by Larissa Ione
Declan surged to his feet. “Demon?”
“It’s okay,” the demon said. “I’m one of the good guys.” He stuck out his hand.
For a long moment, Declan did nothing. And then, with a muttered “What the hell,” and a shake of the head, he clasped hands with the demon. “I’m Declan.”
“Nice to meet ya, human. I’m Wraith.” The demon grinned, flashing vicious-looking fangs. “And I’ll be your guide to the nightmares that live in your brain.”
Chapter Sixteen
Declan couldn’t believe this was happening. A demon was standing right in front of him. A real, honest-to-god demon. The statuesque woman with him, Suzanne’s sister Idess, walked into the living room with a smile and a light step, which seemed surreal. She’d been an angel once, and now she was buddy-buddy with a fucking demon?
He eyed Wraith. The guy didn’t look anything like the demon that had attacked them. Muscular, tall, and with a shiny, shoulder-length mane of blond hair Thor himself would envy, Wraith could easily grace the cover of any magazine, and if he walked into any Hollywood studio, he’d be on the big screen the next day.
They might have to disguise those fangs, though.
“So...you’re going to restore my memory?”
“I’m going to try.” Wraith shrugged. “But angels are dicks, so who knows what they did to you? Might have whipped your brain into scrambled eggs.”
Idess sighed. “You can’t be normal for two seconds, can you?”
“What’s normal?” Wraith asked. “Because, hello, you’re asking me to reconstitute memories erased by angels after a demon apocalypse. So, you know, define normal.”
“He’s got a point,” Suzanne said.
Idess groaned. “Don’t ever say Wraith has a point. Or that he’s right about anything.”
Wraith nodded. “Totally. I’ll use it against you for eternity.”
What the hell was happening? This was so not what Declan had expected of demons. Or angels, for that matter.
I had sex with an angel.
“Declan?” Suzanne prompted. “You okay? You look a little pale again.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. But I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this...”
Suzanne took his hand in hers and squeezed. Her thumb stroked his skin in long, soothing passes, an intimate gesture he might not have been ready for just days ago. Intimacy with women had always been limited to the sexual kind. This emotional stuff was brand new, and he was ready for it. Hell, he needed it. Given all that had happened, who wouldn’t?
“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to,” Suzanne said. “But if you do, I’ll be right here.”
“Do you know this...demon?”
“No, but if Idess trusts him, I do too.”
“Plus,” Wraith chimed in, “I saved the world once or twice. I’m totally trustworthy.”
“It’s true.” Idess rolled her eyes. “I hate to stroke his already enormous ego, but it’s true. He’s on our side.”
How? How could a demon be on their side? He frowned. “Wraith...sounds familiar.” He racked his brain and finally, something clicked. “There’s a character named Wraith in the Demonica comics. Looks like you, actually.”
Wraith grinned. “That’s because it is me. I’m a rock star.”
“But the comics... They’re fiction.”
“No,” Idess said softly, “they’re not. I don’t know who is responsible for them, but they’re pretty true to real life. Wraith did help save the world, just like in the comics...” She gave the demon another eye roll. “...and we hear about it on a regular basis. My theory is that the comics are sanctioned by someone high up in Heaven in order to get humans used to the idea of demons and angels, and to tell the story of what happened before human memories were erased.”
“An angel is definitely the author,” Wraith said. “You can tell because the comics are totally biased against demons. The author makes me look like an idiot.”
“That’s because you are an idiot.” Idess turned from Wraith to Declan. “Wraith aside, I think the purpose of the comics is to prepare people like you for the truth. They’re way behind in the timeline—the near apocalypse hasn’t happened yet, and they haven’t introduced the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”
“The...what?” He vaguely remembered Suzanne saying something about humans fighting alongside three of the Four Horsemen, but at the time it hadn’t registered that she’d been talking about those Horsemen.
Suzanne waved her hand. “I’ll fill you in later. Right now we have to get your memories turned on.”
Sure, sure. Mining important information from his head was a priority over the Four Horsemen of the damned Apocalypse.
Jesus.
On the other hand, how often had he read a comic book or seen a movie and wondered how he’d react if he were one of the characters who learned that superhero powers, or aliens, or vampires existed? He’d always thought he’d adapt quickly.
And he’d always thought it would be awesome.
In reality, it was just fucking weird and at times downright terrifying.
“So,” Wraith said, “you cool with this?”
Nope. “I have to be.”
“It could be painful,” Wraith warned. “Try not to resist.”
Declan nodded, and before he’d even finished, Wraith was behind him, one arm slung around Declan’s chest, and a searing, piercing pain sliced into his neck. Faintly, he heard a chorus of, “Wraith! You don’t have to bite him,” and “What the hell are you doing?” But just as he started to struggle, the pain turned to pleasure, and Declan felt himself sag against the big demon.
Then the mind-fuck started.
Agony ripped through his head, as if a clawed hand was inside his skull, tearing at the vault that held his memories. At first, he resisted the unnatural invasion, but it wasn’t long before bits and pieces of visions, like second-long film clips, began to flash before his eyes. There were monsters there. And friends from McKay-Taggart who fought the monsters. Declan engaged in a life-or-death brawl with some creepy, pale, eyeless thing.
