Merrick smiled. “My evil demon heart?”
“That’s the one.”
“I already asked him,” Tain interrupted. “He says might be able to help.”
“Oh.” Samantha blinked. “I see.”
“Why don’t we sit down and discuss it?” Logan asked. Logan was a master at easing a tense situation, which made Samantha wonder anew what had wound him up enough to leave his pack.
Logan led Samantha to a chair, glancing up uneasily, as though expecting the ceiling to come crashing down on them any moment. Samantha alone of the visitors didn’t cringe at the press of death magic, although she could feel it.
Merrick lounged on his sofa, pretending to be perfectly at ease. He wore a casual but finely tailored suit, the scarf around his neck hiding his injury from the previous night. The living room was comfortable and showy at the same time, with satin-soft leather chairs and shelves filled with crystal sculptures. The Hockney over the sofa appeared to be genuine.
Samantha and Logan sat down, but Tain remained standing, turning his back on them again to gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows to the vast Pacific beyond.
“Your friend here says the missing prostitutes were freelance,” Merrick said. “And they might have been. But I knew one of them, a little sweetheart from the Lamiah clan, out on her own.”
Samantha jumped, and at the same time Logan asked, “Where can we find someone from this Lamiah clan, to ask about her?”
Merrick gave him a smug smile. “One is sitting right here. Our dear Samantha is Lamiah.”
Tain turned and shot Samantha a sharp look, and Samantha tensed. “How did you know I was Lamiah?” she asked Merrick. “That my father is, I mean.”
“You are too, Samantha, my dear. There’s no getting away from your roots. When I learned to my horror last night that you were not a little morsel I could eat up, but a police detective, I had my lawyer do some research on you, you half-demon vixen. How exciting to find you come from my own clan.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, you mean you two are related?”
“No,” Samantha said quickly. “Clans are made up of many different families. The families that formed clans in the distant past weren’t necessarily related by blood. They came together for protection or for strength. According to what my father’s been trying to teach me, that is.”
“But we still have a connection,” Merrick said, his smile in place.
“And a matriarch,” Tain broke in. “All demon clans have matriarchs. She might know something about the missing girls.”
Merrick laughed again. “You’re kidding, right? No demon matriarch is going to talk to you, Immortal one. You with your stink of life magic.”
“What is she going to do?” Tain asked, blue eyes steady. “Kill me?”
“Such wit,” Merrick said. “Is everyone at home like you?”
Merrick didn’t know the half of what Tain’s family was like, Samantha reflected. “Why did you let Tain in here if he reeks of life magic?” she asked him. “Which I agree, he does.” Magic sparkled under Tain’s skin, power so strong he could take out the building with one flick of his finger.
Samantha had learned in her job that life magic didn’t necessarily mean good. A life-magic creature was sustained by life and light, unlike vampires and demons, who lived by feeding on death. Samantha had lived and worked in Los Angeles long enough to know that good and evil didn’t always fall into neat categories.
“I’m guessing Tain healed you this morning, didn’t he?” Samantha asked Merrick. “That’s why you were released from the hospital so quickly.”
“Correct,” Merrick said. “Some people are willing to pay for answers.”
“I’m not paying you anything, Merrick. I’m a cop. You help me because I tell you to.”
Merrick shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Sam. You tricked me into thinking you liked me. I almost fell for it, you know. I’d decided to make you one of my own.”
Samantha did her best not to shudder. “No thanks.” When a demon took a human as his own, it basically meant he became her Dom. He took care of her and gave her everything she wanted—cars, jewelry, a job—and in turn she gave the demon her life essence whenever he needed a fix. Demon women did likewise with human men. Samantha had seen demons subs, glassy-eyed men or women who would do anything for their masters.
“Of course, I’m not about to ask you now, you two-faced bitch,” Merrick said.
