She withdrew the needles from his arms and, swabbing at the puncture wounds, taped them over. There. Good as new. Except with a whole lot less gas in his tank. She had injected him with a delayed-release chemical, a brilliant drug of her own design that would, in a matter of hours, cause his brain to stop communicating with the rest of his body. Eventually, his body would fail and Will Hunter would surrender to the void, becoming a comatose meat puppet before finally meeting his death. Letting him live was too dangerous. She knew him well enough to know he’d come after her, and their father. She couldn’t let that happen.
She took the units of blood, stored securely in thick plastic pouches, and packed them in a thermal valise. It was a beautiful thing, adorned with an upside-down cross dripping with blood. A nice touch, she thought. She was the cavalry coming to save the day, the princess in shining armor, the demon world’s savior. As she continued to pack up, loading her duster with a variety of chemical attack bombs, she pictured herself smiling proudly as the demon masses knelt in supplication—oh, how wonderful the crowd’s adoration would be, thrumming inside her! She imagined what she would say when they urged her to speak, how it would feel as she ascended the throne to rule next to her father. And who knew? Perhaps in her future she might yet find the love of a demon boy. He would be heart-stoppingly handsome, and they would feel such passion for each other!
She unlatched the door to Sebastian’s cage and watched as her little friend pushed his way out and quickly climbed up her arm and curled around her neck. His body felt warm and he made a sound like a cat purring.
“I’ll be back, Sebastian. Don’t you worry about a thing. Soon I’ll be royalty and we’ll move into an absolutely ginormous castle. You will be adored, maybe even worshipped. But first I’ve got a little errand to run. Be good.”
She unwrapped Sebastian from around her neck and placed him on top of his cage. Then she took one last look at her brother, Will Hunter, the mighty scourge of the demon race, the most feared demon hunter on earth. He looked almost . . . peaceful. But he would wake soon and discover the terrible truth: his reign was over. He would learn that things had changed in ways he could never have imagined: that his grand love wasn’t so grand, and that he wasn’t as clever as he thought. He was going to be in a world of pain.
Loreli got into her mother’s 2004 Honda Accord and drove across town to Queen Anne Hill. She pulled up to the front gates of Will’s London Mansion, which were closed and locked. Not a problem. She put on gloves and then retrieved a vial from a pocket in her duster. Uncapping the vial, she poured liquid on the gate’s lock, which began to dissolve. Then she got back in the Honda and slowly nudged the gates open with the car’s bumper until she could pass through. The front door to the mansion also presented very little challenge and she was able to breach it quickly. She entered the mansion and walked like a thief through the hallways and upstairs to Natalie’s room. She tried the door. It was open. Just like her future.
“Natalie?” she called.
The room was dark. She reached for the light switch.
Wham! The base of a lamp came down hard on the back of her head, right on her occipital bone. She turned. Wham! It came down again on the top of her skull and she fell sideways onto the carpet. Natalie was standing over her holding the lamp, the base now wet with the blood from Loreli’s scalp.
“Stay away from me . . .” hissed Natalie. She was crazed, her pupils enlarged, the drugs from the medallion having saturated her brain so that for every real thing she saw, her mind conjured a dozen hallucinogenic rivals. Hearing the Dark Lord’s voice had sent her spinning out of control.
Loreli’s head was throbbing. She reached up and touched her scalp, felt the heat of her own blood. She examined her fingers, marveling at the beautiful claret color blood turns when oxygenated.
“That wasn’t very nice, Natalie,” she said.
“How do you know my name?” said Natalie, her eyes wide and feral.
“It’s me, Loreli,” she said. “And I do wish you’d start treating me like a friend. Because that’s what I am, you know.”
Natalie was breathing heavily and had the glint of murder in her eyes. She was clearly not in the mood to befriend anyone, let alone her archrival for Will’s affections.
“I should kill you right now . . .”
Loreli smiled a wicked smile. She saw that Natalie was wearing the medallion and knew that the chemicals within were doing their job.
“Would that give you pleasure?” she asked.
