“My child, look at what this place has done to you.” He knelt gracefully in front of her, wings closing around them both. “You have been compromised by these human emotions of guilt and regret. The flame that was once Amaymon, that once burned so brightly it blinded her enemies, has died in this miserable, dark place.”
Being within his embrace again brought back a flood of memories. Of running into the circle of his wings as a child, of looking up at their gorgeous expanse and wanting nothing more than to touch them, to sink her fingers into their softness and strength, to feel them beat against her. Then as she grew and she’d learned the reality of those wings, of what it meant to have them around her, she grew to fear them. A perfectly normal reaction. Familial relations among demons did not last. As soon as a young one was capable of hunting down its own dinner, it was tossed from the nest and became an enemy.
But to be Asmodeus’ enemy was to be the object of his desire.
A feathery tip caressed her back. She shuddered in fear and this pleased him. A sensual smile curved his full lips and his reaction flooded back to her and turned her fear into delight.
This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be feeling this. It was his want, his craving, not hers—worse than the Command. This was what she’d fought to be free of, why she’d fled her home and come here. Being bound and commanded was rarely as bad as this.
Amaya dredged the depths of her body and found the energy to lift her wings. She used them to batter his aside and then she rolled away from him. The last of her strength fled and she ended up in a corner, wings pulled in tight around her. She glared at him. He just smiled.
He’d given her this act of defiance. Even at her full strength she was no match for him.
“You were always the strange one,” he said, his voice soft and musing. “When you were born, you loved me with more passion than any of your brothers or sisters. When you grew, you hated me in the same way you loved me.”
Asmodeus stood and stretched his wings out. They brushed the walls of the room, and it was a double car garage.
“I’ll be no one’s slave,” she hissed.
He tilted his head as he regarded her. “But you are. Enthralled to two masters, I believe. This is not the Amaymon that battled her way free of her siblings and came to this –” His wide shoulders shuddered elegantly, an action that extended to the tips of his wings, which he then folded tight about his body. “– place. This is some human’s plaything. A convenient body to fuck whenever he wants. A tool he can wield when he wants someone dead. Amaymon, this is not what you are. Come with me and leave all this behind.”
There was the urge to crawl to him, to let him gather her up and make the Commands vanish and the human emotions along with them. It was a compulsion, but not like those laid on her by the humans who managed to bind her. This wasn’t Nick’s unconscious commanding and it wasn’t the summoner’s intentional demands. This was Asmodeus and his soft voice and his lovely blue eyes in his dark face. This wasn’t a forced compulsion to obey. She could reject him—if she wanted to.
The problem was, she didn’t know if she wanted to.
He sensed her confusion. His wings opened slightly and he took a step toward her. “My daughter, you have forgotten yourself. Come back to me. Come back to the one who loves you most.”
Amaya snorted. “Love? What do you know of love?”
His sensual smile returned and her body quivered in response.
“Am I not the Lord of Lust?”
“Love and lust are two different things.”
Asmodeus chuckled. “A human affectation to let them think they are not animals.” He crouched before her again, touching her cheek with the long, fine fingers of one hand. “You loved me once.”
“Then I learned the difference between love, lust and hate.” She jerked away from his touch. “Did you give my name to the one who summoned me? Is being bound and commanded my punishment for running away from you?”
Asmodeus sat back on his heels, a hint of a playful smile on his mouth. “Oh, come, daughter. You know me better than that. This is not the sort of punishment I give. No, I have not revealed your name to any human.”
“Then who?”
He shrugged, a fluid, sensual motion. “You left behind many enemies when you fled.”
“But none with the power to name me to a human.”
There were laws as solid as the strongest chains in her realm. Amaya had learnt that very early in her life and it was why she’d fought so hard to get as high as she could. Only those above her had the ability to give her true name to a summoner. A weaker demon could name a stronger one, but only with explicit permission and under air-tight restrictions. Amaya had never allowed it so that left only a handful of options. A couple of highest ranked captains, the Demon Lords and... She shuddered hard and shied from thinking about the final candidate. It couldn’t be him. She was nothing to him.
