Drowning In The Dark: #4 The Veil Series (3 page)

“How do you know you’re a Prince of Hell exactly?” I asked quietly, still uncomfortable speaking the words.

“I hear them.” He tapped his temple. “As if it wasn’t crowded enough in there already. It’s like having a radio on in another room. For the most part, I filter it out. I also heal quickly. I barely bleed when cut. The wound closes in seconds.” Stefan paused and steadied his gaze on me, waiting for my reaction.

Holy hell, was he immortal? Would he age? Was he still half human, or was he something else now? Akil had said Stefan was lost, but I didn’t believe it then, and I didn’t believe it now. “Do you hear Akil?”

He paused, listened, tilting his head slightly. “Not anymore.” He grimaced. “Why is that?”

I’d promised never to lie to Stefan, but I couldn’t help wondering why he was there. He was the Prince of Wrath, and he had debts to pay, scores to settle. Akil was vulnerable. “He’s otherwise engaged.”

A quiet settled over us, disturbed only by Jonesy’s purring. Stefan watched me watching him. I deliberately roamed my gaze, taking in his casual appearance. There was a difference in him—a stillness—but it wasn’t something quantifiable. His very presence gave off a low-level charge, like the electric tension in the air prior to a lightning storm. The more I looked, the more it occurred to me that I might not know this new Stefan at all. Power destroys people. Stefan had survived things that would have killed most or at least driven them insane. I barely held into the last thread of my sanity. He’d already let go of his. I swallowed hard. My pulse fluttered and beat in my ears. “Am I talking to Stefan or his demon?”

This time, the smile barely masked a tightly controlled wince. “You’re talking to me. You’ll know it when
he’s
in control.”

Did he know how I feared him? Feared
for
him? “So why are you here? You didn’t come back for the ice cream…”

“It feels good, being back.” He dropped his head back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. “It’s too easy to forget in the netherworld.”

I knew that feeling. It tempted me every waking moment: the lure of freedom. I could look at him now and kid myself that everything was fine. Relaxed like he was, he almost looked the same as he had when we’d first met. He’d been quick to smile then, cocky and over-confident. Now he was too still, pulled tightly like a rubber band about to snap. “You said you needed my help…”

Stefan sighed and opened his eyes. “Yeah, I did. I do. Do you still have the file Adam gave you? The one about the half bloods they have?”

“Operation Typhon. There’s not much in it. After they failed with you and me, the Institute kept their half-blood experiments tightly controlled. They locked Subjects Gamma and Delta away. I don’t know where they’re keeping them.”

Leaning forward, he rubbed his hands together and drilled down the easy-going attitude, replacing it with the keen-eyed glare of an enforcer. “Does it say what they’re like? Mentally? Physically?”

“A little. They’re obedient.” Unlike us. “More demon than human. Not particularly powerful. Yet.”

Stefan hesitated a beat, just enough to jolt my heart with the thought of what was to come. “There are three half-bloods in the netherworld, controlled by your brother, Valenti. He’s about to release them on this side of the veil. Probably right here in Boston. Once the half bloods have annihilated the military response and created chaos, the remaining princes will step through the veil, bringing half the netherworld with them.”

It was so much, so suddenly, and delivered so effortlessly, that all I could do was stare, open-mouthed. The princes were indeed coming, and they had half-bloods: all-powerful, messed-up-in-the-head half-bloods. I tried to think of something to say, some wonderful words of encouragement, a way to sweep the implications aside, but all I came up with was, “Oh.”

I
woke
to the sounds of someone rattling around my kitchen cupboards and the smell of cooking bacon. I was either being burgled by a hungry thief, or someone was in my kitchen, cooking breakfast. That someone could only be Stefan. He’d left me the previous night, saying he’d be back with a plan. I’d waited, but after two hours, exhaustion had gotten the better of me. I didn’t sleep though, not really. Sleep was a luxury I no longer had. The nightmares had come the way they always did, dark, twisted things, so deep, so hungry, they were almost alive enough to exist once I snapped open my eyes and listened to my own scream ringing in my ears.

