Demons Undone: The Sons of Gulielmus Series

by Holley Trent

  “I never said they were.”

  Gail startled at his frank words and leaned sideways to see Claude.

  He raised his eyebrows and mouthed, “He was an angel, remember?”

  It was certainly easy to forget.

  “So, we’re agreed on one thing,” Agatha said. “Well, let’s get this over with, shall we? I have a four o’clock conference call with your marketing manager and brewmaster about that new beer. Are you sitting in on it?”

  Gulielmus grunted. “No. I’ve got to go to Germany and see about some hops.”

  What the hell?

  The two lunged into fighting crouches, power radiating off both. Agatha’s silver hair flapped around her face, moved by a wind of her own waking.

  The ground darkened with shadow as Gulielmus’s already-large form grew taller, broader, scarier. Although they could not be seen in the daylight, what had to be a massive pair of wings added ten feet of bulk to his shadow. His grin was predatory, though his posture perfectly relaxed. He looked like he had throw-downs like this every day.

  Hell. Maybe he did.

  Claude pulled Gail back by the waist, getting her out of what he must have thought was the splash zone for stray blood and guts. Propping his chin onto her shoulder, he whispered, “Chéri, whatever happens, don’t run. Stand your ground. You’re stronger than ever. And remember …” He lifted his head and brushed a gentle kiss along her jawline. “I love you more than life.”

  “And I never get tired of hearing it because I love you too.”

  He squeezed her and kissed her again, this time on the side of her mouth.

  She grabbed what she could of him, keeping one eye on the feinting demon and goddess, and hugged him back. “But why so morbid? Everything’s going to be fine. This can’t be much more than a play fight. Ellery and I had these all the time as kids. We usually stopped at the first bruise.”

  He turned her, completely careless to the commotion in front of them, and pressed a palm to either side of her face. He locked his gaze on hers, and it was lusty and affectionate, but frightened.

  Before she could ask him the cause of his conflicting emotions, he kissed her the way men who are going off to unwinnable wars kissed their women.

  He kissed her like he was never going to see her again.

  “Claude?” she whispered against his lips, and there was a bright flash, a pop, and a chorus of groans.

  Claude closed his eyes, held her tighter, and whispered, “Merde. Already,” before letting her go. “Remember what I told you,” he said, before his irises bled to red and he turned and hurled a surge of power at the brown-haired stranger who’d appeared in their midst. People kept saying his power was a frightening thing, but now she saw it with her own eyes. It radiated off him like heat off an asphalt road and sent the other man’s body sailing backward a good twenty feet.

  He got up, slowly, chuckling. “Hello to you too, uncle.”

  Ross. He wasn’t what she’d expected. She thought he’d be irresistibly handsome like his father, uncles, and grandfather, but he was just average. Average could be quite sexy, but this guy had the sex appeal of a feral Ken doll. All he had going for him was his power, really, and that hung loosely around him like a hand-me-down. It belonged to Gulielmus, and quite possibly, Ross would never grow into it.

  John and Charles closed in around Ross, and instead of flinging magic at his nephew, John started swinging, and landed a few bone-crunching blows to Ross’s chin due to his apparent disorientation. While Ross staggered backward, Charles pulled a knife from his boot and tossed it by the blade to Gulielmus.

  No, not just a knife. An athame. They weren’t just going to stop Ross, but make sure he never came back.

  “Gail, watch your back,” John shouted.

  A feminine grunt sounded behind her, followed by Agatha’s muttered, “Does hitting women make you feel good about yourself, you little pissant?”

  Oh, God. Gail didn’t need to turn to see who’d just arrived at the party, but she did, only to hear John’s grunt of pain.

  John fell to his knees, clutching his bloody chest from something Ross had done to him, and then he planted face-first onto the ground.

  “John!” Gail ran toward him instinctively. Shaun could wait.

  Ross snapped his fingers and teleported away, leaving the incubi bewildered.

