by E. A. Copen
For all my experience with the supernatural, I had no idea how to help her cope. Hell, I didn’t know how to get her to talk. She didn’t eat, she didn’t sleep, and without using her succubus powers to feed her magic, she grew weaker every day.
It wasn’t my job to fix her. I’d only been paid to rescue her, but in my mind, a rescue meant ensuring her safe return to a general state of acceptable normality. Nothing about her was back to normal.
“Khaleda, please.” I kept my tone gentle. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but let me bring someone else for you to talk to. Someone who will understand.”
She offered a bitter laugh. “And who’s going to understand? You know another succubus perhaps? Someone else who’s been to Hell?”
“I meant a woman. A trauma counselor, maybe.”
She sat up to offer me a sneer. “I’m not a fucking headcase, Josiah. It’s not just in my head.”
“I didn’t say you were.” I leaned back in my chair, tapped out a cigarette, and lit it while she curled up with her bottle. “You’ve got to replenish your reserves, Khaleda. If you don’t, you will eventually die.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to pay men to sleep with me, Josiah. Especially assholes like that.”
I cringed. That idiot had told her? No wonder she was pissed at me. She wasn’t supposed to find out about that. “Well, at least things are good to go for your identity documents. I’m supposed to meet Augie tomorrow. By the way, you know if you’re just waiting for a decent partner, say the word, and I’m there.”
She jumped to her feet. “Fuck you.”
“That’s the idea.”
She flipped me off with both hands before storming back to the bedroom and slamming the door hard enough that it probably woke Marv on the landing.
I sighed and leaned back in the recliner. She’d come around eventually.
When I was sure she was gone for good, I moved to the sofa and got out my laptop. Danny Monahan. Christ, eighteen years and I’d barely thought of him. Once, we’d been inseparable, bound by a shared love of pushing the boundaries of our magic. How many lazy teenage afternoons had we spent inscribing circles and practicing our chanting on rooftops in L.A.? That sun-bleached summer had been one of the best of my life.
And Danny was good. Most of what I had learned at the beginning, I’d learned from him. Though we were close in age, he’d been miles ahead of me when it came to the craft. It wasn’t just the spells either. Danny understood magic theory on a level no one else in our doomed little group did. He could craft new spells no one had thought of before and bridge gaps of knowledge that had persisted since the Victorian era. God, he was smart. I’d have never gotten into it as deep as I had without Danny. We were best mates. More, even.
Until the day everything changed.
Danny and I had shared more than a love of magic. We had the same teacher, Christian Lenore, and Christian was a jealous man. Once Danny and I were equal in power and knowledge, Christian took me under his wing directly, and I surpassed Danny. It drove a wedge between us, one from which we’d never recover.
I still remembered the night it all went wrong. Standing up on the rooftop of Christian’s flat inside our respective circles. The air was heavy with the promise of a thunderstorm, but there was already plenty of thunder and lightning between us. I didn’t want to fight him, but Christian made us, forced us to pit our skills against each other with everyone else watching. I had no choice.
I opened my eyes and pulled the burned-out cigarette from between my lips. Danny’s face stared back at me from the laptop screen. He’d aged more gracefully than me. Filled out more in the chest with his teenage years behind him, grew his face a little longer, jawline more defined. He wore his thirties like a mantle of power. Or maybe that was just the six thousand-dollar suit he wore for the interview with Forbes. He looked different, but I recognized those smart blue eyes and the knowing smirk.
Danny was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company now. He had come up in the world. Out of nowhere, it seemed. Five years ago, no one knew who the hell he was. Now, he was a celebrity with a financial empire to rival men twice his age. The article called him New York’s most eligible bachelor. How does a person build an empire that quickly in a shithole town like New York? I’d have dismissed it as luck, but I knew Danny. Danny wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, given up magic. He was involved with the demons of New York, and he knew I was in town since he’d sent them to find me. In my world, there was no such thing as a coincidence.
The bedroom door suddenly burst open, and Khaleda ran out, headed for the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. Telltale retching sounds followed as she emptied her stomach. Aces, now she was a sick and moody succubus. Just my luck.
I stood with another sigh and went to lean on the bathroom door, waiting for her to be done. “Told you to ease up on the wine.”
She coughed and leaned back from the toilet so that I could see her face. Red streaked from the corners of her eyes and along the side of her neck from her ears. More dribbled down her chin. I thought it might be the wine at first until I realized it was far too dark.
That was blood, not wine.
“I think I need help,” she managed before doubling over again.
Chapter Two
JOSIAH
The witch rang a bell and tapped on a skin drum with feathers hanging from it. It was a sham mostly—I’d never placed must stock in traditional healers—but Harmony was legit. Her magic was more based on the ability to read auras than any actual healing, and the musical accompaniment was a show to make me feel like I was getting my money’s worth.
Harmony closed her eyes and waved her hands over Khaleda’s prone body on the sofa. She tossed her head back, sending golden hair cascading down her back and revealing the delicate lines of her neck. If I didn’t know for a fact she was a lesbian, I’d have been interested. Of course, I hadn’t touched a woman in more than four months now. The hooker three doors down was almost tempting at that point.
