by J. L. Weil
Hooking a left on Royal Street, I kept getting distracted by all the shops and spicy smells drifting out onto the road, inviting me in, so it took me twice as long to locate Mom’s building. I was absolutely taken with the French Quarter of New Orleans, and my credit card was singing at me from inside my bag. Not to mention, my stomach was growling. The flight had been two and a half hours, which meant the little snack pack of cookies served on the plane was the only thing I’d eaten all day.
I checked the time on my phone and sauntered into one of the cafes to grab something quick to eat. The devil only knew if my mother had any food at her place. She was a demon, after all, who didn’t have quite the same nutritional needs humans did—souls were her main source of diet, and she had many ways to obtain a human’s life source outside of the bedroom. Striking a deal with a demon was often more harmful than having sex with one—unless you got her pregnant, of course, but that was a rarity.
Mom lived in a quaint apartment in one of the oldest neighborhoods in New Orleans, right above a gift shop. The buildings in the area were interesting, many with Spanish influences. Local artists and their work lined along the roads, hunging on fences in a beautiful display of traditions and emotion.
With my toasted bourbon croissant in hand, I counted down the street numbers until I was standing in front of a gray brick building, chewing on my last bite of heaven. Lush green ferns hung along the second story balcony that overlooked the bustling streets below. After licking the crumbs from my lips, I smoothed a layer of lip gloss over my lips and pushed through the back door that led to the stairwell.
Inside the building, I passed a brick courtyard with a small pool framed by ornate potted plants. A row of lounge chairs sat under a cluster of full trees, offering both sun and shade. The scents of chlorine and suntan lotion blew in the air, and I was glad I remembered to pack a swimsuit.
A minute later, I was staring at a white-painted door with her apartment number on it—3A. I chewed on my lower lip, shifting the strap on my bag higher up my shoulder as I lifted my hand. My closed fingers paused.
Informing Dad about my travel plans had not been easy. He assured me that he understood, knew it was something I had to do, but letting his little girl stay with her demon mother wasn’t an easy task for my father. He would worry, even with my promise to call him daily. Chloe had cried and hugged me, a fairly normal reaction from my stepmom.
Chase, unlike my cool and collected father, had no problems telling me exactly how he felt about my plan to see my mother.
Are you fucking insane? What the hell for?
Those had been his exact words.
His wardrobe might only be black and white with an occasional gray, but my cousin was colorful in other ways. His love. His language. And honesty. No lies or deceit, when it came to Chase. Unlike another demon I knew.
Ashor and Chase couldn’t be any more different, and yet, they were all too similar, which was probably why the two would never get along. Ever.
The only person I hadn’t told of my impromptu trip was my mother. Possibly not the smartest plan, but I had checked to make sure she was in town before booking my flight and not off gallivanting in Hell or in Europe. With Mom, you never knew what she was up to or who she currently had in her bed.
This should be fun.
I exhaled, rapping my knuckles on the door, and I took a step back, waiting. A few seconds later, the rustling of movement and bare footsteps padding over the floor seeped from inside the apartment.
She flung open the door and leaned a shoulder against the doorway. The flicker of shock in her crimson eyes was quickly hidden with a sultry smirk. “Well, isn’t this a surprise. What brings you to New Orleans, ma cherie?”
I dropped my bag on the floor. “I thought it was time for some mother-daughter bonding.”
“Hmm. You don’t say.” Her lips twitched in a way that implied she knew I was lying, and yet she didn’t press the matter but swung the door open and gave a sweeping gesture with her arm. “Make yourself at home.” Dressed in flowy cotton shorts that were cut short and a simple white tank top cropped to show off her midriff, she looked like a hippie. Nothing about this woman screamed demon, but that was part of the allure. All sex. Her long champagne-colored hair was tousled, as if she just strolled down the beach or woken up from a romp between the sheets. I sooo didn’t want to think about that and peeked over her shoulder to see if anyone else was inside.
