Demon Soul

by Christine Ashworth

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  About the Author

  Demon

  Soul

  by

  Christine Ashworth

  www.crescentmoonpress.com

  Demon Soul

  Christine Ashworth

  ISBN: 978-0-984805-9-2

  E-ISBN: 978-0-9846394-5-8

  © Copyright Christine Ashworth 2011. All rights reserved

  Cover Art: Ash Arceneaux

  Editor: Liz Pelletier

  Layout/Typesetting: jimandzetta.com

  Crescent Moon Press

  1385 Highway 35

  Box 269

  Middletown, NJ 07748

  Ebooks/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Crescent Moon Press electronic publication/print publication: March 2011 www.crescentmoonpress.com

  For my husband, Tom Ashworth, who knew it all along.

  And for my father, Chet Cunningham, who set the example of what a working writer did all day. I love you both so very much!

  Chapter One

  "Where the hell are you?" It took all of Rose’s concentration to keep walking, one throbbing foot in front of the other, down the length of the empty outdoor shopping mall in Santa Monica. The long night had finally tumbled into a dawn cloaked in shadow and fog and the cry of seagulls.

  After walking west for more hours than she cared to remember, at last she'd ended up at her destination, cold and miserable. With no purse, no money, and no wish to return to her previous life. All she had to cling to was a name.

  Gabriel Caine.

  She stood on one foot and eased the tennis shoe off the other one, wincing at the sight of crimson blood on the heel of her white sock. Blisters. Perfect. Add that to being cold, ready to drop from exhaustion, miserable and without a penny to her name, and the day was starting out just great.

  “Freaking perfect.” Rose sat heavily on the curb of the empty mall and rested her head on her knees. She wasn’t going to give up. Not now, not after all she’d been through to get here. Yet it would be so nice to sleep…her head slipped off her knees and she jerked awake.

  Damn it Gabriel Caine, I need to talk to you. Please.

  Rose chewed on her thumbnail. He had to be close, had to be here somewhere. She refused to give in to panic.

  “Gabriel. Gabriel. Gabriel.” His name fell like a litany on the cold air, as it had in her mind for the last three months.

  When she’d been stuck in a coma, wandering the gray between-place, she’d been offered a chance to come back. Rescue Gabriel Caine. She’d accepted the task, grabbed for it eagerly. When she finally woke up, she’d worked her ass off getting healthy again. If saving this Gabriel dude meant she'd begin to atone for all her past sins and achieve some sort of redemption, then she was all for it.

  She winced and walled out thoughts of her muddy past, refocusing on Gabriel. Guided to this place, at this time and in fighting shape despite the blisters and the exhaustion, the only missing ingredient was the man himself. As she waited for him, doubts crept in.

  "I'm clear on the saving part. But from what? And how?" Her words fell flat in the thickness of the mist. “Especially since I can barely stand. I’m not exactly Marines material, people. And would it have hurt the lesson to add some aspirins to my pockets?”

  The cry of a gull brought goose bumps. “Sorry. No disrespect meant, you know that, right?” Rose rubbed her chilled arms. Gabriel Caine. Gabriel Caine. Gabriel Caine. "Come on. I don't have all day. Where the hell are you?"

  Shut up, woman. Let a man think. His voice was like velvet brushed with impatience in her mind.

  Rose's muscles locked. Gabriel? Excitement rushed through her body, giving her the energy to stand and stare wildly into the mist. She cursed her racing heart. A dark shape came striding toward her through the fog and her breath caught. Gabriel Caine?

  You've been yammering at me for hours. Shut up, would you? You're giving me a headache.

  His long black coat flared out as his legs ate up the space between them. Even from a distance he exuded a sexual magnetism that made Rose's knees weak, a cliché she'd never believed before now. She stared down the mall as he came toward her, the fog alternately hiding and revealing him with every step.

  What the hell were you thinking, projecting my name out there for anyone with any telepathic abilities to overhear. Are you trying to get me killed?

  Rose put her hands to her head in wonder, dug her fingers into her hair and tugged. The new pain assured her she was awake. His exasperated sigh in her mind had her wincing. "Sorry, but we need to talk. Out loud." She was still wrapping her mind around the whole telepathic thing.

  He was closer now. Gabriel Caine in person was bigger, stronger, sexier than any man she'd ever met, with an energy she could feel charging the air and brushing up against her skin. He had to be six five, if not taller.

  She took a step back both mentally and physically. She was supposed to save this man? Rescue him? This muscled guy in leather, black jeans and a dangerous aura blended in perfectly with the misty, deserted mall. He didn't need her help. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, she was quite sure of it.

  Rose swallowed her disappointment. She’d been so sure she could save him. But with each step bringing him closer, she had the overwhelming urge to curl up and cry.

  Or curl up in his arms. A surge of longing for him shocked her. She'd never been so strongly attracted to anyone, but she could think about little else than the two of them, naked. Heat lit her cheeks. Talk about bad timing.

