Pandora's Box

by Miller, Gracen

  “Yeah?” Not a foot away from her, he stood too close for Madison’s peace of mind. She glanced over to where Zen had waited, but at some point he’d left.

  Nix placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth. “Have you lost your fucking mind! You weren’t prepared to take a succubus out. Without me here, she would have beaten you.”

  “Zen would have helped.”

  “Some friend Zen is!” He shook her. “He wasn’t even here!”

  Madison knocked his hands aside and stepped out of reach. “Without you here, she wouldn’t have had anyone to enthrall, and I wouldn’t have been forced into talking you out of killing me.”

  His sexy mouth compressed with supreme censure. “Don’t turn this on me. You lied. Lied about what you were chasing. A fucking succubus, not a Mimicker, and you lied about it.”

  She got the feeling lying was a big deal to Nix.

  “A goddamn succubus is much different than a Mimicker, poses more danger.”

  “They don’t pose danger to me. I’m part succubus, Nix; I am not susceptible to them.”

  He flinched, as if struck by the memory. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re reckless. You’re going to get yourself killed, and what happens to Amos? Who’s going to take care of him? Zen? Use some fucking sense, a little caution, and don’t lie to me again!”

  He jammed his fingers through his hair, and she tried to figure out what caused such excessive agitation. Because she hunted, or could’ve died? Or because she’d done the killing, and not him. A woman’s win could screw with a man’s ego. She dismissed that cause immediately. Nix wasn’t that type of man. Maybe he cared more than he let on?

  “You make me want to hit something, Mads. Shit, I had no idea you were so reckless with your—”

  “Nix!” she interrupted, just to shut him up.

  He glared at her.

  “Do you know you’re freaking sexy when you’re angry?”

  Slack jawed and gawking, he went thankfully mute. Nix tongue-tied? Interesting and comical. Madison laughed and walked toward the house.

  “We gotta bury the body in a cemetery,” she said, smiling as she realized he followed. “We don’t have much time before the succubus bitch rejuvenates. I’ll tell Gage and Zoe where we’re going.”

  “Mads?”

  With the door half-open, she spun on her heel to face him. He stood at the bottom of the steps staring up at her. “Yeah, Nix.”

  “You said that just to get me to shut up, didn’t you?”

  “About you being sexy?”

  He nodded, dug his hands into his jeans. She cocked her head and watched as he shuffled his feet. Adorable. She’d never seen the nervous side of Nix Birmingham. To taunt him, she answered with only a smile, then turned and walked into the house.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “How’d it feel to kiss a succubus?” Mads asked, maneuvering her pricey Land Rover down a dirt road too narrow for cars coming from opposite directions to squeeze past one another.

  “Mads, about that…I know I was kissing a succubus that looked like you, but…”

  “Nix, you were enthralled. You’d have kissed her if she looked like the Bride of Frankenstein.”

  Nix thought she pushed it with the analogy as she sent him a brief glance before returning her attention to the road.

  “I feel violated,” he said, staring at the dense forest surrounding them. “Demon tongue in your mouth is….” He shuddered.

  “The succubus would’ve enjoyed making you kill me. She would’ve played with you afterward, dumped your body in a ditch, and all you’re worried about is being French kissed?” She shook her head and took a left turn.

  Was the cemetery she drove them to located two states over?

  “I know how you feel. Micah kissed me too, remember?” She frowned. “Not a good memory.”

  “Mads….” He angled his head to look at the night sky through the vehicle window. “The way you went after the succubus. That was something else.” He rubbed his bottom lip.

  “Okay.”

  “Impressive. You’ve changed a lot in two years.” And he wasn’t talking about the foul mouth she suddenly possessed. Hearing her curse in her southern accent could be defined as all sorts of crazy sexy. “Kinda scary, the lack of fear you showed.”