I rolled my luggage into the main living area of the apartment, taking in what sort of place Mom lived in. I’d only met my mother for the first time after I started college. Things between us weren’t roses and rays of sunshine. And it was all kinds of awkward being here.
She sauntered off into the kitchen while I looked around. “Just how long will you be staying?” she asked as I heard her opening the cabinet. “Not that I’m complaining. I never thought you and I would ever be under the same roof.”
The floors were a rich bamboo decorated with cream-colored woven rugs. Delicate white curtains danced at the open windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, letting in a soft stream of sunlight into the room. “I’m not sure yet. I hope it’s okay that I just showed up.”
Water ran from the tap. “I’m guessing this surprise trip is more than wanting to spend time with your mother dearest. I heard whispers of your recent visit to the Court of Darkness and a certain prince….”
I continued my exploration, running my fingers over the arm of a white couch. All the walls were painted white as well and were decorated with what looked like local art and hand-knitted macramé. Everything in the place could have been purchased from Free People or Urban Outfitters. When did Mom become so boho chic? “What did you hear?” I asked, my stomach muscles tightening at the mention of Ashor.
Carrying two glasses of tea, she strolled back into the room and offered me one. “Oh, this and that.”
“Kira,” I growled. It was difficult to call her mom to her face. She hadn’t yet earned the privilege.
“So, I’m right. He is why you're here.”
“And if he is…?” I countered, taking the glass into my hand as I studied her reaction.
My mother’s features were cool, not giving away much emotion, just like a typical demon. She sat on the couch, crossing her legs as she got comfortable, a hint of a smile playing over her lips. “I want to hear all about it.”
Kira’s crossed leg tapped in the air, her glass of sweet tea half gone. Demons could fake eating and drinking in situations to blend in, but it wasn’t required for them to live in the mortal world. “So, my only daughter gave her soul to a demon. How very paradoxical that I disobeyed my queen and court to smuggle you out of Hell, only for you to tie yourself for eternity to a higher demon’s son—a prince at that.”
Yeah. I got it. Fate was a twisted son of a bitch, but it wasn’t like I planned to be abducted by the Wild Hunt. “I didn’t give him my soul. He tricked me.” From my position on the couch, I had a view of the sliding glass door, which led out to the balcony. It was open, and the warm breeze fluttered into the apartment, carrying traces of magnolia.
“Did he?” She cocked a disbelieving brow. “Did he also trick you into wearing his crown? It does look good on you, by the way.”
So I’d been told. Normally, wearing a glittery crown would so be my thing, but this crown wasn't just a pretty piece of decoration for my head. It served a purpose. Multiple purposes. “You can see it?”
“Hmm. I’m a demon,” she replied, as if it should have been obvious to me.
Nothing was obvious anymore. “Oh. How am I able to see it then?”
“You’re his mate. In essence, what’s yours is his and what's his is yours. A bond such as yours is formed deep within our cores, to the soul, to the heart, to the bones of our body. He might have tricked you into the underworld, but no game or lie could have bonded your soul to his. The essence of your soul recognized his as its match.”
“It doesn’t really matter how it h
appened now. What’s done is done.”
Her lips pressed together as if she was trying to hide a smirk. I didn’t know what it was about this situation she found so amusing, but I found her humor irksome. “As far as princes are considered, you could have done worse.”
I set down my barely touched glass of tea on the coffee table. “Good to know, but I didn’t come here looking for approval or to discuss Ashor’s limited redeeming traits, but a solution.”
“You haven’t told me what it is you are looking for. If you’re here to sever the link between your souls, I might know of such things, but it comes with a very steep price, one I am not sure you are willing to pay.”
“Why does everyone always assume I want to break the bond?” I mumbled, another crescendo of panic gripping my chest.
Kira arched a brow, the corners of her lips twisting. “You like him. The prince got under your skin, and that’s what made you jump on a plane to seek out me for help, the last person in the world you would ever ask.”
