Demons in Disguise: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book Three

by A and E Kirk

  I stepped up to his side as the doors chimed open. Huge mistake.

  A woman, about Mom’s age, had been waiting for the elevator. Her pale blue eyes pierced icy and analytical above harsh cheekbones. Her honey blonde hair, slicked back in a low bun punctured with a pencil, was the warmest thing about her. She wore a chic brown jacket over a white shirt and matching skinny jeans for her skinny frame. Low-heeled boots still kept her a few inches shy of my height.

  She looked like a woman with answers, a woman who didn’t get surprised. But she was now. Her lips parted in a horrified O as her wide-eyed gaze caught me and showed no signs of ever letting go.

  “You!” she said.

  She was a complete stranger, but seemed to know me. Had we lost the element of surprise that quickly? Cristiano swept me behind him.

  She spared him a quick glance and hissed, “You found Fiamma?”

  Oh. False alarm. I was just a dead ringer for a dead girl. Not the most encouraging thought right then. Cristiano spoke quickly in French as he laced his fingers in mine and tried to step out with me.

  “Non, non, non.” The woman admonished much like a mother would her child as she wagged an irritated finger in his face and pushed us both back in the elevator, quickly joining us and pressing buttons. The doors closed.

  “Fiamma?” She peered around Cristiano.

  He shifted to block her view, backing me into the corner with his body as he raised his hands in supplication. “Wait, wait.”

  “Who is she?” I whispered.

  “Cate Dubois,” he said over his shoulder.

  I was trapped in a small space with the only woman in the world who wanted me captured more than Sophina Cacciatori. My whole body turned cold and hard as an iceberg.

  There was a hint of wonderment in her voice. “Fiamma is an American?”

  “She is not Fiamma.” Cristiano switched to French and spoke rapidly, agitation high.

  As Dubois listened, she leaned to the side trying to get a look at me, but Cristiano kept shifting to block her view.

  Wasting time.

  I went up on tip-toe, put my lips to his ear and whispered, “Knock her out.”

  Cristiano turned his head so we were nose to nose. “No.”

  “Excuse me?” Dubois snapped.

  “Oh, come on.” No way she'd heard that. “You have super hearing powers?”

  “Scriptor, actually,” she ground out, crossing her arms. “But I also happen to lip read.”

  Cristiano said, “She helped raise me. We can trust her.”

  I tried to push him aside to knock her out myself, but he wasn’t budging.

  “The Hex Boys can’t afford for us to waste time!” I snapped. “So you either help me or get out of my way!”

  “Hex Boys?” Dubois punched a button, and we descended. “Come with me. I was about to go join the interrogation.”

  I paused in my attempt to climb through Armani to get to her. It hadn’t gone well. My head was trapped under his arm.

  “Interrogation?” I said.

  “Yes,” Dubois frowned at the two of us. “An investigation revealed they were working with the demon organization at Novo. That is why they were brought here.”

  “That’s crazy,” I said.

  “We’ve been told they are quite hostile and dangerous.” Dubios’ brow furrowed deeper. “Are you implying that we have been misled?”

  Cristiano gave me a concerned look. “The Boys are being set up as well.”

  The doors chimed open and Dubois clipped out in her boots. “Set up? By whom? Our communications have been down for several days. Then, when Dr. Renard arrived with the Hex Boys, she ordered a complete emergency lockdown of the facility and insisted on interrogating the Boys herself because they have proven so treacherous and vicious. One of them killed several of her men in cold blood. What is going on?”

  I huffed and urged her to move faster. “Cristiano will explain later.” Or never. “Less talking more running, lady, but bottom line, you’ve been duped. Renard’s a traitor, and she’s planning to kill the Hex Boys.”

  Dubois vaulted into a sprint, then stopped in front of a metal door which had no handle. She placed her hand on the touch screen interface beside it, and the doors whooshed open to pitch black.

  Dubois waved me in. “Through here. Hurry, Aurora!”

  Cristiano caught my hand as I bolted past him into the room and the lights stuttered on. I looked around. “Guys?! Where are you?”