I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, tossed on some jeans and a sweater, and trudged from my bedroom into the kitchen. And sure enough, there he was, brewing coffee, frying bacon, and making toast. He’d ditched the stolen sweats for jeans and a button-down, dark blue shirt. Rolled-up sleeves revealed steely arms, arms I yearned to have wrapped around me. He had held me once, held me against him as he’d whispered words of hope to the naïve half-blood girl I’d once been. At least that girl had hope. What did I have now? I hadn’t realized how I’d ached to have company, and seeing him doing simple domestic things, like normal people did, left me speechless. Thankfully, he didn’t notice me blink back a surge of emotion. Inside of a few seconds, I had myself under control again. I hadn’t expected him to come back. The men in my life tended to disappear with no explanation, and if they did return, it was often with dire news. Yet, there he was, and by the looks of it, he could fry up a mean breakfast.
The world really must be ending
.

“Hey.” He spilled the strips of bacon onto a plate already stacked with toast, fried tomato, eggs, and a salad tossed on the side as an afterthought.

He’d been shopping for groceries too? For me? I hitched myself onto the breakfast barstool. “Wow, this is… Wow.”

He slid the plate to me and flashed a smile. “You have an institute tail parked outside.”

I tensed, a piece of toast half way to my mouth. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Leaning on the breakfast bar, he nodded toward the window across the living room behind me. “Enforcers are about as subtle as demons bargain hunting at a garage sale.”

“Were you seen?”

Stefan gave me a
give-me-some-credit
look. I shrugged and crunched into my toast. He hadn’t made breakfast for himself, I noticed. So not staying then. “Are you going to watch me eat?”

“I killed him and hid the body in the trunk of his car.”

A jagged piece of toast lodged in my throat. “What?” I spluttered.

His grin was pure mischief. “You think I would?”

“I don’t know… Prince of Wrath much?” I coughed and rinsed the toast down with some juice.

“Your Institute tail is fine, despite there being a kill-order out on me. I guess I’m reformed.” His lip curled. “Mostly. I can’t take back what I’ve done, but I can make up for it by stopping the princes.” His smile wavered. The memories of his encounter with the princes was obviously not pleasant.

“They really want you dead, huh?”

“I’m a half-blood prince—not the Hogwarts kind—and an ex-enforcer. Plus, my father’s the Institute’s employee of the month. I’m sure my every breath infuriates them. Not to mention, Wrath wants his title back.”

“Oh, well. At least we don’t do things by halves any more, right?”

He chuckled softly. This was…nice. Really nice. Too nice. I had issues with nice. Nice threw me off my game like nothing else. People being nice leads to hope, and false hope is a terrible thing. False hope got a nine-year-old girl killed. False hope allowed me to believe I could live a normal life. I put my toast down and frowned at my breakfast. As lovely as it was, I’d lost my appetite. One breakfast wasn’t going to make up for the past. Nor was it going to change the fact the netherworld was gearing up for an attack on this side of the veil. “Stefan… I appreciate this. I mean, nobody has ever made me breakfast before.” I looked up. The fine lines of his face creased with resignation. He knew it too. As much as we both wanted the normal, it was never going to happen for the likes of us.

He shoved away from the counter and strode across the living room to the window where he parted the blinds and narrowed his gaze, no doubt contemplating my Institute stalker.

“None of this changes anything.” I sighed. “What are we supposed to do? I can’t stop my brother. I can barely control myself. And he’s…” I gestured, as though shooing a fly. “He’s…him. All scary-immortal-lust-demon. All he has to do is look at me, and I’m terrified. And then there’s the thing…”

“The thing?” He threw a glance over his shoulder, brow tight in confusion.

“My owner wrapped around my insides.” I shoved the plate of food away and wondered if I had any whiskey left in my emergency stash. My fingers trembled. I curled them into a fist. Stefan noticed, but his neutral expression didn’t falter. I’d have better luck reading runes than that impossibly measured expression of his. “I’m not a hero, Stefan. That was your job.”

He barked a dry laugh, the sound guttural, almost dirty. “Like I’m the epitome of self-control?”

After everything he’d been through, he
seemed
to be doing pretty well. He was here, talking, joking, almost himself. “How do you do it? How do you control it?”