I scowled. “You are the last person, but you are also one of the few demons who isn’t trying to kill me.”
“And who you aren’t hunting,” she added.
There was that. “Will you help me?” I asked, keeping all desperation out of my tone.
Silence rippled between us, her eyes searching my face. “You haven’t told me why you need a demon’s help. Don’t tell me you want to go back to the Court of Darkness; only a fool would—”
“He is going to do something stupid,” I blurted, not all that receptive to being called a fool. It had been a long day, and the journey here, however short, was starting to wear on me and my patience.
She stared at me as if I’d grown a pair of horns. “And?”
Dealing with demons was more frustrating than the mall on Black Friday. Why had I thought this was a good idea? I should grab my bags and get on the next flight back to Chicago. “I have to stop him,” I said like it was the most obvious answer to the stupidest question I’d ever heard.
“Why, exactly? The Prince of Darkness is more than capable of taking care of himself—and you, apparently, seeing as he got you out of the underworld. That is no small feat. And what makes you think he is going to do something rash?”
A scowl crossed my lips. She didn’t have to tell me of Ashor’s sacrifice. Thanks to our connection, I knew all too well the payment for such deception. How much did I trust her? She had helped Chase once, many years ago when Angel was in trouble, but I was uncertain how much information I could reveal without jeopardizing everything. She was my mother, but that was of little importance to demons. She had no loyalty to me, had no reason to help me or keep my secrets. “Because the queen is torturing him because of me,” I retorted. Because I need him to tell me what was going on with me!
She gave a slight, who-cares shrug. “The Courts of Hell have their own rules, and the Queen of Darkness is not known to be a merciful ruler.”
“No shit,” I muttered. “I can’t stand by and do nothing. I owe it to him.”
Flecks of red spun into the center of her eyes, showing for the first time an emotion other than amused. “You owe him nothing,” she said with stone-cold seriousness.
The sudden change in the air took me aback. “Maybe I don’t, but the moment his soul became entangled with mine, so did his life and what happens to him. I won’t get a moment of peace with his mother torturing him.”
“I see your point. I assume your connection has manifested itself somehow for you in the mortal world.”
These mother-daughter talks were so helpful. “It has. Can you help me or not?” I wasn’t ready to divulge my newly acquired ability or the dreams.
She thought about it for a long moment of silence, leaving me dangling on the edge of my seat while I waited for her to give me an answer. My knee bounced impatiently, and I was about to ask her again when she said, “What do you have in mind?”
A rush of air expelled from my lungs, loosening the strain that had formed in my chest. “I want to break him out of the underworld.”
She chuckled, a soft, husky sound. “That’s a joke, right? Kidnap a prince?”
“I wish.”
Her wavy champagne-colored hair shook with the movement of her head. “Such poetic justice. How can I say no? It will cost you though.” A gleam lit in her eyes, smoldering in gold and crimson.
So much for thinking being her daughter would earn me a favor. “You want me to make a deal with you? Are you kidding?”
She gave me a meaningful look. “It is the only way I can offer you my help. There are rules.”
Shit. I was so going to regret this. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
7
Kira didn’t insist we strike our demon bargain right then and there but suggested I take the night to think on it and rest after the trip. She didn’t have to ask me twice. I was in no hurry to seal our deal with a blood oath.
She took me to dinner and showed me around the French Quarter before returning me to the apartment and heading back out to work. I didn’t ask what or who her job was tonight. Some unfortunate guy or girl would lose pieces of their soul. Mom didn’t discriminate. Honestly, I didn’t want to know. The less I understood about her employment with Hell, the less guilt I would feel.
So I told myself.
And yet, it didn’t keep me from being restless.
