Demons Strike Back

by Jacey Ward

  She won’t get away with this, Circe fumed. She has terrorized the models long enough and now she thinks she can bring me down too? She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.

  When the agent had first threatened her, Circe had instantly thought she was referring to her secret as a Valkyrie. It had been stunning to the model that Analeigh was not more afraid.

  Even a psychopathic narcissist like Analeigh should have fear that Deviants walk among her.

  But it quickly became clear that it wasn’t what the bleached blonde was talking about.

  “I know all about your little stint at Vixens,” the agent hissed. “The lap dances, the ‘champagne room deals.’ Wouldn’t your fans love to know that you were a common whore before you finally got a break into modelling.”

  Circe could only gape at the wretched woman, unable to speak.

  “That was a lifetime ago!” she protested. “Who cares?”

  “Well I would say that the Girl Guides of America wouldn’t want to know that their top ambassador was a hooker,” Analeigh replied smugly and Circe steeled herself from slapping the agent’s face in the middle of the lobby. There were dozens of photographers milling about and the last thing she wanted was her revenge on tape.

  “I was never a hooker,” she gritted out menacingly. “I was an exotic dancer, yes, but I never had sex with any man while I was working.

  “Oh, you’ll see that people will believe exactly what they want to believe,” Analeigh cooed in a singsong tone. “You’ll find out how quickly they turn on you as soon as you try to find another agent. No one will touch you when the truth comes out.”

  And she means it. She’s that much of a bitch.

  Circe mustered a cold smile and shook her lustrous curls.

  “You’re going to get yours,” she promised the agent. “And when you do, I’m going to be standing here, grinning my million-dollar smile.”

  Analeigh snorted with laughter and spun to leave.

  “Go home, Circe. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “What room is Cassie in?” she demanded.

  Analeigh whirled back around and glared daggers at her once-prized client.

  “Stay away from my girls,” she spat. “I don’t want you contaminating them with your ghetto filth. I mean, you can take the girl out of South Park but you can’t take the bed bugs out of the girl, I guess.”

  Circe stared at her for a long, astonished moment.

  “You’re not our goddamn dictator, no matter how much you act like one!” Circe laughed. “You can’t keep me away from my friends.”

  Analeigh returned her frigid beam.

  “I can and I will,” she replied flatly. “If you care about your friends and you want them to continue their careers, you’ll stay the hell away from them.”

  Circe snickered,

  “And what are you going to do? Cut everyone loose?”

  “Why would I have to do that?” Analeigh replied nastily. “Why would they think about disobeying me and talking to you? What can you offer them? You flatter yourself if you think you’re that important.”

  “We’ll see,” Circe retorted. “Maybe it’s you who has your head up your ass and they will walk out on you.”

  Analeigh laughed, the sound grating on Circe’s already frayed nerves.

  “Oh well,” she replied brightly. “That’s the great thing about this business. All you wenches are dispensable.”

  Circe’s fists clenched as she sat in the back of the taxi, now driving about aimlessly, playing the conversation over and over in her mind.

  This driver was nowhere near as kind as the one who had picked her up from the airport and seemed to be getting more irritated by the second.

  “Signorina, I have been driving for an hour. Have you decided on a destination?” he asked angrily and Circe glared at him from the backseat through the rear-view mirror.

  She considered arguing with him, but she had nothing left inside her anymore.

  In less than a week, she had lost everything it seemed. Her job, her friends, even her heart.

  Goddamn you, Kalen Connor. Why did you have to enter my life and ruin everything? If you had just stayed away –

  “Signorina!”

  She was lost in thought again and she jolted her eyes back to the driver’s steely ones.

  “I heard you,” she sighed, drained. She needed to sleep and get her thoughts together. In her exhaustion, her own anger was burning itself out.

  “Well?” he demanded crossly and Circe mentally flipped him off.

  “Take me to the airport.”

  The driver groaned aloud, knowing that there was at least another forty-five minutes of driving ahead of him but Circe ignored him and sat back, closing her eyes.

  Despite her fatigue and emotional drainage, there was a dull ache inside her as she thought about how she had left things with Kalen.

  He lied to you, she reminded herself but that didn’t ease her conscious as she remembered the look of hurt and frustration on his face as she stormed away.

  But I didn’t give him a chance to explain either, she reminded herself. He deserves better than that.

  I hate Analeigh for bringing up some shitty decision I made in the past, struggling on the Sapphire Strip, and I’m judging Kalen for something he didn’t have any say in. Are you the pot or the kettle today, Circe?

  Her phone had died hours earlier and she hadn’t stopped anywhere long enough to charge it, but she vowed that when she got to the airport, she would remedy the situation and send him a message.

  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go back to New York, especially not to help him, but Circe reminded herself that capturing Uvall, no matter what the reason, was in everyone’s best interest.

  He probably replaced you the minute you walked out of the hotel, she thought. You were just a pawn to him. He’s the Corpus leader, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t care about you or anyone else.

  The taxi was slowing and Circe looked out the window, surprised to see they were nearing the airport already.

  “What terminal?” the driver asked.

  “International.”

  Circe realized he must have been driving like a lunatic to get her out of his car.

