Shades of Wicked

by Jeaniene Frost

  I could still picture her: long black hair, skin the same desert-sand color as mine, and clear brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when she laughed.

  “He said he’d prove he was a god, then he slit her throat. I’d seen so much death by then, I was numb to it . . . until her throat healed and she came back, alive. Dagon told me Ereshki was special like me because we both had true faith, and if only others would, too, there would be no more death at all—”

  “I literally cannot wait to kill him,” Ian snarled, leaping up to pace at the bottom of the ruined staircase. “I knew Dagon was a bastard, but I had no idea about this. I only thought he swindled the greedy or the corrupt out of their souls the way other demons do.”

  I was touched that Ian was taking this so personally. He might not care for me the same way I cared for him, but he obviously felt something, to be this upset on my behalf.

  “That’s what Dagon’s been reduced to now. It’s why he hates me so much. Eventually, when my father got the whole story, he punished Dagon by forbidding him from building up his followers among humans again. That cut Dagon’s power source, and he’s blamed me for it ever since. But back to Ereshki. She came back from the dead because she was demon-branded, not that I knew it. I thought she was my friend. I—I’d never had one before, and I loved her more than words can say. It broke me when I overheard her talking to Fenkir and Rani one day and discovered she’d only been pretending, to keep me in line. I didn’t even get a chance to confront her about it. Tenoch found me that night.”

  Ian stopped pacing. “The first person you trusted was a demon-branded bitch who tricked you into re-believing in the sod who continually murdered you?” A humorless laugh left him. “No wonder you had a betrayal flashback when you let another demon-branded person bind you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I really don’t think you’re like her. I never would have told you everything if I did.”

  “Tell me one more thing. Tell me Tenoch killed everyone violently and painfully once he found you.”

  A smile ghosted across my lips. He’d used the same words I had when he’d told me about his father. “My father wouldn’t let him, since that would make Tenoch a target for other demons. He did tear Fenkir, Rani, and Ereshki into lots of pieces, but that only slowed them down long enough for Tenoch to whisk me away. I assume Dagon killed them for letting someone steal me, since I’ve never seen them since, and believe me, I’ve looked. After that, Tenoch took me to my father. It was the first time we ‘met,’ aside from the glimpses I’d caught after I died. The Warden told me about demons, vampires, my mixed heritage, and everything else.”

  “That must have been quite a shock,” Ian said steadily.

  “Oh, it was.” Another bitter laugh. “I was beyond traumatized, both from what had happened to me and from what I’d helped Dagon do to others. Plus, like you, I also blamed my father for not doing more to get me out of that sooner. Not that he cared. The Warden doesn’t feel the way we do, or he doesn’t consider me worthy of his deeper feelings. But he did ask Tenoch to look out for me, and that was his greatest gift. Tenoch saved me in body, mind, and spirit. Then he replaced every minute Dagon robbed me of by turning me into a vampire. He also taught me magic and how to use all my powers. Tenoch wanted to make sure I knew how to protect myself from anyone else who would try to hurt me or use me for their own purposes.”

  At that, I got up and went over to Ian, taking both his hands. “That’s why I understand exactly why you sold your soul to save Mencheres. I tried to give the Warden mine in exchange for Tenoch’s life after he committed suicide. The Warden said he couldn’t because Tenoch hadn’t crossed through his part of the underworld on his way to his next life. That’s the good news, even though I’ve missed Tenoch every day since then.”

  Ian clasped my hands before pulling his free to settle them on either side of my face. “Of course you did, but you’re not alone any longer. You do realize that, don’t you?”

  I glanced away, a snort escaping me. It was better than the muffled sob rising in my throat. “It’s okay, Ian. I’m under no illusions about us. Even if we win, you’re not the ‘stick around’ kind of guy. You’re the guy people sigh wistfully about when they’re later with the person who does stick around.”

  His grin was pure him: more than a little dangerous and more than a lot enticing. “Oh, there are vast multitudes sighing over me, don’t you doubt it. But you know how Mencheres used to be able to see the future? I have something like that, too.”