Alone, I wandered the apartment, lugging my bags upstairs to the second floor where two bedrooms were, each with their own bathroom. I hooked a left into the spare room Kira had instructed I could sleep in. She had also told me I could stay for as long as I needed. I didn’t doubt that my mother would try to drag out our little deal in the guise of trying to spend time with me. It was hard to admit that I had actually enjoyed myself this evening. For so long, I hated my mother, hated everything she stood for. That deep hate didn’t just go away, and it would take more than a dinner to patch things up between us. If that was even possible.
We’d made progress over the last few years. I no longer dreamed of running a blade through her heart.
I made quick use of the bathroom and then changed into some comfy clothes. After I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I stared into the mirror, willing, pleading, and damn near crying for a glimpse of Ashor. I didn’t know how long I stood there staring at my own reflection. It could have been five minutes or five hours, but I was reluctant to leave. It was the ringing of my phone that finally pulled me reluctantly away, the rich food I’d eaten at dinner churning in my stomach.
When I reentered the bedroom, jazz music drifted in from the open windows, filling the apartment with heart and soul. Exposed beams lined the pitched ceilings, adding height and old-world charm to the room. I went to the bed and plucked up my phone, reading the text from Chase.
You kill her yet?
My lips twitched. And if I did?
He responded, I’d say about damn time. Angel wanted to make sure you got there okay.
I’m fine. Mommy is teaching me all the tricks and tips of being a succubus. I couldn’t help but tease him.
A minute later he replied with, That better be a joke unless you want my face to be the first thing you see when you wake up tomorrow.
I rolled my eyes, flipping my blonde braid off my shoulder. Not even you can run here that fast.
Is that a challenge?
Hell, no. Now go bug your wife and leave me in peace.
Be safe, cousin, he sent back.
Always.
The phone was silent for a few moments as I lay on the bed listening to the sounds outside in the street below. But then my phone buzzed again. Another message from Chase. If I don’t hear from you at least once every day, I’ll assume the worst and come looking for you. You’ve been warned.
I shook my head, sending him a quick message. Okay, stalker.
Throwing my phone onto its charger, I peeled back the blankets and snuggled up onto a pillow. I lay in the soft bed, my thoughts racing from Ashor to Kira and the impendin
g blood oath. Was I making a mistake? Was Ashor worth whatever price my mother would request? It wasn’t just him at stake. I had to do this for Angel, and to protect my cousin-in-law, I needed Ashor. He was the only one with the knowledge and power capable of stopping the queen.
It took time, but I eventually tumbled into a heavy sleep with the hope that if I hadn’t been able to see his reflection, then maybe, just maybe he would be in my dreams.
It was pathetic and bittersweet. I was hungry for any form of contact with the prince, but the only way to achieve that connection was through a nightmare of misery and darkness.
This time, Ashor wasn’t shackled to the dungeon walls or imprisoned in a cell of darkness. There were no rats scuttling in the corners, no creatures lurking in the shadows. His wrists weren’t cut and bleeding, his body wasn’t mangled. He wasn’t a prisoner at all.
The prince was riding on Treachery, galloping through endless plains, dark hair whipped againstt his face by the wind. Treachery’s hooves pounded into the earth, shooting fiery embers into the dust.
Why wasn’t he flying or moving through the shadows? He was capable of both. Where was going in such a hurry?
Through his eyes, I watched the underworld blur past. He rode alone and with such haste that I could only assume where he was headed was of utmost importance. At least to him. I, on the other hand, didn't know what to make of this dream.
As he approached a ravine, a sickening feeling wrenched in my gut. I’d never seen the Court of Envy or the River Styx, the most famous river in the underworld, but every bone in my body was telling me that was where Ashor was headed, to fulfill his own blood oath to his mother.
In one sweeping motion, he jumped off Treachery, standing at the cusp of the ravine. Black wings sprouted from his back. I couldn’t see the change, but I felt it—raw power exploded through him.
Thunder cracked overhead, a display of anger and dominance, and when the flash of light faded, so did Ashor. Swallowed by darkness, the prince raced toward a speck of light. Like an arrow singing through the air, wind and chaos rushed over his face before he burst out of the night and into the day.
