The child’s nursery rhyme played in my head. The farmer wants a wife, the farmer wants a wife… “I don’t know. Someone needs to find out.” Yeah, I knew the look she gave me. I’d been thinking the same. Who else could strike up a conversation with the King of Hell if it wasn’t lil’ ol’ me?
“I know.” I answered her unasked question. “I’m on it.” Sort of. I’d been thinking about it while killing demons, but it would mean summoning the King of Hell, and that had to be right up there on the list of ways to get oneself killed.
“He’s really gone, huh?”
I didn’t need to ask who. She’d had a crush on Akil, and before the world went to hell, she’d chaired his online fan club. He’d once autographed her breast in that archaic swirling handwriting of his. “Not all of him. When we completed the soul-lock, a part of him got tied up inside me. When Dawn attacked… When he died, his essence—or whatever it is that makes us who we are—stayed buried inside me. In a way, he sorta lives…in me. Like my owner did.” I felt Akil, even then: a comforting, radiating, warmth. If I closed my eyes, I’d feel him close, almost hear him whispering. It was why I didn’t sleep. Not that I couldn’t, but that I didn’t want to wake-up.
“It just seems…wrong.” Lacy sighed and bowed her head. “Isn’t chaos like, immortal? It’s always here. Everywhere. Chaos doesn’t change, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, isn’t—I mean, wasn’t he chaos fire? Can’t you just say a few magic words, wave a wand, and bring him back like?”
“Abracadabra?” If only it was possible. “Dawn—the girl who killed him—she is chaos. She tore him apart. Chaos doesn’t change, but it can destroy itself.” A memory bubbled up, a little flicker, a few words… I frowned, reaching for it with my thoughts. Something said in an alley a couple of weeks ago, right before Ryder decided to shoot Akil down. I’d asked Akil if Damien could ever come back. He’d said yes. A soul-lock could be reversed.
Lacy must have seen my eyes widen. “What?”
“There’s a way,” I whispered. “There’s a way to bring him back.”
Chapter 3
“Overnight temperatures fell to an unseasonable low, with some parts of Boston waking to several inches of snow. Some experts blame the weather extremes on demons in hiding. I have with me this morning, Professor—”
I switched off the car radio and sat behind the wheel in silence, my gaze trained on the innocuous detached house with the Ford Taurus parked outside. Before I could get anywhere with trying to bring Akil back, I needed to preempt the Institute’s inevitable lock-her-up move.
They had electricity in this part of Boston. Several houses on the street were boarded up, their residents having either jumped ship or died in the demon clashes almost two weeks ago. Boston, like many other US cities, would never be the same again. The netherworld had tainted it. Its citizens were doing a fine job of getting back to normal, but some wounds never heal. You can’t sweep an army of demons under a rug and hope it goes away—unless I could restore the veil. No pressure.
I left the car, crossed the quiet street, and walked up the driveway. The perfect lawn, swept driveway, and spotless porch spoke of an owner in either denial or control. Smiling, I knocked.
Adam opened the door. He tensed, as if to run or defend himself. Silvery mussed hair and a few days’ worth of stubble marred his otherwise distinguished appearance. His lips cut a determined line. He’d be thinking about how to alert his team, where the nearest weapon was, whether he had time to find a gun, all before I pounced. And oh, how I wanted to. He’d pulled Dawn’s strings. He’d killed Akil. He’d abused Stefan. He’d imprisoned and manipulated me. My hands itched to close around his neck and choke the life out of him. Both of us stood frozen in a moment between action and reaction.
“Muse.”
“Adam.”
He surprised me by stepping back and inviting me in with a hand gesture. I stepped over the threshold, and the suffocating press of anti-elemental symbols squeezed my demon aspects deep inside. It didn’t matter. I didn’t need to be demon to kill Adam Harper.
Crime scene photographs covered every inch of his living room walls. Files spilled over the table, chairs, and the floor. From outside, on the street, this house appeared to belong to a man in control. But here, inside, Adam was a mess. He let me wander and soak it all in, observing me quietly, analyzing me under the intensity of his intelligent gaze.