“You have no idea,” said Natalie. And then she blinked, trying to clear her vision, because in her disconnected state Loreli’s hair had morphed into a nest of squirming pin snakes. Natalie’s hands trembled and she was sorely tempted to bring the lamp down again and again, hard enough to snuff out this malicious creature permanently.
“If you kill me, dear sweet Natalie, I won’t be able to help you.”
“Help me?” Natalie lowered the lamp.
“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”
Loreli stood up and the room whirled. She closed her eyes and clamped down hard on the pain rolling through her skull, and when she opened her eyes, the room was calm.
“I come bearing an olive branch. There are some things you should know.”
Natalie remained wary and gripped the lamp in her hands, ready to swing at any moment. She was coursing with fear as again she heard the Dark Lord calling her name. Once . . . twice . . . three times. She forced herself to veer away from her loathing and guided her mind into calmer waters . . . a lake where she floated on top staring up at the clouds, and in the clouds was Will, smiling down at her.
“I know how much you love Will,” said Loreli. “And I don’t blame you. You and I, we’ve been cast into the ring in a fight for his heart. Fate brought the three of us together, and now fate has decided that you are the victor.”
Natalie was stunned. Was she hearing right? It seemed like Loreli was ceding the fight. Was she really giving up?
“Will and I talked. Well, actually he did most of the talking. I gave it everything I’ve got, but apparently I’m just no match for you. Don’t ask me why, but Will Hunter is utterly in love with you.”
The words were narcotic. Natalie’s shoulders relaxed, and the lamp dropped to the carpet and bounced once, then rolled a couple of inches to a stop.
“Then why are you here?” said Natalie.
“Because I have come to care very deeply about him,” said Loreli. “And I don’t want him to suffer any more than he already has.”
“Will is suffering? Why? How?”
Loreli now managed a sad, friendly smile. “His heart is breaking. Because he sees into the future, and he cannot imagine a future with you.”
“But . . . but you just said—”
“He loves you, Natalie, but he’s convinced, as I am, that your love is doomed. He’s the son of—” Loreli paused, faking disgust. “—the Dark Lord.”
“I know that,” Natalie said. “And I love him anyway.” Though still drugged, Natalie was starting to feel better, emboldened by Loreli’s words. Will still loved her. She knew it. She knew it!
“He loves you with all of his heart, but . . .”
“But what?” said Natalie, suddenly dreadfully nervous.
“But . . . he knows you two can never be together. Not the way you want. Not forever.”
Jab! Jab! A knife stabbed into Natalie’s heart. At least it felt that way—just as real, just as painful, just as deadly. What was Loreli saying?
Loreli felt the power of her words and savored their effect on Natalie. She was putty in Loreli’s hands.
“Hearing him pour his heart out made me cry,” Loreli continued. “Because . . . when two people love each other like you do, and the universe conspires against them, well, it’s just so . . . terribly sad.”
“We can be together,” said Natalie. But her words lacked conviction because she too feared that a future together—the whole lifelong, get-married-and-have-
children kind of future—was nothing more than a dream.
“That’s right. You could . . . but don’t you see? He’s half demon and he’ll always be half demon. He can’t change that about himself. If he could, he would. Believe me. But he can’t. So he’s trapped. You, on the other hand, have a choice.”
Natalie cocked her head to one side, puzzled. An idea began to form in her mind: a seed planted, watered, now sprouting through the loamy earth, growing, enlarging, expanding, flowering. The upside-down, inside-out logic of it, to her addled mind, was at once repellant and appealing. It was unthinkable. Wasn’t it? Of course it was. But . . .
She also knew how much she loved Will—how she could not survive, could not breathe, could not live without him. What Loreli was proposing had not just taken hold; it had seized Natalie entirely. It had grabbed her heart and would not let go.
“You want me to become . . . infected,” said Natalie, her soft words dropping into the stillness.
“It’s not what I want,” said Loreli.
Though Loreli didn’t say the words, Natalie still heard them clearly. It’s what Will wants. It’s what Will needs. Natalie looked deeply into Loreli’s eyes, searching for some kind of truth. But all she saw was pain, and took it for the pain of a girl scorned. Will had chosen not to love Loreli, even though she was fiercely, maddeningly beautiful. He had eschewed the great Loreli’s sultry perfection, choosing instead Natalie’s own girl-next-door appeal. He did love her. But his love for her was tormenting him. Was that why he’d been acting so strange and distant?
