Night of the Demon: Paranormal Romance (Devon Slaughter Book 2)

by Alice Bell

  “It’s this crazy house. You’re not feeding properly.”

  Shame filled Zadie, until Inka said, “I should have come to you sooner. You needed me and I wasn’t there.”

  Yes, oh yes. Don’t be angry.

  “I wouldn’t break a promise to you, Little One. I stole into Devon’s hospital room, and I waited. At the exact moment of his death, I kissed him, and made him immortal … before the angels could descend. This I did for you, my dearest one.” She offered Zadie her hand to kiss.

  Zadie trembled as her lips grazed Inka’s knuckles.

  “I do not feel in my heart that Devon is dead, Zadie. And I know these things better than you. Of course, you are beautiful and powerful, in my image, but you are still a fledgling. Don’t fight me.”

  “No,” Zadie said. “I don’t want to fight you. I love you so much.”

  “More than Devon?”

  Fear coiled in Zadie’s gut. “Always.” She slid off the bed. Kneeling at Inka’s feet, she held Inka’s hand and smothered her palm with kisses. To distract Inka from the lie.

  17. Ruby

  HENRY’S BLUE eyes were bloodshot. He was over two hours late, and sat at the black granite bar in my apartment. It was nearing midnight.

  “Nice place,” he said. “I mean, wow, Ruby,” he spun on the stool to take in the high ceilings, brick walls, the twelve hundred square foot space made larger by the fact that it was empty, save for the piano and the record player, and the unpacked boxes.

  “My furniture is coming on Monday,” I said.

  “You must have got a sweet price for the old pile.” There was something in his tone I couldn’t comprehend.

  He got edgy with me sometimes. But that was to be expected. I irritated people. What mattered to me was that he was in my apartment. He hadn’t dumped me yet.

  I poured a shot for him from the bottle he’d brought on our first date. I added ice to my soda. I’d taken a Valium when he was on his way up. Warmth spread through my limbs.

  He ignored his drink. “No wonder you never want to come to my place,” he said.

  “Oh … but I do. Want to come to your place.”

  He was studying me. His eyes moved over my face. “Do you?” he said.

  “Of course,” I lied.

  He laughed and downed his whisky. “No you don’t,” he said. “Why would you? It’s a dump.”

  “I’m sure it’s not,” I murmured. My cheeks burned. He misunderstood my reluctance and I didn’t know how to explain. I didn’t like to leave home. I needed to be around my own things arranged a certain way. “I—um,” my mouth had gone dry. I licked my lips.

  “It’s okay,” he said. There was a coldness in his tone that contradicted his words. “It’s a bit of a drive though. For me. Especially now that you’re all the way downtown.”

  I filled his shot glass and added a dab more whisky to my soda.

  “It would make things easier,” he said. “If I could spend the night.”

  His words hung in the air.

  I felt cornered.

  As much as our kisses had made me long for more, as much as my body responded to being touched, I knew it was only that—a yearning to be touched, and not specifically by Henry.

  Shouldn’t I be on fire for him? If he was going to be my first?

  Or was I being too romantic?

  It occurred to me I wasn’t a virgin because guys didn’t want me. I was a virgin because I wanted a certain guy. A perfect match—a figment of my imagination. I wanted a Heathcliff.

  I thought about running into the bedroom to make a quick call to Dr. Sinclair. But I would be directed to her answering service. I would only get to talk to her if I reported an emergency.

  And I wasn’t crazy. Despite the evidence. Not yet, anyway.

  I took a big gulp of my drink and tried to remember Dr. Sinclair’s advice for making better decisions.

  Identify your goal.

  Oh, God. I was doomed.

  “I—I think it would be nice …” I said. “If you spent the night.”

  “Nice is good,” Dr. Sinclair’s words echoed in my mind. I prayed they were true.

  18. Devon

  I NEEDED to lose Jep for a while, so I could get on the computer in the library and see what there was to see. I was free to use the computer, but only under his supervision, which wouldn't work. I wanted to try to figure out the symbolic language the angels used.

