by Jacey Ward
“You disappoint me, Arya,” Rowan sighed. “For such a renowned thief and bright girl, you should have foreseen this. It’s an abomination that this child was even conceived, and a miracle that she has survived this long. You cannot mix immortal genetics and expect there to be smooth sailing. It’s really no different than what happens when mortals and immortals breed; catastrophe. Her ‘condition’ is called Hybrid Immunity Disorder – HID.”
The words sent chills through Arya and she felt her fists clench in defiance at her side.
“She is not an abomination,” she spat. “And she will overcome this illness, this HID. She’s a child! They get sick all the time!”
Rowan laughed humorlessly, her clear eyes shifting toward the sofa where Jasmine was drifting off, her breathing shallow.
“Not like this, they don’t,” she replied. “This will kill her.”
The statement held a note of finality to it, and an ice-cold shiver worked its way through her body. But Arya would not accept the sorceress’ words as gospel. There had to be a solution, a cure!
“No,” Arya said flatly. “I refuse to accept that. I pulled her from the hospital, worried that they would learn about her, but I will take her back if you don’t help me, and it will put all of us at risk.”
She knew she was playing with fire. The threat was almost begging for retaliation – but she didn’t care. Her baby’s life was endangered and she would die protecting Jasmine.
“Don’t talk out of your ass,” Rowan barked, waving a pale hand dismissively as if Arya was a pesky fly. “You know as well as I do that we would hold our own against any mortal investigation.”
Frustration mounted inside her and she glared at Rowan angrily.
“Clearly I made a mistake coming here. You have no idea how to help her.”
She moved toward Jasmine, but Rowan reached out to touch her, the contact sending a burn through Arya’s body.
“Don’t be disrespectful, witch,” Rowan hissed warningly. “I didn’t say I don’t know how to help her.”
A combination of relief and suspicion coursed through her as she jerked her arm away from Rowan’s burning touch.
“But it won’t be easy, Arya, and you likely will not succeed.”
“If there is a way, I will find the means to succeed,” she vowed.
Rowan stared at her pensively for a long moment, and Arya reached out to her telepathically, taking another risky chance at pissing off the powerful witch, but the priestess had blocked her thoughts solidly.
“There have been other hybrids, of course,” Rowan offered slowly. “Each one saddled with their own problems. The Lycanthropes comingle with the vampires and create Wendigos, the Valkyries breed with the pixies and spawn the hobgoblins. Over the millennia, there have been dozens of cross-breeds, all unintentional and each offspring of these matches ingrained with hideous deformities, some visible, others not so much.”
Arya was growing tired of hearing her toddler being referred to as a freak of nature but she wisely held her tongue, sensing that Rowan, when all was said and done, might actually provide a solution.
“Most of the hybrids die, however,” the high priestess continued and Arya noted that she glanced ruefully at the sleeping girl before continuing, an uncharacteristic look of shame crossing her face. “They cannot withstand the fight within their own bodies and they succumb to their fates.”
“But not all of them,” Arya insisted. “You just gave me a list of those who have overcome.”
“Yes,” she drawled hesitatingly. “Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. And some, a very rare few, gain the powers of both species and thrive, becoming very powerful indeed. But to overcome the HID, all but two that I know have received the Shroud of Protection.”
Arya waited, her pulse quickening as she listened.
“There is a spell which only a high sorceress can perform…”
“Then you must do it!” Arya ordered.
Rowan cast her a scathing look.
“It’s obviously not that simple, Arya,” she snapped. “And you would know that if you let me finish.”
Arya wished she would get on with it, but she dug her nails into her palms to keep from speaking out of turn again.
“The spell is ever changing and lives in real time through the Chasm of Guile.”
Oh gods…
“I can see by the look on your face that you know what it is,” Rowan commented and Arya nodded miserably.
“There are only three copies in the known world, each owned by the most powerful demons. It is a living entity, one which is updated moment by moment as the world adapts.”
Rowan paused again, toying with her and Arya had no patience for such a game that day, not when Jasmine grew sicker by the minute. The illness had started so mysteriously, after all. The child had gone from a playful, happy baby to an apathetic and lethargic toddler almost overnight.
It had been two weeks and it seemed to Arya and Circe, who came almost every day, that Jasmine was becoming weaker by the day. Her breathing was irregular, her skin almost opaque. She slept for twenty hours a day and ate very little.
And the coughing had started, a terrifying crackling in her small lungs which caused Arya to lay awake with her, worried that each breath she took might be her last. No spells had worked, not modern medicine. There had been nothing Arya could do but pray to the gods and hope they intervened.
“No, you will not succeed.” Rowan stated.
“Why the hell not?”
She spun back, her coral sashes becoming ribbons along her lithe body, blue eyes fixed on Arya.
“Because, my dear girl, the only demon on this continent with a Chasm of Guile is Dante Carmichael. And he is the most ruthless demon of them all. And if by some small chance you do succeed, I will tell you right now that I will be the new owner of the Chasm, for I will not perform the spell unless I am keeping the power from it.”
