The Marquis (The 13th Floor)

by Christine Rains

  Marc roared and barely dodged the rider’s sword. The stallion kicked him in the chest with its one good rear leg. Marc flew back and hit the wall hard. He groaned as he slid to the floor.

  He waited for the pain to drain away, for his strength to return. But he was too close to mortal now. Pain like nothing he remembered burned throughout his body. Marc had lived so long in the human world. He had become a pathetic old man.

  Hissing, the rider forced its mount to stand. It towered over Marc. Snorting black smoke, the stallion pawed at the ground causing glass to sail backward. The rider raised its sword.

  “Marc!” Mae threw a napkin holder and then a coffee cup. They hit their target and ghastly laughter bubbled up from the rider’s headless hole. The construct turned and clomped over to the booth to smash the table. Mae’s scream was echoed by the other women.

  Marc was up in a blink of an eye. With a snarl, he grabbed the construct by its rear haunches and spun it, knocking it against the counter. It howled, and the one noise suddenly became that of dozens.

  Demonic imps spilled over the broken countertop. They were tiny compared to the headless rider and stallion, but they were just as deadly. Lifting the cash register, Marc didn’t hesitate in squishing the dazed critters. A few might have escaped out the front, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t stop until he could sense no more.

  Panting, he tossed the ruined machine onto the floor. His upper canines poked into his lip. Peering around at the mess, the world was clearer than it had been in decades. He felt good. He felt strong.

  “Marc?” Mae stood up from underneath the booth bench. One hand still rested upon her wounded neck, but the other came to cover her gaping mouth. “What are you?”

  His brows furrowed. He glanced over his shoulder to the mirror on the wall near the kitchen entrance. Sucking in a breath, Marc turned away from the demon that stared back at him.

  “Mae,” he said and took a step toward her, holding out a hand. She cringed, and he flinched. Dropping his hand, he and his self-hatred made a quick exit.

  CHAPTER 6

  Mae had seen his demonic side. His fiery eyes and inhuman maw. His goddamned ugly mug.

  There’d be no last cup of coffee. No sweet smile or comforting touches.

  He wanted to smash the cars he strode by and throw them through windows. The urge to destroy, to kill, was intoxicating.

  Marc had saved her. For the time being. He didn’t think that was an attack particularly meant for her. Though as fate would have it, it was well timed.

  He stopped in the shadows of an alley and leaned against the graffitied brick wall. Shaking his head, he reined in his destructive thoughts. The strength that had surged through him in the café left him. His clothes became less tight as his muscles shrank to what they had been. Marc wanted to grasp on to that energy and not let go. He had forgotten how good it felt to be so powerful.

  His canines retracted and he stretched his jaw, cracking it. Power he’d believed gone was still there. If he could get back what he’d once had, he could easily defeat Vetis. But what would that mean for him? And how would he do it?

  The last thing Marc wanted was to be a demon back in his Master’s service. No, the last thing he wanted was for Vetis to kill Mae. Yet could he bring himself to pay the price to kill Vetis?

  “Marc.”

  He started at the sound of his name. Looking up, his chest tightened. His mouth was dry as he told Mae to go away. What was she thinking? He knew she wasn’t stupid. Yet to be so brave as to follow him and speak to him, it was, well, he wanted to smile. Then he reminded himself that she might die because of him. His face hardened.

  “Marc,” she said his name again in a gentle tone. “No matter what I saw, no matter what you are, you saved my life back there. You’re my hero. My guardian angel.”

  “Don’t say that.” Marc growled, huffing as if he were punched. “You need to go, get out of town. Take a vacation far away from here.”

  “I can’t. I—” Mae’s protest was cut off by another wordless growl. Her hand fluttered to her injured throat, but she didn’t run or even step back.

  She wasn’t afraid of him. Part of him felt proud of the fact, but the other half wanted to shake some sense into her. Marc stomped forward, towering over her, and glared at her. She was trembling, but she didn’t move.

