Daemons of London Boxset (Books 1-3) The Bleeders, The Human Herders, The Purebloods

by Michaela Haze

  It was the Oni. A Japanese vengence demon. It was one of the creatures that had been killing daemons and Bleeders alike, all over London.

  From the glint in his entirely black eyes, behind the Samurai mask, I knew that we were it’s next targets.

  21.

  For a creature that was large and clothed in armour, it moved surprisingly quickly. The thin metal of the samurai sword cut through the air, silent and sure. Its' protective clothing was made of red leather and planes of obsidian metal. It towered over us both, at more than seven feet tall.

  I fought the urge to grab the Oni’s blade and wrench it from its' charred hands. I would probably lose all my fingers. Whilst I was certain they would grow back, I didn’t want to feel the pain.

  I had no training and the only fight that I had ever been in had been had been a cat fight with a crazed she-daemon.

  Henry spread his fingers out and I saw the static electricity on the air turn into a concentrated flame. It was made up of so many colours that it was unlike any fire I had ever seen. Golden and red but punctuated with black. As my gaze hovered on the concentrated power, I felt flushed with kinship and I knew that the flames in Henry’s hands belonged to Hellfire.

  I mentally added ‘Hellfire hands’ to the growing list of cool shit that daemons could do. I focused on what powers I knew that I could harness, limited as they were.

  Using the ice-cold rage inside of me (by imagining Lillian’s smug bitchy face) I froze the air around us. Steam curled from my own fingers and I adopted the same stance as Henry. He was fire and I was ice. The Oni stepped forward, it’s movements were rigid like a puppet with strings that were pulled too tightly.

  The blade whooshed through the air, seeking my torso as its destination. I weaved, using the energy signature on the air to determine where the Oni was going to move next.

  Henry darted forward, feigning left and then using the flat of his palm to heat the metal of the creature’s armour. I saw the flash of red hot skin, like molten lava, behind the iron chest plate. The Oni did not flinch. Its’ dark eyes were set behind a widened metallic smirking mask and they made me shiver.

  “How dare you!’ I screamed, not sure whether I was speaking to the Oni or to the person controlling it.

  The Oni made no sound as it pulled its large body into a fighting pose with practised ease. Its hands gripped the base of its sword. Ornate and ancient.

  I looked at Henry, who seemed as a loss at what to do.

  “It doesn’t feel pain.” Henry’s voice rang in my mind. “You should be able to break the connection between the Oni and its caster if you can find it.”

  I allowed my mind to relax and opened my eyesight up to the swirling colours that tinged the corners of my vision. The Oni used my daze to swing its’ sword. Henry was in front of me in a blink. Although he diverted the blade’s path, the handle of the katana slammed into his nose. I flinched at the loud crunch. The crisp smell of his blood filled my nostrils but I shook my head and tried to focus.

  I could see the dark, black curling hands that surrounded the Oni. I tasted the harsh burnt plastic scent at the back of my throat. It was Witchling magic and it almost certainly belonged to Katya Klein.

  Using my own succubus vines, I allowed my magic to scale the Oni like a wave. The prying fingers of my Hell magic pinched and prodded the connection between daemon and its' caster until I found the taut puppet strings.

  The Oni let out a harsh snarl and I imagined my vines becoming a pair of scissors.

  With effort, I snipped the connection. The Oni disappeared in flurry of Hellfire. My knees buckled but Henry caught me as my knees slammed into the floor. I was spent. Any energy that I had amassed over the past few days had fled.

  “Katya Klein is getting bolder.” Henry noted, nodding to the space where the Oni had disappeared.

  “And we’re just sitting here and taking it. We need to do something.” I reached up and touched the edge of Henry’s bloody nose. He didn’t flinch but leant into my touch.

  I felt his presence before I saw him. Damian stood at the top of the staircase, eying the lingering grey smoke as if he could see what had happened in the minutes before his arrival. I didn’t know if he had the ability to see into the past, maybe he could. I had no idea of the extent of the Pureblood's power.

  “We should leave.” I whispered.

