Hell Hath No Vengeance (Vengeance Demons Book 5)

by Louisa Lo

  “Well, for one, I’m older.” Macallister chuckled.

  “Uh-huh.” Sophia didn’t sound convinced, her eyes dancing with mockery and challenge. It was shocking to see how she held her own with Gregory’s father at their initial meeting, when later on in their relationship he seemed to be the one holding all the cards. It really made me wonder just what the hell had happened to cause such a shift in the power dynamic. It couldn’t be just because she had gotten pregnant, could it?

  “For two,” Macallister counted the second point with his finger, “my little brother is hoping to get a VBA, while I already graduated from vengeance co-op. A long time ago.”

  VBA stood for Vengeance Business Application. It was like a MBA for vengeance demons. Not a surprising academic path, as the younger brother was groomed to join the family business while the older one was expected to take over the political mantle.

  “Yeah, Louis has told me all about how your parents play you against each other. So what, Mr. Big Shot, you’re going to try to be the youngest arch vengeance demon that ever existed or something?” Sophia rolled her eyes and didn’t appear terribly impressed.

  “Oh, I plan to be a lot more than that.” Sophia’s attitude seemed to have the effect of challenging Macallister to reveal what he normally wouldn’t to complete strangers.

  “Really?” Sophia rose her eyebrow.

  “I’m going to be the youngest Council member ever.”

  “Isn’t there anything else you would rather do?” She frowned. “Some other dream? Must be pretty boring having your whole life planned ahead of you by someone else.”

  “But I happen to like that plan. I’m not my brother.” Macallister’s charming tone took on an edge of annoyance. “Always dreaming up ways to create new products rather than sticking to what works. People want more of the same thing. They don’t need soaps that could store up to ten different kinds of scent—the rotating three would do just fine.”

  Sophia laughed. “Well, you can keep your ambition and lack of creativity. All I want is to make designs that’ll make people think.”

  “Think, huh?” Macallister leaned closer and lifted Sophia’s chin with his fingertips. He seemed to have done it at least partly out of a desire to shut her up about questioning his choices in life. “What are you thinking about right now?”

  Sophia breathed in his scent and suddenly she became perfectly still, like a deer caught in the headlights. She didn’t answer him, her early self-assurance gone from her face, replaced by surprise. And a hint of wonder.

  That was weird. Was he casting some sort of stun spell on her? I sensed the air around them and detected no sign of magic, though. What the heck was going on?

  “Well?” Macallister leaned even closer so that he was practically breathing on Sophia’s lips; satisfaction radiated from him for finally having things on his own terms.

  “Wh-what?” she stuttered.

  “I asked what are you thinking right now,” he whispered.

  “I…I...” she whispered back, “Macallister, I—”

  “Call me Mac.”

  Macallister pulled Sophia closer and she started closing her eyes.

  “Stop!” Gregory roared half a second before his parents’ lips touched. I started, so focused on the couple that I almost forgot about Gregory’s presence. Abruptly, he turned his back on the scene with a disgusted grunt.

  I wasn't even aware that one could stop a memory from progressing while in another’s mind, but upon Gregory's protest, Macallister and Sophia became frozen, their lips less than an inch away from each other.

  Even in the healthiest of circumstances, children were never keen on watching their parents smooch. Given what Gregory knew of what came after the start of that intimacy, I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to witness it.

  “Let’s skip to the next memory.” Gregory growled. “Now. There’s nothing here to see.”

  “No.” My voice came out firmer than I expected, but I realized that I meant it. Yes, I could hear the begging beneath Gregory’s harsh words, and it almost made me give in to his request. But there was a reason why this memory trumped all memories, and I wasn’t convinced it was all about the head rush of young love. I wouldn’t have done right by Gregory if I let his misgiving prevent us from seeing the whole story.

  “But—”

  “Why don’t you wait here?” I walked up to Sophia. “I won’t be long.”

  Without waiting for his reply, I took a deep breath, repressed the ick factor of what was to come, and squeezed Sophia’s hand.

  The memory was progressing forward again, and I was in Sophia’s head, experiencing it in her place. I was kissing Macallister Sebastian Sumpsi, the guy my business partner and maybe-soul-mate despised. I, as Megan, found it disgusting and felt like I was betraying Gregory on more level than one.

  On the other hand, I, as Sophia, thought that I was in heaven.

  I knew it! I knew it once he got close enough for me to really smell him.

  I, as Megan, tapped into Sophia’s senses.

  Macallister’s scent was like an expensive Cuban cigar to her. Rich, intoxicating, and from a world so different from hers. As he kissed her, a warm fire spread to her insides, like a hot toddy with the perfect balance of honey and spices. Burning yet achingly sweet at the same time.

  Adventurous yet anchoring.

  Ever and always.

  I will help him find his dreams, and he will cheer me on as I chase after mine. I’ll follow him to the ends of the world, because nothing and nobody matters anymore, except this man who’s holding me in his arms.

  I, Megan, reached out with my senses again. Nope, there was no magical disturbance here. Nothing to indicate that Sophia’s reaction was a result of any kind of enchantment.

