by Sarah Piper
But Gabriel wasn’t a liar. Not even to himself.
He closed his eyes. The sounds rushed back at once, raucous laughter and a brand-new song, too loud, too fast.
Against the witch’s dark powers, Gabriel had only one defense—one he was beginning to rely on far too heavily.
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
An hour passed. One more. Gabriel needed to see her again.
He wanted to ask about the mint. That’s all it was. Just wanted to make sure Jacinda had everything she needed—that the patrons were satisfied, that he didn’t need to do another grocery run.
But his witch wasn’t behind the bar where he’d left her. The woman serving drinks now was one of his former Vegas bartenders, Maritza.
The bad mojo from earlier crept back up along his spine, squeezing his throat.
He searched the main level, the VIP rooms, the wine cellar. He paced the balcony, scanning the crowds for a glimpse of her silver-blond hair. He even checked the restrooms, startling a threesome of witches who’d been particularly… engrossed.
Jacinda was nowhere to be found.
He returned to the other bartender, shouting across the bar to be heard. “Have you seen Jacinda?”
“She’s not back yet.”
“Back from where?”
Maritza shrugged. “Said she had an errand to run. It’s no big—I’ve got her covered.”
Gabriel nodded, but the vampire behind the bar was wrong. It bloody well was a “big.”
The traitorous little witch had skipped out on him.
Biting back a string of curses, he headed outside, picking up her scent at once.
And just beneath it, another scent, smoky and repulsive, laced with adrenaline and lust.
Fucking demons.
“Problem, princeling?” Aiden appeared at his side, Cole trailing out the doors after him. “Saw you storming out here like your cock was on fire.”
Gabriel took another deep breath. Fresh fear spiked in his chest.
His fangs burst through the gums, adrenaline giving him new strength.
“Colin was right,” he said. “I really can’t be expected to go this long without committing a murder.” Then, turning to the pair with a fanged grin, “You boys up for a bit of bloodshed and mayhem?”
Chapter Thirteen
Jaci lifted the spoon to the old man’s mouth, tipping applesauce between his cracked lips. Despite his best attempts at swallowing, most of it ended up on his chin and shirt.
Vacant blue eyes glanced down at the wet stains, then back up at her. She wondered if the stains bothered him. If anything bothered him.
Forcing a smile, Jaci blotted away the applesauce. “Don’t worry, Dad. You’re still the best-looking guy on the wing. All the nurses have crushes on you.”
The ghost of a grin touch his lips, but that’s all it was. A ghost. Her own memory and wishful thinking projecting it onto his placid face, the mark of a guilty subconscious trying to protect her from the truth.
From what she’d done to him.
Behind his bed, the oxygen machine whirred, the heart monitor marking the passage of time with its steady beeps.
The soundtrack of his existence.
Jaci fisted the collection of tubes and wires, the lifelines that had kept him alive these past seven years, kept his body functioning even when his mind could not.
In the darkest recesses of her heart, she wondered if she should pull the plug. If she should let her father go. If she should’ve let him go seven years ago, when he’d died in her arms in an alley in Little Italy mere minutes after they’d escaped hell.
In our city, witch, death is a rare kindness. That you’d seek to overturn it is nothing less than madness…
Gabriel’s old words echoed, harsh and cruel. Bracingly accurate.
But the truth of those words hadn’t stopped her from bringing her father back that night. And they wouldn’t stop her from letting him linger now. Nothing would. How could she let him die when she knew what awaited him on the other side? What his soul was already enduring at the hands of her so-called family?
Zachary Colburn may have been soulless, but if she let his body die too, there would be no place for that soul to return to when she rescued him, no beacon for it to follow home. It would remain in hell, eternally bound, eternally tortured. It’s what Viansa and their demon mother had intended—a fate they believed they’d already sealed.
After all, that was the deal her father made.
Let Jacinda go. Take me instead.
They’d assumed Jaci wouldn’t last long in this city on her own. Assumed her father’s death would drive her mad, drive her to take her own life. Failing that, her own stupidity and uselessness would surely usher in a swift demise, sending her straight back to the hell she’d finally escaped.
That she’d actually survived was a constant thorn in Viansa’s side—one Jaci knew her sister would remedy the moment she physically manifested on earth.
But Viansa didn’t know that Zachary’s body was still alive. Only Meech knew.
And Jaci had every intention of keeping it that way.
Other than that one time with Gabriel, Viansa hadn’t made another appearance, and Meech hadn’t heard anything more about her manifesting efforts. But Jaci knew it was only a matter of time before her sister sunk her claws into the earthly realm and dragged herself out of hell.
Vengeance was a powerful motivator.
She released the wires and went back to the applesauce, bringing another spoonful to her father’s mouth.
This time, he managed to swallow it.
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come visit,” she said. “Life has been a little crazy.”
The hospital was only a twenty-minute walk from her apartment and the club, but with Gabriel’s guards constantly up her ass, she hadn’t wanted to risk sneaking off. It was only tonight, with Gabriel and his security staff focused on the Obsidian crowds, that she saw her opportunity.
