Something Wicked

by Michelle Rowen

  Andy waved a hand. “Oh, I know that.”

  Darrak was surprised. “You do?”

  “You do?” Eden echoed.

  “Sure. I’m a good judge of character.” He shook out his flask, confirming it was now empty, and placed it next to the untouched coffees on his desk. “I’ve never sensed anything evil in you. And even with the, uh, revelations of the day, I’m sticking by my original impression.” He moved to hunt through his desk drawer, succeeding in pulling out another flask. “And I’m also going to get completely shit faced starting right now. Just wanted to let you know.”

  Darrak gave him a tense smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Now if the drama of the day is over, I need you to pour through my recent files, Eden. Make sure everything’s in order. There’s enough here to keep you busy all day . . . that is, if you’ve recovered from . . . whatever that was.”

  Good old Andy. He’d never suggest she take the day off sick. It was strange, but she felt nothing now—not even a twinge. It was as if what had happened had all been in her imagination. But it wasn’t.

  “Don’t you want to know any more about Darrak?” she asked, surprised that Andy was willing to take everything he’d learned so far at face value.

  Andy pursed his lips. “Is he going to kill me and drag my soul through the gates of Hell?”

  “No!” she yelped, but then frowned. “At least . . . I don’t think so.”

  That earned her a look from the demon. “Your soul is safe around me, Andy. I don’t drag souls back to Hell anymore.”

  Andy gulped. “Anymore?”

  “Uh . . .” Darrak grimaced. “Time changes many things.”

  “Indeed it does,” Andy agreed.

  Time changes many things. Was it true? How could she ever know for sure? Yesterday at this time she’d believed in Darrak 100 percent. They’d been through enough together for him to earn her trust. But what if she was wrong?

  You’re not wrong, she told herself. Ben is overreacting.

  That was it. And now it would be best if she immersed herself in work for the rest of the day. Tonight they’d go back to Luxuria and find Stanley, the wizard’s assistant. That was all she wanted to focus on.

  “Are the phones working again?” she asked.

  “They are.” Andy frowned. “Strangest thing. It’s like it was some kind of power surge.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again,” Darrak said, although he didn’t seem certain about it. She could still see the worry in his blue eyes.

  Eden forced a smile. “Fingers crossed.”

  His gaze met hers. “You know, golden boy’s not going to give up on you.”

  “I know. But at the moment, Ben Hanson is the least of my worries.”

  At least, she really hoped so.

  SEVEN

  Three hundred years ago (give or take)

  If there was one place that knew how to do torture right, it was Hell.

  And if there was one being that could take it, it was an archdemon.

  “That was fantastic,” Darrak gritted out as he was dragged in front of Lucifer. “I feel so much more relaxed now. Thank you, my prince.”

  Coal black eyes stared back at him from the darkness. Darrak felt his wounds healing rapidly and tried to put the last three months out of his mind as much as he could.

  “You liked it, did you?” Lucifer’s voice was cold. “Perhaps you’d enjoy a few more months of the same treatment?”

  Darrak swallowed. “That is entirely up to you, of course.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Lucifer rose from his throne. Darrak’s eyesight was blurry, but he saw Lucifer’s outline. It glowed a little. Remnants from his beginnings as an angel. A constant reminder of where the Prince of Hell, the Lord of Pride, had come from.

  “Although,” Darrak reasoned, “I would serve you much better at your side.”

  “Would you? I have to argue with that. Is there anything you want to tell me, Darrakayiis?”

  “Like what?”

  Lucifer smiled. “I know you want to destroy me.”

  Darrak went very still. He said nothing.

  “I have to say I’m surprised. I’ve given you so much. I took you from your humble beginnings as an incubus and gave you the power of an archdemon. And you choose to repay me by plotting my demise. Do you really think it would be that easy?”

  Panic ripped through him. This was all Theo’s fault. Stupid plan. But he hadn’t heard any more about it in a hundred years.

  He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Lucifer waved a hand, sealing Darrak’s mouth shut. It felt as if he was being choked. Demons couldn’t die as humans do, but they could feel pain and they could be destroyed—some more easily than others. Since Lucifer was the one who’d originally created Darrak from hellfire, he had more power over him than any other being in the universe. A simple thought from him would be enough to end Darrak’s existence.

  Darrak hated being at another’s mercy.

  If nothing else, at least he was dealing with a coherent Lucifer. Sometimes he wasn’t like this—he turned into more of a beast, one that couldn’t be reasoned with. One that only wanted to destroy anything that came into his path. That was when Lucifer insisted on being called Satan.

  Total split personality.

  “I know you’ve been working with Asmodeus,” Lucifer said evenly. “He hired you to destroy me so he could take my throne.”

  Huh? That was surprising. Darrak had seen Asmo briefly last year, but it hadn’t been a meeting of conspiracy. Asmo, being the Lord of Lust, had needed some input from an ex-incubus about his own growing harem of human souls. Darrak happened to be an expert on the subject.

  That was all it was.

  Where had Lucifer gotten this information?

  “The thing is,” Lucifer said, “I will get to Asmodeus before he comes close to destroying me. But I won’t destroy him completely. I’m going to make him suffer for his sins.”