  Damian stared at me for a few seconds, conflicting emotions played over his face as he took in my ripped dress and ragged expression. His bottomless irises flicked from longing to contempt.

  “Haven’t you stirred up enough trouble to justify your genocide of the Witches?” Henry snarled at Damian.

  Henry grabbed me and pulled me close as my head swam and I folded in weakness.

  “I have nothing to do with this.” Damian stated slowly. They both silently stared at each other as if they were sizing up a threat.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to, Damian.” Henry lifted me with ease and I wrapped my hands around his neck. “You got what you wanted. Asmodeus has access to the Human Realities. You no longer pine for your lost love. You don’t need to reign down Hell on earth.” Although my daemon’s voice was low, it was full of rage.

  “Please.” I whispered, but my voice cracked.

  “What is it?” Henry cupped my cheek and brought his ear down to my lips to make it easier for me to speak. Lust flooded me, unlike anything I had ever felt before.

  “I need to feed.” My voice rang out, but it was no longer mine. It belonged to the Hell magic inside of me that granted me power. My morals fled and I grabbed Henry’s face and ensnared his lips with a passionate embrace.

  I felt Damian’s intent to leave before I heard his retreat; I held up my hand to stop him. I gestured for him to come closer. Henry’s lips never left my own. “Damian. I need you too.”

  Henry’s back went rigid and thoughts flitted from his mind to my own, due to our open mental connection. He was possessive, but he understood that I was leaking power. I needed what both had to offer. There was nothing about love in Damian’s touch. He came up behind me and gripped my waist, his hands were large and firmer than I was used to. Full of confidence and aggression.

  Damian pulled my hips back until they were flush against his pelvis and I groaned into Henry’s mouth, rocking my bottom into the unfamiliar hard length that I could feel straining against Damian’s jeans.

  Daemons were volatile. We had been arguing minutes before, but none of the mattered as Hell magic took over our bodies and sought the creation of Lust to feed us. Henry’s fingers, thinner and more agile that Damian’s, slid up the inside of my thigh. I groaned into his mouth, my core tingled with the promise of his adept touch.

  No one knew my body like Henry Blaire did but Damian was willing to learn.

  Damian’s hands reached around and the edge of his fingers teased the underside of my breast. I jolted into his touch as I felt my nipples harden. Henry’s finger dipped inside of me. I rocked into his hand, seeking more friction. Our kiss became frantic. Damian pushed my hair away from my neck and kissed behind my ear.

  I still hated Damian, but my body had a mind of its own. Henry’s presence skirted the edge of my own mind and I knew that he understood.

  I drank in their essence. Their two tastes at war inside of me. Henry was winter and Damian was summer. Both delicious, filling and divine.

  As my orgasm wracked through my body, stealing all coherent thought, words that I wouldn’t dare speak out loud passed between Henry and I.

  “I love you.” I said.

  Everything went black.

  I opened my eyes, breaking from the kiss, it took a few seconds to realise that I was trapped in a small box in the corner of my own mind.

  Asmodeus had taken over.

  She was now the person in the middle of a Pureblood sandwich. Not me.

  I wondered if Henry would know, the second that my body no longer belonged to me. Would he stop kissing and touching me? Would he stand back a
nd allow Damian to have his way with me? The thoughts that rushed through my mind made me feel sick. The Queen of the Seventh Circle did not want to show me anything. She did not want to allow me any more room than was necessary. Before, I had always felt like I was at least a spectator of sorts. Even if I had no idea of the ins and outs of the Queens' actions at night.

  Instead, I was pushed into a coffin and buried inside of the darkest recesses of my mind.

  I counted the seconds until I ‘woke up'; there were forty-three thousand to go.

  22.

  I woke up naked, again. Only this time, my nude form was adorned with symbols, drawn in blood which had since dried on my flesh. I didn’t understand any of the shapes.

  I tried to pull the familiar tickle of information from Asmodeus but the channel between our two minds had closed. She wanted to hide something from me. I rubbed the back of my neck subconsciously and stretched out all my aching limbs.

