrius, his features squished in a grimace. “She almost bled you to death.”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s not the witch, or the werewolves, or the vampires. I don’t think they’re senseless enough to kill their own just to spite me.”

  “Maybe the fae?” prompted Kora, her brows rising. “Perhaps seeking revenge for the death of their beloved queen?”

  I let out a breath and turned left at the next light. “If the fae wanted me dead for what I did to their queen, they would have sent Dark Arrows to kill my ass months ago. It’s not them.”

  “My money’s on a certain, red, butt-ugly demon,” said Tyrius. The worry was clear in his bright blue eyes, and I knew exactly which demon he was referring to—or rather, Greater demon.

  “Degamon,” I said, seeing his eyes creasing in concern. “He’s the only one with the skill and the incentive to do this. I’ve trapped him in a summoning circle and threatened him. I bet he’s still very ticked about that.” Remembering how angry he was almost put a smile on my face.

  “Ticked enough to go through all this trouble?” pondered Tyrius. The doubt in his voice pulled my eyes off the road to look at him. “I’ll admit, he has enough igura demons to do most of the leg work. But would he do this? Put the bodies on display like that?”

  “Who else could it be?” My voice rose, and I immediately regretted it. “He’d been summoned by the archangel Vedriel to kill all the Unmarked,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even. “I’m the only one left.”

  “But he’s not trying to kill you. Is he?” pointed out Tyrius.

  “Not yet.” I couldn’t keep my own doubts from my voice. What Tyrius was saying made sense. Why not just kill me if that’s really what the Greater demon wanted? But if it wasn’t Degamon, who was killing the half-breeds and had carved my name on the witch?

  “So, the Greater demon Degamon, one of the most prominent demon douchebags in the Netherworld is playing art with half-breed bodies just to get your attention?” Tyrius shrugged. I turned in time to see him share a look with Kora. “I’m not sure,” continued the baal. “But then again, most Greater demons are psychotic bastards. This might be something he does just to kill time.”

  “This is so messed up,” I breathed.

  “Sucks demon balls,” mewed the cat. He hesitated a moment, and then, “Did you tell Jax it was your name, written on the witch?” His eyes were wide with worry.

  I shook my head, my heart pounding in my ears so hard I thought they might start bleeding.

  “Yeah, right,” I laughed bitterly. “There’s no way in hell I was going to tell him anything.” The thought of how he’d been with me, his cold exterior, sent a wave of anger through me. “But it’s only a matter of time before Jax and Ethan figure it out. Jax is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.” Bastard was one. Son of a bitch was another. And then there’s always major douche. “And then I’ll be blamed for this.”

  “But you didn’t do it!” shouted Tyrius, the fur over his body bristling like he’d just come from a cat groomer.

  I flicked my eyes back on the road. “No, shit.”

  I rolled down the window, letting in the cool spring air, and it brushed against my hot cheeks. I took the next right, my fingers white from grasping the wheel like I was trying to snap it in half.

  I’d left the crime scene a shaking mess, practically running back to my car and feeling like I was about to spew Gareth’s pancakes.

  Tyrius hissed out a breath. “Maybe Jax will keep quiet. He knows you didn’t do this. He can’t be that much of a jerk.”

  Tension pulled my neck even stiffer. “You wanna bet?” I said, massaging my hand against my neck. “Jax’s changed. If he thinks I’m responsible, he’ll throw me to the wolves. I’ll stake my life on it.”

  A sudden clenching of my chest took my breath away. I had archdemon in me. If Jax or the Gray Council found out about that, it would mean another noose around my neck. Lisbeth was the only council member who know about it. She still needed me to work for her, so she would never
tell the other council members.

  “We should have left Jeeves in Jax’s body,” said Tyrius, startling me. He sat back. “Never liked that pompous angel-born. No human should have silky hair like that. It’s not natural.”

  I wanted to laugh, but my lips just quirked up in what I’m guessing looked more like a grimace than a smile. There had been a new evil side to Jax, something I’d never seen before, something new, something dark. He lacked empathy, as though the emotion had stayed behind in the Netherworld.

  But right now I had bigger problems than trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Jax. My grip tightened on the wheel. If Degamon did this, the demon bastard was going to pay.

  “Please tell me you’re not going to try and summon Degamon,” came Tyrius’s strained voice.

  I clenched my jaw, my hands slipping on the wheel. “I’ve done it before—”

  “Are you out of your angel-demon mind!” shouted Tyrius, nearly on my lap. “You can’t—ow!” he screeched and fell back. I turned to see Kora pulling back her right paw.

  “Don’t shout at Rowyn,” scowled Kora. “She’s driving.”

  Tyrius looked like a sulky kitten. “Rowyn,” he attempted again, his voice low, “you know summoning demons is bad. Things always have a habit of going catastrophically wrong. Especially when you do it—no offense.”

  “I’m very offended,” I said, seeing Father Thomas’s house at the end of the street. “I’m doing the summoning. And after tonight, we’ll know if it’s Degamon or not.”

  “And if it is Degamon,” tested Tyrius. “What then?”

  “I’ll kill him.”

  “Really?” scoffed Tyrius. “How do you plan on killing a Greater demon? With your killer looks? Think, Rowyn. Degamon is extremely powerful. You can’t just kill him with a few dark spells or a soul blade.”