  “You do?” I asked in surprise.

  A nod. “Several years ago, I started getting feelings. I’d suddenly know the person I was with was going to rob me, for example. Dismissed it as lucky hunches at first, then paranoia when I felt it with Crispin. But after Crispin’s betrayal, I started paying attention. Turns out, the feelings were never wrong, but they didn’t happen every time. A heads-up would have been appreciated before I sold my soul to Dagon, but did my paranormal ESP warn me then? No. That’s when I understood why Mencheres always considered his gift more of a curse. When you can’t count on it, it can feel more taunt than blessing when it does finally happen. Take yourself.”

  I stiffened. If his ability only caused him to have premonitions about bad things happening, this would hurt.

  “The first time I saw you, you were moderating a duel Crispin was in and you nearly executed Cat for saving him—”

  “That was not my fault,” I interrupted. “Everyone was warned that if they interfered, they’d die. Cat torched the head off Bones’s opponent in front of four Law Guardians and hundreds of witnesses. She could’ve flash-fried his internal organs to help Bones. Or cooked his spine, or something else that wouldn’t have been seen. But no. She goes for the most visible display of duel interference ever—”

  “The woman has no subtlety,” Ian agreed, laughing. “But to my point, I saw you then and felt nothing. Saw you months later during the ghoul uprising and felt nothing then, too . . . until I watched you tear through a group of ghouls ’til they were no more than blood in the wind. Made me so hard, I almost tripped over my cock on my way to kill the ghoul in front of me.”

  “Romantic,” I said in an acerbic tone, but a fluttering had started inside that I was having a difficult time controlling.

  A quick grin. “Indeed. Felt nothing when you rudely interrupted my orgy, either, except rage when I recognized you as the Guardian who’d been at Katie’s supposed execution. Then we fought . . . and I felt the same thing I’d felt when I watched you tear through those ghouls years before.”

  “Something long and hard?” I supplied, adding, “I remember it hitting my foot when I was trying to hold you down.”

  “Not that, though that, too,” he said with another unrepentant grin. Then it faded as he said, “I felt that you were mine. Rattled me so much, it kept me far away from you on that battlefield years ago. Feeling that toward anyone was a shock, but feeling it toward a Law Guardian?” He shook his head. “I wanted no part of it, so I made sure not to cross your path again. Had every intention of getting away from you when you ambushed me at the bordello, too, though I was curious to see what you intended with your ‘surprise prostitute’ act. Yes, I recognized you straightaway, not that I let on, until you arrogantly announced that we were leaving. Then you muted the beacon on Dagon’s brands and I knew I had to partner with you or give up on saving my soul. But I had my disgust over Katie to hold me in check. When you eliminated that, I had nothing to stop me from realizing why I’d felt one way toward you sometimes and so very differently at others.”

  He ran his hands over me, his touch affecting me almost as much as the words I couldn’t believe I was hearing.

  “You were always hiding before, either under your glamour or your rigid, law-worshipping act. When you dropped it fighting or binge drinking or rescuing flying demon dogs or telling me you’d never have sex with me while lust swam in your eyes”—his voice deepened and he pulled me hard against him—
“I saw the real you, and every time I did, I knew you were mine.”

  I kept opening my mouth but I couldn’t seem to speak. That’s why I continued to stare at him, waiting for him to say something that made sense. This didn’t. Neither did the joy bursting through me, lighting me up on the inside as if I’d swallowed the sun. I wanted to believe him, but did I dare? Could I risk what I’d feel if I did?

  “If you’re lying to me, I will kill you,” I found myself saying. Then I bit my lip enough to make it bleed. Gods, what was wrong with me? I was the worst at this. The absolute worst.

  Ian grinned before leaning down to lick the blood off my lip. “I know, it’s a lot to take in. Never thought you’d be this happy, did you? Or this lucky. Blimey, go ahead and envy yourself. Countless other people will, I assure you.”

  A laugh escaped me even as my eyes became so shiny, his image started to blur. “You might be the most conceited man I’ve ever met, and I’ve met millions of them.”

