Akil’s face twisted into a hideous mask of disgust. “I will tear that demon from your human flesh if I have to peel your skin off piece by piece.” The venom behind those words severed the last vestiges of hope I might have had that, somewhere deep inside, he still cared for me.
A gunshot cracked through the air.
Blinking rapidly, I watched the curious bloom of blood spread across Akil’s white shirt. He looked down, as though wondering where the blood had come from. Another shot, and his torso jerked. Another, and I felt a warm spray of blood mist across my face. The forth gunshot rang out, its deafening retort causing me to flinch. Akil sank to his knees, his face white with shock and then he collapsed forward, motionless.
Stefan had propped himself up on an elbow, gun quivering in his right hand. His aim wavered with his labored breathing. He gritted his teeth as he pulled himself up onto his knees. “Go,” he grunted. “He won’t stay down… for long.”
Adrenalin ousted my fear. Self-preservation kicked in. I rushed to Stefan and hooked an arm under his, helping him to his feet. I staggered as he fell against me. “Can we kill him? While he’s out?”
“No. He’ll come back no matter what we do.”
I glanced back at Akil’s motionless body, expecting him to twitch awake at any moment.
“Go. Take my car—just go, Muse.”
I felt Stefan’s element stirring, it’s chilling touch snapping at my flesh, lashing out protectively. “Where exactly?”
Stefan pried himself from my grip and stumbled toward the door. “Ryder.”
“Ryder?” He was the least likely go-to guy to get me out of this. I stole one last fleeting look at Akil’s body, tremors rattling my bones, then followed Stefan outside. The bitterly cold night air nipped at my face. My trembling intensified. If I could hold myself together a little while longer, just long enough to get away…
Stefan had slumped against the driver’s door, his left arm limp at his side. Blood dripped from his fingers, creating bright red rivulets down the car’s paint until it pooled along the door seal.
“Stefan, please. Let me help you.”
“I’m okay.” He forced every word through clenched teeth. “Ryder will know what to do. Go.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“Just go.” He grimaced, pain wracking his body. He tucked the gun into his waistband and pressed his right hand against the wound in his shoulder, struggling to hide how his fingers shook. It didn’t take long for the blood to swell and spill over the back of his hand.
I placed my hand over his. His shivering seemed all the worse now that I could feel it. He allowed me to ease his hand away, then dropped his head back as I stripped his shirt away from the wound. He snatched breaths between spasms of pain. Akil had stabbed him low in the shoulder. The blade had passed right through. The jagged wound oozed dark blood and showed no sign of stopping. “Get in the car. I’m taking you to a hospital.”
“No, Muse.” He sighed, eyelids flickering closed.
“Stop being stubborn, and do as I say.” I opened the rear passenger door and gave him a warning look. “Get in, or we both stay here.”
“You’re impossible,” he muttered, clutching the open door and moving gingerly to climb inside.
I drove us out of there as fast as the rental car could bump along the dirt track to the main route. Stefan sat slumped in the back seat, teeth clenched. I glanced in the mirrors, watching him battle the pain. Every pothole, even the slightest ridge in the road, tugged a restrained groan from him.
“No hospitals,” he said when we hit the smooth main route and I planted the throttle to the floor. “Get to Ryder.”
Chapter 19
I screeched the car to a halt outside Ryder’s premises, bumping it up the curb as close to the door as I could get. Early morning air wrapped around me as soon as I stepped from the car, stealing the warmth from my bones. The brilliant blue sky only made the desperate situation feel all the more dire. I banged on Ryder’s door. The car’s engine ticked behind me as it cooled.
Stefan was sprawled across the back seat, asleep or unconscious. The milky pallor of his skin was pale enough to frighten me.
“C’mon Ryder.” I hammered a fist against the door. “Open up!” My shout echoed down the empty street.
What if he wasn’t home? Where was I supposed to go?
