Brimstone Bride

by Barbara J. Hancock

  “Will you speak with a daemon king, Victoria D’Arcy?” the daemon asked, formally and loudly as if he spoke for her and the universe to hear.

  He didn’t approach her. He stood with the whole length of the storage room between them. But she was still afraid. This daemon was so old and powerful that he could mask the burn of his Brimstone? Her sister had already met Ezekiel and had warned Victoria about his interest in their affairs. He had loved their mother. She had sacrificed herself to save him from the Order of Samuel. They had been fathered by a member of the Order who had performed his duty to provide the Order with more living, breathing daemon detectors. Their mother had been forced to marry him, but it was Ezekiel she had loved.

  And he had loved her.

  He had been kept very busy since with fighting against a revolution in hell, but he considered himself their stepfather.

  He’d helped Katherine by giving her baby a hellhound puppy guardian when he was born. Katherine had named her son after this daemon king and Samuel who had saved their grandmother with his kiss. Her sister was happily married and reconciled with much of what they’d dealt with in their lives.

  But Katherine still feared Ezekiel and she’d warned Victoria to be careful.

  Daemons were not damned, but they were different, willing to face expulsion from heaven to rule themselves in the hell dimension.

  But, really, what choice did she have and what harm could one conversation hold?

  “Yes. I will speak with you,” Victoria said. “I’ll hear anything you have to say.”

  Her respiration stopped...for a frightening second. Life paused mocking her with what she had to lose. And then she was free to turn around and face the daemon responsible for the horrible pause that represented the sealing of the deal between them.

  A conversation with the daemon king.

  What could go wrong?

  It was only in that second when her lungs expanded once more that she realized she’d agreed to listen without knowing what he offered in exchange.

  When she turned, her cell phone light was unnecessary. The daemon king stood in an aura of ember light, his Brimstone glowing fiercely enough to light the darkness around him. Victoria lowered her phone, but she didn’t tab off the flashlight app. She didn’t trust Ezekiel’s aura to be enough light for her too. She needed the glow in her own hands.

  “You have grown into a lovely woman. And I know your beauty reaches deeper. To your heart. Like your mother’s did. No wonder Michael fell in love with you,” Ezekiel said.

  He was a commanding presence in a plain atmosphere. The earth walls and cobwebs took nothing away from his royalty. He wouldn’t have been more intimidating even if he’d been in a great castle hall on a throne.

  Katherine had told her about Lucifer’s wings that the Rogue Council had hacked from his body, bronzed and mounted on the wall above their council chamber. They had killed him during a rebellion fueled by the desire to claim the rule in hell, wage war on heaven and undo the choice Lucifer and his allies had made to leave heaven and rule autonomously in hell. Young Rogues who had never walked in heaven resented the loss of paradise and dreamed dark dreams of rising up to claim a higher realm.

  Katherine had been instrumental in freeing Lucifer’s Loyalist Army to fight the Rogues. Now Ezekiel wore Lucifer’s wings as a royal mantle. They covered the scars on his shoulders where his own wings had been.

  But there were other scars.

  Reclaiming hell from the Council had been a bloody, ferocious conflict—a centuries-long battle, though only a few months had passed on Earth. Down Ezekiel’s arms and across his hard torso were deep white slashes he’d wear forever. Another slash marked one of his lean cheeks.

  Ezekiel was a king, but he was also a warrior. His claim on her and her sister felt more frightening than reassuring. Especially when her mission for the Order of Samuel was in direct opposition with his interests and desires. The Order of Samuel worked in league with the Rogue Council. They had hunted Lucifer’s Loyalists almost to extinction before Katherine and her dark opera master had interfered.

  “Michael sacrificed himself so that his baby could live. So that I could live. You didn’t do the same for my mother. She died for you instead,” Victoria said.

  Ezekiel stilled. The aura around him deepened to a darker shade of red. An angry shade that shimmered with a heat she didn’t feel.