“You must have noticed that Will has been getting . . . darker . . . himself,” said Loreli. “As demons age, they become more consumed by their wicked side. Will is young, but it’s only a matter of time before he becomes more like his father, as all boys do.”
Will had been growing more remote, doing everything he could to stay away from her—as though he had a beast growing inside him and he didn’t want to expose her to it. It all made sense now. He was protecting her. From himself. But . . . for her to cross over to the dark side meant she would lose so much of herself, of her life as she knew it. Then again, in some ways, maybe that was what growing up was about.
“Demons, humans,” said Loreli. “There’s a great divide between them, and never the twain shall meet.” She was laying it on thick now. “It’s just like the Capulets and the Montagues: arch-enemies. Poor Romeo and Juliet! If only they’d been able to change their blood. Of course, they couldn’t.” Loreli paused again, letting the idea come to Natalie on its own, letting Natalie think the words before Loreli said them. “But you can.”
She’d played her last card. Either Natalie would take the bait or she wouldn’t.
“Close your eyes,” said Loreli. “Do you hear something?”
Natalie . . . Natalie . . . Natalie.
He was there. He was always there, if you were willing to listen. And Natalie was hearing him loud and clear. The next move was up to her. She thought of Loreli and glanced at the blood-splattered lamp on the floor. It was an evil thought, an immoral thought, a sinful one, but she opened the door and invited it, welcomed it, into her brain. She imagined finishing the job, picking up the lamp and bringing it down upon Loreli’s head, once, twice . . . a hundred times. And enjoying it. Natalie’s body seized up, her muscles constricting as she felt a new kind of consciousness trying to surge through her body. Could she do it? She imagined herself with Will. She looked in the mirror and saw a sad, plain, lonely girl with dull eyes staring back her. But then the lonely girl blossomed into a deadly dark rose, a dangerously beautiful girl with crimson lips. And her eyes were fierce, the kind of eyes that said, For his love, I will do anything.
The light bulb from the lamp had broken, and a single shard lay at Natalie’s feet. One . . . two. And now came three. She reached down and picked up the shard. She thought of Will. Perhaps he would be angry at first, no doubt clinging to some noble ideal, but he would quickly realize that she’d done it for love. He would accept, even admire, her sacrifice, and he would love her all the more for it. Their lips would come together and they would never have to part. As she was lost in thought Natalie noticed Loreli slipping out of the bedroom door. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered was the possibility that she and Will could be together forever. She continued to stare at the shard of glass. It was so very sharp.
Wake up. Open your eyes. Where am I? Try to remember. Think. Think. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! Will was fighting, caught between worlds, semi-conscious but unable to force himself awake. Try as he might, he couldn’t gain purchase in the material world, and he had a vague, unarticulated fear that he would be suspended in this limbo for eternity. Thoughts raced through his mind with blistering speed and he couldn’t lock on to any one long enough to use it as a true reference point. It was like chasing snowflakes in a blizzard. Then he clutched at a single notion: to pinch himself. Pinch me, I’m dreaming, his mother used to say when she was giddy with joy.
Focusing as hard as he could on moving his right hand, Will used his right thumb and index finger to pinch the flesh on his thigh. The pain made the connection he was looking for and he was suddenly rushing toward a blazing white light. He opened his eyes. He was back. He felt light-headed. And as he turned his head to one side, he found himself gazing into the face of a small mammal. Sebastian. Will started to smile, but Sebastian bared his teeth and emitted a low growl. Uh-oh.
“Sebastian . . . good boy . . . good boy . . .”
Will rose to a sitting position. The room was spinning. He stood and felt pinpricks racing up and down the backs of his legs, like when he slept on his arm wrong and it fell asleep, only the sensation covered his whole body. Sebastian skittered across the room and up onto an overhead water pipe.
“Loreli?” Will called.