The door finally opened. Ryder rubbed his eyes, yawning. Wearing the same clothes I’d seen him in days before, he scowled at me. “What the…”
His wide-eyed stare took in my blood soaked shirt, bare legs, and blood-splattered face. Then he noticed Stefan’s motionless body in the back of the car. “What happened?” Ryder shoved by me and flung open the car door. Climbing inside, he pressed his fingers against Stefan’s neck, checking for a pulse.
“Akil.” The tremor in my voice barely registered against the swirl of dark thoughts in my head.
Ryder climbed out and nodded. “Get in. I’ll drive.”
I climbed into the back with Stefan’s head resting in my lap as Ryder took control. I was grateful for it. The hours it had taken us to get back to Boston—the constant checking the mirrors for any sign of being followed—the worry that Stefan would die in the backseat—had left me beyond drained; numbed. I rarely felt properly cold, but I felt it then, a deep soul-weary chill. I had no idea what Ryder was going to do, but he seemed to have a plan because he swung the car around and sped out of there as quickly as I’d screeched in.
Stefan breathed lightly. The rise and fall of his chest reassured me a little. He felt cold, but I chose to take that as a good sign. However, the pool of congealed blood on the back seat told another story. “Akil will be after us,” I warned Ryder.
“Okay. It’ll be okay.” Ryder assured, and, bizarrely, I believed him. “Where we’re going, Akil can’t follow.”
After no more than ten minutes, Ryder pulled the rental car into a narrow industrial street dominated by a vast warehouse at its end. Graffiti plastered every inch of the red brick walls. Scrawling letters and gang symbols wound their way around a steel door.
“Ryder?” I peered out of the car windows, not seeing anything in the street that could possibly help. If anything, we were in a worse neighborhood than the one we’d just left.
He rolled the car to a halt outside the steel door and cut the engine. Twisting in the driver’s seat, he said, “When inside, do as they say.”
“What?” I hadn’t heard him right. What did he mean? My thoughts dragged through molasses. Exhaustion wrapped me in a woolly cocoon.
Ryder climbed out. I followed suit, too tired to argue. We managed to pull Stefan from the car, hitching his arms over our shoulders. Stefan barely registered us at all. He was just a dead weight against me. As we shuffled Stefan to the door, I noticed the huge scorpion spray-painted over the doorway, its pincers embracing the top of the doorframe. “What is this place?” I grunted, heaving Stefan’s limp arm into a better position behind my neck.
The door rumbled sideways, and we were met by an armed guard. He ushered us into an antechamber and closed the door behind us. The small room couldn’t have been more different to the exterior of the warehouse. White walls gleamed beneath harsh fluorescent lights. A second steel door had a small reinforced glass window, revealing hints of a white corridor beyond.
The guard buzzed a button beside the door which opened with a whoosh of antiseptic-scented air. Two guards bore down on us, one female, the other a stocky male with a scar below his right eye, both armed with assault rifles.
“We’ll take him from here.” The guard beside me said, extracting Stefan’s arm from around my neck. He handed him over to two waiting white-coat-clad men. I managed to catch sight of a gurney but as I stepped forward to follow, the scarred guard shot his hand out, shoving me. “Stay back,” he warned.
“Hey.” I instinctively lifted my hands. I wasn’t a threat to them; couldn’t they see that?
His scarred face held a determined gri
mace as he shoved me again. “Against the wall,” he barked.
“What?”
He grabbed my upper arm and twisted me around, slamming me face first against the wall, then proceeded to frisk me. His female companion stood back, rifle clutched across her chest, face empty.
“Get off me. I came here to help.” I winced as his hands rode roughly over my bruised skin. “Get your hands off me,” I snarled, summoning enough of my element to cause him a nasty burn. My demon woke eagerly, answering my call. An alarm sounded. The rapid chirps accompanied the sound of locks automatically bolting.
“She’s demon.” The female guard declared matter-of-factly.
Scarface drove an elbow into my back. The impact wrenched a cry from me. I snarled and twisted, balling my hand into a fist and driving it into his cheek. Considering all the crap I’d had to deal with in the last few days, he was lucky I didn’t incinerate him where he stood.
