by Michele Hauf
“I never accepted the deal. But it was offered. I used to call it the brimstone bargain. Though I consider it more a curse than an advantage gained through a bargain or deal made.”
“What was the bargain, exactly?” Verity asked. “It might help me to determine what’s happened to you.”
“It was issued to me more than a few times throughout my life. By the devil, er...the Big Guy. You know who I’m talking about?”
Both women exchanged looks. Had it not been for Verity, Himself might have killed Summer when she was a baby. They certainly knew who Nicolo was talking about. “Yes, go on.”
“He always put forth the black violin and said should I play it I could have the power I was destined to own.”
“Destined?” Summer turned to him. “You never said anything about destiny. What does that mean?”
Nicolo shrugged and splayed out his hands as he offered, “Have you heard the term hexensohn?”
“That’s German for witch’s son,” Verity said. “Was your mother a witch?”
Nicolo nodded. “It was something I was aware of but never wanted to fully accept. She kept it very under the table. Is that how you say it? And my father—the one I’m sure the history books note—was actually my stepfather. My mother died when I was a teen. I know there were some who knew what she was because they used to whisper hexensohn when I would walk through town.”
“I read about that in your biography,” Summer said. “I thought it was merely hearsay. An epitaph. Something they didn’t believe but pinned on you as a means to explain your incredible skill with the violin.”
“Well, there was that, too. The news sheets and gossips spoke often of my making a deal with the devil. I always thought it ironic that they spoke of it as if they believed it. I mean, who believes the devil is real and appears before people to make deals with them? I took great pleasure in feeding those rumors, actually. It was easier for me to make play of it than to face reality. If they had only known that it was true, or at least, partially true. The bargain was presented to me. I just never accepted that deal.”
“Which was?” Verity prompted.
“If I should play the black violin then I would have all the power.”
“Yes, right, your destiny,” Verity confirmed. “I don’t really understand that. Are you a witch like your mother?”
“No. I’ve always and ever been human.” Nicolo stood and paced the living room between the couch and the wall where an original Mucha lithograph in emeralds and gold hung. “Instead of destiny, I should use the word legacy. Of course, the legacy thing does apply to my father.”
“He was a witch?” Summer asked.
“No.” Nicolo turned and shoved a hand at one hip. “You’ve told me that you’ve met him,” he said to her.
“What?”
He splayed up a hand and said, “He’s the devil Himself.”
Chapter 13
Summer gaped at Nicolo. And then she switched her gaze to Verity, who looked equally as shocked as Summer felt. Her fingers curled into claws before her stomach. She should speak. Say something to the man who had just casually announced he was the devil’s son. Words didn’t form.
Maybe running out the front door would be a better plan.
No, she wasn’t a runner. She was a stand-up-and-face-it-no-matter-the-situation kind of woman. Hell, she was responsible for the guy. She couldn’t leave him on his own just because...
The devil’s son?
“Summer?” Nicolo prompted.
“Holy hell,” Verity said under her breath. The witch settled onto a nearby chair arm and caught her forehead with a slap of her palm.
Summer exhaled. Closed her eyes. Counted to two, and then got lost in the mad realization of what she had done. She had summoned the devil’s son from the grave.
She really had raised Beneath.
“It can’t be,” she blurted out. “No, no, no. That’s impossible. You’re not—”
“I am. Unfortunately.” Nicolo sighed heavily. “I know this because he told me every time he visited me to make the bargain with the violin.”
“Maybe he lied to you.”
“For what reason?” Verity asked as she stood and approached Nicolo. “For real? You’re...?”
Nicolo gave her a wincing nod. And Verity touched him over the heart. She recoiled with a hiss and backed up so quickly she stepped on Summer’s toe. “Sorry.”
“What is it, Verity?” Summer asked, hooking an arm about her friend’s arm. “What did you feel? Is he telling the truth? What is going on? Nicolo? Tell me you are joking, because I am freaking out here.”
“Could you refresh my memory on what freaking out means?” he asked calmly.
Summer stomped the floor and did a frustrated shuffle of her feet as she slammed the air with her fists. She pinned him with a wide-eyed freaked-out stare.
“Ah,” he said. “How could I have forgotten? Trust me, I did a lot of freaking out myself when... I was first alive.” Again he winced. After being dead for so long this whole new existence had to be beyond difficult for him. “I am his son, but trust me when I say I am completely human. Neither witch nor devil nor demon. Or at least, that was so in my former incarnation.”
“You’re not human now,” Verity said. The women hugged one another closely as they stood before the man who could be evil incarnate. “I felt some crazy power in you.”
“As I felt your flames,” Nicolo offered.
“He can read people,” Summer provided. “Since he’s risen.”
“Interesting. You sensed my fire magic. You couldn’t do that before?”
“No, completely mortal then. The only explanation I can offer for my enhanced strength and senses is that the bargain was enacted when she played the violin.”
“I’m not following,” Verity said to Summer.
“I was supposed to retrieve Paganini’s violin. It was a Retrieval job. But I did not play it. It sort of...bowed itself.”
