Shifters and Demons

by H. C. Brown

  "Father, what are you doing?" Zane dropped his zap and stood in front of Lailii.

  "This cruelty has gone far enough."

  "So she has bewitched you as well." The king backhanded his son across the face.

  "Step away, whelp, she is going with the demon."

  "No." Zane stood his ground. "You can't do this."

  "He has kidnapped Dallin. She is the trade." The king laughed. "A very poor trade but the contract is signed."

  "Yes, and a soul is part of our bargain." Passio gave a throaty laugh and withdrew a sword from a scabbard at his waist. "I chose your soul." With one swift movement, he decapitated the king.

  Lailii watched the king's body sink to the floor in a sea of crimson. The king's grotesquely twisted lips still moved in the bloody, spinning head. Zane stood open mouthed, his face frozen in a mask of terror. Lailii wanted to scream, but no sound

  came out of her throat. Passio's long fingers curled around her arm, and she spun into a kaleidoscope of colors.

  * * * * *

  Underworld.

  Dallin paced the confines of the cage. He needed a plan. There was not much to work with, and time was difficult to gauge. The guards had returned sporadically to torture the prisoners. The beasts tied each man to a crucifix and whipped him to unconsciousness. The sickening sounds of the men's cries tore at Dallin's heart. During the beatings, the guards never uttered a sound—not a grunt, nothing. Racking his brain for ideas, Dallin went over the battle with the Army of Loss Souls. The mutants had cried out during the battle and bled like pigs. He concluded that the guards were not mutants as he had suspected but rather conjured beings. He knew the spell used to create slaves. Many Prides used this form of magyck because they detested inequality. He sighed. His father was old school; he expected his subjects to bow and be subservient. At least the king paid his servants well.

  The door to the dungeon opened. Men cried out in panic. Passio preceded the guards, holding a red silk cloth over his nose, his eyes dancing with amusement. Dallin reached for the blanket and slung it around his hips. The thought of the man's eyes on his naked body made him sick. His stomach cramped. Perhaps the guards would beat him while Passio watched. In a moment of complete clarity, he decided Passio would never hear a cry of pain from his mouth. You'll never break me. His mind flicked back to the first time he went into combat. His grandfather's voice echoed in his memory. "Show no fear."

  Dallin straightened his shoulders and stood in the center of the cage. He met Passio's gaze. "Is this the best accommodation you can provide? Or haven't you noticed it stinks in here."

  "Well, I could have offered you a bargain for more suitable lodging, but alas you won't be staying." Passio moved closer to the cell. "I'm surprised to see you on your feet." Passio waved the silk cloth in front of his face. "You look fine, not even a broken rib or two. I'll have to supervise my guards in the future." The next second, darkness surrounded Dallin; the moons and stars flashed before his eyes. As he fell, his instinct to morph came too late, and he hit the grass with a thud. He lifted his head and stared into a clear, starlit night, the two moons bright overhead. Naked and without weapons, he morphed into his cat. Through cat's eyes, he made out a forest about a mile away. This place was familiar. He could recognize Banin Mountain rising above the trees in the distance. Watchful for any sign of mutants, he lifted his head and drew in the scents of the night. No stench of the walking dead accosted him; only the heavy aroma of cooking permeated the air. He waited for the prickling sensation over his skin from dark magyck, lifted his head, and felt . . . nothing untoward. Instead, he sensed there were people close by. He bounded into the darkness, keeping to the shadows, his black and white-striped coat camouflage in the moonlight.

  He reached the edge of the forest and slinked toward the camp. Groups of men huddled around campfires, eating and speaking in hushed tones. Dallin recognized the scents of the men— his men. Cruz sat on a log, eating with gusto from a tin plate. Dallin morphed and strode toward him. "Where's Stryker?"

  "Where the fuck have you been?" Cruz jumped to his feet, the plate spilling unheeded to the ground. "You look like hell."

  "Maybe because I've been to hell and back. Answer the question."

  "He's on his way back to the castle. He thinks you're dead." Cruz scratched his cheek. "I told him to go see the Lady and ask for help." Dallin dragged a hand through his hair. "I need clothes. Where did you put my backpack?"