  “Your business can be closed. The girls will survive this better than a lot of other people. Think of yourself for once. Be selfish. Be smart.” His hands came up on either side of her as if he might grab her, but he clenched them into fists. “You’ll die if you stay. Get out while you still can.”

  Mae said nothing for a minute. Her hand clasped the top of her bloodied shirt. She then took a deep breath and shook her head.

  “You can’t scare me off. I’ll take my chances just the same as anyone else in Carmine. Something’s happening here and I’m not going to run. I’m not just staying for the café or the girls either.” Her gaze locked with his. “I’m staying for you.”

  “No!” Marc spun away from her, stepping away four feet. His arms swung, needing to hit something, but there was only the wall. “Forget about me. I’m nothing.” He yelled up at the heavens knowing his cries wouldn’t be heard. Then he turned back to her. “Go. Get out of here. I don’t want you to stay. Go before I stuff you into a cab and send you out of the city myself.”

  “I realize you’re trying to protect me by sending me away, by trying to scare me off. But it’s not going to work.” Mae put her hands on her hips. “You’re not nothing. Whether you want to believe it or not, you are a hero. You might keep to yourself and drink way too much coffee, but from the first day I met you and you talked about your tenants like a father would his children, I knew you were a hero.” She raised her chin. “And besides, there’s no way you’d be able to find a cab in Carmine right now.”

  Marc snorted. How she managed to drain his anger away, he wasn’t sure, but it was enough to make him feel reasonable again. The way she stood there with her hands on her hips and head held high, she was beautiful. A strong and courageous warrior. She shone so brightly even through the darkness that surrounded him. He felt the urge to fall to his knees in worship.

  She wouldn’t leave and he wouldn’t force her. If she stayed, Vetis would kill her. Marc silently roared in protest of that possibility. He would have to make sure she stayed somewhere safe then.

  “So ...” She pulled him from his thoughts. “I know you know what’s going on. I’d like to know what we’re up against.”

  “All right.” Marc sighed and raked his hands through his hair. “All right. Let’s go to my place. It’ll be quiet there and we’ll talk.”

  How much should he tell her? Mae was smart. She could handle a lot of things, but demons? Some of her girls were in the same business of temptation. Maybe she could. He shook his head and led the way toward his block, avoiding the main streets and the chaos.

  “Do you have any coffee?”

  “What?” Marc looked at her and blinked. His mind went blank.

  “You know, coffee? A hot drink that you down way too much of. Surely you have some.” Mae pursed her lips. “Or maybe you don’t and that’s why you spend so much time in my café. You never learned to make a decent cup.”

  “It’s not the coffee that brings me there.” The words came out before he could stop himself. He bit his tongue, silently cursing himself. He didn’t need to be saying anything like that. Nothing would ever come of the two of them. He’d either be dead or gone within the next day or two.

  He clamped his mouth shut and didn’t say anything more until they got to his building. She didn’t force any more conversation either. Marc loved and hated that she could read him so well.

  The front windows of the building were broken. People had busted a lot of windows along the street. Something horrible was going on in the city and people mirrored it with their looting. That being the least of their sins, he was sure.

  Marc caressed the wo
rn red brick as he opened the door to let Mae in. He wasn’t worried about his floor. No one uninvited would ever find it. And it wasn’t through his or any of the other tenants’ invitation that mattered. The 13th floor chose for itself.

  Mae headed to the elevators, and Marc motioned to the stairs.

  “We only going up a floor or two? Energy conscious, are you?”

  He almost smirked. “No. I live on the 13th floor. The elevator doesn’t open there. Only way up is through the stairs.”

  “Thirteen floors?” Mae’s eyes widened and then she reached over to press the call button. “We can at least take the elevator to twelve.”

  This time he did smile. It was something he never considered. They rode up together, sharing their little smiles. He felt almost normal again. Dangerous as it was to feel that way, he liked it.

  On the 12th floor, they entered the stairwell. He let Mae go ahead of him and watched her from behind. It was an impressive view. Something else stirred within him when he heard someone stumble up around the corner.