“So is this the institute now? One man’s obsession?”
Hanging back by the doorway, he regarded the mess without reaction. “The Institute is regrouping.” This didn’t look like regrouping. He ambled closer, his feet brushing stacks of papers. His linen slacks and loose shirt looked as though he’d slept in them. It would have been easy to allow his disheveled appearance fool me, but I knew Adam. He didn’t have a heart to be wounded by recent events.
I kept my back to him, letting him know I wasn’t afraid to, and turned my head, watching him askance. He knew I was quick. He’d signed off on my enforcer training. He also knew I was quite capable of killing him. Perhaps he’d finally learned not to underestimate the half-blood he’d failed to control.
“How did you find me?” he asked, voice hoarse. Lack of sleep?
“Coleman.” I’d gone to Coleman that morning right after realizing there might be a way to get Akil back. Ex-detective Coleman and I had an understanding. He respected what I was. Coleman led Boston Police Departments Special Response Team and needed my help clearing the city of demons. I’d happily volunteered in exchange for Adam’s whereabouts. I didn’t want to be looking over my shoulder the entire time I was in Boston. The Institute would come for me; they couldn’t help themselves. I had to stop the games, here and now.
Adam chewed on a reply, working his way around all the things he wanted to call me out on, all the questions and demands he must have. The Institute, if there was anything left of it, wanted me, dead or alive, and there I stood in his living room.
“What do you want?” He managed to make the question sound lighthearted.
To kill you. My smile stayed, but my smile of late was a twisted thing, tight with irony. “To talk.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Just talk?” A twitch of suspicion lifted his voice.
Turning to face him, I fantasized as to whether I’d make his death quick or slow when the time came. “Where’s Dawn?” Hate simmered inside me, soothed only by Akil’s soul-lock.
“Safe.”
“Your Institute half bloods? Where are they?”
“At this stage, we don’t even know if they’re alive. The only report we had was in LA, but that seems unlikely—”
“Ryder’s daughter?”
He blinked and skated his gaze away. “Safe.”
“Did you think to use her to get to Ryder to get to me?”
“I…” Lines fractured around his eyes, and he regarded the papers strewn about the floor as though actually seeing them this time. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the right reasons.”
Did he honestly believe that? Wow, I’d met demons less deluded than Adam Harper. I would never understand him and wasn’t even sure I wanted to.
“We need you,” he said.
“Why? Why is it so important for you to have me?”
Resignation softened his eyes. “I believe you can end it all.”
“I’m destruction. The clue is in the name.” This wasn’t going to get me anywhere. “Adam, you were never the boss of me. I’m not one of your experiments. I’m not your half-blood project. I never was. If you come for me, I will kill you. If you send your people for me, I will kill them. This is me warning you now, so we can avoid unnecessary deaths of good people, good enforcers. Do not underestimate me again, or their blood will be on your hands.”
He stole a step closer, invading my personal space, and reached for the collar of my coat—Stefan’s coat. Rubbing the leather between finger and thumb, he flicked his gaze up to meet mine. Regret pinch
ed his expression. “Have you seen him?”
“No.”
“He stepped in front of Dawn.” His voice barely betrayed a hint of emotion. Did he feel anything for his son? “She cut through him.”
I remembered that moment, although I hadn’t exactly been in my right mind at the time. Stefan had tried where Akil had failed. Had I not gone nuclear when I did, I suspected Dawn would have torn Stefan apart too. “Is he alive?”
“I believe so. There are numerous reports of an ice-demon on the streets, but nobody has yet confirmed it’s my…that it’s him.”
“Your son.”
He let his hand drop. “I need to make this right.”
“It’s too late for that.” He flinched as though I’d slapped him. Make it right? How could he make it right? No human being does the things he did to his son. “Where were you when Stefan came back after years across the veil? Where were you when his sister died? Where were you when he struggled to control his demon? When he killed those enforcers? You were on the wrong side, Adam. Trying to trap him, control him, for your own gain. Any hope of making things right with Stefan died long ago.”
“Can you talk to him?”