“And yet,” Asmodeus murmured, almost thoughtful in his tone and expression, “here we find ourselves, on opposite sides, competitors once again.”
She stared at him. Amaya might be nothing to him, but Asmodeus, Demon Lord and most powerful general of the King’s army, was everything.
If Asmodeus spoke the truth, if they were opponents, then the only being with the power, the will, to challenge Asmodeus would be the one to give her name to her summoner.
Lucifer. The Demon King himself.
If His Majesty had given Amaya up to her summoner, that meant this whole deal went beyond the death of a physicist and a vampire-wielding psychic—way beyond.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice reduced to a whisper by growing fear. She had a sneaking suspicion about his motives, but with Asmodeus, it was best not to assume anything.
“Join me, my daughter, and I will tell you.”
Swallowing her dread, she said, “I’ll never join you.”
He put his hand on her shoulder and, eyes glowing sapphire bright, he poured energy into her body. It rushed through her, driving the last of the imp venom from her blood and muscles. Warmth caressed her every inch, tingling in her arms, legs and wings and coiling like a tight spring in her abdomen.
Asmodeus’ hand slipped around her shoulders, lifted her against his body. “And yet you came to me three times. I do not recall you protesting joining with me then.” His voice lowered into a husky baritone that shivered through her bones.
Freed of the poison, it was a completely different inhibition that made speaking difficult now. There was still the fear, but it was a different fear now. Amaya battled the need to push herself closer against him. To surrender to him would mean he had won and she would be his again.
Teeth gritted, she said, “Only because I needed something from you that had nothing to do with submission.”
“I realise that now. You were very good, Amaymon. You made me truly believe I had conquered you each time. How clever of you.”
“Or perhaps how stupid of you.”
“Perhaps.” His warm tone turned chilly and his hold became more painful than pleasurable; though for Asmodeus, there was little difference. “What did you steal from me, Amaymon? I really wish to know.”
He didn’t know? Amaya laughed in his face. “You really are dense, Asmodeus. How did you get here if you didn’t work out what I took?”
Asmodeus growled. He closed one hand around her throat, the other fisted in the deep muscles of one wing and with a powerful heave, tossed her across the room. She hit the wall and it shook under the impact. Plaster cracked and wooden beams creaked. In a cloud of dust and falling fragments, she slumped to the floor, still laughing.
“You’re not really here, you arsehole.” She scrambled to her feet, snapping her wings out to dislodge the debris. “I don’t know what Lucifer is so worried about. You can’t make it across the boundary. You don’t know how.”
Asmodeus charged but she called up her spirit fire and shot it at him. Blue flames hit him in his guts. Momentum carried the bo
dy forward even as it broke up. Dozens of imps fell out of the meld and dropped to the floor, completely drained of life. The binding spirit of Asmodeus, an intense blue swirl of light, continued to rush at her. It rammed into her chest, a spear of pain that tore right through her.
Amaya screamed and crashed back to the floor. Asmodeus’ spirit roared around her once more and then, because a demon spirit couldn’t last long outside of a body a flesh, the Demon Lord vanished.
As much as Amaya might wish otherwise, he wasn’t dead. Instead, he was probably rushing back across the boundary to their realm, or back to whatever body he’d possessed in this one.
Chest aching and exhausted once more, Amaya hoped he was back in the demon realm. Otherwise, even if he was in Siberia, he was too close for comfort. He might not have physically crossed into the human realm, but even in spirit form he was dangerous. His very nature was all about manipulation and taking power. He played games that had a distressing tendency to have ramifications far beyond winning or losing, stretching toward ends only he could see. Even Lucifer couldn’t keep the Lord of Lust constrained all of the time.
With Asmodeus lurking around, things changed, and not for the better.