  It was a square, windowless space. A metal table with matching chairs sat in the middle, stark and sterile, and reminded me way too much of the interrogation room back at Novo. There wasn’t another door. Through here to where?

  Wait. Did Dubois just use my real name?

  A click sizzled behind me. Cristiano cried out.

  Bang!

  I cringed at the deafening sound and slapped my hands over my ears. Dubois stood with a Taser, electricity dancing off the end. How did that make so much noise?

  Cristiano collapsed forward, releasing my hand, but dragging his fingers down my leg, clutching my ankle as he face-planted onto the floor, limbs twisted. There was a rip in the back of his shirt. Small. I only noticed because of the bright red liquid inking around it.

  Bang!

  I don’t know where the sledge hammer came from, but it careened into my chest with the brute force of a runaway Mack truck. It knocked the breath from my lungs, and toppled me backwards, my arms pin-wheeling as I tried to stop the fall.

  Bang!

  Something like a needle fresh from a fire pierced my flesh, and I went down, clanging and banging as I knocked the metal chairs aside.

  I think I screamed. My hearing was muffled from the loud explosions. I could see nothing but a blinding white, and could feel nothing but a searing pain in my breast that shredded across my chest. I inhaled in short bursts, scared and even more frightened when I caught the scent of copper from my own blood.

  Then my lungs gave out, and I couldn’t breathe.

  A shadow broke through the white of my vision. It was Dubois. She stood over me with a Taser in one hand, and a gun in the other.

  “All the trouble you caused.” Dubois shook her head disappointed. “I thought you’d be harder to kill.”

  I thought to fight, willing myself to grab her, scratch her, pull her off her feet. Unfortunately, my body was too heavy, the agony too loud for my limbs to hear my commands. My fingers didn’t so much as twitch in response.

  Behind her, Cristiano was on hands and knees, his body spasming in short jerks, and his breathing labored and rough as he struggled in torment. Dubois spun on her heel and pointed the gun at Cristiano’s back.

  I couldn’t find enough oxygen to shout, “Stop!” before she fired, sending another loud blast echoing through the room. Cristiano arched his back and shuddered as a spray of red burst from between his shoulders.

  I finally found air enough to scream, “No!”

  As Cristiano crumpled to the ground, Dubois didn’t even look back to confirm the kill, she simply strode out, calm and confident that the boy she’d helped raise was dead. The door swished closed behind her.

  Cristiano’s back didn’t rise and fall with any breath. A fresh blossom of crimson flowered across the shoulders of his white shirt and spread like a weed to mingle with the blood from the first bullet wound.

  A sob tore from my lips, tears streaming down my cheeks. Then a chill washed over my skin, except for where a weird warmth spread across my breast and trickled down my sides.

  Cristiano wasn’t the only one bleeding out.

  CHAPTER 105

  Cristiano was dead because of me. Like the Hex Boys would soon be. Like I was about to be. Tears of sorrow and pain flowed freely. Along with the blood.

  Shouldn’t I be in shock?

  Maybe I wasn’t dying. Maybe I was just being dramatic. But there was definitely a hole in my shirt, its edges frayed and bloody, and beyond the hole was a tiny puckered crater on the insid
e curve of my breast, the flesh looking like it was full of purply-red pulp.

  The wound was directly over my heart. Dubois had killer aim.

  It wasn’t even the bullets that made this all unbearable. I could barely lift my chest to breathe. I was suffocating. There wasn’t enough air.

  Lame as it sounded, if I was going out, I didn’t want to go out alone. I wanted someone to be there, hold my hand or something. My fingers twitched as I dragged my arm to reach for Cristiano, but he was too far. I closed my eyes and tried to trap the tears. Didn’t have much luck.

  A hand slipped into mine. That invisible anchor of dead weight on my torso, compressing my lungs, lifted instantly. My chest rose in a gratefully deep breath, sending pain cutting across my breasts, but it was worth it. I gasped and gulped in air.

  Cristiano knelt over me and squeezed my hand in both of his.

  “You’re alive,” I said.

  His shoulders spasmed up. He grimaced and shook it off. “Dubois will be disappointed.”

  “Not if I’m dead.” I took a shallow, shaky breath.