My fist cracked across his jaw, just as the female-guard strode forward, clutched my right arm, and stamped a branding of some sort on the back of my hand. A jagged dart of pain thrust up my arm and struck me in the chest. I fell forward, doubling over against the ball of agony in my gut. My demon suddenly fell back from me, as though something tugged her out of reach. Her rapid retreat arched my back, jerking the air from my lungs. She didn’t go easily and sunk her claws into my metaphysical insides, but it was no use. I felt her tear from within me, and then there was silence; a quiet like I’ve never known. An empty pit had opened inside of me, a void where my demon had existed. She was gone.
“What have you done?” I wheezed, before collapsing.
Chapter 20
I woke in a bright white room. A fresh pile of clothes sat neatly beside the door. The bed beneath me was bare but surprisingly comfortable. I couldn’t hear anything outside the room, just the buzz of the lights above and my own raspy breathing. The air smelled of disinfectant, the scent so strong it tickled my nose and scratched my throat.
I shivered and collected the clothes before peeling off Stefan’s ruined shirt and dressing in a gray jump suit. I did all of this without thought, my mind peculiarly numb. Once dressed, I tried to run my hands through my hair, but found it in desperate need of a shower to wash out the blood. Akil’s blood. I couldn’t think about him, about the threat he’d cast at me. I’m taking you home.
Standing on tiptoes at the door, I peeked through the glass. A single empty chair sat against the opposite wall, but otherwise the place was empty. Shivers rippled up and down my back. Why was I so cold? I hugged my arms across my chest and noticed the mark on the back of my hand. An angry red welt indicated exactly where the female guard had stabbed me with something. Whatever it had been, the effects had chased away my demon. She’d gone. I couldn’t call her, couldn’t feel her. There was nothing of her left inside of me but a cavernous void.
I began to pace from one side of the tiny room to the other, flexing my hands into fists. What was this place? They’d known I was part demon as soon as I’d tried to summon my element. They’d been prepared. The scorpion over the door couldn’t be a coincidence. Ryder had breezed in, while they’d abruptly stopped me. Were these the Enforcers Stefan had spoken of? He’d said there were others. The guards though, they looked like military. They hadn’t hesitated when dealing with me, although I had managed to swing at one. I had the bruises on my knuckles to vouch for that.
The door rattled and opened. Another armed guard regarded me coolly. “Come with me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms. “I want to see Stefan. Is he okay?”
He stepped back and gestured for me to leave the room. He was taller than me, stockier, with a swagger borne of rigorous training. He carried the gun firmly, his grip one of confidence, as though the gun were just an extension of him. I could have lunged at him, but what good would it do me? I might have gotten out the room, but there would be other guards. This wasn’t a holiday camp. It would make more sense to gauge the lay of the land before I lashed out.
“Are you taking me to Stefan?” I asked.
“No.” He blinked, eyes disarmingly warm. “I’m taking you to Adam.”
“Who’s he?” I rubbed at my arms, desperately trying to warm myself.
“Come with me, and you’ll see.”
If I didn’t, I got the distinct impression from his military-grade stare that he’d force me. I’d already been on the receiving end of their greeting and didn’t relish the thought of repeating it. So I followed him through the rats-maze of corridors, passing a few casually dressed people who didn’t give me or my armed guard a second glance. We climbed a few steps and entered a level far more conducive to comfort, like a busy office floor, no… like a hospital ward but where you’d expect to see beds, there were desks. Dozens of people milled back and forth, chatting animatedly. Phones rang. A bubble of laughter sounded somewhere behind me. I caught glimpses of people in white coats and saw various curved ultra-thin televisions suspended on the walls, showing what looked like newsfeed from around the world.
We arrived at an office. The blinds were closed, so I couldn’t see in. My guard rapped on the door, and a sharp voice inside said, “Enter.” I came face to face with an older version of the man in the photograph at Stefan’s house. I tried to hide my surprise by watching the guard leave. If this man was Stefan’s father, how come he was alive and well?