  They drove for another fifteen minutes before she stopped the car in the middle of nowhere. It could be hell to end up stranded in such a secluded spot. In a clearing to the left perched a tiny, neglected cemetery. Madison strung a couple of lanterns from branches, while Nix carried the body to the hole she indicated—when had she found time to do the digging—dropped the succubus in and watched her squirt holy water all over the body. She spoke a language sounding similar to the ‘itch-nay’ word she used earlier, and the syllables slid over him like a dangerous presence. Enough to give him the creeps in the form of goose bumps cascading all over his body.

  As her words ended, the succubus body made a loud whomff and ignited as if she’d doused the creature in gasoline. “What’d you just say to make her go up in flames, Mads?”

  His question made her fidget from foot to foot. She rubbed her arms and executed a little shrug he almost missed.

  “Spare the bullshit, Mads. Just be honest with me. I know everything about you.” Their eyes locked over the flaming succubus. “The good and the bad, and I never judge. I’m not judging now.”

  Nix stared at her and admired the way the light of the flames flickered over her profile.

  “That language I use is Xapil, a demon dialect.” Mads took a deep breath and continued, “I guess I should tell you everything else. One day you may have to hunt me like you do all the other FINKs.”

  Never would he hunt her. He held up his hand. “Explain fink.”

  A small smile tilted the corners of her mouth. Would he ever stop dreaming about her delectable mouth on his anatomy?

  “FINK is an anagram for Fucker In Need of Killing.” Her smile turned full blown. Hunt her down? Seriously? When he wanted her this much? “My quirky sense of humor’s way of coping, I guess.”

  Nix smiled. “Cute, Mads. I like it. A Sherlock always needs to keep her sense of humor.”

  Something about his statement snatched the smile off her face.

  “I’m not a Sherlock.” She grabbed a shovel from the back of her car and scooped up dirt, tossed it on the torched remains of the succubus. The shimmering fingers of the moon and two camping lanterns hanging in nearby trees lit their clandestine job.

  Nix stepped over the hole and took the shovel out of her hand. “You’re as much a Sherlock as I am.”

  Mads shook her head and stepped away from him. His arrival had been the only time she allowed him close to her, and it’d be a long time before he forgot the way she crashed into him with a fierce hug. Afterward, she couldn’t get out of his personal space quick enough.

  “I’ll get the other shovel out of the car.” She turned to walk away.

  He caught her arm and pulled her near. “Why the need to distance yourself from me?” His hand slid down her arm to clutch her wrist. Her breath quickened. No way he imagined her reaction. “We’re still friends, right?”

  She nodded, yet refused to meet his gaze. Nix released his hold on the shovel, and it thunked against the earth. She tensed beneath his touch.

  “Are you afraid of me because you think I’ll have to hunt you some day?”

  “No.” She met his eyes. “There are times when I think you should hunt me now, before I get out of control. Maybe Amos, too. Zen—”

  “Don’t say that, Mads. You don’t mean it.”

  “I do.” Rotating her arm, she twisted out of his grasp. She didn’t move from her position, didn’t create a wider gulf of space between them. Instead, she lifted her hand and touched his face. “I am a succubus, Nix. Face it. I’m one of the dangerous FINKs.” A tortured smile touched her lips. “One taste of your blood, and you’d be my slave, victimized by
my commands.”

  “Are you afraid you’ll bewitch me?”

  “Sometimes the urge….” She dropped her hand and turned away, took two steps and halted.

  Talk about enthralling him should have cooled his blood. Instead, knowing she experienced the urge to do it gave him the opposite reaction. Around her, nothing he felt made any damn sense.

  “Have you enthralled other men?” Those were difficult words to force past his lips.

  “Yes.”

  He sucked in a hard breath, and she turned to face him, her gaze direct. He still remembered the sweet, naïve woman he first met. Branding her a succubus, something normally evil and vile, was a very difficult thing for him to do.

  The woman returning his stare was altogether different, and she never would be the same again. Life had forced her to evolve. Either change or lose everything she cherished to the manipulation of a demon. Everyone lost their innocence in the supernatural war.

