Chaos Rises: A Veil World Urban Fantasy

by Pippa Dacosta

  I took the stairs down. A demon had made a den of the main elevator and hadn’t budged in the time I’d lived in the block. Even Allard had given up trying to coax it out. Fairhaven was filled with similar demon oddities. Much of the hotel remained unexplored. There were too many corners, too many twisting corridors and barred fire escapes—plenty of places to ambush the unsuspecting half blood.

  Emerging on the ground floor, I passed by the basement door with its rows of elemental glyphs etched into the cheap panels. The glyphs flared softly, pushing against my demon as a clear warning—stay out.

  I found Allard in what had once been the hotel bar. Much of the décor had survived the Fall. A dark wood wrap-around bar retained the sophisticated atmosphere. The tables and chairs created sub-meeting areas, but today, the bar was empty except for Allard and his right-hand demon, Joseph.

  Allard saw me as soon as I stepped inside the room. He straightened, swept his jacket back, and regarded me with the same measured appraisal as he had at the hospital, right before he’d yanked me off my feet.

  Joseph was careful to keep his gaze drifting midway between Allard and me. As a higher fire elemental, he and I were naturally opposed. He’d barely said three words to me in the six months Del and I had been working for Allard, and he certainly didn’t bother to look me in the eye. I was half blood, lesser, not worthy. That was fine by me as long as he didn’t leave me alone with Allard.

  “Come, Gem,” Allard made his way toward me. “We can talk while I check the stock.”

  I dipped my head as he passed and flicked my gaze to Joseph leaning back against a table. The sneer pulling his lips back from his teeth was all for me. I let a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth just because I could. Allard wasn’t looking. Del had often told me not to taunt the demons, but where was the fun in that? The only sign Joseph noticed my smile was the slight narrowing of his eyes. He made it too easy to bait him.

  I caught up with Allard as he left the hotel for the adjacent complex of bungalows. The little buildings huddled around a drained kidney-shaped swimming pool. I imagined it must have been luxurious once, basking in the LA sun. But now, the bungalows held Allard’s stock. Painted glyphs throbbed on the windows, keeping the lessers locked inside. The air smelled like burned rubber. Occasionally, a scuffle would break out, and the sounds of claws scraping, yips, and yowls bounced around the pool area.

  Connie, one of Allard’s higher demons, had her human vessel suited-up in a white pantsuit. She dipped her chin demurely as Allard approached.

  “My lord,” she enunciated clearly. Allard made sure his demons knew how to blend in. No snarling, growling, or drooling in public. Connie wore her vessel well. “We have three new arrivals. One, a particularly rare infant larkwrari.” She held out a clipboard and checklist. Allard took it and scanned the contents without slowing.

  I’d never seen a larkwrari, but I’d read about the one that had tried to break through the veil over Boston’s skyline. Fully grown, they’re the size of an airplane and look like snakes with wings.

  Connie trailed along behind Allard, her heels clicking on broken tiles, and I picked up my pace, dropping behind the both of them, boots scuffing the ground. As we passed each bungalow, glowing eyes peered out from inside. The conditions inside the bungalows were foul, hot, and filthy, but it wasn’t anything the demons weren’t already used to. I shivered, pushing unwanted netherworld memories back.

  One bungalow was full of ventores. They squawked, snapped their elongated sword-like bills, and flapped their leathery wings. Allard left them like that until they started eating each other, then he’d sell the one that was left—the strongest—for the caged fights.

  It hadn’t taken long for LA to find a way to utilize the leftover demons. None of it was legal, of course, besides capturing demons for ‘scientific study.’ As far as the authorities were concerned, Mr. Clayton Allard was a demon dealer. They likely didn’t know he was a demon.

  Allard clicked his fingers. “Gem.”

  Picking up my pace, I passed Connie—her warm gaze rode my back—and fell into step beside Allard.

  “Your brother—”

  “He hasn’t come back, and I—”

  “I’ve tasked Joseph with finding him. He’s probably decided to stretch his wings. We were all young once.” An ironic smile lifted his lips. Thinking of his younger demon exploits perhaps? “No harm done.”

