by JL Madore
The orgasm rose in waves, again and again. As he rode the erotic replay of their private moments he sank down the wall to the shower floor.
A long while later Z got his hamster running in his wheel and snapped back to life. Shit. He’d made a mess and remained as thick and hard as a Louisville Slugger. Forget it. Once was skeevy, a doubleheader was out of the question.
Austin deserved better than to be an erotic prop.
With the adrenaline rush over he cursed and wrapped a towel around his hips. He didn’t bother toweling off. He dripped all the way to his closet and shivered while the air-conditioning chilled his skin as cold as his insides.
Welcome to the new world order Sumerian.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Danel’s phone vibrated at his hip. He checked the text and got his hustle on. Fucking A. He tossed a ten on the counter, took the tray from the barista and turned on his heels. Outside, he divvied up the coffees with Seth and Phoenix and turned down the alley that ran the length of the place. “Zander’s on the streets tonight.”
“No kidding.” Seth looked up from his cup. “He looked bad earlier. I hid the sharp objects.”
With his hands occupied with his java, Phoenix nodded.
“Yeah well, that IP address you found the other day paid off. Colt traced it back to the low-level demons who posted the Tanek videos and when the cop closed in, the assholes gave up a lead on the missing Cherub to save their skins. Z’s hooking up with Brennus and Kyrian down at the docks to check it out.”
“Should we join the party?”
Danel shook his head. “Hark is uptown working the after-hours scene for info on who had enough juice to make Watcher-killer weapons. That leaves us covering the streets for intel on the Darkworld’s sudden bright idea to rise in rebellion. Let’s shake some trees. Hopefully, we’ll have something to report to Z and we can get him fully back in the game.”
The mention of Zander sent the identical warriors off gossiping like two old ladies. Even with Phoenix mute and hearing one side of the conversation, it was enough to drive Danel batshit. Zander looked like roadkill this, and Austin’s sexy accent that—fuck—all they needed was mauve hair and knitting needles and they’d be off to the senior’s bizarre.
Seth blew over the rim of his coffee. “Do you think the sex is better if you care about the female your tapping?”
Phoenix shrugged, his baby-blues sweeping the sightlines from windows along the alley.
“What about fucking the same woman twice? What do you think that’s like?”
Danel laughed in a hard burst as they rounded the corner and wove their way toward the waterfront. “Don’t tell me that between the two of you tag-teaming the females, and getting your freak on, you’ve never made it twice. That is sad my brothers. So, sad.”
Seth assumed a bored expression. Phoenix flipped him the bird. “You are cold, Persian. Jealousy is an ugly emotion.”
The three of them did a walk through at the RedRum. Though nobody was flapping their gums at the Darkworld bar, JD and his Darkworld staff promised to keep their ears open. Not that it meant much, but hey. Miracles did happen.
Maybe Z and Kyrian were having better luck.
“I’ll fucking kill someone if daemons have somehow infected us with feelings,” Seth said. “Do you think it’s catchy or a one-off?”
Danel refused to dwell on the drama that was now out of their lives. “Hellooo, Dr. Phil, we’re supposed to be tracking a Shedim uprising, remember? Zander’s on the mend. Him being on the job is a good thing.”
Seth came to an abrupt halt. “As much as I hate the idea of getting tied down, you gotta admit, the roar of Zander’s claim on Austin was fucking intimidating. You gotta respect the hell outta that kind of possession.”
He did, though he’d never admit it. “Wipe those thoughts from your mind. Nephilim don’t take mates. Never have. Never will. We have no business second-guessing the whys and what-fors. What happened with Z and that human was a blip in our lives. All it means going forward is that from now on he’ll be kicking our asses harder than ever.”
“True d’at.”
Danel tossed his empty coffee cup in a street garbage and stepped into the mouth of the next alley. He raised his hand and signaled for the other two to halt. “Fuck me.”
“Not my type, D. You’ve got a P where I prefer a V.”
“Stop spouting and get a load of the locals.”
“Shit. Did we step in it?”
