Drowning In The Dark: #4 The Veil Series (2 page)

Ryder beamed and backed up. “Hell, no. This is the best night of my life.” He nodded in the direction of Akil’s lifeless body. “That bastard deserves everything he gets, and now we have him. Happy days, Muse.” He winked and patted a passing fellow enforcer on the shoulder.

“Ryder! Don’t do this. You’ll get them all killed. You can still make it right!” I kicked at the mountain of a man to my right, stomped on his instep, and tried to clamp my sharp teeth down onto the hand gripping my shoulder. Ryder grumbled a warning.
Screw him.
I snapped my head back, impacted with something soft on the outside and bony inside, heard one of them spit a curse, and drove my elbow back. The blow, when it came, cracked across the back of my skull and sent me spiraling into darkness.

B
en Stone eyed
me from behind his bar. His hands busily drying glasses. “Bit early for whiskey, Charley.”

“Bite me, Ben. I’ve had a rough night.” I eased my sore body onto a barstool. “What time does Adam get here?”

“Seven-ish.” He still eyed me like a stepbrother trying to decide whether he should care or not. “I serve coffee now. With real beans. Maybe you’d prefer caffeine to alcohol?”

“No offense, but the syrup you serve isn’t coffee.” I glared. He really didn’t want to push me. “I tried to take down a demon last night when he decided to wipe an alley floor with me and sharpen his claws on my insides. I then promptly had my Prince of Hell lover shot to shreds in front of me by my ex-friend and intend to speak with said ex-friend’s boss in about”—I checked the clock on the wall behind the bar— “ten minutes. So would you just cut me some slack, and serve me a drink? I’m a big girl. I can handle whiskey at seven a.m.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Your conscience is clear. You said your bit. Now, where’s my drink?” Yes, I was being short with him. He didn’t deserve it, but I’d had virtually zero sleep. I felt as though I’d been put through the wringer. Somewhere, a Prince of Hell was fuming at the hands of the Institute. If he hadn’t laid waste to their base of operations yet, he would soon. I had to find him. Fast. Adam was getting an earful the second he stepped through the Stone’s Throw’s doors.

Ben delivered my drink with a side order of judgmental expression. He knew I was a wreck. I knew I was a wreck. Surely we were past all the arched eyebrows and
tut-tuts
by now?

As the bar began to fill with Institute staff—most of them filing out the back to where they’d commandeered a room and made it their temporary base—I wondered where Ryder had taken Akil. Obviously, the Institute had another base of operations somewhere, yet they still used Stone’s Throw as an unofficial office. The forgotten bar Ryder and I’d frequented after work had turned into the Boston hub for all things demon hunting. The back wall looked like a psycho’s pin-board, except the photos and maps were all demon related. The enforcers rallied here, and Adam dropped by three days a week. Today just happened to be one of those days. I’d mostly avoided the days he graced the bar/office for fear I might boil his insides. In fact, I’d not been to the bar much at all since the events a few weeks before when Ryder had shot a half blood girl in the head, thereby destroying her short, tragic life and driving possibly the final nail in the coffin of my control. The only thing keeping me sane was stalking the streets, killing demons who stepped out of line or bumping illegal demon-immigrants back through the veil. I didn’t sleep. Not any more.
He
was there, stalking my dreams. I was on a downward spiral, one I’d finally accepted I needed Akil’s help to break free of. Well, that wasn’t happening any time soon.

Ryder walked in with several enforcers in tow. Jenna the raven-haired no-bullshit beauty was one of them. The group clearly still buzzed from the previous night’s exploits, bouncing on Enforcer happy-pills until they saw me. Ryder peeled away from them, wove around the empty tables, and hitched himself onto a stool beside mine.

I waited for him to comment on the whiskey in my glass. He picked up a coaster and teased the edges with his fingers, his smile dying. “Upward of a hundred demons came through the veil last week alone, and those are the ones we know about. New York caught or killed dozens more. We ain’t got the luxury of being picky—not no more, Muse. We gotta use everything we have. If that means grabbing the Prince of Greed, we do it. One prince down. Five to go.”