  In the course of my assimilation classes, I'd found no law that specifically forbade demons to speak the tongue of angels, and yet, demons did not. I figured they were illiterate, in that regard. Celestial speech was the language of church and state, which meant demons were left out of two of the most important facets of a meaningful life.

  Could I be given any kind of fair opportunity in the New Army under such conditions?

  “I need to go for a run,” I told Jep.

  He didn't like running. He was all about body building. “Really?” he said.

  “Yeah, really.” I actually did like to run. And I knew he wasn't going to let me out of his sight, so I figured I'd wear him down a little. At the very least, he wouldn't be so chatty after lights out.

  We put on our athletic uniforms—lightweight, moisture wicking versions of our regular uniforms and black tennis shoes. I thought Jep looked funny without his combat boots. But maybe he just appeared shorter.

  We went to the gym, which was nothing like the gyms I'd known in the human world. On first sight, it appeared to be a spa with nature art on the walls, an abundance of decorous plants and big windows to let in the (artificial) light.

  We stood in front of a touch screen on the wall. “We'll do the paved track,” Jep said.

  “Let's do something different. Shake it up.”

  Jep snorted. “The other tracks take too long. And you've got to study. Don't think I don't notice the way you fart around in class.”

  “Let's do this one,” I pressed my finger on an icon of a mountain, wondering if it would light up. But the screen only responded to Jep's prints.

  “That one's a bitch,” Jep said.

  “Come on, man. Live a little.”

  “You'll be sorry,” he grumbled.

  The pod opened and we stepped inside. “Sierra Switchback, level five,” the computer announced. “Is this correct?”

  Jep confirmed and we were off and running, uphill, dodging virtual pine trees and boulders.

  The temperature lowered, as we gained altitude; sharp and icy. Behind me, Jep panted. “Screw you, Slaughter,” he shouted at the first switchback. And then I heard him laugh.

  Our footsteps fell into a rhythm. I was faster, initially. But he stayed steady behind me. On the last incline, when the air turned thin, he pulled ahead.

  Later, as I was toweling off, I heard him singing Queen in the shower. “We will … we will … rock you.”

  Damn. If I didn't watch it, I'd end up liking the guy.

  19. Zadie

  INKA TOOK Zadie to a club in China Town, to the V.I.P. room, where they fed on the headlining rock band and their groupies.

  “That, my darling, is how it’s done,” Inka said. “Don’t waste your time on the dregs of humanity. They will only make you weak. Like them.”

  It was three a.m. and they walked arm and arm through the streets. Everyone turned to stare. Limos slowed as they passed, in order for the important people inside to gawk and wonder. Inka and Zadie were more glamorous, more breathtaking than any movie star.

  They’d ransacked Nordstrom’s and Zadie wore rose pink leather. A luxurious faux fur draped around her neck; gray with a white stripe, like she’d seen angels wear in the realm. Inka had changed into a black pin-striped suit and red spiked heels. Zadie liked dangly earrings. Loops of darkly lush rubies hung from her ears. Diamonds twinkled on Inka’s fingers.

  All doors opened for them. Their new home was a set of high roller suites at the Avalon Casino.

  And yet, one persistent thought haunted Zadie: Where is De
von’s building?

  She couldn’t appear too eager when it came to Devon. Though demons could hear human thoughts, and often compel humans to do their will, there were few who could use those same abilities on other demons. Still, Inka had a special connection to Zadie, as her sire. She would intuit Zadie’s feelings, and thus, her thoughts, if her hackles were raised.

  “Where are we going now?” Zadie said, unable to heed the inner voice that warned her to keep quiet.

  Inka was in a good mood, however. Her laugh rang out, deep and throaty. “It is time to get down to business, my darling. First things first,” she stopped and scanned the street. “What do you think? Shall we take the pretty little Porsche, or the ridiculous Escalade?”

  Patience, Zadie’s inner voice said. She shrugged. “The Porsche?”

  Inka considered. She gestured to a well-dressed couple coming down the sidewalk toward them. “Let’s see where they’re going.”