  The skin of my thighs stuck to the oxblood leather of the Chesterfield armchair. Damian’s makeshift throne room was empty and there were scorch marks on the floor. I sniffed my hair; it smelt like a potent combination of wet dog and old pennies.

  “Are you back?” Damian’s mind connected with my own. I sensed his question was unfinished. He was keeping something from me as well. I bit my lip when I thought about the way his lips had felt the night before. I had been wedged between Henry and Damian. I searched my morals for the guilt that I should have felt, but there was none. It was sex. It was feeding, and I was able to seperate any emotional attachment to Damian and blame it on Asmodeus.

  I sighed in relief. I had worried that Lillian had ruined intimacy for me, but the overarching need for energy had pushed through my scruples and hang-ups.

  Power was a sleeping animal under my skin. Without thinking, I clothed myself. It was a ‘glamour’ and I was still very much naked, but I didn’t look it.

  I walked to the lounge, following the taut line of energy between Henry and I. I found him leant against the windowsill, reading a book. The strings of early morning sunlight flitted through the window and lit up strands of his hair. I would have thought he was an angel, if I hadn’t known differently.

  I swaggered to his side and sat on the window seat close by. Henry did not acknowledge my presence, but I saw the crook of his lips that indicated that he was pleased by my arrival.

  Trix was nestled on the sofa, with a blanket around her shoulders and a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. I caught a glimpse of her body when she leant forward to reach for her notepad. She had lost weight. I blinked and looked away.

  “I have found something that can help us.” Beatrix Klein said, her voice was raspy, as if she had a fifty a day smoking habit. William was missing from her side. His absence was notable, as he hadn’t left her since the deterioration had started.

  “What is it?” I looked over her shoulder at the scribbles on her notepad but they made no sense to me. Most of the doodles were Slavic in nature. There was a circle with a few lines drawn through it, so intensely that the paper had torn.

  “I can cast a Null shield around the offices of Klein, Tysten and Wallis. Removing all the Witchling magic.” Trix lipped her chapped lips. “I need some of your blood though, Taylor.”

  “Done.” I said.

  “Other things are easier to get but blood of one of the Seven was top of the list.” She barked a laugh but it came out as a wheeze. “Fuck. I hate feeling like this. It means she’s winning.”

  I rubbed her shoulder, mindful to keep the tendrils of my magic from attaching to her gooey, human-y lifeforce. “When do you want to go?” I asked.

  Henry closed his book with a snap. “Tonight. Any longer and she’ll die.”

  My brow furrowed, but I was thankful that he didn’t sugar-coat it.

  “Where’s William Kain?” I asked.

  “I’m not his keeper.” Trix snapped.

  I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “He’s been attached to your hip for the past week; you can’t blame me for asking.”

  Trix huffed and a lock of unwashed hair dropped from her ponytail. “I have no idea what goes through that man’s head.”

  “I think he likes you.” Henry smirked. “William has a penchant for being attracted to things that do not return the favour.”

  I remembered what Henry had told me about how they had met. “Is that why you are friends?” I asked.

  “I’ll admit that William found me at a horrid time in my life.” Henry rubbed his forehead with his hand. His expression was grave. “I had given up. Kept alive only as punishment for some misdeed that I couldn’t repair. He made me see that being a daemon wasn’t the end of everything.”

  Trix leant forward, intrigued. “But you’ve been a creature of Hell since the beginning of time.”

  “And I have always had a purpose. I used to command Legions of demons; then I was banished to the Human Realities. I was lost before Lillian ever cursed me. Worse when she met me.”

  “Why were you banished?” I asked.

  Henry shifted from one foot to the other. “That is a story for another time.”

  My lip curled into a snarl. More secrets? I asked him, my query pressed into his mind until he winced.

  I pulled back in shock at my loss of control. Guilt covered my face so I looked down to my hands to hide it.

  “You are not ready to know yet, my dearest.” Henry was desolate. Whatever secret he kept from me was poisonous.

  Henry and I were going to Lace to Chinatown separately. I held onto Trix as Henry held onto William. Our group looked more appropriately attired for a Yoga class rather than a battle. Dressed in black spandex trousers, with my hair in a ponytail, I felt unprepared but ready to end it.