  What’d she do with the men she enthralled? Fearing her answer would be sex, he didn’t ask. The idea of some other man knowing her carnally disturbed him, especially when he wanted her for his own. And succubi weren’t known for just having sex with their victims. They fed off their life force and ultimately killed them. Was she guilty of the demonic deed?

  “I told you I was no Sherlock. I have a handful of Sherlocks hunting me already. Jackson, Maples, Miles, Duncan, and Paulin.”

  Nix whistled through his teeth. All excellent Sherlocks—good men, dedicated to killing evil—and they wanted his Madison. What a hell of a dilemma he found himself in. “Why do they want you, Mads?”

  “They know Amos is Nephilim, and Micah wants him back. Reason enough for any normal Sherlock to hunt us.” She crossed her arms. “The succubus we’re burying let the secret slip to get them off her trail.” She kicked at the edge of a rock. “And I might have enthralled one or two of them to turn on the others, so Amos and I could get free.”

  Nix’s lips twitched. Ingenious. “Might have or did?”

  “Did.”

  “How long until they’re un-enthralled?”

  “Until another succubus spills their blood or it wears off.”

  Which could be never. What happened to the two Sherlocks enthralled now that they were separated from her?

  “Which is what you did to me. To break her spell.” He cocked his thumb at the ashes of the deceased succubus.

  “Yeah. I could have put my own spell on you if I ingested even a smidgen of your blood. I don’t want such power over you.” She grinned. “Too much adoration goes to a succubus’s head.”

  He loved it when she teased. “Can a succubus enthrall any male without ingesting his blood? By, say, mere touch?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “The power comes through the blood only.”

  “Mads, this means our kiss on your porch two years ago was all you, darlin’, and had nothing to do with the succubus inside you.”

  Her golden brows drew together, and she bit her bottom lip. “Nix, the kiss should be chalked up to a ‘thank God I survived another demon attack’ kind of moment.” What a low blow. “Don’t put any more stock than that in it. You’re…like a…um….” she cleared her throat “…brother to me.”

  She hadn’t kissed him back like a sister. Her perception of the incident mattered little; he’d always put more stock in their kiss than she preferred him to. Until his dying breath, he’d want her feverishly, and not only in the physical sense. Man enough to admit he desired her as his woman, he could settle for nothing less. She would probably never feel the same way. His best hope was to keep her as a friend.

  One day soon, she’d be forced to confront Micah and battle to the death. When the day came, he planned to be by her side, assisting her. None of them knew if she’d survive, or if they’d want her to.

  Two days later, Nix, Gage, and Zoe came downstairs to an empty house. Madison and Amos were gone. Again.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  One year later

  Fayetteville, Arkansas

  Petra wheeled the vehicle into the parking lot of Briar’s Bowling Alley, an ordinary-looking metal building. What a bizarre place to find demons.

  Fire. That’s what she played with. Fire of the satanic sort. She gripped the steering wheel with white-tipped fingers. Before this played out she would probably get more than a little singed, too, if she didn’t get lucky—insert heaping doses of sarcasm on the word ‘lucky’—and become demonic barbeque.

  With a groan, she settled her forehead against the wheel and reminded herself choices were limited. There were just no other alternatives she could live with. Worse, she actually cared what Amos thought of her. She so, so sucked at being a demon!

  Helping a Sherlock was a death offense. She couldn’t dimple and say “sorry” afterward, knowing everything would be forgiven. This decision—above all others she made—altered the course of her life forever. And no one could imagine the magnitude of ‘forever’ to a demon.

  Without her aid, the Birmingham cousins would die. The truth rumbled through her mind over and over like a damn broken record.

  Amos expects too much from me. Of course he does. The niggle of human DNA made him a goody-two-shoes. But….

  Making Amos happy—a child with enough power coiled inside him to rule everything and everyone—was her only aim in her miserable existence. If she walked away and tried to lie about helping the Sherlock cousins, he would take one glance at her with his big, blue eyes and know what she’d done. She valued his faith in her and refused to lose it.