  "It's in my tent." Cruz pointed behind him. "I'll get you some food."

  "Don't bother; I don't have time. I need to fill you in on the situation"

  Dallin headed for the tent with Cruz on his heels. He sat on the cot and dragged clothes from his backpack. "Passio took me into the Underworld to trade for Lailii. If I'm here, our father traded her for me." He pulled on his pants. "I can't save her on my own. The demon guards are monsters."

  "How can you possibly enter the Underworld? We've sealed all the Gates." Cruz rubbed his chin. "That damn fissure is useless; it could lead to Baltor himself." With a growl, Dallin pulled on his boots and stood fully dressed. "Passio lives in a fortress, but inside is a Gate. I recognized some of the scenes. One is on top of Devil's Peak."

  "On Demon Island? I find that hard to believe." Cruz scratched his head. "A demon Gate in our own backyard and we didn't notice? You have to be mistaken."

  "It's on the east side. I could see Vane Castle in the distance."

  "That's sheer rock; it's impossible to get there, even on a flybike." Cruz frowned.

  "There's no place to land. How do expect to get an army up there?" Dallin strode from the tent. "I have no idea. Give me your phone; I'll contact Stryker."

  "The phones have been out for the past couple of hours." Cruz took the phone from his pocket and handed it to him. "Maybe the damn thing will work now you're back."

  He took the phone and met Cruz's gaze. "Get the troops moving. I must get home without delay. My only hope is to consult with the Lady." The phone buzzed. Dallin flipped it open, and Zane's hologram appeared. Tears streaked the young man's face. "Dallin? Thank the gods. I've tried to reach you for hours. F-father is d-dead."

  Dallin stared at his brother's hologram in disbelief. He could hear Cruz's sharp intake of breath at his side. "What happened? Take it slow."

  "Everything has gone to h-hell." Zane buried his face in his hands.

  "I can't help if you don't tell me what's happened." Dallin sighed. If he must coax the story from his brother, he would. He lowered his voice. "When did you get back with Kaden?"

  "About four hours ago. Peter came to us frantic because father had locked Lailii in the dungeon." Zane met Dallin's gaze. "He silvered her." Fear curled in Dallin's belly. "He what?"

  "I tried to remove the silver, but it had a binding spell on it. Kaden couldn't reach you by phone and left straight away to let you know what was happening." Zane drew a shuddering breath. "Next thing I know, I'm in the s-solar with Lailii, and a demon is standing there. He made a trade with father. He wanted Lailii in exchange for you." Zane covered his eyes. "The d-demon cut off f-father's h-head and vanished with Lailii." Biting back grief, Dallin stared at his brother's hologram in disbelief. Dear Lady, the demon had Lailii. Pain stabbed his chest. Oh, little one, I should never have left you alone. How could his father have done such a thing? Why did the demon kill him? He had to get home and beg the Lady for help. "I'm leaving now. Contact Kaden, and tell him to turn back. I'm on the way. Tell Stryker. In my estimation, he should be landing shortly."

  He shut the phone and stared into the darkness. Bone-deep grief, not for his father but for Lailii, tore at his heart. Gods, he had promised the Lady to protect her from Passio, and he might have just as well handed her over to him. Bile rose in his throat. His sweet Lailii had suffered by his own flesh and blood. He spat on the ground.

  "Damn you to hell, Father."

  Chapter Ten

  Underworld

  Lailii pulled the blanket around her and glared at P
assio. "Y-you killed the king." She tried to push the gruesome images from her mind. With the thought of protecting

  her cub, she straightened her back. She would not show fear. Drawing a deep breath, she attempted to control the sobs in her throat. "W-what do you want with me?" She stared at the man dressed in a light blue silk jacket with white lace falling over his hands. His matching pants ended at the knee in white stockings, his feet pushed into blue silk slippers with white bows. The man looked less like a demon than anyone she had ever seen—no mutant blood ran in his veins. Yet he killed with no remorse. With an evil grin, Passio glanced at her wrists and gave a low chuckle. The silver bands vanished. Lailii tried to pull her magyck around her, but her powers were weak from the protective spell around her cub.