So, after scrubbing the makeup from her face, she’d wrapped herself up in a hat and jacket borrowed from one of the other bartenders and slipped out through one of the newly excavated tunnels in the wine cellar. A few twists and turns, a quick climb up a ladder, and she was back out on street level, just a few doors down from Obsidian’s main entrance.
“I have a semi-regular job now—can you believe it?” Jaci laughed. “Well, that’s not entirely true. Gabriel Redthorne is anything but a regular boss. He’s a vampire—a royal. Not the best company to keep, but for all his grumbling, the prince is a much better bloodsucker than Renault Duchanes. I’m choosing to see it as an upgrade.”
The steady beeps of the heart monitor spiked.
“Dad? You okay?” She took his hand, gave it a squeeze. There was nothing new in his eyes, no flicker of recognition. But he’d understood her. She was sure of it.
What she didn’t understand was why the mention of Gabriel Redthorne had kicked up his heart rate.
A minute later, it dropped again, settling back into its regular rhythm.
She let out a sigh of relief and closed her eyes, holding tight to his hand. It felt small and frail, a cruel contrast to the big, strong hands she once clung to as they’d roamed the realms of hell, hiding from the demons who’d imprisoned them there. The hands that had cradled her head, offering her comfort after another of Viansa’s cruel experiments.
The hands that had clutched her face as he died in an alley, his eyes full of terror.
Terror for her.
“Oh, Dad.” She opened her eyes, attempting another smile through her tears. It was a soft smile, full of a little girl’s hope, but a smile nevertheless. “I will figure this out. And when I do, we’re going somewhere warm and sunny, just like we talked about.” She tossed the applesauce cup into the trash and cleaned up the last few blobs from his shirt. “I just need you to hang in there a little longer for me. Okay? Just long enough for me to find you, get you out of there, and bind
Viansa’s power.”
Her elbow bumped the bedside tray, knocking her purse to the floor. When she crouched down to grab it, she noticed two Tarot cards had slipped out, both facing up.
The Eight of Knives again, the demon bound to a post in the poisonous swamp.
And the Eight of Grails, featuring a death-like figure wearing a crown and a black shroud, carrying a cup of blood, his wrists bound with chains. A dark castle loomed in the distance. The shrouded figure had left it behind. He was escaping.
The minute she touched the cards, the message slammed into her, a blinding flash of insight that left her reeling.
She’d had it all wrong before.
Ever since Meech had told her about Viansa’s plans to manifest, Jaci assumed she’d have to save her dad’s soul first, then bind Viansa’s power.
But maybe that wasn’t the case at all.
What if she could find a way to bind her sister, and use that as leverage to force Viansa to reveal the location of the soul? Viansa wanted nothing so badly as to escape hell—a chance to come topside and take over. It’s one of the reasons she’d always resented Jaci so much—Viansa was an original demon, ancient, eternally bound to hell. Jaci was half witch, bound only as long as her mother had wanted her there.
Being trapped in hell without a chance of manifesting in this realm would be torture enough for Viansa.
Being trapped there without any power at all? That would be like a death sentence. One that could easily make her desperate enough to release Jaci’s dad.
She tucked the cards back into her purse, a new plan formulating. With Meech’s help and her own dark magic, she was pretty sure she could make this work. She just needed—as always—the right spells.
A soft knock on the door, and a kind nurse with short salt-and-pepper hair and bright pink scrubs stepped into the room. “Zach? Time for a blood draw, hon. You about finished with your snack?”
Jaci returned the woman’s kind smile. “Perfect timing. We’re all set.”
She gathered up her things and leaned down to kiss her father’s forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Dad. I love you.”
“It’s good that you talk to him,” the nurse said softly, looking at Zach with compassionate eyes. “Visiting him. Lots of folks get old, maybe can’t communicate so well, and all the people they used to love just abandon them here.”
Flames of anger burned through her chest at the thought. “I’ll never abandon him.”
“I know, sweetie. I can always tell.” She touched Jaci’s arm, her smile turning sympathetic. “Dr. Daniels would like to see you in her office, if you’ve got a second before you head out?”
Across the oak expanse of her desk, Dr. Amelia Daniels leveled Jaci with a stern gaze.
“He’s had a difficult week, Miss Colburn. Each day he becomes a little less responsive to treatments. His organs are still functioning, but he’s showing less interest in exercise and movement. He’s losing muscle mass faster than we can help him rebuild it.”
Jaci nodded, unable to speak through the tightness in her throat.
“We’ll continue to care for him,” the doctor continued, “to make sure his needs are met, but at some point, it’s just a matter of keeping him comfortable. I don’t want to give you false hope that this is a recovery situation.”
Recovery situation. Jaci nearly laughed. What would Dr. Daniels say if she knew the truth? That her father’s soul was trapped in hell? That the only path to her father’s recovery lay in fighting her way through a fiery wasteland and betraying the mother and sister who’d much rather see her burn than help the mage lying in that bed?
But none of this was the woman’s fault. She was only trying to help.
Jaci cleared her throat and forced a smile. “I understand. And I appreciate it. Deep down, I think my father does too.”