  No harm done, yet. “But—”

  “Gem, you failed to retrieve a vitiosus, and now I have one unhappy client to deal with.” Allard stopped outside the last bungalow and handed the clipboard back to Connie. “My, my…” A rippling purr sounded at the back of Allard’s throat, a sound I’d never heard from him before.

  I paused beside him and tried to wrap my head around what it was I was looking at behind the glyph-marked glass. Scales shimmered like oil on water. Coils writhed in slow, hypnotic knots. And there, at the back, rested the larkwrari’s head. Two horns spiraled in front of a proud crest. Emerald eyes glittered. It was…beautiful. It looked back at us and blinked slowly, smoothly, contemplating, wondering.

  In a snap, it struck, slamming into the glass. I jerked back and sprung my daggers free. But the glyphs flared, and the glass held. The larkwrari shook its magnificent head and knotted its snake-like body once more. Its grumble rippled through the earth, stirring the nearby lessers into a frenzy.

  Allard hadn’t even flinched. “Impressive.”

  “I thought you’d be pleased, my lord.”

  He canted his head and gave Connie a slow nod that brought a flush of color to her cheeks. I caught the smell of the demon-spices she threw his way, a demon come-on, and rolled my eyes. I had no idea if they were screwing as humans or rucking as demons. She certainly wanted to. I just wanted to get to the part where Allard tells me what I have to do for him to help find Del and for him to hand over my hit of PC34A.

  “Connie, check over the remaining stock. Gem and I have matters to discuss.”

  Oh, no. He was dismissing her. We’d be alone. I scanned the overgrown gardens. Palm trees cast great swaying shadows. Bushes blocked most of the paths, leaving only one clear way in and out—behind him.

  The moment Connie left, Allard turned his gaze on me. The sound of her heels punctured the scrabbling sounds of caged demons until even those noises faded, and I was left with the hissing of the palm fronds overhead to listen to instead of my thudding heart. Allard probably didn’t have a heart, at least not one I’d recognize. Or a soul. The first thing the Institute taught us was that demons are little more than machines, driven by their beast-like needs. They wanted. They took. If they couldn’t get what they wanted, they’d lie, cheat, steal, manipulate, and finally resort to claws and teeth to make damn sure they won. What the Institute hadn’t taught me was exactly how convincing a higher elemental demon could be. Maybe that part of my training had been up next, but the veil fell, and the demon with lava-veined wings so vast they blotted out the sky took my brother and me away.

  I blinked the memory away, finding Allard studying me with a curious glint in his eye.

  “Has there been any indication that the Institute might be sniffing around?” I asked, surprised at how level and direct my tone was. At least I sounded tough.

  “None. They have been reduced to little more than a few desperate individuals. Toothless and spineless.”

  He dug into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small, cylindrical jet-injector. The clear liquid sloshed in the tiny glass vial. Just 5ml of PC34A was enough to quell my demon and take the edge off her madness. With that dose in my veins, I could still summon enough of my element to fulfill Allard’s tasks and keep myself safe among his demon rabble, but I had complete control. I needed that drug.

  Allard had moved closer. I couldn’t remember him doing so. The spicy, evocative smell of demon wrapped around me, nudging my demon urges awake. He lifted my hand—warmth flushed over my skin—then dropped the injector into my palm, and closed my fingers
around it. “Delta will be found. You have my word.”

  The word of a demon, how much was that worth?

  “But—” Here it comes. “You must do something in return, half blood.”

  Anything. I swallowed the demon voice, kept her mind from mine, told myself it was just because he was full demon that the thing in me wanted to rub up against him. The sooner I injected PC34A, the sooner my demon would shut up.

  “I’ve been tracking an artifact that made its way here during the Fall. Its existence was rumor, but I’ve had several reliable sources tell me otherwise. I know where it is, and I’d like you to retrieve it for me.”