  Gulielmus growled and pointed toward the woods. “He’s there.” He took off after his grandson with Charles and Claude following. “The protective wards are weakest there,” Claude shouted. “Be careful you don’t do anything to rip them open.”

  Oh, no!

  No, no. Don’t panic.

  Contrary to what her grandmother believed, she did have common sense, and common sense said the boys had planned this. Claude wasn’t leaving her in peril. He was taking a calculated risk and trusted her to do what needed to be done.

  She dropped to her knees next to John and struggled to roll him over. He had to be heavier than her relinquished convertible.

  He groaned. His brow was beaded with sweat, and lips pulled into a grimace.

  She put her hand to his forehead and swirled a little cool air over him. “You gonna be okay? We need you.” She stole a glance up at Shaun, and found him leering.

  He postured as if he were about to move toward Gail, but Agatha put her body between Gail’s and his. Being so close to him, she could feel his power now. What was his was so small she could snuff it out with a whisper. No wonder he’d had to steal. But she could feel the other thing, too—the thing that had him convulsing and struggling to steer his own body.

  “I’ll be”—John coughed and cringed—“okay in a while, sis. Help me lift my head.”

  Gail helped him sit up, and he craned his neck to look down at his chest.

  He tried to laugh, but it must have hurt too much because he groaned, and gave up on the venture. “They tried to carve a sigil onto me. It’s supposed to stop a demon in his tracks.”

  “Sis?” Shaun said with a sneer. “You’re with one of them?”

  She wrapped her arm around John’s back and helped him up. “Yes, I am.”

  Shaun’s upper lip pulled back. “Well, I hope you said goodbye.” He walked in an arc, watching Agatha, who followed him with an eerily blank look on her face.

  “Stupid fuck,” John said, and Gail noticed his voice had already become stronger. “Yeah, that hurt like a motherfucker, just like me falling off Clarissa’s roof onto my head three years ago hurt. It would hurt pretty much anyone, short a god or goddess, at least for a few minutes.” He sat up and cracked his knuckles. “You must have missed the memo or something, because what you obviously don’t know is that I’m not demon, not even a little bit.”

  “But …”

  “Nope, nope, nope.” John jumped to his feet and bared his teeth in a snarl that was more monster than man.

  No, it was the same exact snarl Gulielmus wore—the one that kept reminding Gail that beautiful things could be deadly. He looked so much like his father. He could have been a clone, even, if it weren’t for his more human size and the eyes that always conveyed optimism instead of warnings. Except for now.

  His countenance sent a frosty surge into her bloodstream that stunned her in place for the moment.

  She’d never seen John anything but cheerful, even after he and his brothers came back from that ambush in a bloody pile. Apparently even he had his hard limits, and Shaun had hit them.

  “I got exorcised about three years ago, so you got some bad info, bro,” John said through clenched teeth as he stalked forward through the tall crass. “That’s okay. We can’t all be on top of everything. That’s why I have Ariel. Everyone should have an Ariel.”

  His eyes went dark and the planes of his face sharpened as his teeth ground.

  Shouting and an ear-pounding boom thundered from the forest, distracting John long enough for Shaun to hurl a spell at him.

  Whatever it was, it was dark, nasty stuff. It had Gail clutching
her chest for air and even Agatha seemed to flicker and wane.

  John grimaced, but then walked on, laughing. “Can’t use that shit against me. You should have learned that the first time.”

  Shaun raised his chin. “I’ve got other tricks.”

  John shrugged. “You’re not that stupid. As much as you and the pipsqueak would like to make my, my brothers’, and my father’s lives very inconvenient, what you want more than anything is to get Gail back. She’s your favorite little battery, isn’t she? She’s got more power in a single hair than you have in your entire body.”

  It was sweet of him to exaggerate. She’d never had a big brother before, and now she knew what that felt like.

  “I’ll have her.”

  “The fuck you will.” Gail lunged at him, and Agatha grabbed her around the waist and neatly put her back. “Be still,” she whispered. “This is his. He’s another who’s never been forced to learn his capacity.”