“What? For you?” Now I did laugh, a rapid bark sharp with malice. “No, I’m not talking to him for you.”
“He won’t listen to me.”
“No, he won’t. He’ll kill you.” I moved as though about to shove by him. He caught my arm and held me still, fingers digging in. His overbearing stature dwarfed mine, but as I glared up at him, I had the power in that room. He was just a sorry, middle-aged man clinging to a screwed-up life. I had a gun tucked inside my coat and a dagger at my ankle. It wouldn’t take much effort to use either. I considered it. I even wanted it. But it wasn’t my place to finish Adam Harper. “I meant what I said, Adam.” His cheek pulsed as he ground his teeth. “Don’t come after me, or it’ll be the last thing you do.”
“You can stop this, Muse. You walk both worlds. You control demons, and those you don’t control, you can kill. On the battlefield, you commanded lessers. You beat back the princes. I’ve studied every move you made that night. I know what you’re capable of, but I don’t believe you do.”
I yanked my arm free. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m capable of.” Finally, he balked and backed off. “Goodbye, Adam, and be sure to return Ryder’s daughter to where she belongs. Or I promise our next encounter will be our last.”
Chapter 4
Snow trickled over the George Washington statue, despite the rest of Boston basking in bright sunshine. I’d hoped Stefan would be there. He wasn’t, but the snow was, and that made it okay to just stand and admire Washington’s prancing horse. Snowflakes, like butterfly wings, brushed my face. I pulled Stefan’s coat around me, tucked my hands deep into the pockets and closed my eyes. Cool, wintery air cleared my thoughts and rid me of the disgust, disappointment, and rage the meeting with Adam had left me with. I’d warned him. I’d done my bit. If he came for me, I couldn’t be held responsible for the outcome. If only he was the sort to listen.
On the drive back into the city, I’d witnessed a netherworld no-go zone where the bruised colors bled through, poisoning a department store, infecting it with creeping black vines and thick, poisonous air. Those wounds weren’t healing. The netherworld wasn’t going away. The demons licked their wounds. Before long, they would come again. They knew about me now. The Mother of Destruction had kicked their hides back to hell. They’d need me out of the picture. No demon would try to take me in a fair fight. They’d come at me from behind, try and take me out in the slyest, most debased way possible. I was ready. Mostly. Before that happened, I hoped to restore the veil.
I knew what I had to do, but doing it wasn’t going to be easy. How does one summon the King of Hell? I’d known Jerry as the tough, backstreet vet with the all-over anti-elemental tattoos. I didn’t have a problem talking to him then, but as the King of Hell? I’d seen him at the battlefront, gloriously demon, huge, and elementally terrifying. If I summoned him, he might crush me. Or of course, I could cross over into the netherworld proper and seek him out, but that meant walking among my demon-kin, possibly even my father, who’d been notably absent at the battle. I’d killed hundreds, if not thousands of demons, and while I knew a certain amount of violence won you bragging rights in the netherworld, there’s a line. I’d destroyed the line. The princes were probably sharpening their claws while I collected snow. Would there be a new Prince of Greed? I’d upset the Dark Court, as they liked to call themselves. Perhaps that was why Asmodeus had come to me in that motel bathroom. Or had he?
He had. It was real. I’d felt him, tasted him, even if my mind had told me at first the presence in that bathroom with me had been Akil. It was mind games. The ability to mind-fuck ran in the family. Val, my deceased brother, had seen the future in flesh, and wielded lust like a weapon. I read the past in metal. Who knew what Asmodeus could do? Why had he come? What did he want? To see me? He’d admired me, touched…almost tasted. My father was the Prince of Lust. My brother had been bad enough. What could my father do to me?
Too many unanswered questions. I needed information. I needed to know how to get Akil back and how to close the veil for good. Every second I waited might jeopardize the outcome of both.
A snowflake landed on my lip. I licked off the cool, clean melt water.
“Where is my son?” A sharp point nudged me in the lower back as the woman’s tinkling voice cut through the quiet. I knew her. We’d once fought lesser demons, side by side, in the netherworld.