  Alarm bells chimed in my head. Why couldn’t his stronger, more powerful demons get it? Why me? Why now? What did a demon dealer want with an artifact? I didn’t even know demons had artifacts. They didn’t create art or anything as frivolous. Where they came from, only actions counted—the more vicious, the better.

  He touched my face, the slightest of touches, barely there at all, and yet the heat from his fingertips burned all the way down, tightening more than just the demon lust.

  “Ask the questions I see in your human eyes.” He pulled his fingers back, allowing me to breathe again.

  “Where is it?” My voice still gave away little of my inner turmoil, but he wasn’t looking at me with human eyes. He’d smell the desire on me, feel the needy reach of my element. I couldn’t stop my response anymore than I could stop my heart from beating.

  A smile started at the corners of his lips. “A mortal dwelling. Connie has the address. As you are a half blood, you may enter the residence without an invitation. Me and my ilk would find it considerably more difficult.”

  Full blood elemental demons couldn’t enter personal dwellings. Demons are beings of chaos, and most human homes fend off chaos like an anathema. His admission answered one question, at least. Why he was sending me. “What am I looking for?”

  “A human trinket like those you collect. The coronam has been hidden inside an ornament of some kind. You’ll feel it when you’re close. Find it, and bring it to me.”

  I was about to do some breaking and entering. I closed my hand tighter around the injector, already wishing I was back in my room so I could take the hit and stop feeling like I wanted to roll around in Allard’s scent. Damn it. I hated, hated, hated when my demon started to slip free. How had Del deliberately missed his hits and hidden his mistake from me?

  “I do this, and you find Del?”

  Allard’s smile grew into an honest, inviting curve of the lips. “He’ll be found soon enough.”

  “Okay.” We both knew I wasn’t about to say no, given where I stood, surrounded by Allard’s power, hemmed in by his demons, and buried in his world with Allard as my only means of getting medication. If I wanted to survive, I couldn’t say no, and the smile on his face told me he knew it.

  Chapter 4

  According to some old realtor details I’d found using my out-of-the-box cell phone to Google the address, 211 Pacific Street was a single-family two-bedroom recently renovated home. Pre-Fall, it would have commanded a multi-million dollar price tag, but unfortunately for the new owners, when the veil closed, it left behind a nw-zone right at the end of their street. Demons as neighbors wreaked havoc on property prices, even if they rarely ventured outside their zone.

  I did a causal wander by in daylight. All kinds of cars were parked along the street, fast ones, compact ones—they all looked the same to me—and some kind of sporty superbike. A mix of tastes, like the houses themselves. Some homes crowded close to the road, while others, like 211 sat back, hiding behind, of all things, a white picket fence. A couple of the houses had forlorn-looking boarded-up windows, and I wondered if their owners had died during the Fall, or if they’d moved out of the city to avoid the memories of the war that had raged for a week but had forever changed our world.

  I strolled around the block a few times, waiting for the sun to set. Now that I had PC34A smoothing out the jitters, things seemed a little simpler. All I had to do was hop over the fence, break in, grab the artifact, and get it back to Allard. Easy. If things got hairy with any occupants, I’d run into the nw-zone. Nobody could follow me in there.

  I had no intention of hurting anyone. The people who lived here probably didn’t even know they owned a demon artifact. They might even give it to me if I told them it was demon.

  The setting sun bled across the skies, and crickets had started up their nightly chorus. The warm air hung still. No sasori demon rattles from the bushes here.

  I strolled on toward 211, checked both ways for bystanders, and finding it clear, hopped over the fence to land in a crouch. A few gnarled trees provided some convenient shadows along the side of the house.

  Lights blazed from inside, but I hadn’t seen any movement. I listened hard, drawing on my acute demon hearing to place any sign of occupation. Maybe the lights were on a timer, and the house was vacant. I could hope. Slipping around the back, I eased a dagger free and tried the back door, expecting to have to jimmy the lock open, but it popped open—unlocked.

  Slowly, I eased the door open an inch and paused, listening again. A hissing fizzed the air, like a detuned radio or a sasori demon. It could be the latter. Lessers could infiltrate human homes, unlike their higher demon kin, but they usually shied away from people unless they were starving and disoriented, which was most of them this side of the Veil.