Surveying the garage with its scattered rubbish of dead imps and the feathers they’d stolen from her wings, Amaya wondered what else could go wrong.
She crawled around the room, collecting her feathers. Leaving them behind was a big risk. She piled them in a corner and ignited them with a short burst of spirit fire. It hurt to kill one part of herself with another, but it was necessary, especially if Asmodeus actually got a clue and worked out what she’d taken from him.
If he ever discovered how she’d crossed the boundary from the demon realm to the human one, it would take a lot more than Lucifer to stop him.
Suddenly, Amaya’s problems with the Night Caller seemed so much less immediate.
Chapter 16
The phone rang about an hour after we’d got home. Mercy was watching one of those Thor movies (again!) and I was trawling through my library of supernatural knowledge for any mention of demons. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate Lila’s contribution, but you have to admit, it wasn’t the most helpful stuff.
There were a few mentions of the lesser demon types—imps, familiars (which were really animals just possessed by demons, but there you go) etc etc. A few hardy souls even tried to justify why they believed vampires were actually demons, or parts of demons trapped within humans. Gotta give ‘em points for trying, eh?
The mobile jangled and I answered it absently.
“Yeah?”
“Matt Hawkins?”
“Yes. Who’s this calling me at…” I looked at my watch. “Nearly midnight?”
“My name’s Belinda Wright. I’m a nurse in the ED at the Greenslopes hospital. Do you know an Erin McRea?”
I nearly dropped the phone. Cold whipped through my stomach. “Is she okay?”
“There’s been an accident. She’s going to be fine,” the nurse added before I could reach through the phone and drag the words out of her.
I swallowed the relief that balled up in my throat. “What happened?”
“We’re not exactly sure. We think her car jumped a railing on an overpass and crashed onto the road below.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. Was there another car involved?”
“Only the truck that hit the car on the surface road.”
My mind whited out for a moment. “The truck? It hit her car after it crashed off the overpass? And she’s going to be okay?”
“She’s a very tough woman, Mr Hawkins. She managed to get out of her car before the truck hit. Paramedics found her on the side of the road.”
Thank God. I could breathe again.
“Are you a family member, Mr Hawkins?” Belinda asked.
“No. Just a friend. A business acquaintance. What made you call me?”
“We have her mobile phone here. There was no listing for anyone who seemed like a family member and yours was the last number called. It was called out of working hours so we assumed you might be a friend. If you’re only a business acquaint—”
“I’m a friend. It’s okay. Thanks for calling. Is there an Ivan listed in the phone?”
“I believe there is.”
“Call him. He’s a friend too, and closer, travelling distance wise. I’m sure he’ll come in immediately.”
“Okay. Thank you, Mr Hawkins. Will you be coming in at all?”
Yes, I wanted to scream, but didn’t. “Tell Ivan, and Erin, that I’ll be there in the morning. She is being admitted?”
“She’s still unconscious at the moment, and yes, she’s been admitted. She has a compound fracture in her right arm that needs surgery and a couple of broken ribs, but otherwise, she came out of it very well.”
“Great. Or not. Tell her I’ll be there in the morning. If she wants. If she doesn’t want, then get Ivan to call me.”
“Any other messages I can pass on for you, Mr Hawkins?” Her tone was very dry indeed.
“No, that’s enough. Thanks.”
“Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
“What happened?” Mercy asked, prowling into the room.
“Erin had a car accident on the way home.”
Mercy’s eyes flashed silver. “Accident?”
“Yeah, I don’t think so either.” I got up and grabbed my jacket. “Come on, we’re going out again.”
She vanished in a bright streak and was waiting in the garage for me, jacket on and hot pink helmet poised over her head.
“Car,” I said, unlocking the Monaro.
Mercy grumbled but got in.