Good...god. As if the door containing his memories had been thrown open, they flooded his brain. So many demons. So many battles. Declan saw himself in Africa, fighting alongside people he’d been sent to capture. But in a time of desperation, all humans became the good guys when you were up against the spawn of Hell.
The memories flipped through his brain in rapid succession, barely giving him time to absorb them. But he suspected he didn’t need to. They’d been unlocked, and once Wraith disconnected himself, Declan had a feeling he would be able to pick through each snapshot for more details as needed.
Finally, Wraith pulled away and eased him onto the couch. Declan hated feeling helpless and weak, but if not for the couch, he’d have been nothing but a puddle on the floor. He felt a warm hand on his knee and knew without looking it belonged to Suzanne.
“Hey,” she said softly. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” he wheezed. “A little thirsty.”
Wraith licked his lips. “That’s the blood loss.”
“Did you really need to do that?” Idess asked, and yeah, Declan was wondering the same thing.
“I was hungry. I skipped lunch. Sue me.” Wraith glanced over at Declan. “You have a lot of shit in that noggin of yours. And dude, your dad is a douche.”
Declan was torn between feeling violated and feeling vindicated. After all, if a damned demon thought your dad was a douche...
“I’ll get you some juice or something.” Idess headed toward the kitchen.
“So,” Suzanne asked hesitantly. “What did you remember?”
Hell. He remembered utter hell. “Demons,” he croaked. “And most of them didn’t look like Wraith.”
“That’s because the ones that look like Wraith have been living among humans for centuries without causing much trouble. When Pestilence’s Seal broke, it released a lot
of really bad demons from Hell.”
Pestilence? One of the Horsemen? A memory flashed through his brain in slow motion, a horde of umber-skinned monsters with claws like knife blades and teeth longer than his hand squeezing through some kind of rip in the ground. They came at him and the team of hotel security guards at the place he’d been staying in South Africa while on a job. The battle had been vicious and gruesome, but the memory cut out before he found out how he’d gotten away alive. Another memory came on its heels, of flying into Houston and getting off the plane just as some sort of horned monster rampaged through the terminal.
“Declan?” Suzanne squeezed his hand. “You’re getting pale again. You okay?”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, hoping she couldn’t tell he was lying. He was tired of being asked if he was okay. Because this wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. Well, except Suzanne. She was literally his guardian angel, and right now, she was his entire world. “I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
Idess returned with a glass of orange juice. “Here. Try to relax. You don’t want to be flooded with too many memories at once.”
Too late. But even as the thought cleared his mind, another memory invaded the space. This one was close to home. Literally outside the McKay-Taggart offices, three demons, like the one that had attacked today, had ambushed him, his friend Steve, Remy, and Tag. They’d all been armed, but bullets hadn’t so much as scratched the bastards...again, just like today. Then, out of nowhere, people he’d assumed were human, dressed in black BDUs and combat gear, had rushed in and joined the battle with swords, strange S-shaped blades, and squirt guns filled with a liquid that made the demons screech.
One of the demons had gone down after being hamstrung by a sword strike, and Declan had leaped on it and jammed a dagger deep into the creature’s eye. The sound it had made...a screech that right now pierced his ears, had frightened off the other demons, who disappeared as suddenly as they’d arrived.
But the one he’d stabbed... It had shriveled up and disintegrated. The newcomers, people who called themselves The Aegis—just like in the comics—had explained that the demon was dead, and then they’d gone and he’d never seen them again.
“I remember something,” he said, optimism sparking for the first time since this happened. “I remember demons like the one that attacked us. I remember killing one.”
Suzanne sat up straight. “How?”
“I stabbed it in the eye.”
Suzanne practically deflated. “I put a spear through that demon’s eye today, and it barely even noticed.”
“So if these demons don’t have an obvious vulnerable spot,” Wraith said, “look to the person who killed it.” He gestured to Declan. “When I was in his feeble human head I saw him getting a tattoo. You guys know it’s not a normal tat, right?”
Declan started. From the beginning he’d sensed that something wasn’t quite right about his tattoo. Hell, he’d known it was messed up. But he’d told himself that the ink was defective. Or that the needle had damaged his nerve endings, causing the strange sensations he felt emanating from it now and then. He’d rationalized. Maybe the demon was right and his mind was feeble.
“Not normal?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
The demon shrugged. “I got a look at the artist. I’d bet both my nuts that he’s not human.”
Didn’t that just figure.
“Sounds like it’s time for a road trip,” Suzanne said, sounding way too perky. “Where are we going?”
“San Francisco,” Declan said as he dug in his pocket for his phone, which was buzzing so fiercely it nearly vibrated itself out of his pants. When he looked at the screen, his stomach dropped to his feet.
No. Oh, God, no.
“Declan?” Suzanne asked. “What is it?”
Pain twisted and clawed at his insides, like a monster was trying to get out. “It’s my friend. It’s Steve.” The phone slid from his numb fingers into his lap. “He’s dead. Someone...or something...tore him apart in his own home.”