  “Claude should be the one dealing with you. That’s the way it always goes in the books, right? Avenging lover swoops in and rips into shreds some idiot who’s insulted his lady. Everyone cheers, and they all live happily ever after, or maybe they’ll have a few kids so the author can write a sequel later.”

  More than anything, Gail wanted her and Claude to have those sequels, no matter how unprepared they were for them. She looked toward the trees, heart aching, but seeing nothing. If they came out of this alive—

  “I can take him,” Shaun said.

  John scoffed. “‘I’d give you permission to go ahead and try, asshole, but here’s the thing about families …” A glowing red sword, nearly half Gail’s height, appeared in John’s hands and she couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was familiar, somehow, and she felt like she should know it. From where, though?

  He leaned it onto his shoulder, keeping both hands on the handle, although his stance was absolutely relaxed. “The thing about families is that we get really pissed off when outsiders try to disturb the peace. We have enough dysfunction of our own, and we surf it the best we can. I will stand up for anyone in this family and for anyone under this family’s protection. But this … this is my brother’s girl, man.” He took one more step forward, shaking his head. “She makes him happy, and I like it when my brothers are happy.”

  He swung the sword so fast that Gail didn’t see it move. First it was on his shoulder, and then the tip was against Shaun’s neck.

  John had drawn blood, but stood at ease with perfect control over his weapon.

  No, his father’s weapon.

  That’s where Gail had seen the sword. She’d seen it at the bar that day when Gulielmus and Jason had popped in at Rooster’s.

  She knew now that it was the very same weapon that had dispatched Laurette. Gulielmus had possessed it since the time of his creation, and now, somehow, it was John’s.

  Had something happened to the demon? If Gulielmus was dead, did that mean Claude was, too?

  Agatha set a hand on John’s shoulder and squeezed. She whispered, “There’ll be no blood on your hands today. Go find Mark. We’ll need him to help with the clean-up.”

  The clean-up?

  John seemed to understand, because he nodded and the sword vanished back to where it was. “I don’t like this being her fight,” he said.

  All the while, Shaun kept his gaze locked on Gail. But it wasn’t Shaun now.

  Not really.

  “It has to be,” Agatha said.

  “Be careful.” John vanished.

  No sooner had he teleported away did Shaun grab Gail by the collar and yank her against him. He insinuated his body close and pressed the tip of a knife against her neck. Its pinch became sharper when Agatha shifted as if to approach.

  “Shh, shh, shh.” He held Gail tight, rocking her side to side as if she were a colicky child in need of soothing and not as if he were a man or demon hell-bent on gaining power at any cost. “Just stay there, old lady.”

  Agatha didn’t respond, but Gail now knew the woman well enough to know her temper was bubbling beneath the surface. How it’d come to a head, well, Gail wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She’d grown to like the woman, and didn’t want to become scared of her after all this time.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. He pressed his lips against her right ear, still rocking. “You’re going to come with me, and I’ll take care of you just like I used to. Just like the old days. Remember?”

  “Oh, I remember the old days. What you and Shaun did could hardly be called caring.” If Gail could have laughed without having her windpipe sliced, she would have. She swallowed. “Refresh my memory. When did this caring-for take place? Before you started siphoning off my magic or after? Before you got indicted and cleared for all those crimes you said were bogus, or after?”

  “You stuck by us.”

  Great. She’d unknowingly committed adultery with a demon. The thought of this thing being so near her in the past made her shudder with revulsion. “I was stupid. I wanted to believe you because that’s what wives are supposed to do. I trusted you, because I didn’t think the man I married would breach that trust in such a way.”

  “It was the magic. Magic makes people do crazy things.” That was Shaun’s voice. He was slipping in and out, and for what? To beg her forgiveness after all this time?

  As if.

  Fuck the knife.

  She jammed her elbow back against his gut, making him double over and drop his knife, and immediately took a flying leap at him. They hit the ground hard, and his head had barely stopped bouncing from the recoil when she punched him hard in the jaw. “I’m not weak or stupid.”