I crossed my arms. “What is it?”
“Don’t know yet.” Harmony winced and moved her fingers as if she were weaving a basket and not feeling out an aura.
“It’s because she’s not feeding, right?”
Khaleda shifted her head to look at me. “Shut up and let the woman work, Josiah.”
“That’s odd,” Harmony said, twisting two fingers in the air.
“What is it?” Khaleda shifted her attention back to the other woman, her body growing rigid. She was trying to hide how worried she was, but it was clearly written on every inch of her face to anyone who’d known her more than five minutes.
Harmony lowered her hands and opened her eyes. “I don’t know how to explain it, but your aura is incomplete. There are pieces missing. Holes torn in you so wide, the psychic pain you’re in must be terrible.” Her eyes slid to me and narrowed. “What did you do to her?”
“Me?” I growled. “What makes you think I’ve had anything to do with it? All I’ve done is try to help the woman!”
She helped Khaleda sit up and walked around the sofa to squat in front of her. The posture made her jeans slip down enough to reveal a tramp stamp I’d have liked to get a closer look at. She had nice legs, especially in those heels. What was it with jeans and heels anyway? “Khaleda, you don’t have to stay with this dickhead. You need to heal.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” I muttered and took myself to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.
In any other case, I probably deserved to have suspicion thrown at me, but I barely knew Khaleda. Every moment I’d spent with her had been me trying to get her set up to get out of my hair. She’d already made it clear she wasn’t going to sleep with me, and that she didn’t like me. It was a wonder I’d helped her as much as I had. I could’ve dumped her in Tulsa and let her buy her own damn airfare to wherever she wanted to go.
There it is, Josiah. There’s the reason you don’t have any friends. Christ, I am a dickhead. I popped the top o
n the last bottle of wine. Better in me than her. “She was in Hell before I found her, by the way. If her aura’s incomplete, then the damage stems from damage to the soul.”
“It’s not just damage. It’s missing.” Harmony stood and leaned over the small space between the sofa and the kitchen counter to snag the bottle from me.
“I was drinking that!”
She wiggled the bottle between her fingers. “Were you planning on paying me for my time?”
I sighed. “Fine. Take the damn bottle. I don’t like red anyway. Just don’t give her any more. The last thing she needs is to get pissed again.”
Khaleda shot me a look that told me that was exactly what she wanted to do.
There was nothing else to drink, so I settled for a smoke while Harmony planted herself on the sofa next to Khaleda, legs crossed. The two women conversed in hushed tones about girl things while I considered the news.
When I’d found her, she was pinned to a rock. Khaleda had yet to detail all the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of her tormenters, and I didn’t ask. I wasn’t much good at carrying my own emotional baggage, so I’d figured adding hers wasn’t wise. It didn’t take a genius to figure most of it out though. I’d met enough demons to know the first few things that would cross their minds when they were handed the Devil’s daughter to play with.
In theory, a demon’s job was to break down living souls for processing in the underworld. Different underworlds completed the task in different ways, but pain and suffering were always the fastest, most preferred methods. Pieces didn’t just break off though. Someone would’ve had to take it by force. We needed to know who if she wanted it back.
It’s not my problem. I took a long drag on the cigarette wishing I’d thought to make coffee to go with it. She hasn’t asked for my help, and I don’t owe her. Maybe it would be better if I just got her documents tomorrow and left as we agreed.
Yet I didn’t want to leave her alone and hurting without any direction. She still hadn’t found the will to feed. She’d barely made an effort to bathe. Most of her calories still came from the wine she’d convinced me to buy. If I left, she’d be dead inside a week.
What’s it to me if she dies? I never promised to keep her alive. It’s her choice to behave like a child.
Except I knew that wasn’t right either. Someone had broken something inside this woman. They’d broken more than just her body and soul. Bastards had broken her will and ripped away her self-respect. That was too low, even for me.
I leaned my elbows on the counter and tapped some ash from the cigarette. “So, there are pieces of your soul missing, Khaleda. What do you plan to do about that?”
She shrugged and hugged herself, rubbing her shoulders as if she were cold. “It’s probably gone. I suppose this is just me now.”
Harmony frowned and rubbed Khaleda’s back.
I crushed the cigarette on the countertop. “Bugger that. We’re getting it back.”
Khaleda tossed her head back and laughed.
Not the reaction I was hoping for. “Hear me out. If it’s not there, that means it’s somewhere else.”
“Brilliant deduction.” Harmony rolled her eyes.
“I’m not finished. Now, it’s either been processed in Hell, or someone is holding onto it. My bet is that someone has it. She’s the Devil’s daughter, a potential Queen of Hell if her old man was killed.”
Khaleda’s face sobered. “But he is dead. And I don’t want to rule Hell.”
I’d been there when it happened. Watched the bastard go down with a whimper when a mate of mine challenged him to a duel he couldn’t win. Lazarus was a better man than me, walking through Hell to save his woman. I didn’t think I’d walk to the corner store for anyone I’d ever slept with, let alone through Hell.