  His low, seductive laugh coincided with his hands settling on my hips. “Then I deserve a spanking, don’t I? Here, I’ll start things off.”

  With that, he smacked my ass several times in quick succession. I looked down as if feeling it wasn’t enough and I needed visual confirmation of the pink handprints to believe he’d actually done it. Seeing it, he laughed again.

  “Never been spanked before? You have so much catching up to do. We’ll start now.”

  “Wait!” I said when his mouth swooped down. He paused, mouth barely brushing my lips. “You’ve said these . . . these amazing things, but I haven’t told you how I felt.”

  “Veritas.” The way he said my name made me shiver. So did the look in his eyes when he leaned back so I could see every nuance of his expression. “You told me everything I needed to know with how you shouted after me not to leave before.”

  Once again, I felt supremely exposed, as if he’d pulled back all my defenses and stared directly into my soul. But this time, I didn’t turn away, drop my gaze or attempt to cover up.

  “Good,” I said steadily. “Because I meant it.”

  Then I whacked his ass hard enough to make my hand sting. His laughter chased after me as I flew up the stairs and tossed a “Come and get me!” over my shoulder at him.

  “Right behind you,” he chuckled, and flew after me.

  Chapter 37

  “That’s the last one,” Ian said after I heard the rustling sound of fabric dropping behind me. “You can turn around now.”

  I did, seeing a heavy black drape over the tall mirror behind me. Similar drapes covered more mirrors on the other three walls of the small room. Having mirrors on every wall would have looked suspicious, except for the kind of room we were in.

  Fifty years ago, this mirrored fun house might have been bustling with laughter and activity. Today, it was one of many abandoned shells. Brush and other overgrowth advanced on the former amusement park like a surrounding army on a doomed city. Graffiti covered the structures that still stood within, and the half-rotted skeleton of the wooden roller coaster reminded me of a sad, ghostly sentry looming over the entire park’s remains.

  Ian had picked this place for our ambush. I, too, would have chosen somewhere quiet, abandoned, and at least a few miles away from regular populaces. But it wouldn’t have occurred to me to choose an actual mirrored fun house to trap Dagon with a bunch of spelled mirrors. My sense of humor wasn’t that twisted.

  Ian’s was, and I had to admit, the irony was growing on me. After scouting out the area to make sure this tiny slice of western Pennsylvania was as Ian remembered, we’d started our work. First was rebuilding the fun house enough to make it suitable for our needs. It didn’t take much since we weren’t attempting to return it to its former dubious glory. We only needed it to be functional for our trap. Dagon shouldn’t be wary of finding a few mirrors left in it, and catching him by surprise was the most critical part of our plan.

  Next was the park itself. I wanted a few surprises waiting for Dagon and whatever backup he brought, if things didn’t work as hoped for in the fun house. Finally, I had to get Silver ready. I did the magical equivalent of a locater beacon on the Simargyl, plus I embedded a tiny GPS chip beneath his skin. I had no intention of letting Dagon recover him, but I wouldn’t leave Silver’s fate to chance if the worst happened.

  I also explained to Silver that I wasn’t giving him back to Dagon; I was making sure Dagon couldn’t hurt him anymore by luring him here. I don’t know how much the Simargl understood. But I had to try anyway.

  It took three days to get everything ready. As the sun set on the third day, we were finally done. I put my hands on Silver and willed the former warding spell I’d placed on him to weaken, allowing Dagon to once again locate Silver by tracing his blood. Then, I went to find Ian.

  He was right outside the fun house, watching as the sun cast dying mauve and purple beams through the ruined theme park. He wore all black, as I did, and both of us had two demon-bone knives apiece in sheaths attached to our belts. The knives also had steel on the backside of the blades. Now there was no danger of them breaking when smashing through other bones.

  They weren’t our only weapons. We also had silver knives in case of vampires and a short sword for ghouls, plus many spells in place around the park. Despite all this, pre-battle jitters had set in. So much of my life had led up to this. Was Ian experiencing the same nerve-frying mix of worry, resolve, anger, hope, and fear?