She gaped at the sorceress, unspeaking. Of course. Of course fate would throw her another gauntlet.
And not just one, but two! Not only would she be stealing from the demon who had so callously tossed her aside three years ago, but now Rowan was also putting demands on her. So, it wasn’t like she could steal the Chasm and then return it, no one the wiser – no, now she would be hunted for life by Dante.
No demon was easy to trifle with, but in the past couple of years, it was as if the soul had been torn clean out of him. Any caring he may have had in the past disappeared, and the reputation he was getting was dark indeed. No one dared cross him. Ever.
No one knew why, but the demon seemed to have disappeared for a time, and then become the most vicious Deviant around.
In general, demons were not to be trifled with; not even the lowliest opium smoker on the Strip. They were all powerful and their wrath was legendary.
Stealing from a demon was suicide.
Stealing the Chasm of Guile from Dante was…
Sealing her fate.
Arya could not even imagine what would become of her if she was caught attempting such a feat.
“Why?” Arya demanded. “Why the hell would you want it? If you can just help Jasmine, then maybe I could return it without him ever kno – “
“And what would be in it for me?” she hissed, her eyes snapping at Arya. “You think I wouldn’t be hunted for using it as well? There are only a handful of people around with the skill to use the Chasm, so I won’t risk my neck unless I can protect it afterward. And the book will give me the power to do that.”
Arya gritted her teeth, willing herself not to remind her client that high sorceress or not, she was still below the demons on the food chain.
“We’ll never survive this...”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she sighed. “Then I am afraid your daughter is going to die.”
“I’m still going to do it, don’t get me wrong. But you and I will not survive his wrath. At least I won’t.” Arya muttered.
“I am giving
you a way to save her, Arya. You can take it or leave it but it is the only way.”
No, it’s not the only way, she thought furiously, suddenly not caring if Rowan could hear her inner thoughts. I will bring it to another high priestess. There must be someone else within reach who had the power to use the Chasm. But first she had to steal it.
“Fine,” Arya gritted out.
The witch’s mouth curved into a satisfied smirk and her eyes glittered with something she could not identify.
“That’s good. And who knows, maybe you can do it,” she chirped. “After all, who would know him better than you?”
Arya’s eyes flew to the sorceress’ and panic flooded her body. The urge to grab her daughter and flee was strong and she barely stopped herself.
How could she know? Dammit, that gave Rowan too much power over her!
“Shall I take your silence for agreement?” Rowan asked and Arya realized she had been stunned into silence for too long, her mind whirling.
Arya raised her eyes, her mouth becoming a fine line of determination.
“Oh, hell yes,” she replied shortly. “No one deserves being made a fool out of more than Dantalion Carmichael.”
Later, in the cab ride home, with Jasmine sleeping peacefully in her arms, her mind began to wander over the upcoming job.
Dante, I promised myself that I would never have to set eyes on you again.
The rejection and humiliation she had suffered after that night washed through her again.
Suddenly, the pain lanced through her again, the panic when she had found out she was pregnant almost taking her down completely. The fear had been a thousand blades piercing into her body at once and she had doubled over in pain. Then finally, her steely determination had kicked in and she had forced herself to move on and deal.
But it was a long time before even the sound of his name didn’t cause her to cringe in pain. It had taken two years for her to force herself to not notice his mannerisms or smile in Jasmine, and while she still thought of him much more than she wished, she had not heard his name spoken aloud since the whistle-blower report had surfaced.
Then, his name had been on every human news station, filling her with memories she had sworn she had forgotten, dredging up emotions she thought she had buried.
Arya had even experienced bouts of jealousy when she learned that the woman responsible for the leak on Carmichael Industries had been a former lover of his.
He just fucks over everyone he touches, doesn’t he? He probably left her high and dry too and she’s just getting him back. Serves him right. I did the right thing keeping Jasmine from him. God knows what he would have done if he learned about her. Either he would have taken her or forsaken her. In either case, I did what was best for my baby.
But now she needed him, needed to hear his name…
No, she thought furiously, blinking quickly to hide the sudden confusion in her eyes. No, he’s evil incarnate and I will not succumb to him again! This time I will be the one to fuck him over.
Then a small voice in her head raised a question. What if he would help you if you just asked?
She pondered the question for a while, but decided that his past actions toward her, and his present reputation were answer enough.
Why would I think that all of a sudden he would be happy to hear from me – especially seeing as I would be coming back to ask for a favor. He’ll only see me as a burden. It’s not like he tried to see me again after I gave him what he was wanted. What a slime ball!
She shook her head in disgust, not only for him but for herself too. How could I have fallen for such a guy? Usually my instincts about people are so much better than that! Lesson learned…. the hard way.
I would sooner steal the book than let him know about Jasmine.
No one needed an evil father, and the potential for the small girl to be hurt was overwhelming. The truth was, Arya was petrified what he would do to Jasmine. Would he try to raise her as a cunning demon? Would he dismiss her as a lowly sorceress?
There were so many bad outcomes to having Dante learn about Jasmine and so few likely good ones.