“And the devil—er, the Big Guy,” Nicolo corrected, “cursed that violin. If I should ever play it I would be given the power I should have received as my birthright. But the bargain has always and only ever been offered to me. Something must have gone wrong for it to have been enacted. For me to be standing here before you now.”
“If Himself is your father why weren’t you born a demon? Or witch, for that matter?” Summer hugged Verity’s arm closer to her.
“I think I can guess that one,” Verity said. “Sometimes when two paranormal souls create a child their genetic gifts and powers can pass right over a bloodline, leaving the child completely human. That is if there are humans in their bloodline. Perhaps Nicolo’s mother had humans in her family?”
“She did. She was the lone witch alongside her four siblings. But I’ve never had magical abilities. I am human.” Nicolo splayed his arms out. “Or rather...was?”
“Such skipping of the bloodlines happens with vampires more often than you would expect,” Verity confirmed.
“This is not cool.” Summer unhooked her arm from her friend’s arm and began to pace. “I was supposed to claim the violin. Not raise a dead guy from the grave. And now look what I’ve done. I’ve brought the freaking devil’s son to ground. And—ohmygoddess—I had sex with you!”
Verity smirked and tapped a finger against her curled lips.
Nicolo shrugged. “I thought you liked it?”
“I did—but no! I would never—do that!—with the devil’s son. Never. Not. Ever. Me and the Big Guy go back. I told you that. I am so not getting near anything related to him ever again.”
“Too late,” Verity offered. “I don’t think a little skin time is going to harm you, Summer. As well...” She approached Nicolo and this time carefully laid her fingers over his chest. She tilted her
head, eyes closed, taking things in for a moment. “I think he’s in the process of becoming.”
“Your fire. It is very strong,” Nicolo said with a kindly gaze into her eyes. “Becoming what?”
“What you were destined to become with the bargain. Demon? Devil? Witch? I can’t be positive. But we know you are not human.”
Nicolo strode toward the patio door that looked out over a lush green backyard. He slapped a hand over his chest and turned back to the woman with a fierce look. “I have developed remarkable strength since hopping out of the coffin. I feel healthy. And look at me.”
Both women nodded, in awe of the handsome specimen standing before them basking in their adoration. And then Summer shook her head and made a frustrated growling noise. “Don’t even think it,” she muttered to herself.
“If you give me a few days,” Verity said, “I might dig up a spell that can read Nicolo. Tell us exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“Sounds fair enough. I would like to know what, exactly, I am now. Though I should not care to be a zombie.”
Verity looked to Summer, who shrugged. “He did rise from the grave. To explain I showed him some pictures from The Walking Dead.”
Nicolo held out his hand toward Summer. “Are you frightened of me now? You, a mighty vampiress who put me in my place at the Sneezing Cow and who can command me to my knees in adoration of your beauty? I am just a man. Who needs your help to find my way in this world.”
When he put it that way Summer felt guilty for her little freak-out. But seriously? The last person in this realm she—any smart paranormal being—wanted to deal with was the devil Himself. And Nicolo being his son did not give her warm fuzzies about dating into the family.
Not that she was dating him. But she had slept with him. And—oh man, what had she done? This guy could go über-evil on her. And she had enough issues as it was avoiding the dark side.
Nicolo stepped before her, not touching, but she could feel his heat, his utter need to connect with her on a level similar to the intimate moment they’d shared earlier this afternoon. She forced herself not to flinch away from his soft yet assessing gaze. The remembrance of the times she had smelled sulfur, the scent of demons and Himself, prodded her to inhale. She couldn’t scent the acrid odor on him.
“Sorry. I should have handled that differently,” he said. “I assumed since you were in the know about all things paranormal...”
“Yeah, well, it’s not every day the handsome man a girl has been mooning over tells her he’s the devil’s son.”
He stroked the hair from the side of her face over her shoulder and tugged her earlobe. “I am honored to be admired by one so lovely.”
Oy, but the man had the words. And the moves. Her ear tingled under his gentle touch.
“Are you still okay with hosting me at your home until we figure things out? What about the opera tonight?”
She’d forgotten about that date. Hell’s bells, what to do?
“Yes. I brought you into this world. I—” Yeah, she wasn’t going to say she could take him out. She probably could. But what sort of crazed vengeance would that bring upon her when his father came looking for the woman who put his son back in the grave? “We should go. Thanks, Verity. Do call me as soon as you’ve figured a way to read him, okay?”
“I’ll text you. Nice to meet you, Monsieur Paganini!”
* * *
Should he have revealed that small detail about his paternity? Not so small. Nicolo could still recall the day Himself had told him. For one moment he had doubted, and then, he had known. Just known. A visceral knowledge had inhabited his veins and made him shudder. Such a vile thing to learn about oneself.
Yet he had been determined not to follow in his father’s footsteps. He believed a man made his own way, his own life. And he had done so, rising to a fame he’d earned through hard work and persistence. Never because of a skill bestowed upon him by playing that bedamned violin. He did not have to become what legacy or an accident of paternity dictated.
