Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld

by Christine Pope

  “You didn’t think to help?” I’d meant to ask lightly, but a quiver undermined the confidence of my words.

  Stefan gave me a hint of a smile, making it seem sympathetic. “And get between you two? I’d rather face the Hellhounds again.”

  I couldn’t blame him for that. If Akil hadn’t have killed him, I might have. My thoughts hadn’t exactly been my own.

  “Akil waited for you to resurface.”

  “How long?” I blinked too quickly and leaned against the kitchen cupboards, needing a little more support than my legs could offer.

  “A few minutes. Some people showed up. Someone called the cops. He didn’t hang around after that. I couldn’t see you in the water, let alone save you. You were lucky, really lucky. The two of you had managed to wake the entire marina. Someone saw you…” He averted his gaze to the windows. “They pulled you out the water...” He paused, and I had to wonder what I’d looked like. Limp. Cold. Pale skin. Blue lips. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I’ve been dead before. Several times. It’s nothing to write home about,” I said. He mirrored my smile, but he wasn’t buying my bravado. It was, however, true. Damien had enjoyed bringing me back from the brink of death, nursing me back to health so he could start all over again. The unwanted memories vied for attention, forcing my eyes closed. I rubbed at my aching forehead.

  “How are you holding up?” Stefan asked.

  Considering my on-off again boyfriend had almost succeeded in killing me, and how my demon-self had attempted to summon the molten rock from beneath her feet… Yeah, I was doing fine. “I’m okay.” It was a lie, but what else was I supposed to say? “I think you were right…about Akil. What you didn’t see last night… He…” I rested the coffee on the countertop and admired the view of the lake. The serenity beyond the windows helped level my fragmented thoughts. “I hurt him. I mean, when I left a few years ago.”

  Stefan sat at the pine kitchen table, leaning back a little in the seat. “You walked away from the Prince of Greed.”

  I skewed a sideways glance at him, but his habitual smugness had evaporated. If anything, he looked weary.

  “That sealed your fate, right there.”

  “But…” I didn’t need to say it again… but you don’t know Akil like I do. “He’s never hurt me. Not once.”

  Stefan sighed. “He tried to kill you.”

  “No, he didn’t. He was deliberately baiting me. That’s all. He summoned my demon, and I lost control. He wasn’t trying to kill me. He wanted… it – her.” I tapped my chest.

  “Muse, listen to yourself. You’re defending a demon, and not any demon, a Prince of Hell. They aren’t known for their patience and understanding.”

  I shook my head. Akil was right about one thing. Stefan would never understand. He spent his life killing demons. He had it simple. I’d spent my life among them. I might despise the majority of them, but I knew them. They were family. Twisted, bitter, dangerous, slippery, back-stabbing, but family all the same.

  I held Stefan’s sorry expression. He pitied me. I knew that. We weren’t ever going to agree.

  Stefan finally broke the standoff. “There are some things we need to do. Are you up to it?”

  “Depends what it is.”

  “We need to revoke that invitation. It’s easily done, but we need to do that soon, before he realizes you’re alive and missing.”

  “Okay.” I was up to that. “And?”

  “The sword.”

  Ah, the sword. “I don’t know.” Stefan stood so suddenly I jumped. The cool clarity in his eyes had returned, scolding me with a frosty glare as he passed by me. Apparently, I didn’t have a choice.

  Revoking the invitation was easy enough, as it turns out. A bowl of warm water to house my pale reflection, and a few utterances later, it was over. I didn’t feel any different, but Stefan assured me it was enough. As with anything demon-related, it was the intention behind the symbolism that held the power.

  He left me alone for an hour while he went into the nearest town for groceries. I took the opportunity to be nosey and gave myself a little tour of the lakeside house. Stefan had said it was his father’s. If that was the case, Stefan’s father had been an avid reader because the books lining the wall beneath the stairs were all old, leather-bound editions. The majority focused on the subject of demons. I plucked a few from the tight rows and thumbed through them. Much was already known about demons, but not nearly enough. The demons kept it that way, preferring to flit through the veil without the hindrance of worshippers and scholars tripping them up.