Tain lifted his hand and sent an almost casual trickle of white magic from his fingers to wrap around Merrick’s throat. Merrick’s next words were choked off and he started to gasp, then to claw at his throat. Still he managed to shoot Samantha an interested look. “Oh, is that how it is?” he managed to rasp.
“Returning to the point,” Logan broke in firmly. He sat forward on his chair, leaning his elbows on his thighs. “Why do you think we need to talk to a clan matriarch, not just the girl’s family?”
Tain lowered his hand, and the light around Merrick’s throat vanished. Merrick rubbed his neck, sucking in deep breaths.
“Because it might have been an honor killing,” Tain rumbled.
Samantha raised her brows. “The clan objecting to the girl taking to the streets on her own?”
“The Immortal one is possibly right,” Merrick said, his voice still hoarse. “Brawn and brains, can you believe it?” He cleared his throat. “The clan wouldn’t so much object to her selling her services as not selling them for the benefit of the clan. Plus, some families can be very old-fashioned, especially about their women, and like them to stay close to home. Then again, a gang boss might have grown angry at her for striking out on her own.”
“And that boss was not you?” Logan asked.
Merrick shrugged, his voice restored. “Any young woman who works for me or in my clubs is treated well. They never desert me.”
“Do the demons who work for you come from different clans?” Logan asked. “Or only yours?”
“I welcome people from all clans, and we manage to be close, despite familial differences. I like to say that Merrick’s place is a little clan away from clan.”
“Very funny,” Samantha said.
Merrick gave her a deprecating look. “Are you this diplomatic interviewing all your witnesses? You could take a few pointers from your werewolf friend. See? He’s not even breaking into fur and claws.”
“I find no need to be hostile,” Logan said mildly. “Yet.”
“Set up the meeting,” Tain broke in. Samantha sensed his impatience, could almost see it rippling from him. “Contact Samantha when everything is in place. This interview is over.”
Merrick contemplated Tain a moment, his eyes speaking volumes. “Not quite yet, my friend,” he said. “There’s something else I need from our dear Samantha. Something of utmost importance.”
Chapter Four
Tain had to get out of the room. Not only did the death magic of this entire building pound at him, but there was Samantha.
Her black-hued aura enclosed her like silk; her coffee-colored eyes did their best to draw him in. She suppressed her demon side, obviously uncomfortable with it, yet Tain could see it in her, darkness waiting for any excuse to get out. He knew Merrick could see it now too—Merrick kept looking at Samantha as though he wanted to devour her. Tain couldn’t blame him, as much as Merrick’s focus on her stirred him to rage.
“What is it?” Samantha asked, her skepticism plain. “This thing of utmost importance?”
Merrick rose and strolled to a desk on the other side of the room, shuffled through some papers, and brought a few sheets back to Samantha, thrusting them at her.
“I’ve been getting these delightful messages for the past couple weeks. I’m used to volatile letters from demon haters, and I dutifully turn the missives over to the police. But these are different.”
Samantha took the sheets and read each one, her brows drawing into a becoming frown. She passed the papers to Logan, wh
o looked them over and then handed them to Tain without Tain having to ask.
The messages were simple. On each sheet, letters cut from newspaper headlines spelled out, Your doom is coming.
“When did you get the first one?” Samantha asked Merrick.
“Two weeks ago. On the 23rd of August, to be precise. The other two arrived about five days apart.”
Tain scanned for any magic clinging to the papers but found none. He felt the hatred of whoever had cut and pasted the letters lingering on the sheets, but many people hated and feared demons.
“Why warn you?” Logan asked. “If they want to come after you, why put you on guard?”
“I imagine they’re trying to frighten me,” Merrick said. “A pathetic attempt. I’m not frightened by cutouts from newspapers. Take them if you want—test for fingerprints or DNA, or whatever it is you do.”
“Do you have the envelopes?”
Merrick fetched them—postmarked Los Angeles, though Tain wasn’t familiar enough with the city to pair the zip code with a particular area.
