The Devil's Due

by Jenna Black

  I might have been insulted that he didn’t seem to be reacting to my appearance if I hadn’t caught the quickly suppressed gleam in his eyes when he’d looked me over.

  “I’ve heard great things about this club,” I gushed, trying to look young and brainless. “I was wondering who I could talk to about maybe buying a membership.”

  He gave me another of those up-and-down looks, then smiled at me with what looked like regret. “Sorry, but our membership roster is full. The waiting list is about three months.”

  Yeesh! There were that many people who wanted to hang out at a demon sex club? I made a pouty face—maybe I was laying it on a little thick, but I’ve never been a big fan of subtlety.

  “Is it possible to buy a guest pass? I’d love to look around, get a feel for whether the place is worth waiting for.” A line was forming behind me, and I could feel the impatience at my back. Handsome Guy seemed to feel it, too, since his expression hardened into full authority-figure mode.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the club is only for members and their guests.”

  “We can make an exception for this one, Deke,” said a voice from over my left shoulder.

  I turned slowly, my fists automatically clenching at my sides, my teeth grinding as I struggled to control my primal impulses.

  Standing behind me, where she must have emerged from a nearby door marked Employees Only, was Shae, last name unknown to me, the owner of The Seven Deadlies. Approximately my height, with deep ebony skin and hair cut so short she was practically bald, Shae reminded me of a black panther, a creature of deadly grace and beauty. She was also a predator, a mercenary, and an illegal demon, whom Adam refused to arrest because she served as his snitch—when it was convenient to her.

  She was dressed all in red and black, an outfit that only heightened the aura of danger that clung to her. A black leather bustier, only half a shade darker than her skin, made the most of her minimal cleavage, the bloodred bow at the center drawing the eye. Her black leather pants were even tighter than my own, and her shoes—red patent leather pumps with spiky, four-inch heels—were a hell of a lot showier. She topped the outfit off with a dramatic floor-length black and red brocade duster.

  I’d taken an instant dislike to Shae when I’d first met her, and nothing since then had persuaded me to change my opinion. I had sort of hoped she either wouldn’t be here, or at least wouldn’t recognize me, but I should have known my luck wasn’t that good.

  She smiled her shark’s smile and put a hand on my arm, drawing me away from the window so the next schmuck in line could pay his way in. I let her touch me for about ten seconds, then jerked my arm from her grip. It was probably a good time to cut my losses and get the hell out of here, but as you may have noticed, I’m a bit stubborn. I had a plan, and I wasn’t going to let Evil Bitch from Hell ruin it.

  “I had no idea you enjoyed yourself so much the last time you were in my club,” Shae said, still smiling.

  I tried desperately not to think about the things that had happened the last time I’d set foot in here, but of course it didn’t work.

  “What can I say, I’m a glutton for punishment,” I responded, then instantly regretted it as Shae’s eyes gleamed.

  “You’ve come to the right place, sugar. Perhaps you’d like to venture down into Hell tonight as a participant, rather than an observer?”

  I managed to suppress my shudder, but I’m sure the revulsion showed in my eyes. Shae laughed, and I wondered what would happen if I gave in to my temptation to introduce her face to my fist. I didn’t wonder very long, though. She was a demon, and my own demon was helpless against her unless I let him take over. I had no particular desire to get my ass kicked tonight, so I reluctantly kept my temper in check.

  “Are you going to let me in or not?” I asked, not in the mood for a game of cat and mouse.

  “I already said I would, didn’t I?” She reached into what must have been an inner pocket in the duster, then handed me a voucher. “I’ll even throw in a free drink.”

  I took the voucher from her even as I wondered what the hell her game was. I don’t suppose she had any particular reason to dislike me—after all, she’d earned lots of money on me when one faction of demons paid her to help capture me and Adam paid her to help me escape. But I didn’t imagine she was welcoming me into her club with open arms because of any great affection she bore me, either.

  “What’s your angle?” I asked her suspiciously.