  “I will not let that happen.” Cristiano hooked his finger in the bloody hole of my shirt. I thought he was trying to get a better look, but instead, he ripped the hole wider, exposing most of my chest.

  “Whoa!” I smacked his hand away and started to sit up. It felt like a hot poker pierced my chest. “Ah!”

  “Easy.” Cristiano put one arm under my shoulders. “I am removing the bullet.”

  With his fingers? They were long and slender but nothing like needle-nosed pliers, and those fingers had to be a bit shaky after he’d been Tasered and shot. Plus, they were nowhere near sterile. This was going to hurt way worse than the searing throb I was already suffering. Cristiano’s hand went for my bloody, bullet-clogged boob again.

  I caught his wrist before contact. “I think we’re supposed to leave it in.”

  “Have you been shot on many occasions?” he said.

  “Nope.”

  “I have.” Cristiano carefully folded back the tattered edges of fabric from the wound. “Do not worry. I am good at this.”

  “Groping women’s breasts? I’m sure you are.” I plucked that roaming hand away and laughed nervously. “But actually, I feel great.” Actually, I didn’t. It hurt. Badly. A stinging throb that wouldn’t let up. “Let’s wait until we get proper—”

  “Of course,” Cristiano said with mock dismay. “My apologies. You would expect a proper kiss before we shared such an intimate moment.”

  His hand moved quickly, smoothing along my jaw, fingers tipping back my chin. His pale green eyes swirled and sparkled with bits of sapphire blue and glittering silver. His mouth lowered over mine.

  “Uh, not what I meant.” I squirmed, but stopped at the stabbing ache it caused. “I was thinking wait for proper medical supplies. So nope on the groping and absolutely no, no, noooope on the kissing.”

  “But you are in luck,” he murmured with a slow, suggestive smile. “Along with many other things that will give you pleasure, I am very good at kissing.”

  Oh, I just bet the Seduction Guru scored high, passing the Good Kisser Test with honors. Heck, he probably taught the class, because, oh yeah, he did. Gave private lessons even. Of which I was about to become a student.

  His lips came so close, his warm breath mingled with mine. A hot flush washed over my body. His sensuous gaze had me lightheaded, and he smelled delicious. His mouth moved closer, and just before his lips brushed mine, he paused, a literal breath away.

  I took that moment to collect myself, gather some good sense, and swung my hand.

  He caught my wrist before my palm connected with a hard slap to his face. Instead of angry, he looked amused, triumphant even. Between his thumb and index finger he held up a small piece of cylindrical metal. It glinted silver beneath the specks of blood. Odd shape. Like a teensy, tiny can that had its top half smashed flat.

  “You see,” he said. “Even the mere anticipation of my kiss was enough to distract you. You did not feel a thing.”

  Oh, I felt something all right. And that something proved to be the distraction. He was very good at this. I needed to be more than careful. I licked my lips. His mouth was still dangerously close and very tempting.

  I started to wiggle from his grip and that intense gaze.

  Cristiano’s head suddenly jerked toward the door. He went stiff. Then he hooked his other arm under my knees and stood, cradling me to his chest. He kicked the table once, knocking it onto its side, then again so its length faced the entrance. I winced, putting my arms around his neck just as the door whooshed open.

  Bill and Ted stood in the entrance, looking dapper in business suits, which made the large canvas laundry bin on wheels behind them all the more strange. They froze at the sight of us.

  “Well, Ted,” Bill spoke into the silence, “they’re not as dead as she told us they’d be.”

  “I’d call that a mighty disconcerting turn of events, Bill.” Ted pulled a gun from a holster under his jacket and fired.

  Cristiano dropped. We hit the ground, and the wall behind us exploded in powdered chunks. I covered my ears against the ricochet of sound.

  Bang, bang! Clunk, clunk!

  Bullets and debris flew. The table shuddered at the multiple impacts, getting a break only when Bill or Ted paused to reload. The metal popped and warped with bullet-sized dents, looking like some modern artwork in the midst of creation.

  And then...silence. Or maybe I’d gone deaf.