Phoenix nodded, his hands too busy to talk. In a quick shift, he unbuttoned his coat and exchanged his coffee cup for knives.
It wasn’t often Danel got surprised in their line of work, but every now and then they came across a scene so unexpected he had to shake his head.
Five skinheads had corralled a college trio down a side alley. The girls seemed oblivious to the reality that those were plasma-sucking Serpentine demons and not hot biker-dudes on their way to the clubhouse.
These boys were sampling off menu—way off menu.
He and the twins stuck to the shadows and tracked the posse to the side door of an industrial warehouse. The deadly nightshade inked above the door indicated this was a den. The symbols were ancient. The meaning crystal clear. Painted with an iridescent purple pigment that only Otherworld eyes could detect, the warning, loosely translated to: Fuck off or die.
He studied the stylized purple flower with its black berries and cursed. “Seth, this is Gregor’s nest. He’ll vaporize our asses for trespassing if we don’t handle this right.”
“If those girls are anything but invited guests to a tea party, we have every right to be here. The way they were weaving, they’re buzzed-out on some chemical make-nice pill.”
“If they’re in there with their free will intact, we’re violating about seven different accords with the Otherworld Council.”
“Can’t hurt to take a closer look, just to be sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Danel hated where this was headed. Seth was a bulldog with a bone when he smelled a fight and this place had Darkworld beatdown written all over it. The warrior was a beast in battle, but his social skills dissolved the closer he got to a chance to tee off on somebody. And by tee off, he meant beat the living snot out of that somebody.
Danel poked his finger into the brother’s broad chest and gave him a somber stare. “We’re going to be diplomatic about this. If Gregor is inside I speak with him and you behave. No Oscar de la Hoya impressions, got it? We’re gentlemen.”
Seth lowered himself in a formal bow. “Onward McDuff. Show me how it is done. I shall follow your lead, good fellow.”
Fuck. “Yeah, you do that.”
After opening the length of his jacket to access his toys, Danel bounced his fist off the square viewing window set into the reinforced steel door. When the thing slid open, he threw out some official, yet diplomatic words.
A woman’s scream pierced the night from within.
Reaching through the opening, he grabbed the collar of the thug manning the entrance and introduced his 9-millimeter to the demon’s nasal cavity. “Open the fucking door.”
Lickety-split the portal swung wide.
“Smooth, Persian.” Seth snorted, bolting into the darkness guns raised with Phoenix on his ass. “I missed the gentleman part though. Would you mind showing me again?”
Danel cursed a blue streak and took up the rear.
By the stench of fireside aroma, the place was crawling with Serpentines. Well, slithering was more accurate. Pulling out his Moonstone, Danel thumbed over the runes and called the stone to life. Another few strokes and a lighthouse beacon burst from the palm of his hand.
Serpentines recoiled like roaches scurrying back into their dark holes. Red, lidless lizard eyes caught the Moonstone’s light, reflecting back at them a hundred times over. Seth and Phoenix tightened against his back, daggers drawn. Long strings of hisses filled the air as daemons slithered along the shadowed edge of the cast circle of the Moonston
e’s light.
“Easy,” Danel said, “if you’ve been minding your own, we’re not here for you.”
“You shhhouldn’t be here at all.”
The graveled hiss erupted from deep in the shadows and Danel knew they were pooched. He steeled himself, removing all emotion from his face, and waited for the writhing sea of bodies to part and provide the King of the Serpentine race.
Danel bent smoothly at the waist, bowing his head. He made no move to lower his stone. Thankfully, Seth and Phoenix followed suit.
With as much sincerity as he could muster, Danel looked their furious host straight in his eerie silver sockets. “Highness, apologies for the intrusion. We witnessed innocents being brought inside your home and heard a cry for help. We are interested solely in the safe return of three human girls and dealing with those who violated the accords.”
The Serpentine King crossed his frail, withered arms, his hands disappearing up the velvet sleeves of his robe. “You accuse my children of breaking with the lawsss and harming innocents? You know well we feed solely on the dregsss and the depraved.”