Standing against a chair, my hands resting on the back, I flicked my gaze about the comfortable office space. A bookcase brimmed with books along the whole of the left wall. A couple of comfy chairs, a glass-topped coffee table, and an antique ball and claw footed desk rounded out the space.
“I apologize for the harsh treatment.” The man, who I assumed to be Adam, stood behind his desk, a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand. I smelled the blend and wondered if he’d offer me a mug. I needed it.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, dislodging rimless glasses before taking them off and rubbing his eyes. “I wanted to thank you personally for bringing Stefan back to us.”
“Is he okay?”
He nodded slowly and replaced the glasses. “He’s fine. Exhausted, but recovering well.” He pulled out his chair and sat down, gesturing that I should do the same. When I didn’t move, he smiled. “My name is Adam.”
He could play nice. The niceties might even be genuine. He did have a warmth about him that slightly disarmed me, but I wasn’t buying whatever he was selling. “You tore my demon from me.”
“Yes. A precautionary measure. Don’t worry. We’ll give you the antidote when you leave.”
How could he appear so flippant about tearing out a part of me? “I didn’t come here to hurt anyone. I don’t even know what this place is. Ryder brought us here. Stefan’s safe… so I’d like to leave. Can I leave?”
He took a sip of coffee then leaned back. His chair creaked at the shift in weight. Brushing absently at his deep green sweater, he sucked in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “You could, but I suspect Akil will be looking for you.”
My fingers dug into the back of the seat. “How much do you know?”
“Everything.” He brushed a hand across his stubbled chin. “You’re safer here.”
“Says you. So far, you’ve violated me and tossed me in a cell.” I didn’t like him. He appeared to be a fatherly-figure, the caring type, but I stood before him with a chasm inside of me where my other-half was missing, and I couldn’t forgive him that. “I don’t know you. I don’t trust you.”
“We mean you no harm,” he said, but his nonchalant tone wasn’t sincere.
“I want to see Stefan.”
“He’s resting.” He must have caught a gleam of frustration in my eyes because he tried to soothe me with a soft smile. “Very well. You can see Stefan and then perhaps we can have a candid discussion about the options available to you.”
I tossed him a worthless smile. Until I spoke to Stefan, I wasn’t trusting anyone.
A guard deposited
me outside a numbered apartment door. As far as I was aware, we were still in the warehouse, but without any windows, and after ascending and descending so many different staircases, I’d completely lost my bearings. I knocked on the door, watching the guard get himself comfortable in a chair a few strides from me. Either they were worried I was going to do something, or I was a prisoner here. I’d yet to figure out which. Maybe it was both.
Stefan opened the door. For a few fleeting seconds, he didn’t smile, didn’t react at all. His navy blue shirt hung open, revealing the corner of a bandage plastered over his left shoulder. A spot of blood had oozed through the gauze, but otherwise he looked remarkably well.
The smallest hint of a smile finally twitched across his lips as he stepped aside, then acknowledged the guard outside with a nod. His room was small. A bed, desk, TV, no windows. Functional, like a hotel room, but with the locks on the outside. Once Stefan had closed the door behind him, I opened my mouth to ask one of the hundred or so questions I needed answered. He pressed a finger to my lips. He shook his head and beckoned me toward the desk. On a piece of paper, he scrawled: They’re listening.
Oh crap. The frown on his face confirmed my suspicions. All was not well.
I cleared my throat, glancing around me as though I might actually see the microphones. “How come you got the guest suite, and I got a prison cell?
“They don’t trust you.” He caught sight of the angry mark on my hand and must have known what it meant because his eyes narrowed. His lips set in a terse line. “Are you alright?”
Folding my arms, I hugged them against me. “Yeah, I’m okay. Feel a bit… peculiar without my demon.”
“She’s still there; they’ve just repressed her.” He sighed then made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. Sorry wasn’t going to bring her back. “How are you?”
“Good.” He brightened. “Thanks to you.”
Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld Page 159