  She sat up and reached for her purse as they pulled up to the departures gate and she thrust him a few hundred euros with just an average tip.

  He swore at her but Circe ignored him as she made her way toward the American Airlines gate.

  Where am I going now? She asked herself, folding her bag over her chest as she forced her mind to decide.

  There was really only one place left to go; home.

  I’ll go home and talk to Arya about what happened, she thought reluctantly. It made her sick to admit it, but she desperately needed someone at that moment, someone who could help her makes sense of everything going on in her life.

  “May I help you?” the woman at the counter asked in Italian.

  “When is your next flight to Seattle?” she asked and waited as long fingers clacked over the keyboard seamlessly.

  “Not until tomorrow, Signorina. Eleven oh six departure.”

  “Can you check other airlines for me? I need to get out of here tonight.”

  The clerk cocked her head and peered at her face for a long moment. Suddenly, her eyes widened.

  “Are you Circe Lancaster?” she gasped and Circe wished she could just curl up on the floor and go to sleep.

  No more! She lamented silently. No more fans or pissy cab drivers or troll lords fighting with me! No more!

  She managed to plaster a tired smile on her face.

  “I am,” she replied.

  “Oh, signorina! Forgive me for not having noticed earlier I – “

  “You understand,” Circe interrupted quickly. “That I am here for Fashion Week, but I must get home tonight and return before it starts.”

  “Oh si, si, signorina! I understand! Let me see what I can do.”

  Circe waited, resisting
the urge to drum her fingers against the tabletop as she worked.

  It’s not her fault you’re grumpy as hell. Let her do her job.

  “There is a flight leaving for Seattle at nine o’clock via Delta Airlines.”

  Circe exhaled in relief.

  “Great. I’ll take a one-way ticket,” she declared and the woman looked up at her in surprise.

  “I’ll take a private jet back,” Circe lied and the agent seemed content with the answer.

  “There is a stop-over, however, for two hours,” the woman explained and Circe nodded.

  “That’s fine. As long as I get home.”

  She handed her identification and credit card to the agent and grabbed almost maniacally for the ticket when it printed.

  “Good luck, Signorina Lancaster!” the lady called after her and Circe waved without turning around.

  She had a few hours to kill but at least she knew she was getting far away from Analeigh.

  Circe bought a coffee and settled into a lounge, plugging in her cell. In minutes, it was chiming incessantly, a flurry of texts appearing in rapid succession.

  They were all from Kalen. First patient, then angry and finally hurt. Circe read each one with sadness and regret.

  I made a mistake, she realized, her heart quickening. I shouldn’t have left him like that.

  Consternation overcame her and she stared at her cell for a long moment, her thumbs poised to reply, to tell him that she was coming back for him.

  But something stopped her, as if the bias she had already formed about him was holding her back from accepting what she really wanted; to reclaim the heady sensation which had left her high and yearning for him while they were in New York.

  No, she told herself, placing the cell gently by her long legs, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  Idly, she toyed with the ticket in her hand, blinking back her uncertainty.

  I can’t make any decisions until I’m thinking more clearly, no matter how much I want to run back to him. Arya will help me.

  Blankly, she opened the envelope and gazed at the rectangle which would grant her passage to Seattle.

  It was only then that she realized that the gods had already spoken.

  The lay-over was in New York City.

  12

  There was nothing but deep silence beyond the wall as Kalen used his eyes to peer through the immensely thick concrete.

  He held a hand out to gesture at Evander.

  “There’s movement inside,” he said, turning to look at the vampire who stood alertly beside him. Kalen didn’t blame the immortal for being so tense; they were both in over their heads if Uvall and Rowan waited on the other side.

  Kalen closed his eyes and listened for thoughts. He recognized the incessant hum of trolls and he sighed.

  I guess this is a good thing; if Uvall is hiding among these backstabbing bastards, it means he’s running low on options.

  “How are we going to do this?” Evander asked, trying to maintain the stoic expression on his face.

  “Carefully,” Kalen replied. “Cautiously. We can’t take him face on but we can catch him by surprise. Do you have the box with you?”

  Visibly shuddering, Evander retrieved the square box from inside his black overcoat and handed it to Kalen.

  “I know it’s encased in lead but I swear it’s depleting me of my energy just carrying it around.”

  “It’s not,” Kalen told him flatly, sliding it open to retrieve the specially treated holy water inside. The sight of the vial caused Evander to hiss and back up and Kalen couldn’t help but laugh.

  “It can’t hurt you if it doesn’t touch you,” he reminded the vampire, but Evander shifted his eyes away as if the liquid was offensive.

  “You have more power than you know,” Evander commented.

  “Do I?”

  “If you can handle the deterrents with your bare hands, you must. What kind of demi-god created that for you?”

  The vampire took another swift step backwards. “And if you have a demi-god in your pocket, you should be ruling the whole of the Underworld in this realm,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I’m already Lord of the Corpus,” Evander reminded him. “But with Uvall gone, there’s going to be an opening. Maybe you should look into it.”

  Evander studied him with observant eyes.