  Gabriel snorted. Bad timing doesn't begin to cover it. You don't want me too close to you. His mental tone was dry and unamused.

  Rose flushed. "I can't believe this," she said, and crossed her arms protectively. "People shouldn’t go around reading other people's minds." Arrogant ass.

  When they broadcast, it happens. Your mind is broadcasting on a wide band. You have no shield, no barrier of any kind to keep me out. And I'm not an arrogant ass. As he came closer, he slowed down, finally stopping a couple yards away.

  Surprise crossed his face before it hardened. “This is no time for games, Satine. You’re not welcome here. You will never be welcome here.”

  “Excuse me? I’m not – whoever. My name is Rose,” she protested. “I’m supposed to be here. I’ve been sent here to help you. Though now that I see you, I’m not exactly sure what the hell it is I’m supposed to do for you.”

  He took a couple more steps toward he
r and they stared at each other.

  The picture she'd seen didn't do him justice. He looked dark-angel, messed-up beautiful. His gray eyes were a study in intensity. White skin covered a classical bone structure made more approachable by a crooked nose. A thick, shiny scar on his left cheek stretched down his throat and continued below the neck of his shirt. His hair, the color of ebony, brushed his shoulders without a hint of curl.

  She glanced up and noticed him looking her up and down, interest gleaming in his half-open eyes. Heat washed over her body.

  Power radiated from him. She fought to stand straight, to appear strong in the face of his strength. Inwardly she quailed. He really didn’t need her. What was she supposed to do now?

  "Are you done staring?" His physical voice sounded much like his mental voice, a rough velvet. The interest she'd seen was masked now.

  "Yeah. You?" Rose bit out the words. She looked around, anywhere but at him, and saw her shoe on the ground. She bent and slipped it on, wincing as the canvas hit her blister. "It’s important that we talk."

  He studied her for a moment. "Through there." He pointed to an easily overlooked door beside an imports shop. "If I know my brother, it'll be open."

  The glass door led to a staircase. Doing her best not to limp, Rose went first, flushing again as his scent seemed to surround her, an earthy, greenish-brown scent, elemental. She totally had to get a grip or she'd start stripping for him right on the staircase.

  I wouldn't mind, but the staircase isn't my preferred place to make love to a woman. She could hear the faint mocking tone in his words and flushed even hotter.

  "Would you stop that?" she snapped.

  "Sorry." But he didn't sound it. "When you project such clear and detailed images, it's very hard to ignore." They got to the bare landing and Gabriel reached around her to try the doorknob of the door to the left.

  Rose stopped breathing as his arm brushed her breast. Ye gods, woman, get a grip. He is so not for you. And yet, what they could do…Hell! He can hear me! Biting her lip, she focused on the tiny pain, working hard to keep her thoughts to herself.

  Gabriel rattled the doorknob again.

  But the door remained stubbornly closed. Rose backed toward the staircase to get some breathing room. Standing so close made her entirely too aware of him, his scent, his implacable strength. Retreat seemed like a good idea.

  Gabriel frowned at the door, then knocked hard enough to rattle the glass. "Damn it, Justin, open up."

  Something in the air shifted slightly and she shivered. Even Gabriel tensed and faced her, muttering beneath his breath. A noxious smell drifted toward them. She sneezed and looked down the staircase.

  A small, misshapen creature in a brown cloak flowed up the stairs, showing glistening teeth. Its thin, long arms ended in stubby fingers with wicked claws that reached for her.

  Fear and panic tumbled in her head. Protect Gabriel. Save Gabriel. I can do this. A cry built deep inside her as the nightmare came closer.

  Heedless of her battered body, her energy surged as the nightmare came closer and she let loose a warrior’s cry. Grabbing both hand rails of the staircase, she kicked out at the thing with her feet, knocking it back a few steps. A sharp red pain radiated up her legs and she yelped. Mother of God that hurt! Is it made of cement?

  * * *

  Gabriel plucked her off the stairway and shoved her behind him with a little too much force. He winced at her cry of pain when she landed against the far wall, but kept his focus on the demon coming at him.

  He should have known better than to come home. He shows up here, and of course there’s some girl reaching out to him telepathically. A girl, moreover, whose power drew demons to her without effort.

  Even he felt the draw of her power, every bit as much as this lesser demon coming toward him. Gabriel hungered for her, his demon blood yearning to taste her.

  "Stay back, as far as you can go," he ordered her. If the demon got past him, she was dead. An old memory, better left buried, was jarred loose, and his breath caught. No. He wouldn't be the unwitting cause of yet another girl's death.

  Gabriel swung but the demon evaded his punch. It sprang at him, striking with surprising speed, sinking its teeth into Gabriel’s upper arm and winding its long arms around his torso. With an oath, he wrapped his good arm around the demon’s head and gave it a sharp jerk, snapping its neck and ripping the teeth from his flesh. Poison sped its way through his system. He dropped the demon and staggered back to lean against the wall.