  She wrapped her hands around his throat and squeezed.

  “All that time, you had me so doped up from your spells that I couldn’t think straight. No woman in her right mind would want to be with you.”

  She squeezed a bit harder and ignored his sputtering. Pain? Good for him. He deserved it and more, she realized as electricity crackled around her. She hardly noticed it.

  “I wasted years of my life with you. I could have been something besides a bitch with a cat! You took everything.”

  The realization made her angrier than she’d ever been in life. It was true. He’d taken everything that she’d had of value, and those weren’t things that could be bought or sold. They were things she was born with that were hers to tame and master, but she hadn’t even known she possessed them.

  They had. They took them.

  Her courage. Her intuition. Her confidence, what little she’d had.

  They’d taken them away and consumed them for their own personal gains.

  She squeezed harder, and didn’t care which of them she was hurting.

  Shaun’s eyes bulged, skin began to mottle and char from the surge of electricity coursing through him, and Gail knew with certainty that he was down. He wasn’t getting back up, and if he did, the only person he’d be harming would be himself.

  Still, she couldn’t let go of him. She couldn’t stop making him suffer for what he’d done to her and what he’d tried to take away.

  Vaguely, she registered voices around her, some near and some farther away, but whatever words they spoke seemed foreign and irrelevant.

  Shaun put up one hand, seeming to plead with her as he sputtered with her hands around her neck, but that merciful place she’d formerly owned seemed to have vanished and in its place was a want of revenge.

  She’d take from him what he’d taken from her. An eye for an eye.

  Strong arms locked around her torso, and Agatha’s voice warned, “Stop fighting him and fight yourself. This isn’t you. This is dark. Let. Go.”

  “No.” Gail shook her head and pressed her palm against Shaun’s Adam’s apple. “Years of my life wasted, and for what?”

  “It was just a trial, child. We all have them, and some of them lay us low longer than others. He may have taken away your power, but he didn’t take away your strength. You found ways to cope in s
pite of your deficiencies. You have to stop this. Push it back and leave the anger to Claude. He needs it more than you right now.”

  “Claude?” Gail snapped her head up and scanned the dusky field. Where was her love? There was a commotion near the tree line. Shouting. Did he need her?

  Shaun forced out a couple of dry coughs, and Gail’s train of thought evaporated that easily. She pressed one hand over his mouth to stifle his pathetic sniveling and put the other to his neck.

  Leaning down as much as she could in Agatha’s tentative grip, she whispered, “You’re pathetic. You’re a weak little man who would have absolutely nothing going for you but your looks if it weren’t for all the dirt you do. The world would be better off without you.”

  “All right,” Agatha said, and she pulled Gail up in one easy tug as if she weighed nothing. “You’ve had your say. Find your peace now.”

  Shaun struggled to sit up. He dug his fingers into the thick thatch below and pulled himself upright. He was still coughing, but his face began fading to its usual pale coloring.

  “I should have hit him harder. Maybe if I break his nose, no other woman will fall for his schemes.” Gail tried to connect her foot with his face, but Agatha yanked her back.

  “I won’t have you carrying this around on your conscience for the rest of your life. Back down, or I’ll zap you out of here, Claude or no Claude.”

  Shaun scoffed, then cringed from the apparent pain that had caused him.

  Good. She wanted him to hurt.

  “Wild magic.” He chuckled. “I didn’t think you had it in you, hooking up with someone like that.”

  Gail lunged for him, but Agatha pulled her back yet again.

  “If you’re going to get angry,” her many-times great-grandmother said, “at least find out why.”

  Maybe she was right. “Someone like what?” Gail asked through clenched teeth.

  He raised his chin. “Low class. His mother was a whore and his father is—” He narrowed his eyes and laid his head to the side contemplatively. “Well. His father … how the mighty have fallen.” The laugh that rumbled from his chest seemed eerie and otherworldly. She didn’t know if it was the man or the demon talking, but Agatha yanked her back a good ten feet in a single bounce.