  Many myths were forged on truth. Christianity had attempted to reveal the veil, but they’d mixed the message up with too much of the divine. There is no divine entity, no good versus evil, no heaven or hell. It’s all part of the netherworld, hidden just out of sight in the corners of your vision. That flicker of movement at the end of a poorly lit street, the tingling across your flesh as you sense you’re being watched. The demons are right there, with us, and yet just out of reach. Some tinkered on this side of the veil, some preferred the netherworld. Akil liked it here. He enjoyed walking among the people, playing their games, feeding off their greed. If there’s one thing we mortals have a lot of, it’s greed. Other demons hop back and forth, preferring quick visits. Val despises it here. To him, we’re worthless bags of flesh and bone.

  Wandering about the house, I found a framed photograph of a grizzled man in his early forties standing by the water’s edge, fishing rod in one hand, the catch of the day—a salmon—on the grass at his feet. He had a substantial grin on his weathered face. On a second glance, I recognized a fierce glint of pride in his eye. Just like his son. He had to be Stefan’s father. Stefan had his mother’s eyes but his father’s mischievous grin.

  Returning to the bag of weapons on the coffee table, I noticed the katana protruding from among the other swords. The damned thing was haunting me. I wrapped my hand around the handle and lifted it out. A new scabbard covered the blade, made of carbon fiber by the looks of the interwoven sheen. The sword felt light in my hand, with a perfect balance between the handle and blade. I could never forge something so labor intensive. The process took months and involved upward of four swordsmiths. Of all the weapons in Stefan’s bag of tricks, this one was priceless.

  I closed my left hand around the scabbard and pulled it a few inches free of the guard, exposing an hypnotic swirl of light on the tempered edge of the blade. I’d revealed just a hint of metal, just a little tease, but I couldn’t resist freeing the entire length of the sword before laying the scabbard on the couch behind me. I tipped the blade up, watching the sunlight from the window drape across the carbon-steel. The crisscrossed pattern of leather around the handle had been cut from shark skin, tough, light, and durable.

  It felt good in the hand, weighty with potential. I turned my left hand up and lay the blade across my palm. Almost immediately, a snap of energy danced up my arm, just enough to release a tickle of excitement inside me. My element simmered but didn’t wake. I should have left it alone, should have put it back in its scabbard and tucked it away safely in the bag. The horror in that blade might have stayed there for a little while longer, but my old friend, curiosity, lead me astray.

  I sat on the edge of the couch with the sword across my lap. I was safe here. Stefan would be back soon. Why not get it over with? I ran my finger down the sharp edge, watching a bright red droplet of blood gather at my fingertip before dripping freely on to the floor. I curled my fingers into my palm and waited for the blood to pool, then smeared it over both hands. When I placed my hands gently on the blade, the images rushed me so suddenly I jerked rigid, sucking in a gasp.

  The lakeside house and its comfortable decor vanished. The lake and mountains beyond became a distant dream. I could see, hear and smell the city. The noise, the lights, the colors. The images printed themselves on my thoughts, stamping over one another in their rush to be seen. I struggled to keep up, my breathless panting and
the rush of blood in my ears, all that anchored me to my body. The sword plunged through flesh. I cried out, then, now, in my head. I couldn’t see who it was, but I heard his liquescent gasps, lungs bubbling with blood.

  Voices, male. The room spun. The city lights behind the windows swirled like fireflies in the air. Red coat, a smiling face. Use this, Akil said, tossing the sword at the man in the red coat. He caught the sword, snatching it from the air with one hand, a half-smile pulling at his lips. The image shattered, fragmenting into hundreds of pieces before each sliver rushed back together, pulled as if by a magnetic force. I saw the blade sink into a man’s chest again, felt the metal carve precisely through muscle and lung tissue. He choked on the rising blood, spluttering it over his lips as he fell forward. I saw his face.

  I knew him.

  Sam.

