Temptation by Fire

by Tiffany Allee

  “Go. Go!” I made frantic waving motions at Miriam.

  A loud screech cut through the air as Miriam reversed her old Corolla out of the parking spot and raced for the exit. By the time we hit the street, the dark SUV was making a right turn a couple of blocks away. At a brisk pace, the large vehicle moved with purpose, but not at the breakneck speed I would have expected if the driver knew he was being followed.

  “Don’t get too close,” I said, voice taut with fear.

  “I know, I know. Relax!”

  Relax? Now? Not likely. The rate things were going, I’d be lucky to relax ten years from now.

  Miriam followed the car at what I hoped was a safe distance. Far enough back that we almost lost the SUV once, leading me into another mini panic attack, but close enough that we didn’t lose them permanently.

  After what felt like hours but was actually less than fifteen minutes according to the brightly lit clock on Miriam’s dash, the SUV pulled into a parking space in front of a nightclub called Pulse. Into a handicapped spot, no less. Cheaters. While we watched from across the street, the doors of the SUV opened and Thomas stepped out. Karson followed him from the driver’s side. The two disappeared into the club without glancing back in our direction.

  Just seeing Karson took my breath away, in that silly, melodramatic way that happened in the romantic comedies Miriam favored for movie nights. Was I an idiot for following him here? Maybe I should just go home. Trust what he told me was the truth.

  Screw that.

  “Okay.” I shifted in the seat to face Miriam. “Here’s what we do. We’ll wait five minutes, then go in. That way they aren’t likely to be waiting to get in, and we can find a place to watch where they won’t see us.”

  “Wish we were dressed more clubbish.” Miriam brushed at her jeans, removing some invisible dirt. “Guess if they notice us, we’ll just have to rely on our charm.”

  “Right,” I muttered. Because charm was sure to work on a demon.

  Chapter Six

  The club was dark, save for some dim sconces on the wall, and a few neon signs were lit up over the bar. I blinked at the neon for a moment, then blood rushed to my ears and the room spun. I reached for the door that had just shut behind us and concentrated on breathing. In and out. In and out. The bite of the burger I’d just forced myself to eat rose in my throat and I swallowed it down before it choked me.

  Neon.

  Just like in my vision.

  “Remember, sneaky-like,” Miriam whispered.

  As if I could forget. I took in the room around me. We were in an entrance area equipped with a stand where someone would take cover charges on a busier night. We peeked carefully through the open doorway into the club itself.

  A dull throb bumped from the jukebox in the corner. A spot for a DJ to set up was ready, but empty. It was just getting dark out. The club would be crammed with people after the DJ started, probably around ten or so. The space was just barely starting to fill, and there were only a handful of people milling around the room.

  Then where was Karson? Thomas?

  “Huh. I’ll check the bathrooms,” Miriam said, then she was gone before I could object. I imagined her peeking into the men’s room might cause a stir, but hopefully she’d be, like she’d said, all sneaky-like.

  I crossed the floor to the bar, flinching as the glow from the neon lights encompassed me. I pulled my hands back and shoved them in my pockets.

  “Excuse me,” I called to the bartender. Dark hair bleached blond, the spiked tips gave the man a younger vibe than the lines around his eyes and mouth suggested he deserved. He played the part for the young crowd he served, no doubt.

  “What can I get for ya?” He smiled at me, but the expression didn’t touch his tired, or maybe bored, eyes.

  Before I could reply, the smell hit me. For a moment I thought I was having a real flashback, experiencing the vision all over again instead echoes of the memory. I braced myself, grabbing the bar. Ready to face the fire, the burning, the flash of neon.

  But the vision never came. The smell remained, though, subtle enough to make me wonder if it wasn’t just my imagination. Was it real? My eyes opened, fluttering to blink back tears that had formed as I clenched them shut.

  The bartender was still there, staring at me. He looked concerned, but whether he worried I was crazy or ill, I couldn’t tell. Awesome.

