House of Ash & Brimstone

by Megan Starks

  Demons of all colors and breeds sneered or leaned together and muttered as they passed. Some were the exemplar of human appearance, as lithe and beautiful as elves, while others were more mixed or animalistic: taller, shorter, hairier, clawed and hooved, with wings or tails. All were dressed in their finest eveningwear, and all were eying them murderously.

  “You sure this is a good idea?” she asked, feeling naked despite her many weapons.

  “End is not much farther,” Beast said, close behind her.

  She expected Shade to offer his own reassurance, but he kept silent as he stared ahead.

  He’d shut everything out, her included.

  Did he really think the others were just going to let them cut in?

  A lanky man with a face elongated like a bird’s beak clucked at them as they neared his spot in the middle of the line. He stepped forward to confront them, coal eyes focused on Shade, but a woman with gossamer, opalescent wings that sheened like melting frost grabbed his arm, halting him mid-stride. She touched her plum lips to his ear, pale eyes watching them as she stage-whispered loud enough even Gisele could hear.

  “Corvus, don’t. Can’t you see that’s Eden’s Torment?”

  The beaked man balked, making a sound halfway between a chortle and a squawk. His pointed lips peeled back to reveal a row of unsettlingly tiny, sharp teeth. “The Sixth Gate’s Talon-Blade? Can’t be. Rumors said—”

  “Disappeared don’t mean dead. If he’s here, you don’t want to be why,” the woman said, breaking from her friend to merge again with the line, shielding herself from view.

  The demon paled, wilting on the spot. With a final, fearful twitch of his lips, he pivoted and followed his friend.

  If Shade heard the exchange, he didn’t let on, tugging her along as if nothing had happened. Here in a situation she couldn’t begin to understand, he looked utterly indifferent to their surroundings—and deadly.

  He’d worried about her drawing unwanted attention, but he was the one who stood out.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?” Gisele asked, but Shade only squeezed her hand tighter.

  Okay, he wasn’t in the mood to explain. She could trust him. For now. Heavy hoof-fall clunked on the asphalt, reminding her with some relief that Beast had her back. Her boys wouldn’t lead her into danger, right? At least, not if they could help it.

  Besides, they were the ones who’d followed her into Hell in the first place. Shade was only doing this to look out for her.

  They walked on, and the waiting demons bristled and glowered. Some shouted threats or made obscene gestures, but not one made a move to stop them.

  The only time Shade even cocked his head was when one of the demons yelled something vulgar about her. But Beast stepped between them and the line, blocking her from view, and Shade continued on, pulling her closer to him.

  At length, they reached the door to the building, taking their place in front of the others. A gaggle of what she could only guess were vampires smiled to show their fangs, but moved back to allow them space.

  “After you,” one teased with a flourish of her gloved hand.

  Gisele nodded her thanks, feeling underdressed and over-weaponed.

  “Impeccable timing,” the vampire observed. “Security is mid-shift change. But clearly you accounted for that, yes?”

  “If you were really as sharp as your fangs,” Shade grunted, edging Gisele in front of him, “you’d shut your mouth and walk away.” He cast a cold glance at the prying vampire, and two of her friends snaked their hands up her arms, whispering for her to “leave the Torment be.”

  With an angry flick of her tongue, she turned away.

  Of course, she was right. They’d made it. But there was no bouncer to let them in—or tell them to get to the back of the line. A single chair sat empty next to the closed, solid metal front door.

  It was just as Shade and Beast had planned.

  They’d skipped to the front at just the right time to get away with it, and no one had opposed them.

  She turned to Shade.

  “They know you,” Gisele said. What she’d wanted to say was, they fear you. Should I?

  He shot her a sideways glance. His presence felt stiff at her side.

  He was quiet long enough she thought he wouldn’t answer before he admitted, “I wasn’t always kept in a cage. Not after the first three years, anyway. Eventually, Rhogan used me like any of his other tools.”

  “Used you to do what?”

  “Things you don’t want to know about.”

