“Muse…” I made out Stefan’s distinctive coat. He dropped to his knees in front of me, but he couldn’t breach the wall of flame.
A snap of pain lashed up my back, wrenching a cry from my lips. “Just kill him…” I hissed.
He didn’t move. It didn’t matter what we did to Akil’s human vessel, it wouldn’t destroy the essence of him. Immortal, remember? Not the kind of immortal that isn’t really immortal either. Princes of Hell don’t die.
Tears sizzled in my eyes. “Stefan…” Terror clamped my chest.
He couldn’t reach me. Pain tore my back. Energy lashed furiously at my insolence. A scream squeezed through my clenched teeth. I flung my desperate stare at Stefan. “Please, make this worth it. Do something. Make sure he can’t come back.” Energy cracked across my spine, slamming me against the ground. Fire spilled across the pier like a creeping river of lava. It was going to consume me. I couldn’t contain this much power. Not even a full-demon could contain this much energy. My only other option was to release it. But if I did that, half of Boston would be destroyed. I lifted my head and saw Stefan beside Akil with something in his hand. Ice. I saw the water running down his arm… No, not water. Blood.
My element slashed through my flesh, lancing up my entire right side. I was beyond screaming. I’d retreated from my physical self, my human mind unable to cope with the pain. Power still tore into me, slashing great talons of energy through my body.
I felt rather than saw the veil open. My demon instinctively reached for home, seeking an escape, but she could no more escape than I could. Stefan had Akil’s limp body draped over his shoulders. Blood flowed down his coat, dripping over his boots and onto the pier. I couldn’t think clearly enough to understand what was happening. Nica was there, beside him, her face wet with tears.
Fire scorched every inch of my flesh. I could end this. The water. If I could get to the water… I could escape. It had nearly killed me before, but death seemed like the easy way out compared to the body-sundering assault my element was dealing me. I searched for Stefan, needing to see those cool winter eyes one last time. Amid the heat and flame, I caught sight of him. He saw me too, and a weighted sadness crossed his face. I reached out, extending flames toward him, and then he turned away and carried Akil through the veil. The tear in reality stitched itself back up behind him, and he was gone.
Gone.
I couldn’t do this. I needed him. Someone. Anyone. I couldn’t do this alone. My demon snarled at me, snapping inside my skull. She wanted to release the power. Let it all go, she hissed. The delicious release of chaos. Taste it. Let it go. Burn the city, burn the people, burn, burn, burn.
I clawed at the pier, nails fracturing, and dragged my blazing body to the pier’s edge. Better to smother the flames, to drown in the darkness, than release the desires of the demon. I was half-human, and she was mine to command. She would not win, could not beat me. I would always be human first. My life here—my love—it was mine, and she would not take that from me.
I slipped off the edge of the pier and into the water.
Chapter 26
I don’t remember Nica pulling me out, nor do I recall Adam scooping my cold, limp body off the pier before bundling me into the back of a car. They later told me I was unconscious and non-responsive for a week. Had it not been for the sweltering heat I radiated, they’d have given me up as a lost cause.
At least I have no memory of the pain. My human mind had locked it all away in a box marked Do Not Touch–Ever. My demon would remember it, but I didn’t have to deal with that because the Institute had their claws in me, and my demon half had been sent packing.
I had a new prison cell, furnished with steel bars.
Adam visited me daily. A man of few words, he’d sit outside my cell and scribble a few notes. It was just as well they’d taken my demon from me, because I’d have spontaneously combusted him on sight had I had the power to do it.
I refused to speak to them. It was all the power I had left, so I stubbornly used it, hoping they’d forget about me—maybe even let me go if I played dumb long enough. No such luck. Adam hadn’t spoken Stefan’s name in weeks. He’d asked me a few rudimentary questions, which I’d refused to answer, but for some reason, that day, he decided to broach the subject.
“Do you know what happened to Stefan?” he asked in a monotone way, like a doctor might ask how you are on this fine sunny day.