  She released a miserable sigh. What a nightmare she found herself in. As trapped in this relationship as she’d been in her relationship with her father.

  A demon with a conscience…what a bitch! Resigned to whatever fate her actions led toward, Petra threw open the car door and stepped out.

  She pocketed the keys to the hijacked Maserati and fast-walked to the door, her two-inch boot heels clacking against the pavement. The demons inside the bowling alley already knew of her presence, rendering any attempt at stealth futile.

  Could this be a trap for Amos and Madison? The cousins? Or maybe all of them? Capturing any of them would be a huge success. Capturing all would be a coup.

  Good thing Madison and Zen had sent her in case it was a trap. She picked up her pace. They couldn’t afford for Micah to get his hands on his family.

  She threw open the door and stood in the doorway, staring into the cave-black confines for an endless minute. The darkness could be chalked up to electrical failure or demonic mojo. Since she could hear the bowling lanes operating, she opted for demonic interference.

  The door hit her ass when it swooshed shut. She took a step to the side and swallowed a deep breath, taking in her surroundings. She wrinkled her nose at the sulfuric imprint of at least four demons. The cousins were somewhere near, too. They’d been a thorn in her side almost since their conception. She’d restrained Phoenix as a child while Elias raped his mother and killed his family. Now, she stooped to helping them. She’d either gone psychotic or the apocalypse loomed.

  Maybe both.

  She whipped her serpent tongue out and tasted for their fear. The flavors she perceived were anger and pain mingled with determination and stubbornness. They wouldn’t give up. Damn, these Sherlocks were a tough act.

  The hatred the demons emanated swelled just as strong as the anger and pain of the cousins. Demonic eagerness wafted to her as well. The demons planned to kill the Sherlocks. Most likely as tortuously as possible. She could guarantee they wouldn’t die before her father got what he wanted from them. Not too long ago, she’d have stood beside him and helped torture these Sherlocks, relishing every second of their screams.

  Did Hell spawn bigger fools than she? Doubtful.

  To say her father would be furious at her defection was a lot like saying demons only slightly loved turning human souls into new demonic factions. Neither effectively demonstrated the depth of the emotions. Saving the
cousins would be seen as Petra’s official declaration of war against Hell.

  Talk about playing with fire and having a death wish. Demons would be hunting her for the hundred-to-one-shot of getting in her father’s good graces.

  Before she could rethink her decision, Petra tugged the blade off her ankle and sliced her palm. Spilled blood would distract her kin. It would also alert her father to her whereabouts.

  Fuck!

  Her demonic power would not conceal her from those inside either. Unfortunately, being committed to saving the cousins and doing whatever the fuck Amos and Madison wanted left her with no other choice than to risk her safety.

  Almost instantly, she felt the swell of power course through her as blood dripped from her hand. She licked the hemoglobin off her palm, and energy vibrated on her tongue. Her eyes burned. Magic funneled through her system and her skin grew clammy. If she peeked into a mirror, the eyes staring back would be a swirling mass of violet and blue, displaying her demon DNA. They were also the eyes of a murderer.

  Demon sight guided her—she could see as clearly as if the lights were on. The lanes were going full throttle, probably to distract the cousins because no one actually bowled. The noise of the repeated swipes of the bar knocking down pins and re-racking them would confuse the humans. Unlike mortals and baseborn demons, she could filter out the noise.

  Four Philistine demons were present, their strength not up to her caliber. Good for her, but they spelled disaster if her father were their puppeteer. No demon could terrify her like her father, not even one of the other Kings of Hell. None of them would dare touch her without his permission. Well, until now. With the actions she was about to commit, they’d hunt her traitorous ass down with or without his consent.

  With a wave of her hand, she tossed two demons against the walls and pinned them there. She flattened another on his back in the middle of a bowling lane, and the fourth one landed straddling the ball return. She hoped a ball would smack the demon’s family jewels, and a few minutes later his howl of pain reached an octave that could’ve almost shattered glass.