  “I didn’t know your mother would risk her life to stand against the Order. I would have stopped her. I would have protected her,” Ezekiel said.

  “But you didn’t and you didn’t come for us either. We were left to fend for ourselves. Stalked for years by evil monks who only wanted us for our ability to help them hunt and kill. You wear your scars proudly, but we’re scarred too. Deep. Where they don’t show,” Victoria said.

  She didn’t let the angry tears that stung her eyes flow. She cried only onstage when the part demanded it. She’d cried for Michael. Her beautiful fallen angel who’d still remained angelic even when he’d lost his wings. She hadn’t cried since. She might never cry again.

  “I was fighting for you. And to honor your mother’s sacrifice. I was reclaiming a home to offer you and your sister,” Ezekiel said. “And your sons.”

  “Hell? You’re offering us a home in the hell dimension?” Victoria asked.

  In spite of all she’d felt and learned about daemons, she still took a step back.

  “You’ll be safe from the Order of Samuel. Your son will be safe,” Ezekiel said. He moved several steps closer to her and her heart pounded. He was even more different than her baby’s father had been. He was obviously older and more hardened by the battles he’d fought. His eyes blazed, reddened by his aura’s light. “Michael is half daemon. The hell dimension is his home. His rightful place. As Anne’s grandchild—as my grandchild—to rule it one day will be his right,” Ezekiel said.

  It was a proclamation.

  Victoria sank down onto the steps her daemon bargain wouldn’t let her climb yet. Numb horror froze her even more irrevocably than her deal with the devil who offered her son a mantle made of Lucifer’s wings.

  “No,” she whispered. She’d wanted freedom for her baby. Freedom from the Order of Samuel. Freedom from their stalking darkness. And now this. Darkness personified come to swallow them with Brimstone’s fire. This was worse than affinity. Worse than evil monks. This was alien violence and awful responsibility. Blood, revolution and death.

  “He’s growing, and the Burn will soon be upon him. The Brimstone spark is already in his blood, but it will ignite before his third birthday. It could happen any day now. It would be better for him to be among daemons when the Burn occurs,” Ezekiel warned. “We can help him contain the fire and learn to control it. His father might have helped him if he hadn’t died, but a human will never be able to withstand the heat.”

  “Sybil is with him. She’s very old. She can help him when this Burn takes place,” Victoria said, but her body had turned to stone. A mother’s love was no match for what challenges her half daemon son would have to face. More than she’d ever realized.

  “Yes. I won’t lie to you. Sybil is experienced in these matters. She probably stays with the child to watch and wait for the Burn. She would know that he shouldn’t be without a daemon’s support when it claims him. His blood will literally be flame in his veins,” Ezekiel said. “But he would be safer in hell. From those that threaten him from without and from the blood that threatens him from within.”

  “His safety is my concern. My responsibility. I trust Sybil. She would have told me if we needed to ask you for help,” Victoria said. But deep down, she wondered if the stoic Sybil would have voiced her concerns if she had them. “I’m done talking. I want you to leave now,” Victoria said. She dragged herself to her feet, burdened with even greater purpose. Now she was working on an even t
ighter deadline. The full moon loomed ahead of them, but so did this mysterious Burn her son had to face.

  Ezekiel’s eyes had faded. They no longer glowed red. His aura was softened back to an ember glow. Like soothing firelight. She wasn’t fooled. He could probably protect them from the Order if they went with him to hell, but she was determined to protect Michael herself. Here, on Earth.

  “I would like you to leave us as well. This intrusion is not part of our bargain, daemon king,” Adam came down the stairs as he spoke in a formal cadence she’d never heard him use before. He carried no flashlight. He boldly came down into the cellar’s semidarkness as if he knew the way.

  “The price of your freedom was service, Adam Turov. Do not stand between me and my grandson now,” Ezekiel warned.

  Victoria stood between the daemon king and the vineyard’s master. She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. Adam’s presence was already warming away her former chill. Neither of them was her ally, but she knew who she would leap to aid if there was a fight.