  My arms wrapped around Cristiano, his blood was wet on my hands. I felt his heart beat a frantic rhythm with the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the tremor and twitches of his muscles.

  Boots scraped closer. Someone new had entered the room. Neither Bill nor Ted.

  Our soon-to-be killer leaned over the table. Cristiano grabbed a fistful of the guy’s shirt and flung him across the room. The killer tucked his shoulder at the last second and rolled. Somersaulting smoothly to his feet, he grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket and flapped them once, debris clouding off.

  “I’m not going to take that personally, Cacciatori.” The guy curved a cocky grin, looking utterly adorable and oh so sexy.

  “Ayden!” I scrambled out of Cristiano’s arms, but pain flared, causing me to slip down on one knee.

  Ayden caught me. “Holy crap, that’s a lot of blood!”

  There was a trampling of many feet entering the room.

  “She’s dying?!”

  “What?!”

  “He didn’t say that!”

  “Let me evaluate the severity of her injuries!”

  “Dude, get your stupid medical bag.”

  “It’s not so stupid now that we need it, is it?!”

  “Shut the bloody hell up and get the bag!”

  Despite the pain, my smile got bigger by the second. Jayden hopped the table, flip flops slapping, his long black locks swishing forward over his shoulders. Terribly serious, he gripped my arms and squinted at my chest. Blake rushed behind him like a linebacker ready for a tackle.

  Ayden shot a hand forward to stop the big guy from a hug. “No!”

  “But she’s safer in my arms!” Blake made a circle with his massive limbs, watermelon-sized biceps bulging as he lowered the ring over me. “Tell him, babe!”

  Jayden didn’t take his eyes off me as he put a hand on Blake’s face and shoved him back. “Be gone.”

  A few steps from the doorway, Tristan swung a military style backpack off his shoulders, then knelt and started rifling through it. Logan unbuttoned his cuffs, shoved up his sleeves, and dropped to one knee to help pull things out of the bag.

  Matthias stood in the entrance, wearing shadows like Dracula’s cloak. It looked freaking cool. Darkness sheeted off him to flow around the two bodies at his feet. Bill and Ted grunted and twisted on the floor, cocooned in Matthias’s whips.

  “Apparently, you didn’t get the memo, mates,” Matthias growled at the fallen assassins. “I’m f
irst in line to shoot her.”

  I motioned at the Aussie. “I’ve actually missed that.”

  Ayden smiled and kissed my cheek. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delirious.”

  “I disagree,” Jayden said. “Her blood loss is not severe. Nor is her abrasion.”

  “Abrasion?” I snorted. “I got shot!”

  “What are you doing here?” Ayden asked me. “Besides getting shot.”

  “Saving you.”

  “I can see how well that’s going,” Matthias said with an annoying amount of cheer. “Not surprising you made a bugger all mess of it.”

  “On second thought, I actually haven’t missed that.”

  Ayden laughed. “See, you’re getting better already.”

  I grabbed his arm. “This is all a trap. They’re going to assassinate you.”

  “We know,” the Hex Boys chorused. I think they even shrugged in unison.

  Matthias scoffed, “Mandatum doesn’t throw anyone ceremonies for doing their job.”

  “They give bonuses. Maybe,” Logan said. “Not awards.”

  “And if they did, the freaking Director of the Divinicus Nex Task Force would not give them out,” Ayden added.

  “That is a good point,” Cristiano said.

  Blake jumped in surprise. “Dude! Where’d you come from? Oh wow, you don’t look so hot. Well, you look hot, of course. Like me, it’s impossible not to, but healthwise, you could use a vitamin C-sixteen shot.

  “B-twelve,” Jayden said, shining a flashlight into my eyes.

  As Blake helped Cristiano stand, he told him, “I think Jayden means be well. Now, if you’ve hurt Aurora, it won’t matter that you’re my hero, I’ll have to—”

  “Blake,” I said. “He’s all good.”

  Blake cuffed Cristiano’s shoulder. “Dude, just so you know, babe just saved your life.”

  Cristiano gave him a solemn nod. “I am eternally grateful.”

  “So you guys knew this award thing was a set up?” I asked.