  Marc ran up and spied Harriet struggling to stand. Her legs shook and she nearly fell again. He slipped an arm around the old woman.

  “Harri, what are you doing out? It’s dangerous in the city right now.” Though, even as he said it, he knew why she was out. She didn’t have a choice.

  “I can make it.” Harriet made a shooing motion at him, but her protest was a croak.

  “I’m helping you to your apartment. Lock yourself in if you have to.” Marc helped her up to the landing and opened the door to the 13th floor. Mae walked up to stand beside them, smiling sympathetically at the other woman.

  “Let me hold the door. You two go through.”

  Harriet lifted her sagging head and peered at Mae. Her cracked lips smiled. “You brought a lovely friend home with you, Marc. The one from the little coffee shop. I like her.”

  It pleased him to have her approval. Pleased him more that she suddenly didn’t start screaming. “Mae Hopkins. This is Harriet McKay.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. McKay.” Mae followed them into the hallway and down to the far end. “Marc’s told you about me then?” She grinned like a cat that had gotten into the nip.

  “No.” Harriet reached a shaky hand into her pocket for her key to her apartment door. She ignored Mae’s stunned expression and let Marc help her unlock the door. “Come in for a moment. I have something for your injuries. I know Marc doesn’t even own a bandage.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “This cream is remarkable.” Mae sniffed the contents of the jar and nodded with a pleased expression. She set it on the lone small table in Marc’s apartment.

  “Harri’s a nurse. Well, a retired nurse.” Marc added. He stood in his kitchen, hands flat on the countertop. “She makes a lot of home remedies.”

  “Like the wise women of old.” Mae surveyed the apartment and turned to him with raised brows. “I’ve always known you’re a man’s man, but this place is very ... male. Worn in furniture, big television, no art on the walls, no color, and in need of a good dusting.” She opened one of his kitchen cabinets. “Near empty shelves. And I don’t see a coffee maker.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Marc was comfortable in his home. Comfortable, but nothing more. “Help yourself to whatever you wish.”

  “Ms. McKay gave me some tea. I can boil some water.” Mae searched the cupboards. “Thankfully you have a few mugs. And a kettle or a pot?” He motioned to the drawer under the stove and she crouched down to retrieve one.

  Marc walked into the living room, pacing the length of it. He would have to find some way to keep Mae in his apartment.

  Mae was in his apartment. A few days ago that might have made him jump for joy. Perhaps he should still do so because the 13th floor accepted her presence and Harriet didn’t scream. Still, he knew as well as anyone, the future could change in a heartbeat.

  “Sit down. You must be sore yourself. Do you need any of the cream?” Mae carried two cups of tea and sat them on the coffee table.

  “No. I’m fine.” And he was fine. Another perk of his demonic form was that it healed quickly. A mortal would have been hospitalized after the injuries he took, but he was merely stiff and tired.

  Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, Marc picked up one of the mugs. The warmth felt good. Reminiscent of the heat that had flowed through his veins earlier. He still hadn’t decided how much or what he was going to tell her. How much was enough to make sure she stayed in the apartment?

  “Stop over-thinking things. I’ve always liked it that you talked plainly with me.” Mae sipped her tea and set the mug back on the table. She folded her hands on her lap. “I’m not a little girl that’s going to run screaming. And I’ve always believed in things beyond the normal human experience. I used to think I saw fairies in my garden when I was little. I would dance with them, and sometimes my parents would have to come fetch me and drag me into the house to get me to stop.”

  “Sounds like something fairies would do.” Marc grumbled and glanced up to find her gazing intensely at him. “What?”

  “You actually mean that.” Mae nipped at her lower lip.

  He nodded once and scratched his beard. He wasn’t going to tell her tales of the other horrors in the world. It was enough she was sitting beside one. He’d seen tougher people crack under this sort of pressure. But if she wanted him to speak plainly, he wasn’t going to waste any time dancing around the subject.