  Ezekiel noticed.

  The daemon king’s eyes narrowed at her sudden defensive positioning. A faint red glow began again in his flickering irises. He looked from her to the daemon-marked man behind her. The man he’d marked himself long ago.

  “Our bargain has not ended, daughter. We will speak again. This conversation isn’t over. You will listen as you’ve promised and I’ll decide if our discussion should continue in hell,” Ezekiel said.

  Never trust a daemon. Their bargains can’t be broken. Their wiles can’t be bested.

  She’d known this her entire life. Why had she allowed the daemon king to trick her into a bargain that might condemn her son to a childhood in an alien realm? The bargain she’d made was open-ended. She’d promised to listen to whatever he had to say even though daemons were preternaturally persuasive. She hadn’t considered all the ramifications such as where the conversation would continue or for how long. She hadn’t considered he might offer a throne in hell in exchange for her attention.

  “There’s no need for that drastic measure. I’m here. I serve you. I’ll protect your grandson and your daughter,” Adam said. He proclaimed it. He was trying to make a deal in her place. Victoria’s breath froze in her lungs and she reached to grab Adam’s arm.

  But no pause came. The universe continued around them. Dust motes floated and fell. Ezekiel didn’t accept Adam’s offer.

  The daemon king stepped forward. One pace. Then another. He was taller and harder than Adam, but the man who pulled from her hand to stand in front of her didn’t flinch or cringe. He stood against a near immortal who was fully fueled by Brimstone. Not just a hint or a mark, but a furnace of hell’s flame. Adam was tall and strong and honed by years of sacrifice and battle, but even with the daemon mark of Brimstone in his blood, he was only a man.

  And yet he stood.

  “I will talk with you again. But you of all beings must recognize the importance of autonomy. I won’t be forced. I must decide for myself,” Victoria said.

  “And Michael?” Ezekiel asked. “Will he be allowed to choose?”

  “He must have choices. Yes. When he’s older he’ll be free to choose. But, for now, I choose safety for him. And light. All the light I never had,” Victoria said.

  “I will give you time before we speak again,” Ezekiel said. “But I will also give you a warning that I am king. Do not try my patience or my resolve to keep you both safe, in darkness and in light.”

  Adam reached for her without breaking eye contact with the daemon king. He pulled her up the stairs. They backed away from Ezekiel as if it wasn’t a good idea to turn their backs. He watched them go, but he didn’t follow. He did release the damper on his Brimstone burn and Victoria’s affinity was seared by the passionate emotions he’d held in check. The care and concern of a daemon king stepgrandfather was another danger to Michael she hadn’t known she’d have to face.

  What would he do if she not only refused to follow him to hell, but aided and abetted the very Council who threatened to take his kingdom from him before he could bequeath it to her son?

  * * *

  Her focus was entirely on the daemon king behind her so she failed to read the burn coming off the man beside her. As Adam closed the cellar door, she continued to move away until they were several feet apart. Door closed. Feet planted. Face fully illuminated by the sun, and Victoria still stared at the cellar as if the giant Mephistopheles from Faust would burst out of it to devour them.

  “Does he often just appear like that...without fanfare or warning?” she asked.

  “He goes and comes as he pleases. He’s a king. A daemon king. And you struck a bargain with him,” Adam said.

  His voice was very quiet. Too quiet. And crisp. His accent was as crisp and frigid as mountain snow. Yet she suddenly distinguished his fire from Ezekiel’s as the daemon king’s burn inexplicably faded away.

  Adam Turov was furious. Around the edges of his vivid blue eyes a hint of red had begun to glow.

  “You as well. He’s the daemon that holds your soul. You serve the daemon king,” Victoria said.

  “Yes. I do. And I wouldn’t have recommended it if you’d asked. If you’d listened to my warning and stayed with me this wouldn’t have happened. I told you it wasn’t safe for you to be alone,” Adam said.