He abandoned us after making me believe he felt the same way about me as I did him. And then directed his staff to send me away when I showed up at his offices. He would certainly laugh in my face if I asked him to help.
Screw you, Dante Carmichael.
Chapter 5
Shax stood uncomfortably in the foyer, apparently awed by the splendor of the marble and steel entranceway. He had been to the house in Madison Park before, but it never stopped the abnormally large henchman from appearing overwhelmed.
“Didn’t Arthur tell you to wait in the sunroom?” Dante asked, coming down the floating glass staircase from the second-floor rotunda.
“I prefer to wait here,” Shax replied and Dante scowled.
“Well, I would prefer to have a private conversation where the rest of the house staff can’t hear,” he retorted, gesturing for him to follow.
Reluctantly, Shax trailed after and even without looking, Dante could sense his eyes falling over the priceless pieces of art as if seeing them for the first time. He wondered what Shax did with his own money. The demon minion received a salary well beyond that of anyone else in the company or legion. But it wasn’t his business to know – or care – what his men did with their cuts.
Live and let live eternal, Dante thought wryly.
The last two days had been a whirlwind of activity in the office, Paul Makowsinski earning his keep on the PR level, Sandra managing to apply the gag order to Catherine Parks. Slowly, his stock began to rise, and despite not having one free moment to breathe, he was feeling better about the future of Carmichael Industries.
As Paul had predicted, word of the charity event had spread like wildfire and Dante had been bombarded with calls from reporters coast to coast for statements. Although he hated every minute of it, Dante indulged them, knowing that he needed to make himself available to the leeching media if he wanted their plan to work.
On the other hand, he’d had no time to discuss the other matter which had been lurking in the shadows; Uvall’s potential return and uprising.
It took almost five minutes to walk from the front of the mansion to the sunroom, a glass enclosed area which was inaccessible to anyone trying to listen. The glass was eight inches thick and coated in a transparent film to block transmissions. The room was a dead zone and while Dante knew the likelihood of anyone getting past his stellar security system was more fantasy than reality, he did not underestimate some of his supernatural counterparts.
For that reason, he had a Shroud of Protection placed over the house as well, making the estate a fortress.
It had never been penetrated before and Dante was not willing to risk a first time.
“You want a drink? I have a new sangra which just came in from Thailand. It’s hybrid mortal.”
Shax’s eyes popped slightly as he gaped at his boss.
“Hybrid mortal and what?” he choked.
Dante chuckled.
“I don’t ask questions if I don’t really want to know the answer but I highly doubt it’s demon. My guess would be sprite or pixie. The Thai love their tiny immortals.”
Shax shuddered visibly and Dante’s grin widened at the display.
He’s like a puppy…although Cerberus would probably eat him if given the chance.
“Beer?” Dante offered instead, but Shax shook his head.
“No, I can’t stay,” he replied. “There’s trouble brewing on the Strip.”
Dante arched an eyebrow. He had yet to hear anything about issues among the immortals but Shax was paid to keep things under control. Dante was told only when the big guns needed to be brought in.
“What kind of trouble?”
“There have been a string of robberies, ancient stones and scrolls.”
Dante’s lids narrowed.
“And? What about them?”
“Well, it’s clearly one o
f us, and the frequency is growing. It’s as if someone is collecting a cache for something big.”
“Any leads on who?”
“We’re certain it’s for one of the high priestesses. Who else would know what to do with the elements? But we have no idea about the thief. Same MO every time and it’s a female.”
“A girl? Are you sure the priestess isn’t robbing the immortals herself?”
“From the descriptions we’ve received, she doesn’t match anyone from the Strip. A short, lithe redhead with a great ass. Doesn’t sound like any high priestesses in this area, does it?” Shax offered, shrugging his shoulders. “It doesn’t ring familiar with me at all.”
The hairs on the back of his neck rose and Dante shoved the thought of Arya from his mind before it could fully materialize.
I highly doubt it’s Arya, he thought, annoyed with himself for permitting his mind to venture there. It seemed that she was all he could think about these past several days.
He was so sure she had been at the children’s hospital, no matter how unlikely it seemed. He had sensed her there, his body drawn toward her just as it had that night in the club.
It was the first time in three years that he had felt her so close, and it was killing him that he had somehow just missed her.
That was a long time ago, he tried to reason with himself. She doesn’t want to see you three years later. What are you going to say to her if you do see her? “Hey, sorry I left you and promised to come back but my cousin murdered one of our own and I got sent into limbo for a year as punishment for helping him cover it up. I came back looking for you, I swear!” I’m sure she’s not going to believe it, he scoffed to himself. Just leave it alone.
Dante wondered if he would ever be able to forget about her.
Christ, someone mentions a redhead with a great ass and she pops into my head. It’s pathetic. You’re the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company. Get your shit together.
“Boss?”
Dante cleared his throat and lifted his eerie eyes to stare at Shax again.
“I’m guessing you have more to tell me,” he said, sitting back against the bistro chair and making a steeple of his manicured fingers. “You have a theory as to why all this is happening.”