I nodded. “And any forward-thinking demon would’ve seen that coming and prepared himself a little get-out-of-trouble-free insurance. As for the second half of that statement, most demons won’t care what you want. They’ll either seek to support your claim or try to kill you to make sure you’re not a threat.”
Shit, there was that too, wasn’t there? She was in no shape to fight off a legion of demons if they came calling. Sooner or later, they would.
Khaleda found her feet. “Let them come. I stood by my father for twenty years as his personal assassin. They know my face, they know what I can do, how many of them I’ve killed. I’ll kill them all until they learn to leave me the fuck alone!” She swiped her hand through the air, but the movement threw her off balance, and Harmony had to help her back to the sofa.
I crossed my arms. “Not like that you’re not. How drunk are you right now?”
She hung her head. “Less since I vomited.”
“Khaleda,” said Harmony, taking her hand, “I think he’s right. You need to be whole. You can’t fight them until you are. And even if you don’t want the missing pieces of your soul back, don’t you at least want to live? You’ve got to stop this. You have to take care of yourself. If you don’t, you’ll fade away until one day you just die.”
Khaleda flexed her jaw. Her fingers closed firmly around Harmony’s squeezing until Harmony sucked in a shocked breath. Harmony’s eyes widened and her body stiffened, head tilting back. I didn’t realize what was happening until Khaleda lifted her head and the two of them locked lips.
No matter what any fella says in public, in private, we’re all animals, and every animal’s got his fantasy of choice. Two attractive women making out on a friend’s sofa while said friend is out of town wasn’t my top choice, but it was definitely in my top five. Though I wasn’t involved in the scene unfolding in front of me, some primal part of my brain was convinced otherwise.
I leaned forward putting my chin in my hands. “Well, then. Looks like I had your type all wrong, didn’t I?”
Harmony’s eyes snapped open and she tried to pull away, but Khaleda grabbed her by the hair and deepened the kiss. It was the first sign that not all was as kosher as it seemed. When Harmony tried to push Khaleda away, she found herself pinned to the back of the sofa by the wrists, easily overpowered. She let out a muffled, panicked sound and tried desperately to get free.
Suddenly, I understood why the man I’d left here with her paid me to keep her away from him. This was no longer just a sexy makeout session.
I pushed away from the counter and walked over to grab Khaleda’s shoulder firmly. “That’s enough.”
Khaleda shrugged my hand away.
Harmony squeezed her eyes shut, letting tears fall.
“I said she’s had enough!” I grabbed Khaleda by both shoulders and yanked her off the sofa.
She crashed into the coffee table head-first. Cheap chipboard snapped and twisted under her weight, and she lay there dazed.
Before I could see if both of them were all right, Harmony shoved me away, scooped up her purse and ran for the door. I called after her, but all I got was a slammed door in response.
“Well, bugger.” Harmony was no pushover, and Khaleda had snared her with little more than a brush of skin, turning her into a near helpless victim. If I hadn’t intervened, Khaleda might’ve drained the life out of the poor girl.
I stepped over to the sofa where I stretched out, putting my shoes on one arm and head on the other. “Well, at least Harmony’s vegan. You won’t ruin your figure.”
“Ungh.” She put a hand on her head. “What happened? Why am I on the floor?”
“You and Harmony,” I said, tapping out another cigarette to light. “She was into it at first, but seems you don’t know when to stop, Khaleda.”
She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and putting her head in her hands. “God, I can’t live like this. I need control. I need to be strong again.”
“You need your soul back.”
She said nothing.
I smoked in silence for a moment, giving her the time to ask. When she didn’t, I sat up. “If you want my help, it doesn’t come free.”
She lowere
d her head, focusing on the spilled bottle of wine emptying its contents on the floor. “You know I haven’t got any money.”
“I’m willing to extend you a line of credit. You can work it off.”
Khaleda raised her eyes and stared at me.
Maybe it was me, but the sad look on her face made my heart change tempo. Some primitive part of me wanted to rush to her side and assure her that everything would be just fine. We would fix this, her and me.
Instead, I picked up the overturned bottle of wine and took a swig of what was left. “What’s it to be?”
“You’re a fucking asshole, Josiah.”
“I’m the only asshole you’ve got, sweetheart. For the right price.”
“Fine.” She stood on unsteady legs. “Prick.”
“Bitch.”
Khaleda gave a frustrated growl and stormed off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. If she didn’t stop slamming doors, I was going to have to replace one of them before we left.
A minute later, I closed my eyes against the muffled sound of her sobbing. She was right about me. I was a real bastard.
Chapter Three
KHALEDA
Steam rose from the water around me. No matter how many baths or showers I took, no matter how many bottles of wine I emptied, I still felt unclean. Ever since Josiah had brought me back from Hell, all I ever felt was numb.
Rescued. I scooped the water in my hand and watched it slip through my fingers. That was the word everyone used for what he’d done. But I didn’t feel like I’d been saved either.
I picked up the plastic bristled scrub brush and rubbed it against my arms until the skin was red. I was Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter. His death didn’t change that. Didn’t change what he’d let them do to me, that he’d sent me away, that I had betrayed him. He’d made me into the monster I was, and I hated him. So why did I still cry every time I realized he was dead?