  Lifeless, the creature tumbled back down the stairs to land in a pile of rags and bone at the bottom of the stairway. Great. He’d have to dispose of the carcass before the place opened or there’d be mass hysteria.

  Gabriel turned to check on the woman. She lay sprawled against the far wall where his shove had landed her. Her summer-blue eyes were big in a classic oval face, coppery curls surrounded her pearly skin. Her eyes and her mind were clouded with pain and questions.

  Her power pulled at him, and yet she looked so much like Satine that a part of him wanted to recoil. Energy crackled in the air between them. Did she know that she called to his kind?

  "What the hell was that? " she demanded. “Aw, man. You’re bleeding.”

  Gabriel checked his arm and grimaced at the blood flow.

  "It was a demon." He went to her side and scooped her up in his arms. "I know you're in pain," he said before she could object, and going to the door he knocked again.

  “Demon? Yeah, pull my other leg.”

  Gabriel frowned at the visceral tug brought about by the feel of her body against his. Holding her gave him a jolt of energy, clean and pure, a hit straight to the veins. No, she wasn’t like Satine. That didn’t mean he trusted her.

  He took a deep breath and her scent clouded his mind. Yeah, okay, so his mating instincts were now jumping up and down like crazy. His attraction to her didn’t matter. The sooner he put her in his brother’s care, the better. He shifted her weight to his good arm and pounded again on the glass. "Damn it, Justin."

  "Put me down." She squirmed in his arms. "Oh come on. Enough. Put me down."

  "As I saved your ass, you can damn well be gracious about me taking care of you."

  "You killed it, didn't you?"

  "Yeah."

  "I should have protected you. I'll do a better job, I promise. You can count on me. Now put me down." She actually seemed to believe what she was saying.

  "No one has protected me in years." He read the trust on her face with dismay. He'd much rather she was scared of him.

  She shrugged and looked away.

  Gabriel eyed her warily. "Why are you here?" He slid into her mind and met a maelstrom of thought, a snake pit of pain and fear that bit at him.

  She sighed. "You're in danger. I'm here to save you. And yeah, totally aware how stupid that sounds, considering you're carrying me and all."

  "Just–don't talk. Keep your thoughts to yourself and do not talk. Justin, I know you're in there. I can smell you."

  The door opened abruptly. Gabriel tensed. It had been years. What would he say? How could he begin to explain such a long absence?

  After one comprehensive glance at both Gabriel and the woman, Justin yawned and opened the door wider, letting the sound of reggae music out into the hallway. "You're early. Or is it late? At any rate, you sure know how to make an entrance."

  Gabriel looked at his brother and didn't move. "Still dressing in bayou chic, I see. I don't think I could have found an uglier Hawaiian shirt if I'd looked with both hands."

  Justin glanced down at his purple and orange flowered shirt with the green monkeys and sniffed. "This is the So Cal Surfer Dude Dress Code, man, Hawaiian shirt and board shorts. Some of us prefer color, unlike your assassin chic." He gestured to his brother's clothing and shook his head, his brown dreadlocks bouncing.

  "So Cal by way of Jamaica, mon," Gabriel retorted. "The worst of both worlds."

  "Yeah yeah. You waiting for an engraved invi
tation? Come on in.” He gestured toward the woman in his arms. “Who is she?"

  Gabriel walked into the office. "I don't know."

  "Would you put me down? I can walk. With help," she amended. "Not to mention, hello. Here and listening."

  He ignored her and looked around the sparse reception area. "You got a couch in this place?" The walls were white, the carpet industrial gray. The office felt chilly, and not just due to air conditioning. "Gregor chose the color scheme. Am I right? "

  Justin led the way down a narrow corridor. "Well, you know our brother. Cool and controlled. Watch your head," he warned, ducking into the first office on the left. "This place wasn’t built for people as tall as us. Go on, all the way down the hall to the left." The island music came to an abrupt stop.

  Gabriel found the right room and, ducking under the doorway, went directly to the black leather couch in the corner of what looked like a conference room. He bent and put the girl down gently.

  Her fiery hair curled madly to her shoulders and her tee shirt and jeans blended into the black leather, leaving her arms and face a contrast of startling white.

  His brother joined him by the couch.

  Gabriel frowned as he looked at the girl. He reached for her chin, studied her, ignoring her startled "Hey!"

  The superficial resemblance to Satine still made him leery. Red hair, blue eyes, yes, but life shone from this one. Satine was death. This one – Rose, she’d said – had a completely different energy signature. Still…he sighed and turned at last to face Justin. "Well?" He waited for his brother's judgment.

  “Damn it to hell. Blood?” Justin took his brother’s arm. “Give me a minute.”

  Gabriel turned so the girl couldn’t watch. “Do it.”

  Warmth emanated from Justin’s hands, closing the wounds with a dance of blue light. “There’s poison at work.”

  “I’ve handled worse.” It hurt like a sonofabitch, but he’d live.

  “Damn it, Gabriel. What’s going on? Tell me everything," Justin ordered, and sank down into a chair.