  I smelled a warm, rich odor and tried to place where I’d smelled it before…on the clothes of the lab assistants. We’d asked them about the odor, and they’d brought us a hot, black drink to taste. Coffee. I’d hated it. Del had dumped five spoons full of sugar in his and said, only then, was it passable.

  Don’t think about Del.

  The hissing persisted from the back of the house. I couldn’t place the source, but it wasn’t moving, and the pitch was constant, so I could assume it wasn’t demon.

  I crept inside. The kitchen, where I’d entered, was spotless and equipped with all kinds of smooth, shiny gadgets. I had no idea what many of the electronic boxes did. Big boxes with flashing buttons, boxes under the counters with more flashing buttons.

  Daggers palmed, I paused and reached out a little of my elemental touch, just enough to feel where the demonic artifact was. I frowned, feeling two demon sources, one a brilliant flare of power, the other a slow, needy throbbing. Two? Allard hadn’t said anything about two sources.

  I wasn’t about to go back and ask him. Better to get this done and over with. Following the throbbing source, I slunk along a hall and into the front room. Whoever lived here clearly had taste. Hardwood flooring had been polished to within an inch of its life while high ceilings and sliding doors gave the place a lovely, wide-open feel.

  I spotted a coat tossed over the arm of the couch. Someone was home.

  On the mantelpiece, above the wood-burning fireplace, sat a vase. It didn’t look like much. The paint was chipped, and the decorative flowers were clearly some sort of artistic statement, but the messy design looked like something I’d paint. A dull throb beat the air around the vase. Definitely the coronam.

  The hissing stopped.

  A quiet so thick it was almost netherworldy rushed in.

  Grab the vase. Run.

  I reached out my left hand, my right still holding the dagger, when a tiny hissing blur snagged my gaze. I ducked. The arrow kissed my face and twanged into the wall somewhere behind me.

  “Hey!” a man barked.

  I snatched the vase, spun, and ran

  My element twitched. Something smooth and cool but intangible reached out, coiling around my legs. Not a man then. Demon. But how? This was a home… I heard the chink of a mechanism and veered back down the hallway. A second arrow sang, sliced through my top, and bit into my arm. The sudden snap of pain tripped my stride, but the rush of adrenaline easily overrode it. No time to hurt.

  My demon shifted, reminding me of her presence. I took the hint, yanked on any cool spots
nearby—I found one in the kitchen—and pooled power into my hand, shaping five ice-shards. After a single glance over my shoulder, I shifted the vase to the crook of my right arm and flung the shards before I could really process what I was seeing. The man—demon—stood in the doorway, naked, apart from a towel clutched around his waist. He aimed a crossbow at my back. His element flared in his eyes, hypnotic and enthralling. Deadly.

  He ducked out of sight a fraction of a second before my brittle ice-shards peppered the doorframe behind where his head had been moments before.

  “That’s my vase!” He managed to sound equal parts angry and incredulous.

  A crazy grin burst across my face as I made it to the kitchen and out the back door. He might be a demon, but there was no way he’d follow me into the nw-zone wearing just a towel and carrying only that little crossbow to protect him.

  A few more strides, over the fence—

  He came out of the garden to my left, running fast, a blur, his element surging in a heavy, cresting wave. I swung low with the dagger, but I still clutched the vase in my right hand, and the strike went wide. He jumped back, swung the crossbow around, and aimed it between my eyes. I froze, my gaze full of steel-tipped arrows.

  “That’s my vase,” he said again, but this time, he laced it with a real threat. His eyes blazed with a strange combination of cool blue and flickers of sparkling green. At his neck, he wore a battered old cross pendant on a leather cord—no, not a cross, a stylized key made to resemble wings. I followed the trail of muscle down his chest, past several old and faded raking scars, down the tantalizing V of muscle where he clutched the towel. His element trickled about me, tentatively licking at mine. Both of us held back, me because I had PC34A clamped around my control, but he held back because he could. My demon touch recoiled warily from his.