She didn’t answer. He looked around. She wasn’t here. Maybe she was upstairs, packing? He moved to the sink, turned on the cold water, and drank deeply. He was feeling better now. He flexed his muscles, feeling his strength coming back. He sensed movement and turned just in time to see Sebastian leap down from the pipe and sink his tiny, knife-like teeth into Will’s neck. Yelping in pain, Will grabbed Sebastian’s jaw tightly and squeezed hard. The little animal released his grip and Will flung him across the room, where he slammed into a shelf, knocking over a jar and bringing both it and Sebastian crashing to the floor.
“Holy crap, Sebastian! What did I ever do to you?”
Unfortunately, the jar that had broken open held the same yellow concoction that had doused the ants during Will’s first visit. Just like the ants, Sebastian rapidly began to grow, morphing larger, looking more like a rabid dog than a ferret.
“Oh, great,” said Will.
Sebastian was now two feet tall, a killer who looked like he fully intended to rip Will to shreds. He went into a crouch and Will knew the little beast was going to spring up at him. So he anticipated the move and dove right as Sebastian, emitting a terrifying screech, flew through the air, barely missing Will and slamming into the wall above the sink. Will jumped up, felt woozy for a second, but had enough presence of mind to grab a pipe wrench, which he swung upward with all his might. Wham! He caught the beast with a brutal uppercut that knocked him senseless. The mutated ferret dropped to the floor, unconscious, and began to shrink back down to his normal size. Will shook his head, picked the little creature up, and gently placed him back in his cage.
He felt the blood on his neck and found a mirror to examine it. The wound wasn’t bad. He pulled a healing patch from his pocket and applied it. Then he took a few seconds to look at his new self in the mirror. His eyes looked the same. So did everything else. But he somehow felt . . . different. Of course you feel different, he thought to himself. You’ve been cleansed.
He went upstairs and moved through the hush of the house.
“Loreli?”
She didn’t answer. Her mother was asleep on the couch. He walked out to his BMW, fe
eling woozy. But maybe woozy was good, maybe it was all part of the process. He wished Loreli was around so he could ask her. He didn’t like the fact that she’d disappeared. Something had gone awry, he just didn’t know what. He took a few deep breaths and then smiled. For the first time in his life, he was pure. And for a moment he thought he could feel all his strength surging back into him. He would be stronger, smarter, and better than before. Best of all, he would not be distracted by rage. Now he was ready to fight the Dark Lord to the death.
But first there was someone he had to see, someone he couldn’t wait a moment longer to kiss.
Chapter Twenty-One: The Rising
Dread cloaked the Under City as demons, demonteens, and shedemons impatiently awaited the rising of their leader. His head had been found, retrieved, and reattached. Why wasn’t he rising? They were restless, agitated, disturbed. More fights than usual broke out. Rumors proliferated. Their Leader was dying. The demon race was doomed. All manners of disinformation and misinformation spread through the cursed population, and many felt that their time in the underworld was coming to an end. Demons were not, as a group, optimistic. So they ate and drank and smoked to obscene excesses, and spit curses, tossing blame and recrimination back and forth. Someone would have to pay. The question was: who? The obvious choice was the Black Prince’s prodigal son, Will Hunter. But could any of them brave an attack on him without orders from the supreme leader?
Another rumor began to circulate, and it spread like a virus, infecting quickly and striking fear into the demons’ hearts: their Leader was already dead and a coup was being planned. Sects met and spoke of the future in hushed tones. Clans pledged support to one another, and alliances were negotiated and then reneged upon. More fights broke out. It was clear that something had to be done to restore order. A new leader, if only an interim one, had to be anointed or chaos would reign.
Several Alpha demonteens jockeyed for the inside track in the race to see who might act as the interim leader or supplant the great leader should he indeed expire. Among them, Rocco Manelli battled his way to the fore. A young Russian, Milanokov, also stepped forward and had much support, as did a mature Nigerian demon, Abdul-Aziz, who stood seven-feet-two-inches in human form. Since none of the three enjoyed unanimous support, it was only fair that the matter should be decided in the typical demon fashion: they would have a cage fight, each demon using the weapon of his choosing.
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