  Things that made people associate him with killing and pain?

  His thumb brushed over top of hers, rubbing little reassuring circles. He was asking her to understand him, to forgive his past without knowing the details, but she couldn’t stop herself from pressing further.

  If she was going to be with him, she had to know.

  “Because you didn’t have a choice?”

  He pulled his hand free to rake it through his disheveled hair. “There’s always a choice,” he said, refusing to make excuses for himself.

  “Most would consider own death to be poor choice,” Beast stated pointedly.

  “Yeah, well, maybe that’s why I didn’t choose it.”

  “You hurt people.” She frowned. You’re not a good guy.

  She didn’t know why it weighed on her now. It was something she’d known on some level all along. And she understood, as Beast did, that unless he’d wanted to die or suffer worse himself, Shade had no choice in the matter. He couldn’t resist Rhogan’s command as long as he was her brother’s soul-bound.

  And surely the things he did bothered him, otherwise her aunt wouldn’t have forced such a phrase on him as part of their contract. To make him admit what he was anytime he tried to speak the truth? Aunt Felicitisia liked tormenting others, of this Gisele was sure, memories missing from her childhood or not.

  “Still want to hear it? Everything I’ve done?” His claws cut into his palms as he waited, rigid, looking like he was braced for a whipping.

  He expected her to order the information from him.

  Beast snorted as if he already knew it all. And maybe he did.

  “No,” she answered. “You were right, I don’t need to know.”

  He flushed and looked away.

  “It’s not important,” she amended. “The only thing that matters from here out is getting rid of your marks. I’ll kill my brother to free you if I have to.”

  Shaking his head, Shade ground his teeth. “You have no idea what—”

  “Continue later,” Beast interrupted, as the solid steel front door to The Fucking Goat swung open with a bang.

  As Gisele peered into the darkness, she wondered how different the interior would be from the place she’d previously known.

  The bouncer who clomped out looked like she bench-pressed cars in her spare time. Gisele craned her neck, lips parted in surprise.

  The caramel-colored minotaur had bulging, veiny biceps, a brass ring through each tapered ear, and four breasts, held back in crisscrossing suede and leather slings. She gave Gisele a cursory glance before sweeping her umber, side-slitted gaze to Beast and then Shade.

  “Ashbern Shaderoth.” She grinned, voice strangely pleasant as it cracked through the air.

  Gisele’s brows raised. Wait. ‘Shade’ was a part of his last name? She’d thought he’d made it up. And if this bouncer knew…why hadn’t he told her?

  “Rumble.” Shade nodded in return.

  “Funny. Argus didn’t warn Rumble that dangerous guests were here,” the minotaur mused. She snorted, giving Shade a pointed look.

  “Haven’t met Argus,” Shade replied with a shrug. “Didn’t feel like introducing myself.”

  “Mhmm. Can’t wonder why.” The minotaur scratched beefy, calloused fingers through her white-blond mane. Unlike Beast, she didn’t have any horns. But she didn’t need them to look intimidating. She was huge—at least a foot taller than Beast, heavier, and just as wi
de. “Have had change of management,” she boomed. “No bloodshed inside. No jobs. No weapons.”

  Shade rewarded her with a charming smile. “Just came to talk.”

  The minotaur chuffed. “Club is for drinking and fucking, not talking.”

  “Then we’ll do that, too.”

  “Like hell we will,” Gisele said.

  Shade laced his fingers through the back of her hair and gave a little tug to shut her up. “They’re with me.”

  Rumble grunted, eying Gisele like she might snap her in two. “Is puny.” There was an amused set to the minotaur’s face. “Not Shade’s usual type.”

  Sulking, Gisele crossed her arms over her chest. What the hell did that mean?

  The bouncer’s gaze slid behind Gisele to Beast. The two minotaurs stared each other down.

  Then Beast chuffed and offered Rumble a boyish smile. She snorted at him, clacking her teeth with approval.

  “What happened to horn?” Rumble asked, head tilted curiously.