  Then Macallister pulled away from the kiss suddenly, his lips disengaging from Sophia’s with a loud smack. With his eyes narrowed, shock, annoyance, and bitter anger chased across his face in quick succession.

  What’s happening? He’s looking at me as if he hates me. Why? This is a joyful occasion. We’re so lucky to have found each other.

  Macallister held onto Sophia’s shoulders, keeping her at bay yet not letting go. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. When he opened them again, the hostility in his gaze was gone. In its place was a deliberate playfulness. His lips twisted into a sexy smirk that bordered on cruelty. He winked. “Well, gorgeous, you’re quite the kisser, aren’t you?”

  Something’s wrong. He’s making a monumental moment of our lives out to be something entirely too light-hearted and casual. But maybe he just needs some time to adjust. I’ll be patient. I’m his now.

  Ever and always.

  I pulled out of Sophia’s mind and stumbled back, landing on my ass. I welcomed the pain. Anything but that raw vulnerability and utter confusion I’d already experienced personally once before, after Gregory pulled away from our kiss in an all-too-similar fashion.

  The couple in the memory froze as they had done when Gregory yelled in anguish. I wasn’t surprised because the emotions going through me right now were no less strong.

  “Megan, are you alright?” Gregory asked.

  I allowed him to help me up, my body shaking. Then, couldn’t help myself, I hugged him fiercely and let out a shivered breath.

  “She never lied to you,” I whispered into his ears. “She’s been telling the truth the whole time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gregory asked, his voice sounding utterly confused.

  “Sophia. She’s been telling you the truth all your life. She is your father’s solus iungere.”

  Chapter Nine

  Choices

  Sophia’s inability to date anyone else…her steady insistence that she and Gregory’s father were meant to be together…it wasn’t the talk of someone who was obsessed with the idea of love—she felt the truth in her guts when no one else can.

  And no one believed her, not even her own son. It must’ve bothered her dee
ply, to have felt what she did and for it to be considered nothing but cheap and stupid by her own flesh and blood, not to mention the very man she was tied to. Was that why she went from an independent, spirited woman to a broken, defeated shell that was only a shadow of her former self? Was she driven mad by the why?

  She wanted to help her mate with his dreams, and he crushed hers.

  “So how does that work?” I paced around, or whatever walking back and forth inside someone’s head could be called. “I’d always been taught that there was a solus iungere out there for everyone. I mean, sometime he or she never showed. Maybe like, they got stepped on by a mad ogre five years before the couple was supposed to meet or something. And people could definitely be mistaken in these things—my dad and his first wife being a case in point. But I’d never heard of anyone actively walking away from a true mate before.”

  It would be a sacrilege of the highest order, going against one of the most fundamental values that a vengeance demon was raised in.

  “And you’re sure they’re true mates?” Gregory asked, skeptical.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  I gave him a look, and murmured, “The same way I thought I was sure before.”

  That earned me a guilty look from him, so I hurriedly moved on. One true mate debate at a time. Besides, in the rush of all these rescues we hadn’t even resolved our fight regarding Candy and the Internet attempt yet.

  “So from what we’re told, when a vengeance demon meets his or her soul mate, they go bat-shit crazy and start wearing bright pink and doing other out-of-character goofy stuff. That reaction should’ve been completely involuntary. But your dad went on his merry way and started a whole new family. How the hell did that happen?”

  This was once again a time when I really wished I could have Grandma’s counsel. What was common sense was obviously not true in this matter, and she always seems to know what was beneath the surface more than anyone else.

  “I’m not sure. I never considered the possibility that what she was saying might be the truth,” Gregory admitted with a low voice. “I thought she was mistaken and foolish.”

  Now that I did have the truth, a few pieces of the puzzles had started to fit together, making a sick kind of sense.

  …the younger brother was groomed to join the family business while the older one was expected to take over the political mantle.

  “But I so happen to like that plan…I’m going to be the youngest Council member ever.”

  “He left us around the same time he married his current wife and got the seat at the Council…”

  “It’s not like there’s a test they could run to make sure all the engaged couples are true solus iungere to each other.”

  “Both my maternal grandparents were also artists.”

  “Gregory,” I said in a strangled voice, feeling ill, “what if a soul mate is not an absolute path like they say it is, but rather just a really nice option? What if your dad made the choice to pick a wife who’s not his true mate, in order to advance his political career?”

  It was the only thing that made sense in the absence of magical influence. After all, Macallister’s seat in the Council came right after his marriage. Gregory’s mother was a free-spirited artist from a family of artists, a political nobody, and Macallister needed a Jacqueline Kennedy to fit into the plans he had for his life.

  Gregory’s eyes flashed, and he kicked at the ground. “Son of a bitch! If that’s the case, then he condemned my mother to a lifetime of misery.”

  Now was probably not the time to point out the hypocrisy of that statement, since that was the same fate Gregory pretty much condemned me to if he ignored the possibility that we were true mates. Except…

  It did sound like there was a choice, when it came down to it. It wasn’t an I-absolutely-couldn’t-live-without-you thing. It was comforting and alarming at the same time. The idea of having choices made things both easier and harder. I basically found out that he had a good motivation for denying what was between us, at around the same time I realized that what we had didn’t necessarily have to define us. We could walk away if we want to.