Suzanne clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Declan, I’m so sorry.”
“Torn apart?” Wraith cursed. “That’s what Siecher demons do to send a message. Fuckers.”
“Steve was there that day,” he rasped as he struggled to keep it together. “He fought beside me.”
“Morroc couldn’t get to you, so he went after your friend.” Suzanne came over and sat beside him, the scent of her tropical perfume a welcome comfort. “No one you know or love is safe, Declan. We have to stop this thing.”
His fingers trembled as he retrieved his phone and Googled the tattoo shop. Closed today. But tomorrow? He was going to be there with bells on. And he was going to get some answers. Steve hadn’t deserved to die, but fuck if he was going to die in vain.
Chapter Seventeen
“The kitchen smells amazing.”
Suzanne looked up at Hawkyn and gave him a tired smile. With everything that had happened, they hadn’t had a chance to talk about their blowout yesterday, but maybe they didn’t need to. Hawkyn had chilled out, and she was happy to just let it go. She’d never liked conflict anyway.
“Thanks. I’m making chicken biscuit pot pie and cherry hand pies.”
“You make pie foods when you want to comfort someone.” His accusatory tone made her bristle. Obviously, Hawkyn hadn’t chilled as much as she thought.
“Declan just found out his memories have been altered, that I’m not who I said I was, and that his friend is dead, most likely killed by the demon that attacked us today. I think he can use a little comfort, and you’re not going to shame me for it.”
“Whoa.” He held up his hands in defense. “I’m concerned about you, but I learned my lesson.”
No, he hadn’t, but she wasn’t going to argue. “Well, thank you for checking to see what Declan did to earn being hunted by a Siecher. Hopefully we can figure out how he was able to kill one. And thank you for getting help to fight the bastard.”
He eyed her as if trying to decide if her change of subject was intentional to get away from talking about how much she wanted to comfort Declan, and if he wanted to let it go.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “You’re just lucky I dropped by to tell you about the demons Declan took out and saw your car and Morroc in the middle of the road. I flashed back to Sheoul-gra and caught Journey, Maddox, and Ilsa on their way out for pizza.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe how much things have changed since Azagoth opened up his realm to us.”
Apparently, Memitim hadn’t always been team players, but the structure in Sheoul-gra lent itself to a family atmosphere and team building, and now, more often than not, Memitim had help when they needed it simply by asking.
“I wouldn’t know.” She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “I came straight from training to Sheoul-gra, and as you like to point out, I’m a baby angel.”
That got a smile from him, seeing how she hated being called that. “Let me know how it goes at the tattoo place.”
“I will.” A soft hiss escaped her bottle of sparkling water as she removed the cap. “Oh, and Hawk? When you got into Declan’s records at the Memitim Embassy, did you find out why he’s Primori?”
He shook his head. “Any information even slightly related to what their future actions are is available only at the highest levels. I mean Archangel levels. Not even the Memitim Council has that kind of intel.”
That was disappointing.
“And, sis?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.” He wasn’t talking about the tattoo parlor. He was talking about Declan.
“You keep saying that,” she reminded him. “I think I’ll be fine.”
Hawkyn’s skeptical expression remained with her as he shook his head and flashed away. Damn him. She knew what she was doing. She was going to keep Declan alive, and she was going to get an awesome job on a TV cable network—
Oh, no.
She was supposed
to fly out to New York in the morning. Quickly, she dialed Cipher.
“’Sup, Suzie Bear?”
Always with the nicknames. She’d have to come up with something for Cipher. “Hey. Can we reschedule the meeting with the network people? I can’t get away right now.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but don’t get your hopes up. They indicated that they were under a deadline. I’ll hit you back in a few.” He hung up just as the timer on the oven indicated that dinner was ready.
A few minutes later, she had a tray loaded with pot pie, sautéed veggies, and little cherry pies, as well as a couple of sparkling waters, and was standing outside Declan’s door. She tapped lightly with the edge of the tray.
“If you’re an angel,” he called out, “come in. If you’re a demon, give me a minute to arm myself.”
She elbowed the door handle and walked into his room, where he was sprawled on the couch, surrounded by Demonica comics. As soon as he saw her, he leaped to his feet and took the tray.
“You didn’t have to bring this,” he said as he set the tray on the coffee table. “I would have come to the kitchen.”
She shrugged. “I just figured you might want to be alone. You’ve been through a lot, and my family can be...overwhelming.” Reaching out, she touched his shoulder. “And I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thank you.” He looked down at the tray, where her phone was buzzing. “You have a call.”
It was Cipher. “Excuse me for a second.” She hit the answer button. “Give me good news, buddy.”
The heartbeat of silence on the other end made her heart sink. “Sorry, Suz. The network can’t wait. They canceled your meeting.”
Shit. Closing her eyes, she gave herself a moment to get past the disappointment. Her dream had just been pulled out from under her, and it hurt more than she would have thought. She should have known it wasn’t in the cards. Her fate had been cemented in place since conception. Maybe she needed to accept that and move on.
But the thought of moving on made her want to cry.
“Suzanne?” Cipher’s voice called out gently over the airwaves. “You there?”