  The man pointed a remote at the Escalade. The SUV beeped twice and he opened the passenger door for the woman. Inka raised an eyebrow at Zadie. “Go,” she said. “Compel them to give us their car.”

  Zadie didn’t find compelling people difficult. Usually. But she always got nervous when Inka watched. She summoned her glamour and approached. The man smiled at her. “Well, hello there,” he said.

  The woman frowned. She sidled closer to the man.

  It was tricky to compel two people at once, at least for Zadie. Not for Inka. Inka could affect whole crowds, when her powers were at their highest.

  Zadie decided to focus on the woman. She bore her gaze into the woman’s pale eyes, and reached out to stroke her cheek. “Aren’t you lovely,” she said. The woman’s pulse leaped into her veins.

  Seized by a sudden desire to be kissed, the woman tilted up her face, and Zadie obliged her. The man watched, his heart pounding.

  “Thank you, doll,” Zadie put her finger on the woman’s lips. She turned to the man. His eyes were glossy, as he handed over the keys, and his wallet.

  “Well done,” Inka sounded surprised. “That was a nice touch, at the end. Getting his wallet.”

  They watched the couple totter away.

  “Very impressive, Little One. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Inka drove, while Zadie gazed out the window. The lights of city slid by in a blur. She hoped they were going to Devon’s building, at last. She yearned to inhale his scent, to touch the things he had touched.

  As they drove, Zadie’s buzz dwindled. She grew anxious, when they headed toward the desert. She felt like they were going the wrong way, in the opposite direction of Devon’s building.

  “There’s something else I must tell you,” Inka said. Her tone was grave.

  They were nearing the sanitarium. The fountain glowed purple and red.

  “There are rumors Devon was hanging out with a human girl,” Inka said. “When he was here. Not many human girls, mind you. Just one. The same one.”

  “What are you saying?” Zadie’s heart thudded. Nausea reared its ugly head. Young demons needed vast amounts of human energy to sustain them. It would be years, centuries, before she was as strong as Inka.

  Inka tapped the steering wheel. The diamonds on her fingers glinted. “Devon must have been a wreck, Zadie. There are reasons we don’t turn people against their will. They don’t understand their power and fight against it. The girl must have reminded Devon of someone important in his past. Perhaps she reminded him of you?” Inka glanced at her.

  Bile rose in Zadie’s throat. She swallowed. “Is the girl still alive?”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out,” Inka said.

  They followed an empty highway. The desert stretched out on either side, like a dark sea. Dawn glowed red on the horizon.

  Inka turned off and they bumped over a dirt road. Zadie clenched her jaw. Up ahead, lights bloomed. A red neon sign announced Poncho Villa’s Saloon.

  The town was straight out of an old western, complete with wooden storefronts and planked sidewalks. Clouds of dust peeled from the wheels of the Escalade.

  Despite herself, Zadie was intrigued.

  Inka parked in front of the saloon. Their heels made a clatter on the wooden stairs, as they went up. They pushed through double swinging doors, and Zadie expected to be greeted by the local sheriff, maybe even a double barreled shotgun.

  There was a blackjack table in the back. The lone player (a grizzled man with a dented hat) glanced their way. The dealer shot the bartender a look, and Zadie caught his drift: Look out. Demons on the scene.

  The bartender was a lanky man whose eyes grazed Zadie, before settling on Inka. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he said.

  He had a knife scar down the side of his face. Zadie thought there was something different about him. He wasn’t your regular human. As they sidled up to the bar, she realized she couldn’t hear his heartbeat.

  Her eyes slid over him, looking for what protected him. She followed a chain around his neck to a light blue stone exposed by the wide V of his shirt. Zadie recognize the stone. It was angelite—a protective crystal that warded off evil spirits and attracted angels.

  Good luck with that, she thought. Unfortunately, this man’s charm appeared to be working.

  “Hello, my old friend,” Inka said, and Zadie watched as she leaned across the bar to kiss the man’s scarred cheek.

  Even when an amulet was properly endowed with magic, a charm could only ward off spirits the wearer recognized as evil. How irritating that this asshole was embracing Inka, while at the same time, warding off Zadie. Like she was the evil one.