  Something to think about.

  I wondered how Gregory’s life would’ve been different, if his father had followed his heart rather than his ambition. Would Macallister have found other dreams and had other adventures? Would Gregory have grown up as a happy child, basking in his parents’ love?

  Who knows? That was the essence of uncertainties that came with choices.

  “She never wavered, yet still I doubted her. I assumed my father simply grew tired of her and threw her away like a candy wrapper, only to be picked up later when he felt like it. I was too busy being ashamed of her to really hear her out.” Gregory’s eyes were downcast. He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at his scalp.

  “What were you supposed to think?” I pointed out. “Your mom moped around like she had a decades-long hangover from cheap love potions, while your dad seemed perfectly happy being the asshole that he is.”

  “Do you know what this means?” Gregory’s anger was starting to turn outward. “My dad turned what should’ve been genuine and beautiful into something that’s debasing. He made a whore out of his true mate, and when he saw her in trouble this morning, he shrunk away from his responsibility of saving her. The bastard!”

  I had no words left to comfort him, so I simply stood by in silence while he let it all sink in. He would deal with Minister Sumpsi in his own time. Of that I was absolutely certain. Right now we had to focus on Sophia. Vera had obviously used this master core memory as a springboard to connect all the dots that would amplify Sophia’s pain, and there was only so much of this a person could take before permanent damage to the spirit set in.

  Eventually, Gregory’s breathing became more even, and he spoke in a much calmer voice. “Now the question is, how do we go about freeing my mom from this?”

  How, indeed? In Rosemary’s case, we just had to get rid of one single menacing presence which was Vera. In Sophia’s case, we had a whole web of pain to detangle.

  Once again I found myself wishing that Grandma was here.

  Then thinking of my gran gave me an idea.

  I turned to Gregory. “The memories that got connected together go from the initial meeting with your biological father, to your disbelief of her claim. What’s hurting her is that not only is her love not taking her seriously, but even her own flesh and blood thought she’s just a floozy.” I saw Gregory’s wince and said hurriedly, “Sorry. Not trying to put salt on the wound here. I’m just trying to point out that if your lack of trust hurt her, then by the same logic your faith could heal and free her.”

  Gregory went perfectly still. “Elaborate, please.”

  “The battle in Rosemary’s mind was won because of her optimism. We can’t give Sophia your dad, but we could give her your trust and love. Trust me, it could work.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I spent my whole life thinking Gran didn’t care.” I stared at my feet, remembering all those anguished years. Then I looked up at Gregory. “But when Enid tried to kill me, Gran came to my aid. Then she re-synced our memories so that I could see that she’d been there for me all along. Every major event in my life took on a whole new meaning once I realized Gran was a part of it.”

  “So it’s all about context,” Gregory guessed.

  “Yep,” I confirmed. “What we need to do is add a different context to all the affected memories.”

  I took Gregory to the second memory, the one where he had that ugly fight with Sophia. Gregory’s face was hesitant when he realized where we were.

  “Can’t we start with something a little less challenging?” he asked, his voice more anxious than I’d ever heard it.

  The Gregory I knew was no coward. This really showed how uncomfortable he was with what we were about to do.

  “This is the one you’re most ashamed of,” I said. “Think of it as
ripping off a Band-aid.”

  We got to the part where Young Gregory was telling his mother exactly why Minister Sumpsi wasn’t around anymore.

  “…do you know what he’s busy with? My friends at school so helpfully informed me while they stomped me onto the ground yesterday. Dear Dad is on an official visit to the witches’ plane…”

  Gregory stopped the progression of the memory—knowing what to expect, he was able to do it without roaring like the last time—just when Sophia flinched from her son’s words. With infinite gentleness he touched Sophia’s shoulders. “Mom, can you hear me? Please come.”

  He was pleading for his mother’s spirit to manifest itself in this memory. But unlike with Rosemary, our surrounding didn’t get any less gloomy. But eventually a second Sophia did appear. Semi-transparent and looking like a gust of wind could blow her away, she swayed and Gregory immediately shielded her with his arms and his protective magic. I poured my strength to join his in an effort to prevent her from fading away.

  “Mom, stay with me,” Gregory pleaded.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I had no idea how much you’re suffering in school. I’ll go talk to your teacher. Or maybe the school principal. I’m so, so sorry. Hades forgive me, are you hurt? My sweet, sweet baby…” Sophia cried, struggling against Gregory blindly, not seeing him for what he really was—the present-day counterpart of her child in the memory.

  A person’s spirit should be omnipresent in all the memories, yet not entangled by any individual ones. Sounded like Sophia’s spirit was so immersed in the pain and anguish of the memory web Vera had woven that she wasn’t independent from it. The segregation between mind, body, and spirit was at the essence of a person’s well-being. Blurring those lines meant Sophia could very well be on her way to insanity.

  “Mom!” Gregory’s voice took on a fearful note, no doubt arriving at the same conclusion as I did. He shook his mother’s shoulders slightly. “Look at me.”