  "Kaos, come and see my prize." Passio spoke to an empty space beside Lailii. The air shimmered. A twirl of white smoke seeped from the floorboards, rising up and forming a ghostly shape.

  "Do you want to scare the girl?" Passio frowned.

  The ghost became whole. Lailii blinked. This man had red, flowing hair and emerald green eyes. He dressed similar to Passio, but his choice in silk was yellow. He waved a lace handkerchief at Lailii and winked salaciously.

  "I am Kaos, sweet temptress." He inclined his head. "What may I call you?" Lailii swallowed hard. These were demons, these angelic-looking boys. Was this some kind of sick joke? She trembled. Her fingers gripped the edge of the blanket. These simpering males were going to kill her. The thick scent of violets overwhelmed her, and she covered her mouth. "I think I'm going to vomit."

  "That's a bit long." Kaos rubbed his chin. "How about we shorten it to vomit?"

  "She means she's going to puke." Passio growled. "We'd better take her to her room."

  The demons gave jumping an entirely new meaning. Freezing air rammed her body; colors rushed around her. Lailii squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hand on her stomach. The awful perfume did not leave, and she opened her eyes again to see Passio standing in front of her. Kaos, with a smug grin on his face, leaned casually

  against the doorframe. They were in a large bedroom. The room had a dresser, a bed, and little else.

  "I think you should rest. I will arrange refreshments for you." Passio waved her to the bed.

  Unable to flee, Lailii sank down on the edge of the mattress. She bit her bottom lip. What did they want from her—goddess, not her cub? Passio hovered protectively close to her. She lifted her gaze to stare at his handsome face. "Why am I here?"

  "All I want is to share a little of your blood." Passio sat beside her. "I am not a monster. I don't intent to bind you in silver or restrict your powers." With a shudder, Lailii stared at the floor. "My blood? Why would a demon want my blood?"

  "Demon is such a harsh word, don't you think?" Passio waved a hand. "Demigod is the correct name for us."

  Fallen angels, those beings so evil the Great One banished them to the Underworld? This creature sitting beside her with the simpering voice could not possibly be the great Lord Passio— right hand man of the demon, Baltor? Lailii's head ached. This must be a dream; but no, not even her imagination could possibly create the king's bloody murder.

  "She finds us confusing." Kaos glided across the room. "You expected horned beasts, and we disappointed you."

  Lailii met Kaos' gaze. The demon's eyes changed from green to red and back. She swallowed hard. "Why do you want my blood?"

  "To enhance our powers with your own, sweet lady. Your blood will allow us a little time in the sunshine." Kaos smiled. "Surely, you wouldn't deny us a break away from this place to redeem ourselves?" He touched Lailii's face. "Is it not your goddess's way to forgive?"

  Pulling her head away to avoid the demon's cold fingers, Lailii gasped. He had touched her through her magyck as if no barrier existed. She shuddered, fear crawling

  up her spine. "She won't forgive you for kidnapping me. I belong to her champion. You fall afoul of the gods by taking me away from my mates."

  "Your mates are here." Passio reached for her hand. "I will allow them to call on you, but each visit must be paid for in blood."

  Lailii shuddered. "They would never allow this to happen."

  "They remain alive so long as you comply with my wishes." Passio frowned. "We do not want to hurt you. In time, you will love us."

  Remain alive? Had the demon kidnapped Dallin and Stryker too? Her cub was better off dead than born in the Underworld to the mercy of these blood-sucking fiends. They all were. Lailii lifted her chin. "I will never love you, and I know in my heart, my mates would rather die than let me submit to you. We have a sacred bond. You may as well kill us all now, for I will be useless to you. My magyck will soon fade. I need sunshine, love, and happiness. There is none of this in hell."

  "Lailii, you underestimate me." Passio chuckled. "I know you recharge your powers with sex. I'll allow you that enjoyment to regenerate your powers. By the time your mates grow old and die, you will see the benefit of having two virile demigods to pleasure you." He drummed his fingers on the satin bedcover. "Now, do you agree to my terms, a little of your blood for an afternoon of passion and the knowledge your mates are safe and well?" He met her gaze his eyes blood red. "Or would you prefer I become the demon you despise. I'll take you into the dungeon and slit your eyelids to make you watch while I peel the flesh from your mates." He smiled. "I will enjoy listening to their screams." He lifted her chin. "Do you know how many days it takes for a man to die without skin?"