Technically four, if you didn’t count Stefan, the newly crowned Prince of Wrath. Ryder didn’t know about Stefan’s recent promotion. Few did. Akil knew. Would he tell the Institute? No. It wouldn’t come to that. He wouldn’t let it. Shit. Akil would make them pay if I didn’t get to him and talk him down.

“Akil was helping us.”

Ryder lifted mocha-brown eyes to me and ran a hand through his hair. His chin bristled with stubble, but he looked good in a don’t-give-a-damn kind of way. His scuffed, tan leather jacket looked as though it had seen as much action as he had. His eyes were bright, his gaze sharp. I knew that look. Ex-military, Ryder liked nothing better than to get his teeth into a mission and feel like he was doing the world a favor.

“I’m not getting into a bitching contest with you about Akil, Muse. He’s fucked you over more times than I can count. He’s the Prince of Greed, for fuck’s sake. Get over your Stockholm Syndrome, and move on. You’ll live longer.”

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. How dare he sweep me up in a statement like that? He knew what Akil had done for me. I’d thought Ryder knew me,
really
knew me, the way friends should. Maybe I’d been wrong about him. Hell, I’d been wrong about everything else. He wasn’t my friend. Perhaps he never had been. My voice of reason, the one which had been getting quieter with each passing day, told me to swallow the emotion, to keep it all inside, but that little voice was too easily quashed. Ryder had shot Dawn, and now he’d shot Akil. I snatched up my glass and threw whiskey in Ryder’s face just as Adam walked through the door. Ryder spluttered, knocked the glass out of my hand, and stilled himself. His right hand clenched into a fist. He trembled with the effort of restraint.

I shot to my feet, sneering into Ryder’s face. Ryder’s groupies loomed near the back of the bar, hands on their holstered weapons, Jenna included. “You bastard,” I growled. “I thought you were different. I thought we understood each other.”

“Get the fuck outtah my face, Muse, before I do something I’ll regret.” Even with whiskey dripping from his chin, he delivered his threat with enough bravado to deter me.

“What happened to you?”

“Me?” He dragged a hand down his face and flicked moisture from his fingers. “We’re at war, and you’re on the wrong side. Get your shit together, or get out of Boston.”

Adam’s presence loomed to my left. He was a big guy, built like a lumberjack in Abercrombie & Fitch apparel. Casually classy. He loitered in my peripheral vision, radiating authority the way Akil radiated heat. Behind him, three enforcers watched me like hawks hovering over their prey. Six others hung back. All they needed was an excuse, and I’d be full of bullet holes. Grossly outnumbered, I blinked and backed away from Ryder. This wasn’t over. I threw him a glare that told him as much and then steeled myself against Adam’s stare of abject disapproval.

Adam nodded once and beckoned me away from Ryder. Whiskey churned in my gut as I obliged. Ryder’s words couldn’t have hurt me more if he’d stabbed my in the chest. I knew things were bad between us, but I hadn’t realized how deep his hatred went. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I hated him right back for what he’d done to Dawn, the half blood girl I’d tried to save and he had killed.

“Everything okay?” Adam pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit. I snorted and crossed my arms. “Sit.”

“No.”

“Very well.” He sat and leaned back in the chair, stretching his long legs beneath the table. “This is about Akil. Let me make something perfectly clear, Muse. You will not see Akil unless you’re under the influence of P-C-Thirty-Four.”

His words sucker-punched me right where Ryder’s had already wounded me. My head spun, and my vision blurred. I sat in the chair and slumped forward, sinking my fingers into my hair. A dull ache throbbed up my right side, and the whiskey in my stomach threatened to force its way back up my throat. “I can’t do that.”

“This is not something we can negotiate. You’re too volatile, and he’s too valuable.”

There was no way in hell I was letting Adam stick a needle in me and pump me full of PC34 again. Not going to happen. Ever. Not even for the demon who had saved me from myself on many occasions and in many different ways.

