* * *
I rang and left Stefan a message to say I’d be at the restaurant for seven, apologizing for running late.
By the time I arrived at the restaurant, nerves had me shivering in my boots. It didn’t matter that I’d regularly tangoed with demons or fought and won against the Princes of Hell. When I sat at the table, I was vulnerable in an entirely human way. Now I knew why demons didn’t date. Humans were complicated. The irrational terror only intensified when Stefan arrived. He wore slacks and a loose fitting shirt and had tossed a scarf casually around his neck. He looked far too sophisticated to be a demon-killing mechanic. I stood as he approached. He kissed me lightly on the cheek, and wayward little tingles brought a blush to my cheeks. Demon-up, I told myself. It wasn’t as though we didn’t know each other. He smells good enough to eat. Oh hell, that was my demon senses waking up.
“Sorry I’m late.”
We settled at our table. “That’s good—I mean, not good. That’s okay…” I straightened my fork against my knife then pushed it back out of alignment and picked up a napkin. He was calm. Why wasn’t I? His brilliant eyes sparkled. A perpetual smile played on his lips, almost a smile, but not quite.
He caught me staring and chuckled. “I er… I didn’t expect this to be so…”
“Awkward?” I blurted. “Tell me about it.”
The restaurant buzzed with activity. The people of Boston were trying to get their lives back. They had hope. Laughter tickled the air. Glasses chinked in celebration of a new start. I couldn’t blame them for relaxing, even if I struggled to do the same. Even then, seated among them, I wasn’t sure if I would ever fit in. They believed the demons gone, blissfully unaware that one of the most badass demons of all time—the Mother of Destruction—sat a few tables from them. My insides squirmed. Human pretender, Jerry had called me. He was right. Well, half right. Demon pretender fit too.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” I laughed it off. “We should have taken a leaf out of Ryder and Jenna’s book and hit the range instead.”
Stefan arched an eyebrow and gave me the sort of look that told me exactly what he’d like to do with me at the range. I chuckled and felt the tension melt from my body. This was going to be okay. We were going to be okay.
“Can you imagine Ryder somewhere like this?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “He’d hate it.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Ryder is better at blending in than we give him credit for.” We laughed and chatted about how Ryder and Jenna had both quit the Institute. Ryder wanted to spend some time with his daughter, and Jenna wanted time away from anything demon related. Hell knew they’d both earned t.
I smelled something meaty and seasoned. My stomach rumbled. “Mm, something smells good.” Stefan and I ordered from the menu and ate and chatted like normal people do. Considering our usual conversations revolved around world-ending drama, talking about the weather and movies, was...nice.
“So what have you been up to this week?” I asked.
The waiter cleared our table. Either Stefan’s company or the wine had worked their magic. I’d stopped quivering in my boots and relaxed.
“Oh, y’know, tying up a few lose ends. You?”
“Being normal.” I winced as a sudden headache sliced through my skull. Too much wine. I shoved my glass aside. How many glasses had I had? I’d stopped drinking alcohol the day I’d slaughtered hundreds of demons on the battlefield.
“You okay?” Stefan asked.
Rubbing my forehead, I blinked up at his blurry outline. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tired.” Ryder would chew me out, claiming I needed rest and therapy, lots and lots of therapy. His idea of therapy involved explosives and the gun range. I made a mental note to try it and soon. “Let’s get some dessert.” I suggested, forcing a smile onto my face.
“Sure.”
Pain hammered behind my eyes. “I’m er…” I willed myself to stand. “I’ll be right back—ladies room.” I didn’t hang around long enough to catch his expression. Inside the bathroom, sparkling lights dancing off polished tile and stainless steel, sending tiny stabs of pain through my eyeballs into my skull. I hunched over a basin and breathed. Typical. My first real date, and I’m sick. If I couldn’t shake it, I’d have to make my excuses and call the date off. I growled at my reflection, startling a woman leaving one of the stalls. She gave me a wide berth. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I grumbled.
Slowly, the pain faded until I could at least look at my reflection without squinting. If it wasn’t for the haggard look, I almost looked normal. Leaning in close, I tugged a little of the heat out of the lights and pooled fire in my eyes. There. That was better. With an all-over shiver, I rolled my shoulders and used a little demon strength to shore myself up.