  The sheer wave of horror tore me from the vision, thrusting me back into my trembling body like an unwelcome visitor. My stomach lurched. A disorientating pain sliced through my skull. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely remember where I was. All I saw was Sam’s face and the fear and confusion in his eyes. Hunched over, I sunk my fingers into the rug beneath me, digging my nails in as a wretched groan escaped from my lips.

  “Muse…”

  Stefan’s hand rested on my back. His touch ignited the fury within me. I snapped my head up, snarling at him. “Get away from me.”

  He lifted his hands in surrender, leaning back on his knees, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he gritted his teeth. “I was there, but I had no hand in what he did.”

  A sob bubbled up my throat, followed by another. I tried to keep it all inside, to blockade the rush of grief, but sorrow swept aside what little strength I had left. Collapsing back against the couch, I covered my eyes with my bloodied hand, not wanting to witness or believe what I’d seen. “Not Sam…” I choked on the words as cool tears trickled over my cheeks. “Not him.”

  Stefan’s hand pressed lightly on my shoulders. His grip tightened as I trembled.

  “Don’t.” I shoved at him, pushing him away. “Don’t touch me.” But he caught my hand, then my arm. I tried to tug free, needing to retreat, but his grip tightened, preventing me from fighting him and then his arms closed around me, holding me close to his chest. Trapped against him, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat, the fight in me evaporated, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I cried so hard the sobs wracked my shivering body. I clutched his shirt in my hands and buried my head against him, welcoming the embrace as though it could block out the truth, shut out all the anguish and pain. My element thrashed inside me, but the demon slunk back, cowering at my core. Perhaps it was Stefan’s embrace that held her back, or the symbols on the walls, because I didn’t feel the raging heat that I should have. I just felt fragile and alone.

  Chapter 17

  I sat at the end of the jetty with the shimmering water of the lake all around me. The cold wind teased through my hair and nipped at my face, forcing me to hunker down and tug Stefan’s heavy leather coat around me, pulling my legs against my chest. But I wasn’t going inside. I couldn’t. Not yet. Stefan had known. He’d known Sam was dead days ago, and he hadn’t said a word, preferring instead to force me to witness it firsthand.

  Akil had killed Sam. There was no denying it. No amount of lies could refute it. I’d seen it.

  I remembered the message Sam had left me. A job, he’d said, one he couldn’t refuse. Akil. Phoenix Developments. The biggest property development firm in the city had invited Sam with the promise of a contract, and he’d gone willingly, walked right into Akil’s office with no idea he was meeting with one of the Seven Princes of Hell. I could imagine Akil’s charming greeting, his easy-going mannerisms, and all the while he was playing Sam for a fool.

  I should have told Sam the truth about me. If I’d been straight with him, told him everything about me, he might still be alive. In trying to protect him, I’d left him exposed, like a lone sheep in a pack of wolves. Tears moistened my cheeks, but the sobs had died. I hugged my knees against me and watched the ripples on the lake. The wind hissed through the trees behind me. I felt Stefan watching me from inside, probably wondering whether he should leave me or intervene. He had better leave me.

  Not a single word. He’d swaggered into my workshop. I want you to read this blade… Why didn’t he just say, “Akil killed Sam and he’s coming after you?” What was so hard about that?

  I thought of the phone messages I’d left for Sam. I’d said I was sorry, that I was wrong, that I was afraid. He would never hear those messages. I should never have got involved with him. He was a good man, one of the best. I wasn’t meant to have someone like that, tainted as I was. I should have stayed away. He’d died because of me. It didn’t matter how you looked at it. The blood was on my hands.

  “Come inside.” Stefan stood behind me. I hadn’t even heard him approach.

  “Screw you.” I sniffed. The wind whipped my hair across my face and in front of my eyes so that I had to raise a trembling hand to sweep it back.

  “Please. Just come inside.”

  “You’re no better than Akil.” I rested my chin on my knee, teeth chattering against the cold. “For all I know, you’re working for him.”

  “I am.”

  I tensed and turned my head to look up at him.

  Stefan crouched behind me. “At least, that’s what he believes.” He held out a hand, fingers curled lightly into his palm. His gentle smile tried to reassure me. “Come inside.”