It took nearly an hour to get back to where we’d parted ways with Erin after visiting Geotech earlier. She’d kept on the main road while me, Mercy and our shadow for the evening, one Detective Courey, took a circuitous route north. We didn’t actually manage to shake the good detective. In all honesty, I think he just gave up trying to catch us out. Once on the road Erin had taken, Mercy rolled down the window and sniffed out Erin’s trail.
The scene of the accident was easy to identify. I stopped the car and we got out. While I checked out the sideways skid marks that ended against the railing, Mercy flitted about and when she came back to my side, her lips were peeled back in a snarl.
“Demon.”
My hands clenched. “Same one?”
She nodded.
“You’re sure this time? The same one that ambushed us at Ivan’s place?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “That one. And there were imps. Lots of them.”
Lots of imps? I didn’t think they were social beasts. I’d only encountered them in ones or twos, excepting that last little job, of course, but that was different.
“What were they doing here?”
Mercy shrugged. “Their scent mingles with hers.”
“Erin’s?”
“The demon’s,” she said steadily.
“Oh.”
I left it at that and checked out the drop to the road below. A good twenty-five feet at least. The car must have landed lucky for Erin to get out with as few injuries as she did. There was another set of long skid marks coming down the hill toward the overpass.
Jesus. The truck had no chance to stop before cleaning up whatever had remained of the BMW. I jogged to the far side of the overpass and saw the wreckage trail ended another couple of hundred meters along. Truck and car had both been cleared away but I could see it clearly in my head.
Dark things moved around inside me.
This creature had gone after Erin. It had hurt her. It had meant to kill her.
I could feel it coming, a red haze creeping in on the edges of my vision. It filled my limbs with a deadly need to move.
“Mercy,” I said softly. Wherever she was, she would hear. “We’re going hunting.”
I got back into the Monaro and turned on the tracking app in the phone. Mercy jumped to the top of the centre wall of the motorway
and let her head drop back. Eyes closed, mouth open, she tasted the night. The few cars that passed slowed to look at her and I had no doubt one or two of them would call the cops and report a mad girl in the middle of the road. Didn’t matter. We wouldn’t be here for long. I gunned the engine of the car, an impatient gesture to which Mercy flipped the finger. She wasn’t too far from getting a stronger trail to follow, because a moment later, she blurred and vanished. I checked the phone, watched her spot jump from here to there and then steady up on a vaguely westerly heading.
Tyres squealing, I took off after her.
The imps led us straight to Rocklea and a brand spanking new estate of partially finished houses. Some were little more than wooden skeletons, waiting to be dressed in brick and mortar, some were complete and just waiting for a happy family to begin their modern, stainless steel, open plan life; most were somewhere in between. It was outside one of the complete houses that Mercy stopped.
I pulled up on the street and got out. I slung the paintball rifle over one shoulder, drew my gun and snapped out my night stick. It had been blessed by an Anglican Father and worked nicely against vampires. I wasn’t sure if the blessing bit would have much effect against demons, but the solid metal bit definitely would.
“In here,” Mercy sent. She stood outside the garage.
“Can you open it?” I went to her side.
Her response was to grab the bottom of the door and while it groaned in protest, lifted. Mechanisms inside meant to open and close the door snapped and the door flew up.
Weak moonlight spilled into the garage. It took a moment for me to realise what I was seeing. Dead imps. They were everywhere. And not dead the way Mercy and I killed them. They weren’t sludge smouldering with a strong salt flavour. They were just dried up, dead little bodies.
Mercy glanced at them, then at the deeper shadows of the garage. She tensed and hissed.
I was ready for it this time. Mercy’s insane need to fight still hit like a cricket bat to the face, but I met it with a controlled burst of berserker-fuelled psychic whammy and managed to protect my higher thought processes. It was hard. Teeth gritting, gut clenching hard, but I managed it—for how long was another matter altogether. It wasn’t as strong as it had been the night before, which gave me some hope of surviving intact. This time it was diluted, as if the source of the disruption was further away or weakened.
Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei Page 14