By the time I returned to our table, I almost felt like myself again. “You ordered.” I smiled, noting the large sundae waiting for me.
Stefan had cake, which he hadn’t started. I sat down and admired the elaborate sundae with its multi-layers, chocolate sauce, and wafers. “You have to share this. I might be half demon, but even I can’t eat all that.”
He poked his cake with a fork. “You go ahead.”
I wasn’t going to say no. “You didn’t order yourself one?”
“I don’t like ice cream.”
My spoon hovered half way toward the overflowing sundae. A little laugh fluttered from my lips. “You don’t like ice cream?”
He flicked his gaze up. “No, why?”
“No reason.” My thoughts—along with the moment—came to a screeching halt. The man sitting opposite me was not Stefan. He sure looked like him. The cocky smile, the curious glint in his eye, the way he moved, spoke, laughed. It was perfect. Too perfect. I spooned out some ice cream and ate it, instantly forgetting the taste. Maybe fifty people sat at their tables around us. Fifty normal people. Couples. Colleagues. Not to mention the staff, who milled between the tables. They were all in danger. There was one man here who was far from normal. He wasn’t even a man. He’d fooled me for over an hour. We’d chatted, and gossiped, and…enjoyed each other’s company. All of that had been a trap, and I’d fallen right into it.
Not-Stefan said something about Ryder, and I slid my gaze back to him. “When was the last time you saw Ryder?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“Few days ago, why?”
The speech pattern was almost perfect. He’d been listening, practicing. Anger simmered in my gut. I pinned a smile to my lips and hoped he didn’t notice it twitch. Why was he doing this? What did he hope to get from me? Or was it all a game?
“I thought you were due to meet him yesterday, some top secret project you’re both working on, so secret I’m not allowed to ask you about it. Remember?” I asked, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Right.” He smiled, flashing white teeth.
I couldn’t let on that I’d caught him. These people were potential targets. Swallowing hard, I dug into my ice cream. My hand trembled. He noticed. Damn. Our eyes met.
Not-Stefan pursed his lips and smiled. He shoved his cake to one side and leaned forward. “What gave me away?”
I caught it then, the sweet smell of burning flesh. I’d been so preoccupied with nerves I hadn’t listened to what my senses had been trying to tell me since he’d arrived. I pushed my sundae aside. “Stefan has an unhealthy obsession with ice cream. There’s no way in hell he’d say no to a sundae.”
Not-Stefan blinked. “Mm.” He leaned back, and the act began to melt away. His body shifted, hardened with demon control. “Well, as I am trapped here, I had hoped to amuse myself among these”—he tossed a gesture at the room— “lesser human creatures.”
I dumped my napkin on the table. “What do you want, and where’s Stefan?”
“You’re a half blood. You can open the veil so I might return. I have tried.”
I clicked my tongue. “Hate to disappoint you, but the veil is closed for good. The King of Hell got his Queen. Didn’t you get the memo?”
He sat perfectly still, as only pure demons can. “That is most…unfortunate.” He licked his lips. “Then is it safe to assume you can no longer draw your great wealth of power from the veil, daughter of mine?”
Shit. I smiled a tight-lipped smile and drew in some of the latent heat. Nearby candles flickered.
Asmodeus smiled back. He burst from his seat—turning demon mid-flight—toppled the table, and slammed into me. We tumbled and sprawled across the floor, sending nearby diners fleeing. I twisted away from him and scrambled to my feet. But my heels hindered my escape. I slipped. He caught my leg and yanked me backward. I fell hard on my front, chin smacking the floor. Get away. Get him out of here. Kicking wasn’t helping. His heat crawled up my leg. Claws dug into my calf. The acrid smell of singed hair and clothing burned my nose. I twisted onto my side and looked up at the demon straight out of biblical nightmares. Crimson wings spread, he whipped up a superheated wind and prowled up my body. Screams peppered my hearing, glass smashed, people scattered, but I only had eyes for my father.
“Human,” he sneered. “A mortal, fragile, failure.”