  Terrific. The Prince of Hell lecturing a demon about sinning. Something seemed wrong about that.

  “As for you—” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “What shall I do with you?”

  Let me go on my merry way, you crazy ex-angel? Darrak thought. Being that he had no mouth, presently, he couldn’t speak this aloud.

  “Shall I return you to your incubus self?” he mused. “Or should your punishment be a bit more severe than a slap on the wrist?”

  Darrak waited to be decimated. It couldn’t hurt any more than three months of torture had. He hoped. He’d been totally faking it when he said he’d enjoyed it.

  Torture was not enjoyable, even for a demon.

  Lucifer smiled. “I think I have it. There was a time that I went against the rules set forth for me and I was cast out of Heaven. Have you heard that story?”

  Many times. Yawn.

  “For my beliefs, for my so-called pride and untrustworthiness, I was evicted from the only home I’d ever known. The protection and love of Heaven was no longer mine.” His voice twisted with pain, and Darrak could have sworn there was a shine of tears in his black eyes. “Being here, created by me, you have been under my protection for all these centuries. This is something that you’ve obviously taken for granted. You’ve attempted to use my trust in you against me. Believe me when I say this, Darrakayiis, it will not happen again.” He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. “So that is how it shall be—my decision is made. I wish you luck. You will need it.”

  Darrak’s mouth appeared again, and he gasped as a light breeze touched his leathery skin, the flames that coated him extinguishing for a moment before they lit again as bright and hot as before. He looked down at himself, expecting to see a change, but saw nothing different.

  He looked up at the throne, but Lucifer had already disappeared.

  “You have been under my protection for all these centuries. This is something that you’ve obviously taken for granted.”

  Whatever that meant.

  Maybe th
is was a test to see how Darrak would react. To see if he’d sell out Theo at the first opportunity to divert attention from himself. Lucifer was wrong, after all. Asmodeus hadn’t conspired with Darrak to destroy Lucifer.

  Uh, that had been Theo.

  Asmo was in big trouble. That demon lord wasn’t the smartest one in Hell—usually he ignored Hell’s politics in favor of being preoccupied by his dens of lust and building his harem to be bigger than Lucifer’s. It was his hobby. Asmo would never see it coming.

  Oh well, not Darrak’s problem.

  He stood from his position on his knees and stretched. He felt fine. Better than fine, really. There was nothing like three months of torture to give you a new lease on—

  There was a sudden twinge in his chest. Then his left horn began to tingle. What was that?

  He looked around the dark room. Could he hear . . . chanting?

  Yes, chanting. A woman’s voice. Latin words. Familiar, somehow.

  It was a—he listened closely before his eyes widened in recognition. It was a summoning ritual. And it wasn’t originating from Hell itself.

  But how could he—?

  He gasped as he was suddenly pulled upward through Hell’s core, through the gates, up through the vast expanse of nothingness, and into the human world. It felt as if he’d been crushed by a huge hand and then mashed down into the soft ground and grass and . . . he blinked . . . were those daisies?

  He was crouched in the center of a circle of salt.

  Looking up, he saw a beautiful dark-haired woman staring at him, her hand held to her mouth in surprise.

  “But you are a . . .” She inhaled sharply. “An archdemon. I only meant to summon an incubus.”

  Summon. She’d summoned him?

  Archdemons didn’t get summoned. They couldn’t be summoned. It was in the job description.

  He really didn’t have time for this.

  He bared his razor-sharp teeth at her, and she cowered away from him.

  “Let me out of this circle, woman,” he snarled.

  It took only a moment for the fear to leave her expression. He couldn’t move, couldn’t escape. And she knew it.

  Her lips began to move again. Another spell, but he wasn’t sure what it was. When she was finished, she took a deep breath.

  “Tell me your true name, demon,” she said with command in her voice.

  “Darrakayiis,” he replied without hesitation, but then fury rippled through him. How did she make him say it aloud? Giving her his true name gave her near-absolute power over him.

  It had to be a spell.

  “You’re a witch,” he said.

  “Yes. But I want to be a much more powerful one,” she told him. “Show me your human visage, Darrakayiis.”

  He tried to resist, but it was impossible. He shifted form as she requested. Her gaze swept appreciatively over him.

  “Very good,” she said. “You’re going to make me a black witch. That’s why I’ve summoned you. I’ve already cast a spell over you that will make this possible.”

  Ah, a woman with aspirations. Intriguing. Still annoying, but it was vaguely intriguing as well. “That’s truly what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “What else do you want from me?” he asked.

  She smiled and he could see the dark greed in her eyes. “Everything you’ve got to give.”

  Lucifer was responsible for this. Whatever happened now to Darrak was entirely Lucifer’s fault. Lucifer had removed Hell’s protection over Darrak, leaving him vulnerable to be summoned by this common witch.

  One day soon he’d get his revenge. Right after he’d killed this witch for having the audacity to think she could use him as she pleased.

  This wouldn’t take too long, would it?