  “I have no angle,” she said, though her claim was patently false. “I regret some of the… difficulties you experienced the last time you were here. Since you were kind enough to stop by again, I figured it was the least I could do to show you the true face of The Seven Deadlies.”

  I knew full well I’d seen the true face already, and it was uglier than even I could have imagined. Common sense told me that if Shae wanted me to come into her club, then the intelligent thing to do was to run the other way as fast as I could. But I wanted to talk to Tommy Brewster, and here of all places he would be most likely to be willing to talk to me. After all, who would ever suspect a patron of a demon sex club of being an exorcist?

  “Your generosity is overwhelming,” I told Shae, and her eyes crinkled with amusement.

  “Suspicious little thing, aren’t you?” she asked, then continued before I could slip in a cutting retort. “As a sign of good faith, I won’t even make you check your Taser at the door.”

  That had been the part of this adventure I’d been dreading most. I’d been sure my Taser would be confiscated before I would be allowed into the heart of the club. The idea of walking unarmed into a club full of demons hadn’t exactly thrilled me, but I hadn’t thought there was an alternative.

  I was caught between two aphorisms that seemed particularly relevant to the situation: “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” and “If it sounds too good to be true, it is.” Shouting down my more sensible side, I told myself that as long as I had my Taser, I couldn’t get into too much trouble.

  Shae nodded approvingly as she saw the decision on my face, then led me past the line at the entrance and into the club itself.

  The music was so loud it almost knocked me over, and I couldn’t hear whatever Shae said to me in parting. Probably just as well. She smiled at me, her eyes glinting, then melted away into the crowd.

  I stood in the entrance for a while, trying to adjust to the sensory assault. The last time I’d been in here, the music had been a heavy, tuneless techno with a beat that made my teeth rattle. This time it was ear-splitting hip-hop, but it still made my teeth rattle. I figured it was just as well I couldn’t understand the lyrics.

  The dance floor was packed with gyrating bodies, some dancing in couples, some in groups, and some just doing their own thing. Here and there, I spotted people wearing angel halos or devil horns, picked up from the table just beside the entrance. They were cheesy as hell, but somehow seemed sinister now that I knew what they meant. People wearing the halos were in the market for some “vanilla sex,” and if they found a compatible partner, they would go up the stairs under the sign that said Heaven and rent a room for a little old-fashioned roll in the hay. Those wearing horns wanted to go down into the basement aptly named Hell, where the sex was anything but vanilla.

  It was in Hell that the demons had held Brian, hiding him in plain sight in a place where screams weren’t necessarily sounds of distress. If Tommy was down there, you could bet your ass I wasn’t going in after him.

  Of course, considering how packed the club was, I wasn’t sure my chances of finding him were all that great no matter where he was. Not knowing what else to do, I weaved and elbowed my way through the crowd until I reached the bar. I used the voucher Shae had given me to buy my favorite drink, a piña colada, then snagged a stool at the far end of the bar, where I had a decent view of most of the club.

  It was a nightclub of course, so it was mostly dark as a pit. I stared out into that darkness, examining faces in whatever
scraps of light I could find, hoping to spot Tommy. No luck, but then the night was young. I sipped my drink and wondered what the hell I was doing here. It wasn’t like Tommy was going to spill his guts the moment I started talking to him, or like I could do anything about it even if he admitted to being an illegal.

  I sat there for maybe an hour, alternately scanning the crowd for a glimpse of a familiar face, and trying to talk myself into giving up. I’d already been hit on three times, twice by guys who were probably demons, once by a guy who definitely was not. The Spirit Society has strict standards as to what makes an acceptable host for their damned Higher Powers, and a five-foot-four man with a beer belly and no neck definitely did not qualify. The fact that he was wearing the devil horns did not improve the impression he made.

  When he came back for another try, I decided I’d had enough. Without even speaking to the little twerp, I started making my way toward the door.