I turned my head just enough to see Yukki Onna over my shoulder and lifted my hands. Her azure cat-like eyes fixed on me. She’d tilted her oval face in a curious nod, but her bleak expression wasn’t friendly. Her gossamer gown did little to hide her naked demon beauty. Her blue-tinged flesh wasn’t going to be mistaken for human, despite the fact she’d hidden her lacy dragonfly wings.
“I haven’t seen Stefan,” I said. The point of her sword jabbed deeper, extracting a sharp hiss from between my teeth.
“You wear his garment.”
“He gave me the coat.”
“When?”
“When the veil fell.”
“You were with him?”
“Yes.” I swallowed. Lazy snowflakes dallied in the air, softening the already subdued sounds of Boston. She would run me through without a second’s thought if she believed I’d hurt Stefan. “I won’t hurt you.”
“You slaughtered thousands.”
“Yes. I did.”
Moments of quiet settled around us like her snowflakes. Finally, the point of her sword vanished from my back. I turned and lowered my hands. She was as beautiful as I remembered and all the more deadly because of it. Kira-Kira glinted in her hand. “You have Stefan’s sword?”
“He was taken from me for a second time.” Her snow-dusted lashes fluttered. “I want him back.”
* * *
Yukki Onna regarded the furniture in my apartment as though it might, at any moment, come alive and attempt to devour her. I couldn’t blame her. In the netherworld, the undergrowth did exactly that.
She paused at my pile of framed protection symbols. “Why do you not display these?”
I gave a little snort. “These days, the demons need protecting from me.”
She hesitated as though mulling over my words and proceeded to drift around the living room with all the grace of an angel. I’d thought Stefan was distracting, but she was something else.
“Could you, y’know, tone down the pretty?” I flicked on the kettle.
She blinked at me, face blank. “I do not understand your words.”
“You’re trying to be human, right?” Leaning back against the counter, I wondered how best to tell her she’d utterly failed.
“Yes.”
“Well, for one, you’re naked underneath that transparent gown. I get that in the netherworld, you’re currently overdressed, but things work differently here. You need to cover up your
lady parts.”
She looked down at herself as though seeing her human body for the first time, but still, she hardly raised an eyebrow. Her beautiful eyes flicked to me and roamed over my skinny jeans and tank top. With an all-over shiver, her gown melted away. In its place, blue denim painted her shapely legs, and the white tank top that looked like part of a pajama set on me, looked disturbingly sexy on her. Stefan’s mom resembled top-shelf anime.
She blinked dazzling eyes. “Will this help?”
“Yeah. Now, can you do anything about the eyes?”
“What is wrong with my eyes?”
“Nothing if you wanna be shot on sight. Look at me. See how drab I look? That’s deliberate.” Sort of. “Think lackluster thoughts.”
Her lips pinched, and her eyes narrowed slightly, but the diamond dazzle stayed. “How is this?”
“Erm, yeah… We’ll work on that. Coffee?” Silly question. She tilted her head. “I’ll make you some. You’ll either love it or think I’m trying to poison you.”
“If you try to poison me, I will freeze your lady parts.”
A curl of laughter burst free. I hid it behind a cough and turned away. “When did you last see Stefan?”
“Two of your nights ago. We were sleeping in a place called workshop. He told me it was safe. He was wrong.”
His workshop. So he had stayed in Boston after the battle. I fixed two coffees, filling Yukki’s with sugar, anticipating her sweet tooth. “Is he… I mean, was he okay?”
“No.”
“No?” Stirring the coffee, my hand stilled.
“The immortal killer who wields chaos tore his power from him. He was recovering, when he vanished.”
He’d been wounded. Considering he’d essentially blocked Dawn’s horrible tendrils of chaos, he was lucky to be breathing. “What happened?”
“I found him after the battle. He was terribly weakened. He told me of a place we could go until he was strong enough to move. We made a temporary home, and I tended him.” She perched on the very edge of the couch, pale hands clamped on her knees. “He spoke of you. He spoke of little else.”
Ties That Bind: A Muse Urban Fantasy (The Veil Series Book 5) Page 2