I lifted my head and despised the fact Adam would see the tears brimming my eyes. I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop them, so I snarled. “Akil was on our side. He’s been on the streets like us. He no more wants the Princes here than we do. What you’ve done… You don’t understand how bad this is. He’ll never let you live, Adam. He despises the Institute and how you meddle with demons. Until you did this, he tolerated you, but that’s not an option anymore. He’ll destroy you.”

“He’s contained—and he’s not going anywhere, Muse. Not for a very long time.”

The thought of Akil strapped to a table and at the mercy of the Institute scientists was almost enough to tip my thin control over the edge. “Is he conscious?”

“Yes.” Adam blinked slowly.

“Has he said anything?”

He didn’t reply as he assessed me, obviously working over a few possible replies in his head before finally saying, “He’s demanded to see you.”

My heart flipped, but Adam’s concerned expression trampled on my new shoots of hope.

He sighed. “He believes you were involved in his capture. He claims the reason you didn’t summon your demon in that alley was to lure him into action. He’s not saying much, but when he does, he’s quite…vehement.”

Shit. I clamped my teeth together. I could see how, from Akil’s point of view, it might look like I’d been involved. “And you haven’t said anything to put him right?” Adam didn’t reply. How could he sit there, so freakin’ calm? If it wasn’t for the anti-elemental symbols adorning the walls, I’d be dancing in the fire and giving him third degree burns right now. “How did you know he’d be in that alley?” I leaned back and crossed my arms, locking my trembling fingers into fists.

“Akil usually resurfaces around you. I had you watched.”

That was nothing new for Adam Harper. He didn’t believe in privacy laws unless the subject was his past. “Where are you keeping him?”

“A secure facility.”

“Is he… alright?”

“He’s recovering from the assault better than expected, considering PC-Thirty-Four is subduing his demonic nature.”

My jaw ached. Terrible pressure throbbed in my head. They could have killed him. Had they used etched bullets, they’d have destroyed his human avatar. Akil, as I knew him, would have died. Mammon would have lived. He was truly immortal. But I didn’t care about Mammon. I cared for Akil more than I’d realized. They’d taken him from me. He was mine, and the Institute had ripped him out of my arms. Worse, they’d defiled a Prince of Hell. A demon growl rumbled up my throat.

Adam’s eyes widened. “Do I need to be concerned about you, Muse?”

“I’d be concerned about your affairs, Adam. Best get that last will and testament written up while you’re still breathing.” They had no idea what they’d captured. Akil wasn’t just another demon. He was chaos eternal, a force of nature. They’d corked a tornado in a bottle. “You’re an idiot. You all are. You had a Prince of Hell working toward the same goals as you—a direct link to the others—and you’ve managed to royally fuck it up. After what you’ve done to him, he’ll never help you. You won’t get anything out of him. You might as well let him go before he escapes. Which he will. Trust me.” I looked around the bar and allowed my stewing anger to raise my voice. “You’re all as good as dead. You just don’t know it yet.”

A dozen enforcers glared back at me. They hated me. All of them. Fine. I was done with them, with everything and everyone. Ryder didn’t even look over. I got a great view of his back and knew exactly where I stood with him. I shook my head at Adam. “Don’t come crawling back to me, Adam, when you have the princes breathing down your neck. It’s over. I can’t help you any more.”

He nodded, not the least bit concerned. He would be.

L
acy perched
on the arm of my couch, one leg levered so she could rest her arm over her knee while holding her tub of ice cream. My cat, Jonesy, had curled up on a cushion beside her. Lacy occasionally reached down to give him a tickle while I explained how the Institute were shooting themselves in the proverbial foot. After leaving Stone’s Throw, I’d driven back to my apartment like a bat out of hell, checking my mirrors the whole time for Institute tails. Rage burned through me, and with it, the fire inside bubbled and fizzed. My demon paced. The psychotic bastard suffocating my heart throbbed like a raw wound. Lacy had knocked on my door five minutes after I’d gotten in. There was a rumor on the net, suggesting Akil Vitalis had been apprehended by the Institute. Lacy was a member of his online fan club. One look at my face told her the rumor was true. Hence the ice cream.

I stabbed my spoon into my partially melted ice cream and scooped out a large helping. I told myself the ice cream helped temper the heat swirling inside me. “To make it worse, he thinks I had something to do with his capture.”