Logan took the papers and envelopes and tucked them into his pocket. He and Samantha rose to leave, but Merrick said, “Sam,” and beckoned her aside.
Tain was not about to walk out of the room and leave Samantha with Merrick, and he saw that Logan wouldn’t either. Both men waited tensely in the open doorway while Merrick murmured something into Samantha’s ear.
Samantha reddened but otherwise didn’t look distressed. She turned away from Merrick without a word, not even a good-bye, and squeezed past Tain and Logan to walk out to the elevator.
“What did he say?” Logan asked her as they emerged from the back door of the demon club and into the sunshine.
The September air was warm, and Samantha’s face took on a sheen of perspiration. She wiped at the droplets on her upper lip, but Tain wanted to still her hands, lean to her, and lick the moisture away.
“Nothing helpful.” Samantha’s black hair shimmered as she stopped at a small black pickup brushed with Logan’s life-magic aura.
“What did he say that was unhelpful then?” Logan asked.
Samantha looked at Logan and Tain, and then shook her head. “Could the pair of you possibly exude any more testosterone? It was about my father, and no, I’m not going to tell you what.”
Logan let it go and opened the driver’s side door. “Can we drop you anywhere?” he asked Tain.
Tain looked at the vehicle, at Samantha’s hair shining in the sunlight, at the way her eyes creased in the corners with her half smile. He imagined sitting in the cab of the truck, breathing in her scent, watching her turn to say something to Logan, feeling her dark aura brush him. He’d tangle in it and never want to stop.
“No,” he said abruptly, and turned and walked away.
The young demon woman was called Nadia. She stood with her hands cuffed behind her back and gazed with disdain on her captors as they discussed what to do with her. Her long black hair had been cut off and thrown away, her clothes disposed of.
At first they’d taken away her ability to assume her demon form, and at the moment, Nadia was too weak and sick to do anything but glare. Now, they wanted her to change to her demon form, and because they wanted her to, she refused.
Demons were difficult to kill, but not impossible. The methods Nadia’s captors discussed showed they’d done their homework—they debated burning her, or beheading her, or tearing out her heart. Nadia stood with her chin lifted, though her body was cold with fear. These people knew how to kill.
Her captors wore masks, and the room was dark, but she knew there were two women and a man. Outside the room, more men lurked, and they had guns. Nadia would be mown down if she tried to run, and though the bullets might not kill her, they’d injure her enough that she’d be unable to get away.
“We could send her back as a warning,” one of the women suggested.
“We could send her head back as a warning,” the man growled.
“There have been too many warnings,” the second woman broke in. Nadia didn’t like her—her voice was far too chill and dangerous. “We need to stop warning them and start moving.”
“Are we ready for that?” the man asked.
“We’re ready enough.”
“Just hurry up and kill me,” Nadia snapped. “I’m getting bored.”
The man grabbed her by what was left of her hair. “We’ll do what we want, demon bitch.”
She spit in his face. He threw her on the floor and kicked her. “Change,” he snarled. “Show us what you really are.”
Nadia knew they wanted her to change because they wanted to slice off her head while she was in demon form and display it like a trophy.
She refused. If they killed her, the human police would find her like this, looking human, beaten and tied, and be appalled. Sympathy would be with her, not her captors. But if her captors displayed a slain demon carcass, people might rejoice, or at the very least say she had it coming.
“Stop,” the woman said sternly. “We’ll do it tonight, in front of her sister.”
Nadia’s rage surged. “You leave her out of this, you stupid fucks.”
The man stopped kicking her. He backed away, leaving Nadia bruised and hurting on the floor. “Yes,” he said almost reverently. “She will be witness.”
Nadia lay curled in on herself, a cold fear in her heart that had nothing to do with the certainty of her own death.
Tain prowled the streets as the sun went down, preferring the teeming darkness of the city to returning alone to his tiny apartment. Leda and Hunter had invited him to stay with them in Adrian’s Malibu house, but Tain had declined.