I kept my head bowed, letting my tangled hair hide my expression. I knew what I’d seen, but I didn’t know what it meant. When I finally did speak, my voice rasped across my cracked lips. “He took Akil back to hell…”
Adam let the quiet return before speaking. “He offered himself to the veil as a human sacrifice. He took Akil to the netherworld, making sure the Prince of Greed could never return.”
I remembered the blood I’d seen dripping down Stefan’s coat, but I hadn’t known what it meant. I did now. He wasn’t coming back. A one-way trip. He had said as much when discussing the idea of a sacrifice in the library with Ryder. I cared, I did, but numbness had descended over me. I knew it was a coping mechanism. The only way I could function was to not feel anything, but it was a tenuous solution, liable to fracture at any moment. I looked at Adam and wondered if he’d gained a few more worry lines since I’d walked out of here in a little black dress all those weeks ago. “He’ll come back,” I said.
Adam tilted his head to the side. “No. He’s a half-blood in the netherworld without an owner to protect him. How long do you think he’ll last?”
I clenched my teeth. Did this man not feel anything at all for his son? “He’ll come back.”
Adam stood with a weary, drawn-out sigh. “He’s likely already dead.”
I lunged at the bars, hissing. “He was right to despise you.”
“Perhaps.” Adam folded his notebook and tucked the pen into his shirt pocket before peering back at me, his soft brown eyes deceptively beguiling. “Of course, we could train you. If you worked for us, we could provide the knowledge you need to retrieve him.”
“Sure, let me out of here, give me my demon back, and I’ll help you.” I don’t think he appreciated my sarcasm.
He dragged a hand across his bristly chin then scratched at his cheek. “You’ll come around.”
I watched him walk away. The heavy steel door opened. A guard acknowledged him before pulling the door closed and twisting the lock.
Alone, I clenched the bars in my warm hands and tilted my head back, closing my eyes. Stefan was locked beyond the veil in a world that despised him, where every rippling shadow might kill him. I’d been there. I’d lived much of my life in the netherworld, most of it on my knees in chains. Stefan was alone, and he’d trapped a Prince of Hell with him. I couldn’t begin to imagine how he’d survive, but he would. I had to believe he would. He’d survive until I could get to him.
I paced my tiny cell, hands laced in my hair.
Stefan had lied to me. He’d dashed my hopes. I hated him and what he’d done to me. He’d tossed my misplaced love back in my face, but I couldn’t leave him there. He didn’t deserve that. Nobody deserved that. If the Institute wanted to waste their time and money training me, that was their mistake. As soon as I got my demon back, I would cross the veil. Val was there, waiting for me. So was Akil. It was madness to even consider it, but what else did I have? Anything that had ever mattered to me was gone.
I stopped pacing and stood in the center of my cell, hands clenched at my sides. I’d work for the Institute. I’d play their game. I’d lie to them, let them believe me an ally, and when they trusted me, when they thought me one of them, I’d be back with Stefan to tear this place down around them.
Epilogue
The light had long ago given up the ghost, but I didn’t mind the dark. It suited my mood. The bleached-white light from the workshop spilled into the small office through the dusty window, pooling enough of a wan glow across the desk that I could see the scuffs on my boots.
&
nbsp; I heard the workshop door rumble open and glanced through the cobwebs covering the workshop’s little window. The white sheet covering the half-finished Dodge Charger billowed like a skirt as the uninvited breeze slipped beneath it, then settled gently as the door closed.
I counted a few beats before Ryder poked his head around the office door. He wouldn’t have wasted any time searching elsewhere for me. There was only one place I went when I needed to think.
“You’re up. Demon, Class C, downtown.”
I rocked my chair back, feet still resting on the desk. A Class C was a minor demon sighting, little more than a box ticking exercise. It was all I was permitted to do as a trainee Enforcer.
Ryder didn’t hide his frown. He sucked in a breath and entered the gloomy office, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his grease-stained jeans. I could smell gun oil and knew he’d been working on his collection of Institute guns. He was the go-to guy for the Enforcer weaponry, and despite his disheveled appearance, he was a damn good weapons expert.