Lacy gaped. “Did you?”

“Hell, no. I do have some sense of self preservation.”

“Well, that’s cool then. He’ll figure it out.” She shrugged the shoulder poking out of her baggy, black-and-white-striped top.

It was sweet, the way she thought she knew Akil. I’d spent much of my adult life with him, and I still couldn’t figure him out. But I’d come to appreciate Lacy’s outlook on life. She had a take-no-prisoners attitude unless one of those prisoners happened to be Akil. She’d happily take him prisoner. Ever since he’d coerced his way into her apartment and she’d been introduced to the temptation personified that is Akil, she’d grilled me for information about the netherworld and demons. A self-confessed member of Equal Rights for Demons, she flew the demon flag. I’d given her some framed protection symbols to keep the less-than-friendly demons out and taught her the finer points of demon etiquette. In other words, I’d shown her where their sensitive parts were should she need to make a quick exit. She was willing to believe that not all demons were bad. I was still trying to teach her that not many were good.

I wiggled the tip of my spoon in my tub of ice cream. “I er… I asked him to free me of the soul-lock.”

She jerked her head up. Her ruffled, short blond hair fell in front of her eyes. She gave it an angry sweep back, blinking rapidly. I’d told her everything a week ago while we’d both been wasted on a mix of tequila and Sambuca. “I thought you said you couldn’t trust him.”

I nodded and licked my lips. “It’s bad, Lacy.” It took more effort than it should have not to dip my head in shame. “I can’t control my demon much longer, not with
him
inside me. Whatever Akil might do, it couldn’t possibly be worse. I’m a mess. I’m going out every night, hunting demons, trying to convince myself I’m doing the right thing, but I can’t summon my own demon. If Akil hadn’t shown up when he did, I’m pretty sure I’d be mincemeat or the Queen of Fire. Soon, either a demon’s going to get lucky…” I gestured at my side, where the wound still throbbed. “Or I’m gonna go nuclear and kill a lot of people. And I might not come back. I might not
want
to come back. That’s the difference, right there.” I licked ice cream from my spoon, hardly noticing the taste.

“Maybe you should take that drug, P-C-whatever. Hey, don’t give me that look. Listen to yourself. No offense, but you’re losing it, and I gotta sleep right down the hall.”

A quick succession of knocks at the door gave me a temporary reprieve. Lacy was right, but I had an on-again-off-again relationship with ‘right’ and ‘wrong.’ I often envied Ryder his staunch black and white outlook on life. All I seemed to experience was the messy gray area.

I opened the door. The sight of Stefan tightened my chest and stopped my heart for a beat. The tub of ice cream slipped from my fingers. I made an ungainly lunge. Stefan caught it, quick as lightning, and I found myself looking into his eyes as we straightened. He drew up to his full height and turned the ice cream tub over in his hand, eyebrows hiked up and lips parted. “That could have been a disaster.”

My thoughts had careened off course and jolted to a stop. The newly crowned Prince of Wrath was at my door, standing so close his icy aura tickled the fine hairs on my arms. His nonchalant stance carried the same self-assured, infallible confidence I’d come to expect from him. Only a few lines around his eyes and lips spoke of the torment he’d been through. I wanted to smooth those marks away and wished it could be that easy to erase the scars of our past.

I cleared my throat. “I’ll have my ice cream back, thank you. Unless you’re planning on sticking around this time?”

He arched a brow, hooking the corner of his sensuous lips with it, turning the faint smile into something more salacious. “You left me the last time I was here.” A low growl wove beneath his words. His demon brogue fluttered my insides and roused my demon’s curiosity.

I should be angry. He had accidentally stabbed me and then disappeared for weeks before returning with the kind of revelation you don’t just dump on someone.
I’m a Prince of Hell.

“Only after you went all evil-frosty on me.”

“Ouch.” That wicked smile stayed. Damn it.

I snatched the tub from his hand. “If you want ice cream,” by the way his gaze tracked the tub, I knew he did, “you have to promise not to try and kill me while in my apartment. I’m not at my best right now.” I pointed a finger, ignoring his smirk. “So don’t fuck with me.”