  There was nothing safe about being forced to stay near him either. But she didn’t want to bring up her hunger for his taste and touch.

  “Our agreement is prisoners supplied once a month. He was here weeks early because of you,” Adam said. “You can’t hide from a daemon. You of all people. And once they find you they trick and trap. It’s what they do. You, who have been ensnared your whole life, certainly know what that means,” Adam continued.

  He pressed both hands into his already mussed hair. That’s when she really noticed how he’d come to find her. He’d thrown on his singed pants from last night and a stray oxford he hadn’t bothered to button. His movements revealed his lean muscled chest and taut abdomen.

  He was also barefoot. Better to focus on his feet rather than how badly she wanted to nuzzle his stomach the way he’d nuzzled hers.

  “You know who I am,” Victoria said.

  “I basically work for your stepfather,” Adam said. “I’ve served the daemon king for a hundred years, give or take. At some point, you and I were bound to run into each other.”

  Victoria looked hard at the rumpled and raw man whose anger over her agreement with Ezekiel could only be rooted in his concern for her. And still she tried to hold on to whatever was left of her disguise. She was a horrible spy, but the stolen keys were still in her possession.

  “I came for a vacation. I had no idea it would lead to my son being offered the throne to hell,” she said.

  “Only a vacation,” Adam said. His eyes had gone back to pure blue. He approached her and she didn’t back away. The firebird keys were crammed into her back pocket and covered by the tail of her sweater.

  Adam hadn’t seen her unlock the door. He might think Ezekiel had opened it to lure her inside. She could still fulfill her mission. In fact, Ezekiel’s threat might give her cover by distracting Adam from her intentions.

  He stopped just inches from her. The heat of his body was close enough to make hers hum. She held her breath. He raised his hand to touch her face, and she met his gaze, even though it was a mistake. Suddenly, he was neither warrior, sophisticated business owner nor vintner but an inseparable blend of all three.

  She couldn’t see the winglike scars on his back, but she knew they were there. It changed her perception of him. She saw the memory of that pain in his eyes.

  “I don’t think you’ve vacationed a day in your life, Ms. D’Arcy. You don’t have a restful bone in your body. You are emotion and movement and always poised on the verge of flight. I
find myself needing to touch you just to confirm that you’re here with me on the ground. And when my touch causes you to forget about flying away? That’s when I taste heaven,” Adam said.

  He caressed her cheek, lightly, barely touching her skin with the pads of his fingers. The heat flared in her cheek and elsewhere at his allusion to the night before. A wicked smile tilted one corner of his sculpted mouth as he noticed her reaction with an intensity that had her expecting him to take up where they’d left off. Right here in the garden. Her knees turned to liquid and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t exhale. They stood without moving except for his fingers, which traced from her cheek down to her parted lips. When he lightly teased across her bottom lip with his thumb, she finally exhaled in a quivering rush. He watched her reaction.

  “We both need a vacation. A reprieve. Can you imagine the sabbatical we would make together?” he whispered.

  She thought he’d replace his thumb with a kiss, but he stepped back instead. The sudden chill was torturous. Lonely and cold. Reality settled back onto her skin.

  “A Rogue daemon. A daemon king. The Order of Samuel. And that’s only the first weeks of your getaway. It isn’t safe for you to be alone. The cottage has several rooms. I’ll move in to one of them for the remainder of your stay,” Adam said.

  She couldn’t argue. It made perfect sense. He was a warrior. She was a singer. She would be happy to have his protection if she wasn’t trying to discover and sabotage his secret prison and outmaneuver an overbearing daemon king.

  She was doomed.

  Chapter 12

  Sybil sat in front of the computer screen in a beach cottage all the way across the country in Connecticut. Victoria had already spoken to Michael as long as his toddler interest would allow and she could now hear him playing with his cars in the background. Every now and then a “Move, Gim!” could be heard as the hellhound apparently got in the way. With his massive body materialized, there would be little space for him in the cottage’s living room.