  Beast sniffed and scuffed his hoof on the pavement. “Hunters.”

  Her pale pink nostrils flared. At last, she nodded. “Shade and with-Shade can come inside. But check weapons in lobby. Also, change clothes or get naked.” She grinned, braying teasingly for Beast as he passed her by.

  “Lucifer save me from minotaurs and their humor,” Gisele complained once they were inside the dimly lit lobby.

  The space was small, a splash of obsidian flooring and black velvet drapes.

  Beast chuffed again, laughing as Gisele peeled out of her weapons. She exchanged them with the attendant at the coat check for a ticket stub. Cute. They were treating her twin babies like a cheap pea coat.

  “Well?” she asked Shade.

  She hadn’t stripped, but she felt naked without her pistols. The banged-up, demonic sword she hadn’t felt too torn up about leaving behind, until it had rattled violently in its scabbard as she passed it over the counter. It hadn’t liked leaving her. Or maybe it just hadn’t wanted to be abandoned. She wondered if the cleaver had felt lonely, jostled about in the trunk of her car. When was the last time it had been fed?

  She rubbed her face to disperse the disturbing thoughts. It wasn’t a pet, for Satan’s sake.

  “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Shade said.

  She started, thinking he’d somehow sensed the direction of her thoughts, until she realized he was referring to her appearance.

  “You look hot,” he added.

  Shade had checked his weapons and holsters as well. All but the sheath at his lower back, strapped to his belt. He’d ripped off the remains of his tattered shirt.

  He looked more than hot. He looked like sex incarnate, like a statue of a dark demi-god come to life. If her mouth wasn’t so dry, she was sure it’d be watering at the sight of his lean abs.

  Wearing nothing but black leather pants and boots suited him ridiculously well, and she imagined he often stalked about Hell in such a state with his wings out.

  The others had called him Eden’s Torment, but in her eyes he seemed more like Eden’s apple. Just tempting her to take a big, juicy bite.

  He caught her staring and smirked, offering her the crook of his arm as a mock-gentlemanly escort. She might have believed him to have chivalrous intentions, her dragon knight, but his cockiness ruined the effect. That, and the fact that he was leading her into a demonic sex club.

  “This way, princess. That’s right, cling to me.”

  He grinned, and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

  They passed through the thick, velvet drapery and entered the bedlam of the interior sanctum. Instantly, Gisele was hit by the uproar of the place, the din of voices, tobacco smoke, moans and screams, honeyed incense, liquor, thumping music, and jumbled, writhing bodies.

  Shade’s lips touched her ear, his low murmur more of a vibration than a discernable sound. “Don’t leave my side.”

  She flinched, tensing. Raucous and roughhewn, the place was nothing like she’d imagined. Gauzy, black drapes trailed from exposed, wooden support beams, caressing gritty, industrial brick walls. The floor was a dark, lacquered wood, and there were three bars, one serving drinks and two serving selections of the more sensual, caged variety.

  Slaves for purchase.

  A man with poisoned-apple green eyes and scars winding his torso gnashed his fangs at her, looking like he could snap her in two even from behind the bars, and she did a sweep of the room, marking the exits into memory.

  Shade nudged her forward, and together they merged into the undulating sea. It wasn’t the most claustrophobic she’d ever felt—hiding in a cold-storage corpse container came to mind—but she could barely breathe, let alone see, as they cut through the tangled dance floor toward the drink bar.

  At least, she hoped they were headed to the drink bar. She glanced back to ensure Beast was behind them, watching his pale, uncut horn bob in the distant darkness and thinking they should’ve sent him first to carve them a hole.

  Some of the patrons surrounding her were dressed in suits and gowns. Some had stripped only to their neckties or heels, glasses or gold chains, while most strutted around completely bare and glistening with sweat and other fluids she didn’t care to think about. Occasionally, they passed a woman moaning and bound to a pole, a man being whipped, or a couple fucking on a table.

  In the midst of it all, loose contracts and proposal pages were being passed around—business deals were going down.