“I fear some of your people have strayed from the usual fare. College girls are not part of your approved menu.”
Gregor’s Rastafarian braids undulated and squirmed. He held out his hand and a female handed him a silver-handled smoking pipe. After a long inhale, pale pink smoke seeped out those hollow eye sockets. Danel forced himself not to wince.
God, he hated dealing with ancient Dark Ones.
The edicts were clear. Everyone got the chance to live a peaceable life, no matter how they aged or majorly f-ugly they happened to be. Serpentines apparently couldn’t help the fact that they needed to consume white blood cells to survive.
“Tell me what you witnesssed and perhapsss I can assissst.”
“Five men in black camo and muscle shirts, tattooed from wrist to scull. Their leader wears a wide silver studded belt with chains and boots that buckle up the back of his calves.”
“I sssee.” Gregor seemed to frown but who the fuck could tell with his forked tongue snapping around in the air between them. “And they brought innocentsss here?”
“I’m sorry to say, there is no mistake. We followed them inside ourselves.”
Gregor motioned a gnarled finger to one of many hooded bodyguards. The minion dissolved into the crowd followed by three other cloaks. When Gregor turned back, Danel made every effort to look respectful. And probably failed.
“Youth,” Gregor hissed with a nonchalant shrug. “Even a King cannot control every impulssse his subjectsss have.”
After an awkward silence, waiting while the sea of gathered bodies pushed against the pool of light, the throng opened. The cloaked men broke through the wall of bodies and shoved the three young women stumbling into the light. Seth and Phoenix corralled the girls together, but they were lost in zombieland.
“You have what you came for. Now, leave usss. I asssure you everyone involved will be punished mercilesssly and made an example of.”
Danel shook his head. “You know the laws. Violators of the accords are dispatched back to the Hell Realm.”
Gregor’s hair hissed and struck out in all directions, fangs bared, as their master raised a gnarled finger. “If you value your lives, take the sheep and be gone.”
Danel placed his hand on his dagger hilt and narrowed his gaze. “Did you just threaten our lives, demon?”
The King’s royal guards stiffened, unsheathing daggers and widening their stance. The metal of the blades reflected burnt red in the light of his Moonstone.
The hair stood on his arms.
Catching Phoenix’s gaze, he cast a subtle glance to the weapons. The warrior made no move to nod, but Danel knew he’d warn Seth telepathically.
“Tell me about the Shedim attack and what happened the other night. Who killed our brother?” When the King made no effort to comply, Danel took another tack. “Shall I call the archangels to dispatch your whole fucking nest back to the depths?”
Gregor scoffed. “You cannot intimidate me with empty threats, Watcher. The archangels are—”
“—pissed, actually. Not only did we lose a brother last week, but a Cherub female was taken from an Otherworld safe zone. The seven are seeking vengeance.”
Gregor’s face tightened. If the ancient had eyes, they would have been boring daggers into Danel’s skull, no doubt. Danel pushed his advantage and pulled out his phone.
Gregor’s curled fingers jutted up as the snakes on his head writhed. “Forgive an old man, Watcher, I misspoke. I meant not to offend or to threaten. We are law-abiding citizens. I am sssimply overwrought by the idea of losing my sonsss because of a moment of misssunderstood youth.”
I’m sure. “Every Dark One knows not to feed from the mainstream human population. Produce the youths in question and our business will be complete.”
The demon glared, the contorted expression on his face a promise of retaliation. “What if I give you sssomething else? Sssomething you want more than adolescent boys indulged by their father? What if I sssave the life of one of yoursss?”
Danel’s eyes narrowed as the Serpentine King stepped closer and the Moonstone’s light washed over him. The years living in darkness had not been kind to the Ancient. Translucent skin hung slack on a frame once strong and commanding. Now all he had was this pitiful existence with his loathsome subjects.
“Save one of ours? A Nephilim? There’s another target?”
He nodded. “Yesss. Can we come to an accord?”