Dr. Daniels smiled, but it didn’t last long.
Jaci knew what was coming next.
“I’m sorry to bring this up, Miss Colburn. I don’t mean to be indelicate, but…” She sighed, but didn’t lower her eyes, which Jaci appreciated. Bad news always went down better with eye contact. “The paperwork from your father’s insurance company keeps getting sent back to us. They’re going back and forth with the state, still trying to verify his eligibility.”
“I don’t know what the issue is,” she said, knowing full damn well what the issue was—every single document she’d ever given them was a forgery. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, and lately, her old tricks weren’t cutting it. “I’ve been calling and faxing them, trying to sort it out… Here, I brought a payment at least. Five hundred, just to start.”
She fished the envelope of tips from her purse and handed it over. Five hundred dollars was a stellar haul, especially for her first night on the job.
But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Dr. Daniels did her the courtesy of setting aside the envelope without counting it.
“I’ll keep trying with the insurance company,” the woman said kindly. “If that doesn’t work out, we can try other avenues. Social services, grants, something.”
Jaci nodded, grateful for the kindness, and quickly said her goodbyes.
Her father deserved better than this—better than a daughter who couldn’t fully care for him.
At least he was in a nice place, she told herself. Not the fanciest, but the staff was kind, they fed him three meals a day, kept him comfortable, did what they could to help. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the insurance ruse, but with tonight’s payment she hoped she’d bought a little more grace. A little more time.
Back out on the street, an icy drizzle had glazed the pavement, turning it into a blurry mirror reflecting the buildings above. Jaci tilted her face up toward the dark sky, letting the rain mist over her cheeks. The nights were getting colder now, the holidays fast approaching. Soon the city would be draped in glittering white lights—a beautiful snowglobe fairy tale she wanted to love, but never could.
At a time when friends and families gathered in celebration, lights and Christmas music and big turkey dinners and pumpkin spice everything only reminder Jaci how alone she truly was.
“Bad night for a little girl to be out walking alone.”
Jaci startled and spun on her heel, suddenly face-to-face with three demons.
“Hello, little witch-demon,” the middle one sneered.
“Witch-demon?” Jaci barked out a laugh, hoping it hid the terror. “Sorry, boys. Sounds like you got the wrong girl.”
No one topside knew who she really was. What she really was. Her magic protected her, keeping her demon side invisible, even to her own kind.
So what the fuck did this asshole know?
And who had he learned it from?
“Oh, we got the right girl all right.” Caveman took a step toward her, the other two following. She tried to get a read on their marks—the brands on their necks that would reveal their demonic alliance—but she couldn’t see past their heavy leather jackets. They were American, though, which meant they probably weren’t Rogozin’s.
And if they weren’t loyal to Alexei Rogozin, they sure as hell weren’t loyal to the Redthornes.
Fuck.
There was no way she could outrun them. Not in her spiked heels in the rain. Her athame would do her little good. By the time she called up her hellfire, the three of them would’ve roasted her with their own.
Slowly backing away, she held up her hands, trying to stay calm. “Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong—”
A dry, wheezing snarl cut off her words, paralyzing her with new fear.
Only one creature made that bone-rattling sound.
Grays.
She darted a quick glance over her shoulder. Three of them emerged from the alley, their pale flesh naked and bruised, eyes vacant, bones protruding from open wounds. All three were leashed on thick chains, their movements controlled by two
vampires she recognized as Renault’s favorite thugs.
Double fuck.
Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Thanks to the weather and the late hour, the street was deserted.
Besides, screaming for help would only get some innocent human killed.
She turned back toward the demons just in time to catch Caveman’s backhand across the mouth. She dodged his next blow, but one of the other assholes grabbed her from behind, wrapping an arm around her throat and pressing a knife against her ribs.
“That’s enough, witch-demon,” he growled into her ear, his rotten breath nearly making her gag.
“If you kill me,” she said, “the Redthornes will hunt you down like dogs.”
She had no idea if that were true. Gabriel didn’t care about her personally, but he might do it on principle. She was his witch now, just as she’d been Renault’s witch before. Her murder would be taken as a direct offense against the royal family—one they wouldn’t let go unpunished.
Right?
“In fact,” she said now, pushing a whole lot of false bravado into her voice, “Gabriel’s probably already out looking for me.”
One of the vampires laughed, the sound of it raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Tristan, his name was. Shaved head, dark eyes, hands the size of baseball mitts. He used to like cornering her at Renault’s place while Renault was busy with his blood slaves, whispering into her ear all the things he’d do to her if he ever found her alone.
“We’re betting on it, sweetling,” he said now.
“I always love a betting man myself,” a voice echoed from the shadows. Dark. Dangerous. Cold. “They make for good sport.”
The owner of that voice stepped into the light, his vivid green eyes slicing right through her.
Gabriel.
He’d come for her after all. Along with Aiden Donovan, who looked a hell of a lot more intimidating than he had in the club, and Cole Diamante, who’d arrived in his wolf form and was already growling at her would-be attackers.
Jaci nearly wept with relief.
But right now?
Ass-kicking took precedence over tears.