  By what had become habit, I continued to scan the crowd. I stumbled to a halt when I finally caught sight of a familiar face. Only it wasn’t the familiar face I’d been expecting.

  There across the room from me, looking loose-limbed and relaxed as he closed the door to Hell behind him, was Adam. And the man exiting Hell at his side was most definitely not Dominic.

  Chapter 10

  I stood rooted to the floor, staring across the room, hardly believing what I was seeing. For all of Adam’s faults, I never for a moment would have suspected him of cheating on Dom. I felt a stab of pain in my heart for Dom’s sake.

  I don’t know what made Adam look up and meet my eyes, whether it was just chance or some kind of gut instinct. But when he saw me, his eyes widened in shock and he froze in his tracks. His shoulders slumped, and then his gaze flickered upward and landed somewhere above my left shoulder.

  I couldn’t not look, even though I knew he might be trying to fake me out so he could escape the club without having to face me.

  He wasn’t faking me out. Standing on the balcony above the dance floor, smiling smugly, was Shae. And now I understood exactly why she’d let me in.

  Shae cooperated with Adam because if she didn’t, she’d either be exorcized or executed, but she’d made it abundantly clear how much she resented it. She would happily take advantage of any chance to hurt him, even if it meant hurting Dominic in the process. Maybe even especially if it meant hurting Dom—she had certainly seemed to enjoy it before.

  I dragged my eyes away from Shae and found that, far from fleeing, Adam was making his way through the crowd toward me. I was torn between wanting to avoid him and wanting to rip him a new one. I hadn’t reached a decision yet when he came to a stop directly in front of me.

  I’d never seen him looking anything like this before—embarrassed, uncertain, maybe even vulnerable. But considering he was as good as tearing Dom’s heart out, I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him.

  “At the risk of sounding like a cliché,” he shouted into my ear, the music almost drowning out his words, “it’s not what you think.”

  My hand itched to draw the Taser and give him a good zap in a vulnerable spot. I managed to refrain, though my opinion of him must have shown clearly on my face.

  His eyes darted away from mine. “At least hear me out before you jump to conclusions,” he begged.

  I’d have loved to tell him to go shove it up his ass, but no matter what I thought of him, he was going to be part of Lugh’s inner circle, which meant I would have to find a way to tolerate him no matter how much I loathed him. I couldn’t force a civil word out of my mouth, but I indicated my willingness to listen with a brief, jerky nod.

  “Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he shouted. I didn’t answer, but when he started heading toward the door, I followed. I had to wait until he could retrieve his sidearm from the coat-check girl, or whatever she was, but soon we were out the door into the relatively fresh air.

  Exiting the club—the noise, the crowd, the demons, the unpleasant vibes—was a relief, even though South Street was far from deserted at this time of night. Adam started down the street, and I fell into resentful step beside him, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

  Unlike many of the regulars at The Seven Deadlies, Adam didn’t dress like an S&M cover model when he visited. Instead, he wore conservative khaki pants, a white oxford shirt, and a light linen jacket to conceal his shoulder holster. He had both his hands shoved into his pants pockets right now, and his eyes were fixed on the sidewalk ahead of him.

  My lip curled up in a sneer. “If it wasn’t what I thought, why do you look so goddamn guilty?”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, and I saw him swallow hard. “I didn’t have sex with that guy,” he said, still staring at the pavement.

  I barked out a laugh. “In the same way Bill Clinton didn’t have sex with that woman?”

  He looked at me now, anger flashing in his eyes. But he must have been feeling really crummy, because he didn’t lash out at me. “Let me rephrase that more emphatically—nothing of a sexual nature happened. I don’t go to Hell for the sex.”

  I thought about that a moment and realized I understood what he was saying even though he wasn’t willing to put the whole ugly truth into words. “You go there so you can get your rocks off torturing demons in a way Dominic could never handle now that Saul is gone.”

  “It’s not about sex!” Adam insisted, loudly enough that a couple of passersby turned to look. Adam caught the eye of the most blatant of them and snarled. The Goth chick lowered her pierced eyebrow and looked quickly away.