  Then again, he might be feeling something else. The other day, he’d reminded me that I didn’t need him anymore. He’d said it as a challenge, but what if he was second-guessing his role in this? If Dagon got out of our trap, I’d come back if he killed me. But if Ian died . . . he wouldn’t only lose his life. He’d also lose his soul.

  The thought filled me with the kind of sickening dread I hadn’t felt since I was human. It wasn’t worth the risk. “Dagon should feel his tether to Silver returning soon, but you still have time to leave,” I said. “In fact, you should go. You’ve already done more than enough. Let me take it from here.”

  He turned around and laughed. “And miss Dagon’s expression when we trap him in those mirrors? Not a chance.”

  I stared at him, suddenly terrified I’d never see him again if he stayed. “Ian, really, you should go—”

  He pressed a finger to my lips. “Stop. Your concern is touching, but if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be. Now, get Silver in position. We don’t know how quick Dagon will be.”

  Arguments and outright pleas trembled on my lips, but I forced them back. Ian might be far younger than me, but at two hundred fifty plus, he was more than old enough to know his own mind. If I kept going on about my fears, I’d rattle us both into being less than our fighting best. We couldn’t afford that. Tonight was too dangerous as it was.

  That’s why I nodded, smiling before kissing the finger still pressed to my lips. “Try not to tire yourself out, then,” I said in as careless a voice as I could manage. “I have plans to celebrate Dagon’s death that involve lots of your stamina.”

  He laughed again. “Same to you, little Guardian.”

  Then he kissed me, hard, fierce, and astonishingly passionate considering our circumstances. When he stopped, my mouth wasn’t the only part of me that throbbed. His slow smirk said he knew how he’d affected me, too.

  Not to be outdone, I grabbed his cock, squeezing until his eyes lit up with green. “Now I won’t be the only one impatient for our victory celebration,” I taunted before letting go and leaving to take care of Silver.

  His low laugh promised sweet revenge later. My spirits lifted, shoving down my earlier fears. We would win tonight and both of us would survive to celebrate it. We had to.

  Once I had Silver safely concealed behind a small, swinging door the Simargl could also use to exit, if need be, I took my position behind another blind door on the opposite side of the room. Ian came in and flew up to his spot, concealed above a sheet of painted plywood in th
e ceiling. Once we were safely out of view of the mirrors, I pushed the lever on the pulley system we’d set up. The drapes rose, exposing the mirrors. Now, we waited.

  An hour ticked by. Then two. Then three. By the fourth, I was tempted to leave my position to stretch my legs, but I didn’t. We’d wait until after dawn if need be. Once the sun was up, the chances of Dagon appearing dropped dramatically. But night . . . night was his playtime.

  A little past 1 a.m., I heard a whoosh as if a gust of wind had blown into the fun house. It was followed by a wave of power and the sulfur smell all demons had. I clamped down on my aura, squelching all hints of my supernatural energy. At the same time, I readied myself to let my power burst free. Dagon hadn’t frozen time yet, but he would. It was his favorite trick.

  Footsteps sounded, then I heard, “Fun house, eh? ‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?’” in a singsong voice.

  Dagon’s voice. Yes! I’d been worried that he’d send someone else out of an abundance of caution. He hadn’t, so his arrogance was everything I’d hoped. We’d set up more mirrors at the front of the funhouse, some broken, some not, but all unspelled. I wanted him to think nothing of the mirrors in this room when he finally reached it.

  “Where’s my little fluffy money bag?” Dagon was still using that singsong voice, only it sounded closer now. My hands tightened, one on the remote drapery switch I’d been holding this entire time, the other on the bone knife. “I know you’re in here. Come out, come out, wherever you are . . .”

  Silver’s whine was a thin, soft sound filled with fear. Dagon’s footsteps quickened. “There you are,” he said, all merriment gone from his voice. His footsteps were now right outside the room. Silver whined again, sounding desperate.