  “I’m sorry. I need a minute,” I said, finally.

  He nodded slowly, but moved away to tend to a couple at the other end of the bar.

  A tap on my shoulder made me jump. I gasped, moving away from the touch automatically.

  “Sorry,” Miriam whispered.

  “Any luck?” I fought to keep the panic out of my voice.

  “Nope. Anything here?”

  “Do you smell that?”

  Miriam frowned and sniffed the air. “Candles.”

  “Smell has to be coming from somewhere, right? Maybe wherever they disappeared to.”

  Karson was alone, with the demon, and that fact did nothing to quell my rising panic. Something was off about this whole thing. Could Karson be in trouble? Or—and I hated to think it—could Thomas be the one in trouble?

  “That door,” I said. Behind the bar, an exit sign glowed above a door. I’d assumed that it was a direct route for the staff to take out the garbage or wander away for a quick smoke. That it was a heavy external-type door supported the idea. But it was too close. If I judged the building size properly, then there was a good fifteen to twenty feet before the alley started and the back wall of the bar ended.

  “You’re right. Looks a little fishy.”

  I glanced at the bartender, who had busied himself with cleaning some glasses and dusting off the bar while he not so subtly checked out Miriam from the corner of his eye. What if I was wrong? If we ran for the door and it led to the alley, the bartender was unlikely to let us back in the club. He already thought I was nuts. But they had to be somewhere. If not there, then where?

  I tried not to twitch every time the bartender turned back to face our general direction. Yep, he was definitely checking out Miriam.

  To get to the door, I’d have to slip behind the bar without the bartender noticing. It would attract attention, but that couldn’t be helped. A key ring swung on the bartender’s belt and two keys hung from it. He didn’t carry them in a pocket like a person would with their personal keys. They clipped onto his belt. The front and back door keys?

  “We’re going to have to use Plan B.”

  Miriam’s eyes widened. “What’s Plan B?”

  “You have to distract the bartender.” I’d never been so thankful for my best friend’s long red hair and stunning features.

  Miriam gave the bartender an appraising glance. “Well, I guess that wouldn’t be the biggest hardship in the world.”

  Even as hope filled my chest, it was washed with worry. “Miriam, if they’re back there…well, there’s no way they got back there without the bartender knowing. He has to be involved. He’s not going to leave his post easily.”

  She frowned. “What if we get caught—”

  “Then we’ll run.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue, but some of the desperation I felt must have shown on my face, because Miriam closed her mouth and turned her attention to the bartender.

  The perspiration gathering on my brow did nothing to cool me as I watched Miriam approach the bar. We could do this. The place was still almost empty. Finally, when my muscles threatened to give way from carrying so much tension, the bartender moved to the far end of the bar to talk to Miriam.

  Music bumped, seemingly louder than before, and he had to lean over to take Miriam’s order. Or maybe he just wanted to lean closer to her. As I watched, the bartender’s full attention became focused on Miriam, who wore a sexy, flirtatious grin and had bent forward so he had an easy view halfway down her shirt. A view he was totally taking in.

  Taking care to stay out of his peripheral vision,
I snuck up to the bartender’s side. Miriam came closer, her lips only inches away from the man’s, and touched his cheek with her hand, partially blocking his view.

  I could do this. I had to do this. Not only to see what was happening behind that door, but what if Karson had been telling the truth? Worse, what if he was hurt? What if he needed help?

  I reached down and slid the key ring off the bartender’s belt-loop.

  He didn’t even glance away from Miriam.

  Backing away, I headed for the door. The bartender was facing away from me, but now he seemed to sense my movement.

  Head swiveling, he started to turn to look at me, but Miriam was prepared. With a quick motion, she leaned in and kissed him.

  And what a kiss. I paused half a second, unable to look away. An ache settled in my chest, and for a brief moment I wondered what it would feel like if Karson ever kissed me like that.

  The bartender’s reaction was immediate. He forgot about whatever he’d sensed behind him. He forgot about me.