  Once upon a time, I’d allowed Adam to “play” with me, to satisfy his lust for pain in return for his aid in rescuing Brian. I remembered all too well the feel of his body pressing against my back as he bound my hands above my head.

  “I’ve had up-close-and-personal experience,” I snapped in a furious undertone. “I know—”

  “You know nothing!” he interrupted.

  I stopped, unable to keep walking casually down the sidewalk while simultaneously fighting Adam and my insidious memories. Adam stopped, too, crowding into my personal space and glaring down at me. I matched him glare for glare.

  “I felt how you reacted, you asshole,” I said, poking him in the chest for emphasis.

  He grabbed my wrist and wrenched it painfully downward. I suppressed a cry of protest, afraid he’d enjoy it too much. “I told you, it was a conditioned response, not true sexual desire. I have no interest in fucking anyone but Dom.”

  My eyes started to water from the pain as his hand closed ever more tightly on my wrist, but I didn’t back down. “And would Dom see it that way if he knew what you were up to?”

  I knew I’d read the guilt in his eyes correctly when he suddenly shoved me away from him, hard. My back slammed into a metal grille that protected a plate-glass window advertising Tarot readings and “spiritual advice.” The air whooshed out of my lungs, and my knees buckled beneath me. Apparently, this was my week for being beat up by my supposed allies.

  My ass landed on the pavement with a teeth-clacking thump, and for half a second I thought I was going to pass out. Then I managed to drag some air into my lungs, and I realized I would stay wide awake so I could feel the bruises as they began to spring up all over my back. I wondered if they’d make a diamond-shaped design to match the grille that created them.

  Adam did another of his intimidating glares at the passersby, and when one didn’t take the hint, he pulled his badge. That caused the crowd to disperse in a hurry, so Adam was able to focus his attention on me once more. He came to squat in front of me, and there was no apology in his eyes.

  “You’d better not say a goddamn thing to Dom about this,” he growled. “He might understand. My host thinks he would. But I’m not willing to risk hurting him.”

  I swallowed my impulse to ask him what exactly he would do to me if I told Dom. As I knew from personal experience, he could do any number of awful things to me without killing me, and since Lugh could fix me ri
ght up, he’d probably even get away with it. Instead, I met his eyes and asked him a question he had every reason to think was purely hypothetical.

  “So if you could get Saul back into Dom’s body, would you do it?”

  “No!” he answered with gratifying speed. “I like Saul. He’s my friend, and has been for centuries. We enjoyed ourselves immensely walking the Mortal Plain together, and I’ll see him again when my time on the Mortal Plain is up.” He swallowed hard. “But I love Dominic, and he won’t be waiting for me in the Demon Realm. I don’t want to risk hurting him. It has nothing to do with covering my own ass.”

  This was as candid as I’d ever seen Adam, and there was no longer any doubt in my mind that what I saw in his eyes was indeed vulnerability. The only strong emotion I’d ever seen from him before was fury. This was a whole different side to him, one I wasn’t sure I wanted to see. Not with the message Lugh had tasked me with delivering.

  I let out a long sigh, and my voice when I spoke was devoid of the judgmental overtones that had filled it before. “Can we go somewhere more comfortable? We need to talk.”

  Adam blinked as though surprised by what must have sounded almost like capitulation. Then he nodded briskly and rose to his feet, offering me a hand up. Internally wincing in case he should squeeze as hard as he had before, I took his hand and let him drag me to my feet. A quick glance at the grille showed me a Morgan-sized indentation in the middle. It looked like I was lucky not to have any broken bones.

  Adam stuffed his hands back into his pockets and continued down the street. I supposed I had no choice but to follow.

  “Are you going to tell Dom?” he asked.

  I let out my breath with a whoosh. “No.” I didn’t want to hurt Dom any more than Adam did.

  He slanted a look at me. “Are you sure?”