He shot me a sharp look. “I don’t. It controls me.”

“So, why aren’t you all, y’know, frosty?”

“Because right now, I either have what I want, or I’m getting it.” The glitter in his eyes sparkled. “Don’t look at me and see a survivor. I’m not human, not any more. If the demon wants, it gets. I have no control. None.”

That wasn’t a particularly comforting thought, given how he’d nearly brought about an ice age and almost killed me several times. Bowing my head, I hoped to hide how his words affected me. I’d held out hope that Stefan would win. I didn’t want to hear the truth. If he was all demon, then what hope was there for me?

I held up my finger and thumb, showing him the tiniest of gaps. “This is my control. I’m this far away from going nuclear, and I’m too much of a coward to do the right thing.”

“Which is?”

“Take P-C-Thirty-Four.”

He flinched. He had an intimate relationship with the drug. The Institute had developed it by testing it on him. Plus, a few months before, I’d pumped him full of the stuff in an attempt to repress his demon side. He hadn’t reacted well. Shadows crossed his face as the history flittered through his mind. For a few seconds, I feared the memories might flick his demon switches, and I’d be captured in ice in the next breath. Finally, after what was probably only a few seconds but felt like minutes, he lifted his head. “You’re a lot stronger than you realize.”

“I’m really not. I’m propping myself up with alcohol. I hunt demons every night, hoping one might get lucky and kill me.” Yeah, there was that ugly truth out in the open. I hadn’t even been sure until that moment when the words were out and they sounded right. My lips twisted. Self-disgust churned my stomach. “I don’t trust myself. Not even a little bit. My thoughts are all over the place. I can’t decide, right now, if I wanna curl up in a ball an’ cry, go out on the streets and kill demons—and I mean kill them, not just deport their asses—or if I should jump you because the lust in my veins is driving me crazy. My demon wants a piece of you. She wants to burn everything to the ground, and she quite likes the idea of the princes showing up so we have an excuse to go all Mother-of-Destruction on them and destroy anything within range in the process. And underneath all that neurosis, Damien sits and waits, like some fucking monster ready to swallow me whole and spit me out, stripped of my humanity. So tell me again how I’m stronger than I realize.” Breathless and trembling, I whispered, “Jerry said half-bloods shouldn’t exist. That what we are—it’s impossible. I think I know what he means now. I can’t do this any more.” Dammit, I wasn’t going to cry in front of Stefan. He’d been through just as much, if not worse, and he wasn’t a jabbering wreck. Why couldn’t I get my shit together? I attempted a smile, as though that could paint over all the emotional cracks.

Stefan’s lips barely twitched in response, but the diamond hardness of his eyes softened. For a few moments, I feared he might cross the room and gather me into his arms. I surprised myself by wanting it to happen,
needing
it to happen. But he didn’t move, and neither did I. Always distant. I couldn’t blame him. It was probably for the best.

“You’re so much more than you think.” Jaw set, he gave a gentle shake of his head. “You think you’re weak. You’re not. So you’re not perfect. Survivors generally aren’t. I’ve seen victims, Muse. You aren’t one of them. You’ve survived everything the netherworld has thrown at you. You’ll never let it destroy you.”

I wished I had his faith in me.

I straightened and denied the doubt purchase in my thoughts. I’d come this far. I wasn’t going to lose my mind. Not yet. If the princes were coming, there were only a handful of people who could do anything about it. I was one. Stefan was another. He’d have a plan. He always had a plan. “What are we going to do?”

“We meet Val’s force head-on. Get to the Institute half-bloods—that’ll make four of us. Val has three. We can beat back his attack here, or we take the fight to him.”

Just the thought of releasing my demon sent shivers twitching through me: good shivers, bad ones, lust, desire, madness. If I had to go back to the netherworld, I’d be gone the second I stepped through the veil. My demon would win. Would I be like Stefan? Cold? Distant?

I needed a drink. “Seven half- bloods for seven princes,” I mumbled. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence. The universe prefers order. What would chaos do to it should the princes prevail?

“Four princes,” Stefan corrected.