  Zadie glared at him. How rude can you be?

  “Zadie, I’d like you to meet my friend, Bram,” Inka said, as if just remembering Zadie was there. “Bram, Zadie is my favorite progeny.”

  Bram didn’t offer his hand, which caused Zadie’s lip to curl. All she needed was an invitation, and she’d be all over his ass in a heartbeat.

  “Bram is a procurer,” Inka said. “One of the best. Whatever you require, he will find it for you. If he can’t, no one can.”

  Ugh, Zadie thought. Spare me.

  “So?” Inka’s voice lilted. “Did you find anything?”

  Bram reached in his back pocket and handed Inka a folded slip of paper. In return, she pushed a hundred dollar bill across the bar.

  Inka read the note. Her eyes widened. “Interesting,” she said. “Quite ironic. Fate works in mysterious ways.”

  20. Devon

  THE LIBRARY was the best place on the ninth floor, and the most unpopular. You hardly ever ran into anyone there. It was plush and inviting; no windows, just rows and rows of books, tables with lamps and comfortable chairs.

  Jep said most of the books were imported from the human world. “They come in by the truckload,” he told me. It was just a figure of speech. There were no trucks in the realm. The realm seemed to be designed after the human world in many ways, but only to a certain aesthetic point. Angels liked beauty.

  I didn't ask to use the computer. I browsed books instead. My plan was to pick a hefty one and settle in to read. Maybe I couldn't outrun Jep but I could out-read him.

  He was almost finished with his realm rag which wasn't unlike rags in the human world—spoon-fed politics and gossip.

  I found the perfect tome and dropped it on the table.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Moby Dick,” I said, pulling out a chair.

  “Are you shitting me? Read the cliff notes, dude.” He eyed the book with disbelief. “You ought to bench press that fucker.”

  “Yeah, I know. This version has a sequel.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “That's just wrong.”

  “Don't you think Moby Dick begged for a sequel? The end was a real buzz kill.”

  Jep shook his head. “If you got your jollies from anything in the original Moby Dick, there's no hope for you.” He went back to his magazine.

  Curious, I flipped to Part Two,
written by an angel scholar. I wondered how many of the imported books had been doctored or embellished.

  Like I figured, Jep soon got restless. “Need a power bar?” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  A light came into his eyes at the thought of a trip to the mess hall. He stood up and stretched. There was a chance that, relieved of my company, he might scoot upstairs and grab a real meal in the cafeteria, where I wasn’t allowed until I passed assimilation.

  “Hey, I’d better get online and study for that Poli-Sci exam,” I said, like I just thought of it. “Mind logging me in?”

  Old Jep, God love him. His eyes narrowed. “Nah, better wait ‘til I get back.”

  I guess the muscles in his brain were as strong as the rest of him.

  “Sure,” I turned another page of Moby Dick, extended.

  When he’d gone, I cast a glance around. I’d thought quite a bit about possible ways to lift and copy Jep’s fingerprints but I simply didn’t have any useful tools at my disposal … to do anything, let alone something so complicated.

  The library contained only books and sleek computers I couldn’t use on my own. The truth was, the celestial internet would probably be of no use to me. Angels weren’t stupid.

  The idea of discovering some smidgen of a clue that might spring me from the prison of my personal hell was just a pipe dream, maybe even a way to occupy my restless mind, a way to distract myself from the worry over what would happen next

  When I heard movement behind me, I turned, expecting to see Jep with a handful of power bars, and maybe a green drink. Nutrition on the ninth floor was an exact (and disgusting) science.

  But I didn’t find Jep, I found Claudia, coming down the steps.

  She waved, like a princess in a parade. A dark princess. She wore black, the color of an assimilated demon; black dress, black tights, sturdy black shoes, even a black cap that was too small to contain her dreadlocks.

  “Surprise,” she slipped into a chair on the other side of the table and grabbed both my hands. I let her, though it felt strange, as if we were old friends, when we’d barely met.

  She glanced past me, toward the door, then released my hands and took off her cap. “Gross, right?”