He scratched at an eyebrow and glanced back out the door, clearly uncomfortable with my silence. “Muse, you gotta talk to someone.” He smiled, but it looked sheepish on his face, as though he were embarrassed to even mention his next words. “It’s been months. You’ve not said a word about him; not mentioned him at all. It ain’t healthy.”
It was sweet that he cared enough to raise the subject. Talking about feelings wasn’t one of Ryder’s strong points. “What do you know about healthy?” I smiled. “I’ve never known a guy who could survive on coffee and Doritos before.”
He lifted his hands, guilty as charged. “All right. I’m not the guy to talk to, but you gotta talk to someone. This silence, it ain’t doin’ you any favors.”
He was talking about the Institute and their incessant reporting. Ryder was my handler. My tutor. My babysitter. Everything I did, every move I made, every screw up, he reported it to the Institute. It wasn’t his fault. He had a job to do. At least he didn’t lie about it. Who could I talk to? Nica hadn’t said three words to me since that night on the pier, blaming me for her brother’s sacrifice. I might not have felt so alone if they’d given me my demon back, but she was off limits. All I had was Ryder.
“I want my demon back.” I plucked at a loose thread on my jacket. “I don’t care about anything else.”
“Not even Stefan?”
I flicked my gaze up without lifting my head, peering at him through my lashes. “Stefan’s dead.”
Neither of us believed it, but it was the right thing to say. The Institute needed to believe I’d given up hope, so that’s what I told them. Ryder knew it was a lie, but he played the same game I did. Only when Adam and the Institute thought I was entirely theirs, would I get my demon back. Only then could I go beyond the veil and go after Stefan.
It had been months since Stefan had offered himself to the veil, locking both himself and Akil on the other side, and it would be longer still before the Institute trusted me. But if any half-blood could survive on his own in the demon realm, I had to believe it would be Stefan.
A quirky smile chased away the concern on Ryder’s face. “C’mon, lil’ firecracker. I’ll race you there. Last on the scene buys the beers.”
I made a show of examining my nails, then flashed him a grin. Ryder bolted from the doorway with me in hot pursuit.
He always wins.
Buy the next book in the acclaimed Veil Series here:
Devil May Care #2 Veil Series
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Excerpt ~ Devil May Care, #2 The Veil Series
Chapter One
I handed my Enforcer ID card to the police officer guarding the entrance to the apartment complex. Rainwater dripped into my eyes. I swept my wet hair back from my face and winced as a camera flashed somewhere to my right. Behind me, the press jostled against the black and yellow crime scene tape. I kept my head down, my collar up, and avoided eye contact. In the last six months, I’d escaped press attention, but other Enforcers hadn’t been as lucky. They’d been consigned to desk jobs as a result. Officially, Enforcers didn’t exist. Neither did demons. Unofficially, there was no smoke without fire, and the public knew it.
The cop shone his flashlight over my ID, highlighting the entwined scorpion motif. He flicked the beam into my face. I flinched away too late to prevent the tight white beam from bleaching my night vision.
“Enforcer, huh.” The cop sniffed. Water dripped from his cap. “Your buddy’s inside.” He held out the card. As I reached for it, his grip lingered. “You must be tougher than you look.”
I smiled and plucked my ID from his fingers, saluting him with it before ducking under another strip of tape and walking through the gates. I felt his gaze on me and resisted the urge to give him a single finger salute over my shoulder. He wasn’t the first to underestimate me and wouldn’t be the last. Flipping off an officer of the law was the sort of behavior my boss had recently suggested I refrain from. Again.
Inside the apartment building, a sprinkling of uniformed cops peppered the crowd and half a dozen forensic investigators suited up in protective coveralls. I recognized the hushed ambiance of most murder scenes—quiet respect. Nothing reminds us of our mortality quite like witnessing the aftermath of death. This was my day job.
I flashed my card at the officer at the bottom of the stairs and received a disinterested nod.
“Miss Henderson...” Detective Coleman wove his way through the crowd. “I’ll take you up.” The briefest tick of a smile fled across his lips.
“How you doin’, Detective?” I struggled to warm my own smile. It takes a lot to earn my trust, and Coleman was no exception. He had noted my frosty demeanor when we’d first met, a few months before, but he hadn’t taken offense. Unlike me, he was a professional.