“Done,” he said without pause. If he had to choose between his brothers or the humans too stupid to stay out of harm’s way, there was no question. “If what you say rings true, we’ll take the girls and the intel and let you handle this slip of etiquette in-house.”
Gregor tented his fingers over his chest and bowed his head. “Very well. Sssimone will walk you out and fill you in on the detailsss. Good luck, Watcherssss. You shall need it.”
Danel backed away with his Moonstone held high. Simone, a waif with long black hair, slinked along the light’s edge, the hem of her dress dragging through the filth on the warehouse floor. Once they were outside, Danel sucked in a lungful of fresh night air and tucked his stone into his pocket.
He waited until Seth and Phoenix moved the girls down the alley and under a streetlight before he turned. “All right, what say you?”
Raising a grotesque, frail hand, the female presented him with an iPhone. He ignored the irony of her even owning one and looked at the text pulled up for him to view. Oh fuck.
He ripped his phone out of his pocket and punched the button. “Come on, Z, pick up. Pick up.” When the call flipped straight to voicemail he cursed.
He read the text again, which, according to the CC file, went to the heads of every vile Darkworld race. A picture and five little words had unleashed a world of violence on their lives like they’d never come up against before.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Squatting behind a stack of skids Zander stared up at the stars over Lake Ontario. He’d lost his motherfucking mind, his grip on his inner tethers all but shot. Taking inventory of his faculties hadn’t helped any.
Mind: fractured. Temper: raging. Control: gone.
He thought sobering up would help, but when the numb fog rolled out, he’d been left a violent, hollow shell of the man he had been. Seemed like the recently vacant space in his heart had been topped up by the worst possible landfill.
Violent regret.
He growled. The one thing preventing a full-on meltdown of epic proportion was the knowledge that Austin, in her own life, was safer than she would ever be in his.
Kyrian’s whistle signaled the all clear on the wharf and he got back with the program. Slipping his dagger into his right hand and brass knuckles onto his left, he and Brennus moved in and continued their grid.
“Something’s off,” he said. Even with his body off center, he could feel the convoluted vibration in the air.
&
nbsp; “Aye, yer Spidey-senses tingling too?” Brennus narrowed his gaze and searched the highroads while Zander focused on the discarded debris cluttering the industrial graveyard between warehouses. “Rooftops are clear.”
“Same with the boardwalk,” Kyrian said, jogging back to meet them. “What’d I miss?”
“Not a goddamn thing,” Zander said. A loose newspaper flapped in the breeze as he sidestepped a half-dozen empty beer cans. “Whoever sent this tidbit of intel better not be yanking my chain about the Cherub. I’ll track the fucker down, rip his lungs out his asshole and call him a butterfly.”
“Alllrighty then.” Kyrian raised a brow. “But before you go full on Linda Blair, we need to finish our sweep.”
Brennus yanked the handle on the side door of the next building, although building overstated things. The wonky metal rectangle was number five in an endless line of rusty metal rectangles marking the Toronto Harbourfront.
Fuck. Something felt way wrong.
Kyrian felt it too. Zander could read it in his brother’s gait. “The tip said outside the buildings?” the Greek said.
Zander nodded, the powerlessness overwhelming. It grated on his last nerve, both alien and annoying as hell. “Let’s check around back.”
The three of them fell into a familiar rhythm, their boots hitting the concrete in a precision beat as they jogged the length of the structures into the night.
When they got to where they were going, they scanned the area. Nothing. His neck cracked as he tipped his head side to side. A dozen pops ricocheted in his head as his bones resettled. For fuck’s sake. Where the hell was the party?
“There.”
Zander followed Kyrian’s pointed finger to an overflowing dumpster down the way. Garbage heaped over the rim and he saw it . . . a pale hand draped over the edge of the metal bin. Heading over, he wished to hell this wasn’t what it looked like.
His gaze remained locked on that hand and as they neared the dumpster. The woman lay face down, discarded and buried like forgotten trash. He studied the scene as they approached. No movement, except for the flutter of . . . long chestnut hair.