  Cool metal filled my hand. The door handle.

  Dammit. What the hell was I doing? Was finding out the truth really worth risking my safety—maybe even my life? I could just turn around. Go back home to my never quite ordinary life and do my best never to touch another person again.

  Crap. What kind of half-life was that?

  I shoved a key in. Gave it a turn. Nothing.

  The scent of burning candles had grown stronger, though. Desperate, I flipped to the next key, one that looked like it would fit the lock. I shoved that one in and turned it. This time the lock gave. I threw myself through the doorway, shutting it silently behind me.

  The bright red glow of the flames hit my eyes. For a split second I thought I was too late, that Thomas had already been burned. My chest compressed, fell in on itself, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. But no, the light was subtle, not bright enough for that. Squinting in the near dark, I shuffled forward.

  And then stopped.

  My stomach lurched. Oh my God.

  Tied to a table in the middle of the room, Thomas had been immobilized. Just like he had been in my vision. Arms and legs, each tied to a corner of the old oak table, were stretched and turned, bent in such a way that muscles had to have been torn getting there.

  He lay face up. His open mouth had been stuffed with cloth and tied with a gag. Eyes rolled back in his head, he didn’t look fully conscious.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I wavered on my feet, and suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room. My arms ached at how he was tied. It was almost too much for my mind to process.

  The room was slightly smoky, but not from Thomas burning—not yet, at least. Candles lit all around his body formed a thick circle. Something was inside the candles, too, a line of white. And above the table, hanging from the wall, were several neon signs. Along with the candles, they were the only things lighting the room.

  Kneeling just outside of the circle was a shirtless man. He looked up and met my gaze as mine swung from the candles to him. Between the low lighting and my shock at the scene in front of me, it took a second for me to recognize him, and a beat passed before it hit me that the man was Karson.

  “Stay back,” he ordered, raising a hand. His eyes were narrowed, full of anger. The tattoos that ran down from his collarbone and across his well-muscled chest didn’t surprise me. But the way they seemed to move in the candlelight…no, it wasn’t the candles. They moved—subtly and slowly, like a living thing unfurling itself from a sunbath under his skin. Across his back and arms and chest.

  A chest I’d been fantasizing about only an hour ago.

  I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I should turn and hightail it back the way I’d come. That I should try to forget Karson’s name. His face. That I should run, just like I always did. I was seriously more than a little tired of seeing new weird shit before I’d had a chance to adjust to the old weird shit.

  But I was done running.

  I took a step forward.

  Thomas, torso completely bare, had symbols drawn onto his chest. But they weren’t tattooed or drawn. They were carved. Cut into his chest with a knife or scalpel. My stomach surged. What kind of man carved symbols into another person’s flesh? Could cut and slice into skin and ignore the seeping blood long enough to actually draw something?

  Was Karson the demon, not Thomas?

  A wave of dizziness hit me, but I moved forward, struggling to get closer to Thomas. I didn’t know what I’d do when I reached him, but I had to do something. The smell of blood, metallic and fresh, touched my nose and my stomach roiled. Then a wave of cold hit and my skin chilled, in spite of the heat rising from the candles.

  “What are you doing, Karson?” My voice came out strong. Stronger than it should have, with the acid from my stomach trying to crawl up my throat.

  Had Karson set me up? Lied to me?

  Karson stood up and held his hands out in front of him, as if he didn’t want to scare me. I almost laughed at the weirdness of that, even though I was close enough to him I wasn’t sure I could make it to the door if he went for me.

  “Please. This isn’t what it looks like. You have to trust me, Ava.”

  “Really? Because it looks like you’re some sort of psychotic serial killer who’s about to cut this guy up.”

  “I can see why you’d think that, but this is necessary.”

  “Bull!” I swallowed hard and kept my eyes locked on Karson. Sure, demons were real—or shadowmen anyway. I knew that. I’d seen one. But that didn’t justify this horror show.

  “It’s the truth, Ava. You need to leave.”