Spending an evening with Leda and Hunter and their infant son could soothe him, especially whenever Tain held his energetic and fearless nephew between his large hands. He marveled at the child’s innocence and innate strength, sensing in small Ryan a power that would eclipse his parents’ one day. But though Tain could banter with Hunter and enjoy Leda’s warm friendliness, there was still some part of him they never could reach.
Worse than that, Tain didn’t trust himself around them. What would happen if he succumbed to the dark madness that still lurked in his mind? Tain was stronger than Hunter—he’d emerged from Kehksut’s torture possessing more power than the rest of the Immortals put together. Hunter and Leda wouldn’t be able to stop him, and there was baby Ryan, so small and vulnerable. If Tain succumbed to darkness, his family would suffer for it. Best he stay as far from them as possible.
The haunting streets of Los Angeles better suited his moods. The city had many different spectrums melding into one another—opulent neighborhoods for billionaires existed blocks away from gang-controlled slums. People from every human race found a home here, and magical species also converged, especially those who preferred a nighttime existence. Vampires and demons were most prevalent, along with other death-magic creatures.
Werewolves preferred open country, as did the Sidhe and other magical beings more tied to nature. Why Samantha’s werewolf partner Logan was in Los Angeles was anyone’s guess, and how the man tolerated working with a half demon was another puzzle.
People, human and otherwise, generally left Tain alone, whether he sat by himself on the bus or wandered while city lights began to gleam in the dark. They knew danger when they saw it, and the tall man in a duster, jeans, and motorcycle boots radiated danger with a capital D.
Tain’s wandering took him up Wilshire Boulevard to MacArthur Park, a place where vampire and demon territory overlapped. If trouble happened at night, it would be here or nearby.
Tain could dampen his glow of life magic if he wanted to—something he’d learned during his years as Kehksut’s prisoner. He’d learned many things as Kehksut had turned him into a monster, and now the most dangerous thing in MacArthur Park tonight was Tain.
Last year, if he’d chosen, Tain could have imprisoned his brothers forever and let the world go to hell. He’d never told them that. He let them
believe they’d saved their baby brother with their collective power, that he was all right, that he just needed time to readjust.
He smiled grimly. His brothers could never understand the torment, both physical and mental, he’d endured. Recovering from endless torture wasn’t the same as getting over a bout of the flu—if Immortals ever got the flu.
Tain spotted a vampire crossing a narrow street, the creature’s dark aura like a smudge around his body. The vamp ducked into an alley, and after a moment, Tain sensed his gloating.
Vampires paid a stiff penalty for accosting humans outside legitimate vamp clubs, and for drinking a human’s blood without consent. But the law didn’t forbid the undead from preying on each other, and in the back streets there was little enforcement of the “consent” rule.
Tain jogged across the street into the alley the vamp had disappeared down. He saw the vamp fairly soon—he had his hand around a woman’s throat, and was holding her against a wall. She was naked, struggling, and Tain smelled a hint of brimstone. Demon.
The demon woman fought pathetically, surprisingly not changing to her demon form to try to rip the vamp’s head from his shoulders. The vampire had his fangs out, but he was no longer only interested in her blood—he likely planned to rape her, kill her, or both.
Tain shed his duster and drew his short swords from their crossed sheaths. “You have three seconds to run,” he told the vampire in a calm voice.
The vamp whipped his head around and looked Tain up and down. His lips drew back from his fangs, his eyes bottomless pits of blackness. “What the hell are you?”
“One Mississippi . . .” Tain began as he advanced. “Two Mississippi . . .”
The vampire continued to stare. The demon girl hung limply in the vampire’s grasp, wretched and terrified.
“Three Mississ . . .” Tain let his power glow, white snakes of it twining around his sword blades.
The vampire’s eyes widened. He dropped the demon girl and spun toward Tain, assuming a fighting stance.
The Redeeming Page 4