“I’m good, Miss Henderson,” he said flatly. He jogged ahead, ash-gray jacket rippling open, revealing a glimpse of his sidearm. He was lean in the way people are when they skip meals and survive on black coffee, but what he lost in body mass, he made up for in tenacity. We passed a few of the forensic team carrying bagged and tagged items. “Detective Hill is already on scene. Have you been briefed?” Small-talk was apparently off the agenda.
He had gained a few more worry lines around his eyes since I’d last seen him. “Only in so much as there’s been a murder, and you believe it to be demon related. I was...indisposed when the call came in.” We paused on the steps to let some cops pass.
Coleman’s fingers instinctively twisted the wedding band on his left hand. I thought he’d make a terrible poker player. Coleman had seen more demon kills than I’d had hot dinners, and I’d lived much of my life among demons. The Boston PD’s go-to guy for demon related incidents, he handled the collateral damage until the Institute bulldozed in and covered it up with misinformation and distraction tactics. Tonight though, he was twitchy as hell.
We reached the third floor and emerged into a narrow wood-paneled corridor with numbered apartments either side. I saw Ryder— my partner-handler-sometime-babysitter—standing outside an apartment, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his faded black jeans. His scuffed leather jacket glistened from the rain. His wet hair had darkened to a hazelnut color and clung to his cheeks in places. He scratched at his stubble-dashed chin and nodded at something Detective Amanda Hill said.
Hill spoke quietly with her back to me. Her hands gestured around her like pale hummingbirds. She was petite, like me, but that’s where our similarities ended. Hill was red-headed with a volatile temper to boot. Ryder referred to her as Scully in private, referencing a fifteen year old TV show. Fifteen years before, I’d been yanked from the netherworld, the only world I knew, and was learning how to talk like an American teen without growling my consonants.
Coleman greeted Ryder with a broad grin and eager handshake. He acknowledged Hill with an appreciative nod.
“Detective Coleman,” Ryder drawled. “How’s the Missus?” He leaned a shoulder against the door
frame.
Mention of Coleman’s wife had the Detective twisting his ring again. “Julia is fine. Thanks for asking.” He noticed his nervous gesture and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Have you been inside?”
“Nope, been waitin’ for Miss Henderson.” Ryder’s sharp eyes fixed on me. His eyes gave him away. He might’ve looked like something washed up on a beach, but his eyes sparkled with an intelligence reserved for those who cared to look deeper. “You owe me a beer,” he said, referring to our ‘last-on-scene-buys-the-beers’ ritual. I always lost.
I shrugged. “Got held up.” When the call had come in, I’d been in the midst of a Progress Report with our head of department, Adam Harper, a man I detested with every part of my half-blood body.
Coleman reached for the closed door. “Let’s get this done. Forensics will be finishing up. There’s some evidence Miss Henderson will need to examine. Ready?” He opened the door.
I could smell the blood from the hallway. The metallic odor hung in the air and set my teeth on edge. Inside, the apartment wasn’t anything special: framed pastel artwork, cream walls, a few rugs scattered over painted wooden floors, and an ultra-thin TV. No photos. The window blinds were closed, possibly to keep out the prying eyes of the press. A demon killing was front page material, much to chagrin of the Institute, who continued to try and sweep these events under a burgeoning rug.
As we neared a bedroom doorway, the pungent eye-watering odor of blood, excrement, and something worse clogged my nose and lodged in my throat. Something I knew well... burned flesh. My stomach rolled.
I followed the detectives inside, and my overwhelmed senses struggled to piece together a cohesive image of the scene. Papers, pictures, fragments of broken furniture had all been tossed about the room like the aftermath of a burglary. The forensic photographer on the opposite side of the room took a picture, and the resulting flash burned the room into my memory. Coleman was talking to Ryder, saying something about excessive violence, but their voices trailed off behind the silent scream bubbling inside my head. I wasn’t going to freak out. Not yet.
[The Veil 01.0] Beyond the Veil Page 22