  The room spun. Lailii coughed, and then spewed vomit over Passio's satin pumps. The demon swore colorfully and fled the room. Kaos' cold hands lifted her feet and lay her on the bed. He wiped her face efficiently and sat beside her. Lailii covered her mouth. Her head throbbed. She turned her face away and ignored the demon.

  "Drink this water." Kaos tipped her head toward him and pressed a glass to her lips. "Rest now; in the morning you will see things clearer."

  "I want to see my mates."

  "I will bring Dallin to you, but only for a few minutes. I'm sure he will tell you to agree to the terms." Kaos got to his feet. "Or you can always try negotiation." Lailii bit her bottom lip. This had to be a trick. "Negotiation?"

  "Yes, set the term of your stay with us." Kaos shrugged. "I'm sure Passio will agree if you give us your complete obedience."

  Her gaze followed Kaos to the door. A few minutes later, the door opened and Dallin strode into the room with a broad grin. How strange her mate would think this situation jovial. Dallin sat on the bed and raised one perfect brow. Lailii inhaled to capture his unique scent. She grimaced at the sickly odor accosting her nose. Her hands came up to press against his chest—this was not Dallin. What should she do? Play the game and see what happened? Should she run around the room screaming? Blood pounded in her ears; her cub began to kick hard. Did the babe recognize the deception?

  I must survive. She lifted her mouth to accept the doppelganger's kiss. Cold, hard lips brushed against her mouth, and the taste of violets pushed into her throat. She gagged and turned her head away. "I'm sorry; I'm unwell."

  "It's okay." The fake Dallin sat up and took her hands. "I think Lord Passio only requires your blood for a month, then there's a good chance he'll let us all go." Lord Passio? Another mistake. Dallin would never call a demon 'lord'. Who is this man?

  "So you would like me to comply? You want me to allow Passio and Kaos to suck my blood?"

  "Yes, and Stryker and I will visit you every day." Dallin smiled. "That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

  Nice? She could not imagine Dallin using that word with regard to sex either. She had little choice. She needed to boost her powers to keep her cub safe. Seeing copies of her mates would help. How long could she avoid sex? She grimaced at the thought of intimacy with these cold creatures. How would she survive without seeing the sun and nature's beauty? She turned to the fake Dallin. "You know, sweet pea, I have to recharge my powers with nature. How does Passio plan to do this?"

  "I love it when you
call me that." Dallin beamed. "I'll ask him straight away. You have a sleep, and I'll be back with Stryker later."

  Lailii watched him go. Once the door shut behind him, she shook her head. What a fool; imagine a warrior prince like Dallin allowing her to call him sweet pea. Lady's blood. She threw her feet over the edge of the bed and noticed to her amazement the puddle of vomit had disappeared. She walked to the window and stared into the gloom. The black castle loomed beneath the window, guards patrolled the walkways, and huge, bat-like creatures swooped or clung to the crenellations. Gods, Terravampires—I thought they were a myth. In the distance, high mountains, black and rugged, rose against a turbulent sky. Lightening scored the darkness, showing glimpses of endless peaks.

  Folding her arms across her stomach, she rested her forehead against the pane. She had her powers; there must be a spell she could weave to incapacitate a demon. The last few days, her cat had bumped against her conscience, waiting to emerge after the birth of her cub. Therefore, it made perfect sense to assume the cat's Pride magyck already flowed in her veins, waiting for her command. She had the knowledge of ancient incantations, and the ability to kill. She was a Spellweaver, and this is what she trained for all those long years at the Tark. She turned and gazed around the room. Her head ached. Walking slowly, she returned to the bed and lay down. Spells spun through her mind, tumbling her into an enchanted dreamscape.

  * * * * *

  Demon Island

  Stryker landed the flybike beside the gate to the Lady's grotto. He slid off the bike and paced up and down in an effort to collect his thoughts. He had never addressed the Lady in this manner, and the thought of actually standing before his goddess scared the hell out of him. With one hand clasped around Dallin's amulet, he