  Trix was death warmed up but her sarcastic comments didn’t abate. I focused on the mental image of the reception with its minimalist furniture and obnoxious secretary. I felt the fire inside of me reach out and transport us. It was as if the power wanted to be free, even if I was the one controlling it.

  Stepping in front of the chrome office desk, I noticed the same receptionist as last time. She was painting her nails a bright lime green, and didn’t seem interested in our sudden appearance in the front of her. She couldn’t have been human, but I couldn’t get a read on whatever she was. The second that my feet had landed in the law office, I couldn’t connect to the threads of Hell.

  “Are you here to see Ms Klein?” The receptionist surveyed her nails, holding them up to the light.

  Trix pushed forwards; a scowl caused her nose to crinkle. “We have an appointment.”

  The receptionist smiled to herself. “So you do.” She smiled sardonically.

  We walked down the hallway; a merry band of misfits. Henry scanned every inch of the corridor as William brought up the rear. I found it difficult to move, the Null Shield made walking feel like swimming through thick syrup.

  “Can you feel that?” I whispered.

  Trix nodded. “I don’t think it’s affecting me as much.”

  “Why?”

  “The reason that I’m sick is because I’ve been cut off from my magic. I’ve had a week to get used to it. You’ve had thirty seconds.” Trix heaved a cough and I refrained from putting my hand on her back to comfort her. Just in case I somehow sapped her of energy.

  I recognised the frosted doorway of Katya’s office, but no one stood to greet us. The offices were free of people. Apart from the hustle and bustle of Chinatown below, there was no sound. I saw the flash of red lanterns through the expansive bay windows. Everything was quieter than it should have been. It was as if the entire building was inside of a bubble.

  Trix reached into her jacket and brought out a thin pearling knife. She rolled it around in her fingers, staring at it as if she could will the situation to change.

  My hand depressed the door handle as I took a deep breath. I had no idea what Trix was thinking or feeling. Not truly. I saw the colours of her emotions but that meant nothing. Beatrix Kle
in was full of rage but resigned. I only knew that at the end of the day, Trix would be alive or she would be dead. The result was up to her.

  If Trix died, then we would deal with the Witchlings another way. I didn’t want to think about it. Optimism was difficult for me, but I forced myself.

  An unseen force made me drop to my knees as we entered the dark room. My breath escaped from my mouth in a hiss. Henry and William followed; their descent was marked by the thump of their bodies hitting the carpet, hard.

  The Oni stood in the corner; a statue. It’s entirely black eyes, iris and all, glinted in darkness but it didn’t move towards us. Its’ magic wasn’t affected by the Null shield. Expletives rippled through my mind as I mentally catalogued all the ways that we were screwed.

  I heard the click of a gun’s safety being unlocked. When I finally gathered enough strength to look up through the dulled edges of my vision, all I could see was the shining barrel of a gun, cocked and inside of Beatrix Klein’s mouth.

  “That’s cheating.” I slurred, the heavy press of unfamiliar magic made my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. “I forgot she had a gun.” A giggle slipped past my lips as I looked at Henry. His eyes rolled back in his head; he was as affected by the magic as I was.

  Trix narrowed her eyes at my giggle. I knew that if she didn’t have a gun in her mouth she would have called me a horrible name and then saluted me with her middle finger.

  Katya’s emotions had drained from her face, but her hand was steady on the gun. Trix looked up at her and crooked her eyebrow as if to dare her sister to pull the trigger. I watched the suited brunette’s face flicker with guilt and it was enough of a pause for Trix to grab the gun and wrench her head back. Trix extended one of her legs and kicked her sister in the chest, sending her flying over her desk. The computer monitor rolled with her and cracked when it hit the floor. Trix rubbed the gun in her hands and then handed it to William Kain who didn’t seem to be as affected by the Oni’s magic. William curled the barrel of the gun on itself and tossed the hunk of twisted metal out the doorway. It thumped lightly against the carpet.