  I watched the wind tease his hair about his face. His brilliant eyes locked unblinking on mine.

  “How do you think I knew about your workshop?” he asked. “Knew what your demon name was, knew about your talent for reading metal? Akil hired me, Muse. He believes he hired an assassin. I was to play with you before killing you, and his involvement would never be revealed. But he’s been deliberately misled. I’m an Enforcer. I protect people like you, caught in the crossfire.” He paused, offering his hand again. “Come inside.”

  It felt good to wear properly fitting clothes again, even if they weren’t mine. Stefan had picked some up on his visit to town, guessing my size surprisingly well. Boot cut jeans and a white V-neck long-sleeved top. Simple, but comfortable, and that’s what I needed. I was a long way from home, and my old life had been torn to shreds. I had nothing to my name, nothing to call my own. Even the clothes on my back had been bought for me. I couldn’t go back to my apartment, and I dared not go back to Akil. There was no one else. Even Stefan’s motives were dubious. I had begun to trust him; why wouldn’t I? He’d been the one ray of light in this whole wretched nightmare, but I could no more trust him than I could Akil. By his own admission, he was working for Akil—hired to play with me and execute me.

  Stefan planted a tub of chocolate ice cream on the kitchen table and handed me a spoon. We hadn’t spoken since his confession on the jetty, and in that time, the silence had begun to drag like a trawler net between us. Unspoken words weighed us down.

  He saw me frowning at the ice cream. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t like ice cream?” He looked shocked enough that I had to smile.

  “Sure.” Ice cream before lunch? It was just a bit odd. That was all. I sat across the table from him and watched as he popped open the lid. “I gather you like ice cream?”

  An eyebrow twitched comically. “Snow demon.” He shrugged.

  His oddly placed humor made it difficult for me to stay angry with him. Leaning forward, I sunk my spoon into the ice cream, cracking the hard chocolate layer before scooping out a bite-sized chunk. It did taste pretty good.

  “I meant what I said.” He flicked those dazzling eyes to me before scooping out some ice cream for himself. “You’re safe here.”

  My smile fell short of meaningful. “I’ve never been safe. You think you being here makes me safe? Or the remote location? He’ll find me. Nobody escapes Akil. If he doesn’t… some other demon will. I’ve only survived this long because
he protected me. I’ve always belonged to one demon or another. On my own… I’m vulnerable.”

  He bowed his head, pressing his lips as though struggling to find the right words. When he looked up, he leaned on the table, closing the distance between us. “They lied to you. You’re not vulnerable. You’re powerful.” Pointing the spoon at me, he said in all seriousness, “They want us dead because we have it all.”

  “What do you mean?” I jabbed at the ice cream with my spoon, chipping off frozen chunks.

  “They kill half-bloods because we’re dangerous, preferring to scrub us from existence rather than regret it later.”

  I licked my lips, twisting the spoon in my fingers. Akil had said something by the marina, right before he’d dragged my demon out of me. There’s no such thing as half a demon. I looked up at Stefan, meeting his eyes. A flicker of understanding passed between us.

  “They’ve lied to you since birth, Muse. It was that or kill you.”

  I laughed. “Okay, say I believe you. What makes us so terrifying?”

  “We exist in both worlds. The veil means nothing to us. You and I, we can pass freely between realities. We have the ability to call upon a vast amount of power, not just in this world, but from across the veil too. Full-bloods can’t do that. Not even a Prince of Hell can do that.”

  I grunted disbelievingly. “Right. Even if that were true, I could never contain that much power. It’d tear me open…” He looked at me in such a way that I felt a tickle of excitement dance across my skin. Those eyes peered through his lashes. A crooked smile lifted his lips at one corner. “You’ve done it… Haven’t you?” I whispered.

  “Twice.” He jabbed his spoon into the ice cream. “It’s not easy to control, but I can show you. I need to show you if we’re going to stop Akil.”

  A flicker of hope skittered through me, a fleeting dash of possibility. “You’re not lying?”