Right. One was here with me. Akil was locked down at the Institute, and the Prince of Envy had been killed by a little half-blood girl, a crime for which I’d volunteered to shoulder the blame. That left Sloth, Lust, and Gluttony. I was long overdue a date with the Prince of Lust—Asmodeus, my father—but had no desire to speed that process up.

The few bites I’d had of breakfast churned in my stomach at the thought of facing him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Find Operation Typhon’s Subjects Gamma and Delta at the Institute.”

“Okay, I can try, but I don’t know where Adam’s base of operations is.”

“Then find out. Appeal to my father’s scientific side. If he thinks he can get some value out of you, he’ll tell you anything. Nothing gets between him and the progress of the Institute. Plus, he’s fascinated by you. You’re the one that got away…” Stefan relaxed back against the wall and rubbed at his forehead. “I can’t go near him. I’ll kill him.”

I figured Adam was on Stefan’s hit list. He was on mine. I puffed out a sigh and raked a hand through my hair. I really wasn’t up to this. “How long do we have?”

“I don’t know… A week maybe. I only get whispers, pieces of their thoughts, bits of conversations. I try not to delve into what I’m hearing. Half of it I don’t even understand. I’m not sure I want to. I do know they’re concerned about Akil’s disappearance. It’s giving them pause.”

“Is he part of their plan?” I asked, careful not to put too much weight into the question. Mentioning Akil within earshot of Stefan was like jumping on thin, cracked ice.

Stefan’s smile was far from kind. To call it a sneer didn’t do it justice. He smiled like a demon, hungry for the kill. “No, they despise him almost as much as they hate me. They’re afraid of him too.” Pausing, he seemed to mull over his last words. “He knows something that has them rattled. Whatever it is, they’re not happy about it. They suspect Akil was behind the Prince of Envy’s demise. They believe you’re Akil’s tool. They’re all too aware they’ve underestimated him.”

Didn’t everyone? They were probably right about all of it. Akil had manipulated the events that brought down the Institute. He could easily have steered the Prince of Envy into my path. If I thought about it for long enough, everything could be traced back to Akil. But confirmation that he was on our side had to be good news. At least, he had been on our team, before Adam locked him up. Now his motives were anyone’s guess. I needed to see him, to find out what he knew, to get the answers he owed me. “Akil told me the King of Hell could stop what’s coming. Have you heard anything like that?”

“No.” By the slight inflection of the word and arch of his brow, I could see I’d clearly piqued Stefan’s curiosity. “Really?”

I didn’t entirely trust Stefan and wasn’t sure whether any of the information I’d gleaned from Akil would help. It was all sporadic bits of dubious stories, nothing solid. But given the circumstances, rumors and speculation were all we had. “Alright… He told me there had once been a queen and king of the netherworld. When both ruled, they’d maintained a balance. But the queen killed the king, and the princes turned on her... That was pretty much when the netherworld went to hell.” I left out the part where I believed Akil was the king. He had told me the true king was hiding, but Akil hid the truth in plain sight. Stefan and Akil were destined to kill each other, like two freight trains on the same track. It was an unavoidable fact. I needed to keep them apart, especially if the so-called king could stop the demons.

“There’s a King of Hell?” Stefan had the same look on his face I must have had when I discovered the princes weren’t the worst the netherworld had to offer: an expression of abject shock and awe. “And Akil knows where he is?” I nodded. “That’s why the princes fear him. Do you know where Akil is?”

“Yeah, I do.” I hedged. “But I don’t want to tell you, especially after what you’ve said about who’s in your driver’s seat. Trust me, okay. Don’t ask. I’ll get to the bottom of the king rumors. If there’s truth in it, I’ll tell you.”

He nodded. “I do trust you.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Life is pretty simple now that the demon has control. Our past is irrelevant.”

There was so much wrong with his words that I pinned my lips closed and shoved the shock aside. It shouldn’t be that simple. Human beings are made up of turmoil. We challenge ourselves, we second-guess, we doubt, we live, we love, and we’re complicated, messy, and outright destructive. Stefan’s words denied all of that. Our past wasn’t irrelevant. It was right here in the room with us, but he didn’t feel it. That was how he was able to sit and chat like nothing had happened. He no longer cared.