He glanced at Summer navigating the car toward her home. She’d been repulsed to hear he was Himself’s son. The only reaction he could expect from anyone. For had she thrown her arms about him and giggled he might have questioned her sanity. She was a smart woman, and she would use caution henceforth.
He did not fault her that caution. But he needed her. To navigate this modern world. To imbue him with passion and emotion that could easily be overwhelmed by the wonders of this new world. And as his only connection to the black violin. It wasn’t finished with him yet, as he was not finished with it. He would not rest until he had seen the thing in ashes and knew with certainty the devil Himself cared little for the son who had never respected him.
And yet, what reason had he to refuse the brimstone bargain now? He no longer had a son to worry would see him succumb to such evil.
What had become of Achille? Had he married? Fathered children? Perhaps Nicolo had ancestors? He’d missed so much. And yet he had led a good life. A man should only be granted one life. And that he had been given another he couldn’t fathom whether it was good or bad.
“Can your witchbox tell us anything about my son, Achille?”
Pulled from her intent focus, she cast him what seemed like a forced smile and nodded. “Yes. The clerk set up your phone account as part of mine in the store. When we get to my place I’ll teach you how to do an internet search.”
“I will find Achille on this internet? What of the book of face you had mentioned?”
“It’s all live people on Facebook. Mostly, anyway. You should be able to find a history on him and your family.”
“Thank you. That will serve to put my mind and heart at ease.”
Nicolo settled into the passenger seat. Yes. He would start anew. Rise to fame. He would do it all again. Only this time, he would embrace what little power he had been resurrected with and use it.
And if Himself offered the bargain again?
He didn’t have an answer for that one right now. He knew what the answer should be. But his life had changed. How to resist so much power and a promise of immortality?
Chapter 14
They’d stopped by her home to drop off their shopping booty, and Summer had changed into a slim blue wrap dress. Out of the ordinary attire for her, but she knew jeans and a T-shirt wouldn’t go over well at the opera house. She did own two dresses. Not out of necessity, but rather, they’d been gifts from her mother and sister-in-law.
Sitting in the balcony box now, she didn’t mention to Nicolo that beneath the dress she wore the pink set of lace La Perla. He’d find out later if he was lucky. And he probably would find that luck, if she had her way.
Maybe.
Hell.
Literally. She couldn’t resist the guy, even knowing what she now knew about him.
While the orchestra played a Dvorak piece Summer could only think about sitting next to Himself’s son. The devil had fathered a child, and he sat right beside her. Of course, the Big Guy could have hundreds of progeny walking this earth. Was the devil a man whore, or did he choose his lovers with care, ensuring his offspring were only raised by a few and the finest?
But why had Nicolo not been born with such powers as the brimstone bargain would give him? Why hadn’t Himself simply bestowed those fabulous yet evil powers upon his son? She didn’t get that.
Unless such powers had to be accepted? For wouldn’t the burden of such evil destroy someone kind and innocent like Nicolo? If he’d had even an ounce of greed in him, he would have taken the bargain and perhaps embraced his powers. Yet he’d been a gambler and had other vices. Greed was certainly not new to him.
Which meant he really had tried his best to refuse. So the man was admirable. Honorable, as she’d already decided about him. She liked that about a man. Eve
n a man whose heritage was dubious and his current physical and/or paranormal state was unknown.
So she’d give him a chance. Because he deserved it. And because she liked him. Much more than she would have expected. Generally, Summer clicked with a guy on the first date or said so long, don’t get hit by the door on the way out. Nicolo felt right to her. And while that should trouble her more with this new information about his paternity, it did not.
What did that mean when a woman overlooked the obvious in favor of an infatuation? She didn’t want to know. Really. Because in her heart she already did know, and the answer involved walking away at first sign of adversity.
She wasn’t a walker, nor did she favor turning and running. She prided herself on serving Acquisitions, and she would treat this personal affair the same.
But what about her job? Protecting Nicolo was probably not what the director had in mind when he’d told her to keep an eye on him. Was she jeopardizing her job by engaging with Himself’s son? Or course she was. The question was, was it worth the risk?
A clash of cymbals tugged her out of the troubling thought.
While Summer loved a great symphony, she was more interested in her date. Nicolo was enraptured by the performance. Elbows propped on the balcony railing, eyes glued to the stage, he’d not once leaned back into the plush red velvet seat. Though sometimes he would close his eyes, falling into the music.
She knew exactly why he had been such a lady-killer in his past. He was gorgeous. An amazing lover. A classic male, yet he had the extra gene that turned her on: he was a musician.
She slid her hand up the thigh of his black velvet pants and over his lap. He hadn’t learned about underwear, so everything against the fabric was tangible to her touch. And growing harder. She gave him a squeeze.
That stirred him out of his reverie. He turned to her, but when she expected a lascivious suggestion he instead said, “I want to be on that stage.”
And here she’d thought her hand play might have turned him on. The only thing that seemed to get this man’s blood hot was music. But she could work with that.