It occurred to me I’d just chastised a Prince of Hell. I curled my finger back into my palm. His eyes sparkled with humor while his unseen icy touch coiled around my ankle, up my leg, around my waist… If he controlled that explorative touch, he didn’t show it. I had no idea where I stood with him. Did he want to kill me, kiss me, or screw me over? The last thing he’d told me was that he’d been promoted, and he needed help. Now, there he was, catching my ice cream like he hadn’t recently stabbed me in the chest and looking every part the rakish don’t-give-a-damn demon-hunter. The gray sweats he wore did nothing to temper the kind of sexy vibe that should be outlawed. Blonde hair licked at his cheeks and fell over his eyes. I struggled to fight back the urge to brush a few errant locks back from his face. He’d probably freeze me solid if I touched him.

“I promise not to try to kill you while in your apartment,” he said solemnly, then tacked a smile on the end.

“Fine.” I stepped back and let him by. “You’ve met Lacy.” Lacy gaped, eyes wide.

“Yeah.” Stefan cleared his throat, ridding himself of the guttural accent. “Last time we met, I told you Akil likely wanted to wear your skin as an apron.”

She climbed down off the arm of the sofa and straightened up to her imposing five feet of Boston-Irish pride. “Yeah, that’s right. Asshat.” She stopped short of poking him in the chest, but the fire in her eyes said she wanted to.

He tucked a thumb over the waistband of his sweatpants, the epitome of chilled, and held out a hand, inviting her to shake it. “Maybe we should try this again?”

Lacy looked down at his hand, scrunched her face, and glared back at him. I’d told her the good and the bad when it came to Stefan, but even I had to admit the bad outweighed the good. Stefan didn’t retract his hand but returned Lacy’s glare with a casual expression of good humor. “I was—”

“Rude. Arrogant.”

“Out of line.”

“Damn straight.” She caught his hand, gave it a tight shake, and pulled back. “Dude, whatever, but if you hurt Charley, I’ll ruin you on the Internet, and the Internet is like forever. Got me?”

Stefan’s lips twitched. “I think so.”

“Good.” She crossed the room to me and handed me her empty ice cream tub. “Think about what I said, Charley, please.”

I offered what I hoped to be my most compliant smile and waited until she’d closed the door behind her before pinning a hardened stare on Stefan. He stood by the couch, chin dipped, blue eyes sharp behind fair lashes. He could project outward calm all he liked. It wasn’t fooling me. No sword. No coat. No drama. I could convince myself he was just a guy—built like an athlete honed for stamina, with a stubborn jaw, wicked sensuous lips and eyes that pierced the soul. Who was I kidding? He’d never passed for normal, and I wouldn’t have him any other way. So there we were, the two of us. Bad things happened when Stefan and I were together. Workshops exploded. Truths and lies blurred. People died.

“Ice cream?” I asked.

He puffed a sigh. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Turning my back on him, I busied myself in the kitchen, fully aware of exactly where he stood, how long it would take me to get to the front door, and how many side steps before I could reach the gun in my cupboard. “What’s with the sweats?”

“I got back from the netherworld and landed in someone’s back yard. These were just lying around…”

“You stole them. From someone’s clothes line?” I’d seen Stefan naked, both in human and demon form. I’d delighted in his sinewy muscles and teased my tongue over the entwined scorpion tattoo low on his navel. I’d tasted parts of him that brought a rush of heat to my cheeks. It felt like years ago, and yesterday.

“Considering our…volatile relationship I wasn’t sure how you’d react if I showed up sans clothes.”

Funny guy,
ha ha
. I turned and tried to will the heat from my face as I handed him a bowl of ice cream. His fingers brushed mine, launching a snap of raw chaos energy up my arm. Flinching, I pulled back with a tight hiss.

Chaos. If my demon hadn’t already been paying attention, she sure was now. The elements of chaos made up everything demon. And Stefan was chaos giftwrapped in a delicious body.