  EIGHT

  Andy proceeded to get so drunk thanks to his hidden supply of alcohol that he had to call a taxi to take him home at five o’clock. Darrak spent most of the day at Hot Stuff next door—no more than a hundred feet away—giving Eden the chance to concentrate on Andy’s poorly written case files as she tried to make sense of them.

  It was good to have something to focus on, even if it was trying to decipher really bad handwriting.

  She forced herself not to think about anything that had happened earlier. But not thinking didn’t change a damn thing.

  The bell jingled at ten after six. Eden looked up to see Darrak had returned.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  Sunset.

  Darrak held his hand over his stomach. Perspiration had broken out on the demon’s forehead, his shoulders were hunched, and he looked like he was in severe pain. She knew why.

  Her heart began to race, but she nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  As the sun slipped fully behind the horizon, Eden watched as Darrak’s six-foot-tall form grew darker and more transparent until he changed completely into a cloud of black smoke hanging in the air in front of her.

  She shrank away from him. It was an unconscious reaction. Every time, every evening, the sight of him losing form filled her with fear. Seeing it made everything that was happening even more real and impossible to deny or rationalize. Especially when the black smoke began to edge closer to her.

  She backed away from it until she hit the edge of her desk.

  The smoke appeared to hesitate.

  “Just do it,” she said out loud. Her voice shook.

  It swirled for a moment longer before launching itself at her. It only needed to touch her skin—that was enough to find entrance to her body.

  Darrak thought this act caused her pain, but he was dead wrong. As much as being his official human host and being possessed by him every evening at sunset filled her with fear and apprehension, the actual act itself as he entered her—that was . . . orgasmic.

  At the moment, though, it was her little secret.

  After all, just because it felt good didn’t mean it was good. She wasn’t born yesterday. There was a reason demonic possession had screen time in horror movies, not erotica.

  “You okay?” Darrak asked after a moment, his voice now in her head.

  “Yeah,” she managed. Her knees felt weak, but she remained standing.

  “I guess I see why Ben has a problem with our relationship. If he got to see that, he’d probably have me exorcised on the spot.”

  “Forget him. I already have.”

  It was a lie. What Ben had said earlier still weighed heavily in her mind.

  Two men who claimed to care about her. Despite their obvious differences, they did have a lot in common, actually.

  Ben had short, light hair, and Darrak had longer, dark hair.

  Ben had dark blue eyes. Darrak had light blue eyes.

  Ben was a police detective from Toronto. Darrak was an archdemon from Hell.

  Very similar.

  She sighed. Okay, not similar at all. But they were both exactly the same height. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

  Luxuria looked exactly the same as it had last night when Eden arrived—a sea of singles looking for love.

  And if Graham had been right, dying for love as well.

  What did you find? Eden wondered. And what got you killed?

  Maybe it had been completely unrelated to his investigation. An unfortunate coincidence.

  No. This wasn’t a coincidence. She sensed something here. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, even past the strange feeling of desperation and lust. Something threatening. Her heart picked up its pace the moment she walked through the entrance and into the large, dimly lit club with music throbbing from one end of the indigo interior to the other.

  She didn’t enter Luxuria easily. Apprehension helped slow her down. This was where Graham had been killed. This was where Darrak spotted his demonic friend lurking in the shadows.

  It was dangerous here.

  The only thing that pushed her forward was the thought of talki
ng to the wizard’s assistant. Something good had to come of that and then this would all be worth it.

  “There he is, same spot as last night,” Darrak said. “Do you see him?”

  She scanned the club until her gaze fell on her target. Pushing aside her apprehension and running her hands absently down the sides of her low-cut, form-fitting red dress, she walked directly toward him.

  “Drink this.” Stanley held out a glass of champagne toward a reluctant-looking brunette. “It’s delicious.”

  “Ah, so that explains it,” Darrak said.

  Eden stopped just short of reaching the wizard’s assistant. “Explains what?”

  “I wondered why Stanley had women crawling all over him last night. It’s obvious to me now that he’s using a lust elixir.”

  “A what?”

  “A potion that makes the victim lustful and unable to keep his or her hands off their object of desire.”

  “Victim?” she repeated, outrage quickly filling her and cancelling out all other worries at the moment.

  “Uh . . .” Darrak began. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  She closed the remaining distance between her and Stanley’s table and snatched the glass away from the woman before she’d taken a sip.

  “Hey!” Stanley swiveled around, and his eyes widened as he scanned the length of her. “Well, hello there, gorgeous. Yes . . . please feel free to drink the champagne if you like. There’s definitely enough to go around.”

  The brunette just glared at Eden.

  “Is there lust elixir in here?” Eden demanded, peering down at the clear bubbly liquid.

  Stanley’s eyes grew even wider. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, right.” She tipped the glass and poured its contents onto the floor.

  “Okay, I’m out of here. I’m not into three-ways,” the brunette victim-in-waiting said unpleasantly.

  “Wait, baby . . . I can change your mind.” Stanley held up a hand to stop her, but it was too late. She stood and teetered away on five-inch heels. “Great. Thanks a lot. She was a total hottie, too.”

  “How dare you use a magical date-rape drug on an unsuspecting woman.”