  “The city’s going to Hell and it’s because of me.” He grunted and started over. “Actually, Hell is coming to the city and it’s because of me. A demon named Vetis has decided he wants my head, but he’s going to destroy everything I care for first before he kills me. He saw us together earlier today. You’re on his hit list.”

  Mae paled and reached for her tea. Her hand trembled and she used the other to steady it. She took several sips, hiding behind the mug for a moment.

  “This is why you need to get out of town. Go far away. Or at least, stay here where it’s safe. No one can find you here.” Marc wanted to demand she stay. He was ready to lock her in if he had to, but one of the things he admired about Mae was that she had her own mind. Forcing her to do anything was not an option.

  “If no one can find me here, they wouldn’t be able to find you either. Why not stay yourself?” Her voice was soft with its plea.

  “Vetis would raze Carmine to the ground looking for me. I can’t let him continue killing folks.”

  “And you can kill the demon? Just like you did with the ... thing in my café?” The hope in her eyes was like a knife to his gut.

  “The thing that attacked you was a construct made up of lesser demons. Vetis is much more powerful. I might be able to beat him if ...” Marc shook his head. He said he’d be honest. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Either he’s dead or I’m dead, and you’ll be safe. The city too.”

  “It matters a great damn deal.” Mae plunked her mug down with a thud and folded her arms. “You’re not going out there to die. I refuse to let you do it.”

  He wanted to kiss her for that. No one had ever cared whether he lived or died. The Grand Marquis had been one cog in a grand army of tens of thousands. The being he had become was just a territorial old goat hiding his love for a woman he could never be with. She was too good for him.

  “It’s going to happen one way or another. I’m not going to hide.” He leaned closer to her. Underneath the cream, sweat, and dirt, he could smell Mae’s sweet scent. A spritz of perfume he had no name for, a hint of coffee and baked goods, and the soft fruity smell of lotion she always used. He was tempted to bury his nose against her neck. “Did you want to know why Vetis is after me? You haven’t asked what I am again.”

  “You’re my hero. That’s all I need to know.” Did he imagine it, or did she lean closer too?

  Her breath was warm against his skin. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in years. And never had he wanted s
omeone as much as he wanted her. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, but caught himself and curled it into a fist. He stood up, stomping to the other side of the room.

  “I’m no one’s hero.” Marc spat. “I’m a goddamned demon. Not even that any more. I’m less than a demon, less than a man. I used to be one of Lucifer’s favorites.” He caught her surprised look. “Oh yes, I served for centuries. Death and destruction. I was the best at what I did. And when it was all over, what did I have to show for it? Not a fucking thing. I left my Master’s service and came here to be forgotten. I’d almost forgotten myself until Vetis came along. Now he wants to gain some respect by chopping off my head and bragging to the elite down in Hell. And they’ll give it to him too. Vetis won’t stop until I’m dead. This is why I can’t run and hide.

  “This is why it doesn’t matter if I die. I should have been dead a long time ago.” He stalked to the door and spun to face her. Mae hadn’t moved from the couch. He pointed at her. “You will stay here. It does matter if you live or die.”

  Turning to open the door, he grabbed the knob, but it refused to twist. Grunting, he shook it and tried again. He kicked at the door and swore under his breath. Marc needed to get away from her. From this place, from everything. Let Vetis take his head. He didn’t want to bring any more horror into Mae’s world.

  Marc shoved at the door and kicked it again. He tried to rip it from its hinges.

  “I think it’s stuck,” Mae said quietly from behind him. He twisted around, almost bumping the mug from her outstretched hands. “Finish your tea. Clear your head. Maybe then you’ll reconsider throwing yourself at the demon.”

  He knocked the tea aside and kissed her.

  CHAPTER 8

  Marc’s lips still tingled. He’d always imagined taking Mae out and treating her to a date fit for a queen. At the end of the night, he’d give her a sweet kiss. Something gentle and soulful. Nothing at all like that hot kiss with his mouth ravaging hers. Oh how incredible it was, though.