Fire dripped from his body and sizzled through my dress. Fire. I could drain him, but I’d need to send the power somewhere, and the veil was closed. If I kept it inside, it would kill me. He’d tug it back and could snap my neck before we finished our game of fiery tug-of-war. I faced my immortal demon father, out-muscled and out-powered, puny, compared to his gorilla-like dimensions, and I did the only thing I could. I poked him in the eye. He hollered and recoiled. Heart in my throat, I twisted, kicked my three-inch heel between his legs, and lunged for the door. Like a rabid dog, Asmodeus surged after me.
I burst out onto the street. Legs pumping, head down, I pummeled the sidewalk. I didn’t need to turn to see my flame-embraced father chasing me down. The sound of his wings beat the air, and his suffocating heat nipped at my ankles. I darted across the road and headed for a park, luring my father away from the public. He was right about one thing. I was fragile. Mortal. And without the veil, I was half demon and wholly fucked.
***
I veered around a childrens’ climbing structure. A heartbeat later, metal groaned as Asmodeus vaulted over it. His wings blasted hot hair against my back, whipping up dried leaves and debris. I’d managed to get him away from the public, but now what was I supposed to do with him? I could outrun him for a while, but I needed a better plan. Fast.
Asmodeus must have launched himself skyward because he landed in a crouch in front of me. I got a face full of crimson muscle, reeled backwards, and fell on my ass.
“They told me to pursue the one-winged half blood was folly.” He growled, prowling forward on his hands and legs like an animal. “My bloodkin, my son, read my flesh and foretold how the wretched half blood would destroy it all. Valenti warned me.” The city lights slid over his slippery fangs. “He urged me to kill you. He’d have killed you himself, had I permitted it.” I scrambled backward and bumped into the slide. “He said you would be the destroyer of all things. I told him half bloods must be owned, tamed, controlled. But you…” A deep growl simmered deep inside him. “You defy control. You are disobedient. You are impossible strength in a weak human body. You are a monster.”
“From you, I take that as a compliment.” My thoughts churned. I needed a solution and fast. Fire wouldn’t stop him. If anything, it would make him stronger. He also had that nasty knack for rising from the dead because: immortal. I could drain him the way I had Akil, but I’d need to funnel all that excess power somewhere. Damn, I’d have given my one wing for the Desert Eagle. My only weapon was lies.
“Without the veil, you are as trapped as I am,” he snarled.
Behind my back, I curled my fingers around the scaffolding holding up the slide and pushed heat through my touch. “Trapped? No. This world is ripe for the picking. Few demons remain, and those who do welcome leadership.”
His chin lifted, and his eyes pinched with suspicion. He crawled closer, clawed hands fencing in my legs. Raw heat beat against my shins. “You kill those who remain.”
Teeth gritted against the heat and pain, I fought my instinct to turn demon. Not yet. Once demon, he’d fight, and he’d crush my half-blood body. “I do kill them, the weak ones.” Oh, how easily the lies came. “But there are others I’ve let live. These humans will soon forget. I am the Mother of Destruction, and I’m not finished.”
His red lips curled into a savage smile. “You lie as easily as Greed.” Boiling hot saliva streamed from his fangs onto my chest. “He taught you well. Too well.” Asmodeus’s body crowded over me. His flesh simmered. The stench of him seared my throat. Tears streamed from my eyes, but I refused to look away. Mammon had taught me many things: never to submit, to always stand tall when faced with impossible odds.
“I do not lie,” I purred. “I merely manipulate the truth.” I yanked on the scaffold pole, tore it free, and cracked it across my father’s thick skull with a resounding thwack. He reared up with a roar. I wedged the pole under my arm, braced it, and thrust forward as he lunged. The scaffold pole pierced his chest and lodged against something hard, hopefully his spine. He thrust his head forward and snapped his teeth together inches from my face. Enough games. I embraced my demon and let loose a roar Mammon would have been proud of. Asmodeus took a swipe at me. I thrust the scaffold pole one way and rolled the other onto my front. Wing tucked in, I twisted and ducked through the climbing frame. Asmodeus’s claws caught my ankle, but I tore free and sprinted across the playground. Metal screamed and groaned as my father plowed through the climbing frame. If he catches me, I’m dead.