“Sorry… It does that sometimes.” Something like concern and resilient acceptance passed over his face before he turned away, opening a void between us that felt bigger than the physical space allowed for. “The way we left things last time wasn’t ideal,” he said, the master of understatement.
Last time,
Akil had used his ability to reality-jump from one place to another, and snatched me out of Stefan’s arms right after Stefan had dumped the ‘Prince of Wrath’ bombshell on me. By the time I’d convinced Akil to take me home again, Stefan had vanished.

I dug into my ice cream again, dampening down the desire to cross the space between us and…what? Devour him? Hug him? Hit him? My demon wanted all the power wrapped up in Stefan, and I wanted someone to hold me and make me forget how thoroughly messed up I was.

He relaxed against the arm of the couch, body angled toward the door, bowl cradled in a hand. “Are we okay?”

Laughter burst from my lips. “Are you kidding?” Apparently not, if his frown was genuine. “Stefan, we’re so far from okay, we’re in different time zones. You’re a Prince of Hell. How did that even happen?”

He swallowed and looked away, twitching a muscle in his jaw. “After I thought I’d killed you, I lost control.” His eyes narrowed. “The princes noticed.”

“All of them?” One Prince of Hell was bad enough. I couldn’t imagine facing more.

“Not Akil.” No, because he’d been unconscious with grief at his suburban house. “I only remember fragments. My demon was… We were high on power. I pulled it all from the veil.” He stabbed his spoon into the ice cream, scooped out a chunk, and tasted it. The resulting groan was more demon than man. “I miss this,” he mumbled around his mouthful.

“And? What happened?” He licked the spoon. My demon and I shared an internal purr. I swatted her back.

“One demon came at me. I didn’t know who or what he was. Wolf-like, but huge. I’m not talking about some hellhound mongrel. He was the size of a truck and would have torn me apart.” His lips turned down. “I fought with everything I had. They wanted me dead. They still do.”

“The wolf demon was Wrath?”

He nodded, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “When I worked as an enforcer, I suspected the princes had some sort of advantage over the demons. Turns out I was half right. The princes have a purpose; you might even call it a weakness. When chaos is shaped over time, it becomes honed, powerful, focused. It reaches out, hungers for more, and latches onto the thing the demon wants the most. Greed, lust, gluttony. All I had was anger. Wrath sensed that, I think. The others pulled back when he attacked, like it was personal.” Stefan licked more ice cream from his spoon, suddenly finding it fascinating.

Stefan was a skilled demon-hunter. I knew that. I also knew, as demon, he was powerful. But to battle a Prince of Hell on his home turf, surrounded by his brethren? I’d wiped out a few hundred demons once, and the memories still terrified me. How was he here, eating my ice cream like nothing had happened? “Did you kill him?”

“No.” His blue eyes darted to me. “You can’t kill a Prince of Hell.” He was wrong about that. A nine-year-old half-blood girl had recently proven the exception to that rule. “When I came back to my senses, Wrath was beaten, torn apart…” Stefan cleared the growl from his throat. “There wasn’t much left of his physical form. The princes backed off and...”

“What?” I’d forgotten my ice cream, forgotten everything, absorbed in his story. I’d seen Stefan in the netherworld, seen him battle Akil’s true form, Mammon. As a demon, Stefan was beautiful, as though carved from crystal—if crystal had razor-sharp edges and murderous intentions.

He lifted his gaze and fixed me in his sights. “The power I’d summoned should have killed me, but I took it all in and controlled it. Shaped it. It responded like our elements do, only this was chaos in its purest form. It wasn’t just about ice any more. I had control over of all the elements.” A slither of fear trickled down my back. Stefan’s eyes brightened. Their usual winter-sky blue churned darker, flecked with greens and purple, the colors of the veil. He blinked, and the colors vanished.

Stefan shoved off the arm of the couch and placed his bowl on the coffee table before settling on the couch. Jonesy gave him a
prrp
greeting and stretched feline limbs out, inviting Stefan to tickle his belly. Stefan stretched his own legs out, popped his feet up on my table, and threw an arm over the back of the cushions. Between him and my cat, they hogged the entire couch.