  Demons.

  Finally, blissfully, they reached the bar, and Gisele slammed her hand down for a drink. Shade angled himself behind her, pressing the length of his body against hers as he shielded her from the crowd. He leaned in, trapping her against the glossed wood of the bar as he snagged the bartender’s attention, and slipped an arm around her waist. Nipping the edge of her ear, he huffed a teasing breath against her skin. She blushed, heat spreading upward from the V of her shirt.

  “Three Jack and Cokes,” he ordered.

  The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Your tab was closed out,” he said.

  Shade slid a single black business card across the counter. The front of it displayed only his name. “I know. Don’t re-open it.”

  The bartender curled his fingers over the card in acceptance, and she could see tiny, silver words scrawl themselves across its length.

  When the drinks arrived, Gisele downed hers in five seconds flat. Gasping, she knocked the glass against the counter and reached for the next.

  “Pace yourself.” His lips pressed a hard line when she guzzled Beast’s as well. He slipped his drink out of her reach, ice cubes clinking.

  She twisted to face him. Their hips bumped. Close, they were much too close. And God, but she was parched. She eyed the sweat beaded on his glass. “So this is the upscale version of what the place used to be?”

  Nodding, he swung off her. “If you can believe it.”

  He took a long swig, watching her as he settled onto a rusted barstool.

  “And you used to come here…often? You used to be a patron?” She looked out into the crowd where Beast was still engulfed in his approach. Deep down she knew the answer, knew that hearing it would piss her off.

  Shade studied her profile, too stubborn to avert his gaze. “Bother you?”

  “Yes.”

  And then she pushed off into the darkness.

  25

  Where she was going, she didn’t know. The only thing that mattered was that it was away from Shade.

  He hadn’t even told her why they were here, of all places, but she suspected a link to her aunt was the primary reason. This was where she’d signed the contract—where it had all begun.

  When Marcel had requested they meet at The Fainting Goat, she’d assumed it was due to its proximity to the D.C. Hellmouth. But maybe that hadn’t been the only criteria for his selection.

  This was also somewhere Shade had been sent to do business for her brother. What was the connection with her family?


  As if conjured by her thoughts, she twisted and saw the fence, watching her from across the room.

  Marcel Haywood had found her at last.

  He rewarded her with a sultry smile before raising a drink to his lips. He sipped without breaking eye contact, simmering with unspoken desire.

  Tendrils of pulsating energy coiled around her, slipped and tickled over her legs. Without a word, she started toward him. Warm and tingling, the energy skimmed up her spine and spilled over her breasts, pearling her nipples and slicking her sex.

  Wait. She stopped, trembling, struggling to catch her breath.

  There was a reason she’d been avoiding the demon meant to be her fence. But now at the sight of him, she couldn’t remember why for the life of her.

  The sensation ebbed, then lashed her again, stronger, reeling her closer. She hadn’t been drawn to him this way before—but how was that possible? His golden hair, sun-kissed skin, and summer green eyes melted her. His half-buttoned, navy dress shirt fit so taut she couldn’t help but savor what lay underneath. He was so utterly all-American, she ached, hot down to her core.

  “I’m thirsty,” she shouted over the music when she was close enough for him to hear. The beat of the song throbbed through her, bumping her into him.

  What she’d meant to say was, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  She tried again. “My throat feels all closed up!”

  He leaned into her, letting her lips graze his ear.

  “What was that?” he asked. “You’re glad to see me?”

  He cupped her neck, thumb stroking back and forth. His touch burned her bare skin.

  Yearning swelled within her, and she groaned. Her thighs quivered. She slid her eyes shut, fighting to focus.

  This wasn’t what she’d come over for. She’d wanted to question him about her contract and where to find Felicitisia.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” Marcel said. “I knew you couldn’t hold out for much longer.”

  He tipped his face to kiss her, and she found herself responding, greedily raising her lips to his. She needed this, him. She mewled into his mouth. His tongue touched hers, hot and wet.