Where was the Institute when you needed them?
Asmodeus bore down on me. His bellows-like breathing, thunderous gallop, and the whooshing beat of his wings almost had me. My heart hammered against my ribs. Panic twitched through rational thought. Maybe I could lead him somewhere. Get him out of the city somehow. Water. I needed water. The harbor? But even if I did manage to get him there, a quick dip would just piss him off even more.
The roar of an engine momentarily drowned out the sounds of my father. What the hell? A car bounced over the sidewalk and barreled through the park fence. The rear end fishtailed, but the driver got it under control, put a foot down, and gunned the engine. Headlight glare washed over me. Think fast. I veered left. The car’s rear wheels locked up, throwing the vehicle into a sideways slide. It slammed into Asmodeus’s huge bulk, sending my demon father tumbling in a mass of fire and wings.
Dodge Charger. I know that car. The passenger door swung open. “Get in.” Stefan grinned. He grinned.
I ran, threw myself inside—dismissing my demon in a blink—and clung to the seat as Stefan stamped on the throttle, lurching us forward. Asmodeus’s roar shook the windows. Something heavy snagged the Charger’s tail. I twisted and got a fabulous view of my father’s eyes blazing through the rear window. “Go-go-go!”
Stefan plowed the car through the fence, and we bounced, skidded, and slid onto the street. The engine snarled a protest. Stefan fought for control, planted his foot on the throttle, and we surged forward, weaving through traffic.
“He’s following,” I panted.
“Good.”
“What?”
“Tell me if he gets too far behind.”
Kneeling backward on the passenger seat, I glanced over my shoulder through the windshield and gulped. Stefan threaded the Dodge through Boston traffic at killer speeds. “I should drive.”
“No way.”
“You crash. Every. Damn. Time.”
He flashed me a sideways smile. “Those were extenuating circumstances.”
“These circumstances are pretty damn extenuating.”
“Muse,” he drawled. “Worry more about the Prince of Hell in our rear view mirrors and less about my mad driving skills.”
Asmodeus part flew, part bounded after us, using cars as springboards. Behind us, trailed a path of chaos. Stefan growled a curse. The car lurc
hed violently to the side, throwing me against the door. I clung on, teeth gritted.
“We’re good…” He chuckled, wresting the car back under control and ramping up the revs.
Asmodeus bounded closer. “Speed it up, unless you want the Prince of Lust in the back seat.” Closer. “Oh, God.” Claws punched out the back window.
“Take the wheel!” Stefan shouted. I grabbed at the wheel, sprawled halfway across the front seats, while Stefan twisted, aimed the Desert Eagle through the back window, and fired.
An intersection blinked red lights ahead. The front right fender clipped a passing car. I squealed. Stefan grabbed the wheel, sliced us off to the side of the road, bumped us up the curb, and funneled the car down a sidewalk. We scattered pedestrians, miraculously avoiding them all. I couldn’t look and couldn’t look away.
We shot through the intersection, Stefan working the car like a stunt driver. “Where the hell did you learn to drive like this?”
“Ryder.”
“Figures.” No wonder I was never the first on scene.
Stefan’s eyes darted to the rear view mirror. “He still there?”
I peered through the broken rear window. Wind whipped my hair about my face. I smelled hot rubber and metal, but no burning flesh. Searching the street revealed no sign of my father. “No.”
“Damn.” Stefan stamped on the brakes and yanked the car to the side of the road. I hit the dash. The tires squealed. We rocked to a halt. The engine bubbled.
“Put your belt on.” Stefan’s eyes sparkled.
I rolled the pain out of my shoulder and dropped into the seat. “Give me that gun.”
He tossed it into my lap. “Just like old times.” Draping an arm over the back of his seat, he cocked his head, brow slightly furrowed, and arched an eyebrow. “Nice dress.”
“Gee, thanks.” I flexed my grip on the gun, happy to have the weapon back in my hand.
Ties That Bind: A Muse Urban Fantasy (The Veil Series Book 5) Page 21