  “You sell yourself short, Kalen,” he replied and again, the demon was taken aback by the profound affect the words had on him.

  “He does.”

  They spun in unison, looking around for the source of the voice, but they saw no one darkness of the tunnel.

  Still, Kalen knew the voice. It had kept his awake all night, torturing him with accusations.

  “What are you doing here, Circe?”

  “Where?” she asked coyly, and Kalen felt a breeze across his face. As his eyes adjusted, he realized she had transformed into a bird, her carotenoid eyes gleaming at him from above his face.

  “I thought you were furious with me,” Kalen muttered accusingly. “Why did you come back?”

  “The gods gave me a sign,” she replied, her tone nonchalant. “And we know we can’t ignore the gods.”

  “Some of us have,” he replied, and she snickered lightly.

  “Circe, I’m sorry – “

  “No,” she cut him off. “This is not the time for any of that. Right now, we need to conquer Uvall and get him and Rowan before Dante. That’s the deal, Kalen. We’re not doing this for the Corpus. We’re doing this for the good of the Underworld.”

  Kalen didn’t care anymore; he was just grateful that Circe had returned to him and that she was helping to bring down the demon who had maddeningly evaded capture all that time.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Of course. But Circe, it was never really about the money.”

  He had no other way to explain to her in that minute, that it was honor that Uvall had shirked.

  But if he didn’t find Uvall and make an example out of him, it would be a free-for-all on the Corpus and Kalen couldn’t allow for such a thing to happen, not when he had worked so hard to turn his empire into something other than the stagnant, decrepit kingdom his father had left him.

  “He’s in there,” Circe whispered, swooping down to collect the modified holy water with her tiny beak, but he drew his hand back instinctively, worried that the liquid would harm her.

  “Are you sure?” Evander asked, as Kalen and Circe’s eyes locked.

  “I’m sure,” she replied, gliding to perch on Kalen’s hand again. “He’s there with Rowan.”

  “How many trolls?”

  “A dozen at most.”

  Kalen nodded, his eyes still fixated on her tiny face and she hopped along his arm to watch him.

  “Give me the water,” she said. “Break down the wall and I will douse him. It will give you an opportunity to subdue him.”

  “You can’t. The water will weaken you,” Kalen replied but she shook her bird-head and made a sound akin to a laugh.

  “I’m a goddess,” she reminded him. “I can hold my own.”

  “You’re a Deviant. It will weaken you.”

  “Not as much as it will weaken Uvall. What other choice do you have?” she insisted and Evander cleared his throat.

  “She’s right, Kalen. It’s the best plan we can hope for. It will catch them off guard – “

  “We hope.”

  “Kalen, are we doing this or not?” Evander demanded, the stress in his voice apparent. “Because if we’re not – “

  “We’re doing it,” Circe said, finality in her voice. “Because he needs to be stopped and we can’t keep running around looking for him forever.”

  “We?” Kalen’s eyebrows raised and her yellow eyes brightened.

  “Yes, we,” she repeated. “Let’s do this, Kalen. We have time enough to talk about everything else later.”

  He nodded slowly, the intensity of her gaze motivating him in the best possible way.

  She�
��s got my back too.

  Inhaling, he gestured for her to go back inside the wall and wait.

  Circe held his eyes for a moment longer before rising and disappearing through the concrete.

  Without wasting another second, Kalen raised a fist, his knuckles crashing through the cement barrier with one punch.

  A roar of terrified shrieks pierced through the air and trolls dove for cover at the sight of the incensed overlord coming toward them.

  Over the din of the traitors came a much higher scream and Kalen recognized it immediately as the sound of magically altered holy water hitting immortal flesh.

  Through his peripheral vision, he saw the small body of Circe fall back, the vial falling from her beak as she shifted back into her mortal form, exhausted and depleted from handling the blessed potion.

  Every instinct made him want to run to her but Kalen knew his window of opportunity was fading.

  “Go to Circe!” he yelled to Evander before flying into the air like a jaguar and landing on his prey.

  Uvall continued to scream as Rowan tried to flee, but as Kalen closed his hands around the former demon lord’s neck, cutting off his air supply, he kicked his foot out to knock Rowan down.

  “N-n—no!” Uvall gargled, his eyes wide with horror as he realized who held him. “M-m-money, h-have!”

  “Save your breath, Uvall,” Kalen told the smothering demon. “You’re gonna need it in limbo.”

  Uvall’s eyes bulged as he realized that he was not going to be kept in chains, but rather turned over to Dante.

  “N-n-n…” he began to plead.

  Feeling Uvall go limp, Kalen reluctantly released his throat. As soon as Kalen let go, Uvall’s fist flew up with bruising force as it collided with Kalen’s chiseled jaw.

  “Shit...you’re going to regret that,” Kalen said as his eyes darkened, and he quickly rubbed his jaw before grabbing the gasping demon’s head in both hands. A vicious twist to the left, and the crack as Uvall’s spine broke was audible throughout the wrecked building. The immortal, still alive but out of commission for several hours, fell limply to the dirty floor.

  He glanced behind him where Evander and Circe were binding Rowan with twine.

  “I can help you!” Rowan cried. “You can use me!”