  “How do you explain this?” I shook my head. The situation was too insane, and I couldn’t believe I was standing here chatting with the man responsible. “I mean, come on. You don’t expect me to buy any excuse you could possibly come up with for this, do you?” I gestured haphazardly toward Thomas.

  Karson edged toward me and I took a step to my left, away from him, but no farther from Thomas. Miriam was in the bar, and she’d call the police soon if I didn’t come back out or if I screamed. As to what the police would do—I wasn’t sure.

  “You have no idea what your presence here could do.” He bored into my gaze with his, as if he could convince me if he could bridge a connection between us. “You could get hurt, Ava. I can’t allow that to happen.”

  A strangled sound filled the air, coming from Thomas. Was he choking? Suffocating on the gag? Dizziness hit when I realized what the sound was.

  Thomas, tied to a table with bloody symbols carved into his chest, was laughing. A high-pitched sound, even muffled by the gag, was still easily discernible for what it was. The chill that emanated from him seemed to kick up, and the small hairs along my arms and legs rose to attention.

  Dread curdled in my stomach.

  “There’s still time for you to leave. It’s not safe for you in here. We’ll talk after,” Karson said, frustration coating his tone. “I promise.”

  “You promise? I’m supposed to trust that?” My voice cracked.

  Blood seeped from Thomas’s hands and ankles where the ropes dug in, and it dribbled down his hands to pool on the floor beneath them. The blood on his chest looked sticky, like it might be drying. Maybe the wounds weren’t deep? God, that had to hurt, regardless of their depth.

  “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I’m trying to help him. He’s a fucking demon, Ava.”

  I shook my head. That didn’t make any sense. How could you help someone by tying them to a table in such a way it had to tear muscle, break bones? Not to mention carving symbols into his chest. “He’s not looking like the demon here, Karson.”

  Thomas abruptly went silent, and I shot him another glance. He’d stilled, his chest not even rising and falling. But he couldn’t be dead. I knew how he was supposed to die.

  I had to see—see for myself if there was some evil in Thomas that I hadn’t seen at the hospital. Something visibly differe
nt about him like the shadowmen. I took a step forward, then Karson lunged. I sidestepped him. Thrown off balance, I stumbled over one of the candles and slid into the circle.

  “Shit!” Karson yelled.

  He grabbed at me, but I dodged his touch. No way was he touching me—even though his tattoos didn’t look like they were moving anymore. Heat licked at my calf as I tripped over the candles again. Black wax splashed across the linoleum floor, coating the bottoms of my jeans and sneakers.

  “What the hell are you—” He grabbed my shoulders, squeezing them tightly in his hands, then yanked me against him. His hard chest was against my back, and he held me there in a reverse bear hug, turning us both away from the table. Keeping his body between me and Thomas.

  “Let me go!” I screamed, twisting to get away. I couldn’t tell if he was protecting me or just keeping me away from the man tied to the table. But his grip was strong. Strong enough to hold me in place until it suddenly wasn’t. I turned back around to face Thomas.

  But Thomas was gone.

  …

  From the moment she’d burst through the door, eyes shining with outrage, I knew I was screwed. The ritual was too sensitive, too easily disrupted. I needed to get her out of the building, to safety. I’d tried, but the little pain in my ass wouldn’t allow herself to be saved.

  Until she saw the empty table.

  “What the—”

  “Time for you to leave.”

  She mumbled something unintelligible as I pulled her toward the door that led to the club, but at least she quit struggling. For a moment I considered going with Ava—taking her to her car, at least. Even if I had to drag her the whole way. But I had to make sure Thomas was gone. If he followed her…

  “Go.” I struggled to keep my voice even. Hell, this was my fault. I’d thought I’d seen a car following me to the club. But stupidly, I’d thought the wards Caleb activated after I had Thomas inside the perimeter would be enough. If demons or their servants had been following me, they would have. I certainly hadn’t prepared for a woman to rescue the demon.