Heart of the Demon

Begin Reading

Newsletters

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Z
ombies got a bad rap these days. At least that’s what the drunk one kept telling Finn Evnissyen as he sat at the bar nursing
his beer.

“I mean, come on. Do I look like I’m rotting?” The guy held out one arm and turned it so Finn could see the underside. The
action also sent a waft of ammonia covered up by too much cologne.

That hint of ammonia told Finn this guy had become a zombie within hours of death instead of days. Yeah, if he’d been dead
longer he wouldn’t be so pretty and he’d be much more odoriferous.

The zombie flexed his arm again. “Nope,” he muttered, answering his own question. “Skin’s as clear as a baby’s bottom.”

Finn didn’t give a rat’s ass about the zombie’s skin or baby bottoms. “Uh-huh,” Finn grunted as he swiveled around on his
stool to look out over the crowd. It was just after three in the afternoon on a hot, humid Sunday, and the bar already had
a healthy clientele made up of various preternaturals and humans. Finn brought his glass to his lips and sipped while he checked
out the other drinkers.

A couple of blue-collar type humans sat at a back booth with pretzels and beers, their eyes glued to the large TV screen hanging
on one wall. It looked like a preseason game of the Arizona Cardinals playing the Pittsburgh Steelers at the home stadium.
Damn. He should’ve bought tickets, since it was so close. It’d be better than sitting here watching it on TV with a zombie
yammering in his ear.

There was a lone drinker at the end of the bar that caught Finn’s eye. Finn leaned around zombie guy for a better look. The
loner hunched over his drink, obviously not wanting Finn to get a good look at him. Finn understood the need to be alone with
a drink, but he was curious to know what kind of pret was sharing the bar with him. Doing his job as well as he did meant
he’d made a few enemies. Hell, more than a few. So using extra precaution was necessary to make sure the guy trying to hide
behind his drink wasn’t a demon with a grudge.

Finn took a few sniffs of air and grimaced at the sickly sweet smell emanating from the man next to him, a man who was still
going on about zombies getting negative press.

“Really, man.” The zombie lifted his drink. “Just because we happen to like brains…and intestines—”

“Mack!” Finn held up his hand to signal the bartender. Enough was enough. He slammed his glass onto the bar and scowled. He’d
come here for a drink or three, not to strike up conversation with some random smelly dude. Since this guy wouldn’t shut up,
it was time to go. He slapped a few bills down on the bar and pushed off his stool.

“You gotta go?” The whiny zombie looked like he was about to cry. “We were only gettin’ started.”

“Yeah, well, somebody’s disturbing my quiet.” Finn shot the guy a look and headed toward the front of the bar, taking a route
that brought him behind the lone drinker. He didn’t recognize the dude, and sensed no aggression coming from him. Just another
guy trying to drown his sorrows.

As Finn pushed open the door, he slipped his sunglasses over his eyes. The sultry air of a late August afternoon in Scottsdale,
Arizona, slapped him in the face. God, it was so hot it felt like he’d stepped into an oven.

“Highway to Hell” began playing on his phone. He dragged it out of his pocket and answered with a terse, “What’s up, Dad?”

“I need to see you.
Now
.” As always, Lucifer Demonicus got right to the point. “My office.”

“I’m a little busy.” He wasn’t, but dear old dad didn’t need to know that.

“My office. Ten minutes.”

Finn realized his father had disconnected the call. “Damn it.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket. He could blow off
his dad, but if he did he had no doubt that the old devil would find him, or send some of his goons. “Damn it,” he muttered
again, and threw a leg over the seat of his motorcycle, wincing when heat from leather warmed by the sun seeped through his
jeans.

One day he’d be free from his father’s power. He was tired of Lucifer dictating his every move. As soon as he could find something
to use as leverage, he’d be out from beneath the king of demons’ tyranny. Until then, though…With a scowl he started the motorcycle
and pulled away from the curb. The sooner he got this over with, the better.

He headed his bike down Scottsdale Road. The fronds on the tall palm trees lining the street swayed in the breeze. The sun
beat down on him and reflected off the pavement in shimmering waves. His shirt began to stick to his perspiring skin. Luckily
the wind he stirred up by riding his bike cooled him off a little.

Finn made a turn onto the road that would take him to the office building where the leader of demons in this region conducted
his many businesses, legitimate and otherwise. Lucifer was crafty enough not to get caught by the authorities. Finn had a
lot to do with that as his father’s enforcer. When a demon stepped too far out of line—and Lucifer was actually pretty lenient—Finn
was the one sent to dispense justice. Which wasn’t always quick, or painless.

Or neat for that matter.

But he got the job done because somehow in all the mess that was the preternatural community, being the son of the devil evidently
meant he’d been born into indentured servitude. Not that most prets knew of his blood relationship to Lucifer. There were
rumors, but very few knew anything concrete, which was the way Finn liked it. The less people knew about him the better. A
man’s private life should be just that. Private.

He stopped at a traffic light and glanced at the car that pulled to a halt in the next lane. Flirty smiles on their faces,
two of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen looked at him with invitation in their eyes. Despite their beauty, he didn’t
get even a single twitch of interest from his body. He blew out a sigh and looked at the light. When a demon could look at
two succubi and feel nothing, something was wrong. Really, really wrong.

What, exactly, he didn’t know. It could be a bad case of the blues, he supposed, though he didn’t feel particularly depressed.
Maybe he was tired. He had been working a heavy schedule lately. The upcoming rift had everyone, prets and humans alike, on
edge. And demons seemed to be cornering the market on orneriness.

The light switched to green and he took off, nearly burning a swath of rubber in his hurry to get away from nontemptation.
When Finn reached his father’s office building he drove up onto the sidewalk and brought his bike to a stop by the front door.
He heeled down the kickstand and swung his leg over the seat. As he went through the automatic doors he tipped his head at
the security guys at the front desk. “Fellas,” he greeted. The air-conditioning was a welcome relief from the stifling midday
heat.

“You should move that before Lucifer sees it.” The guard gestured toward the motorcycle.

Finn merely grinned. Part of him recognized he was acting like a rebellious teenager, but he didn’t care. If Lucifer had a
problem with him, he could tell him to get lost. Finn would happily do so. Hell, he’d been trying to encourage his father
to release him from his duties for years with no luck.

He took the elevator to the top floor, getting off at the penthouse suite. He crossed the inlaid-wood foyer, his boots thumping
over the expensive flooring, and went straight into his father’s no-less-than opulent office. “The master calleth?” he asked
and flung himself down in one of the leather chairs across from Lucifer’s desk.

“I did.” Lucifer looked away from the bank of security monitors on the wall and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t think that
parking your motorcycle in front of the building is enough to cause me to release you from your…obligations.”

“Obligations? Is that what my job is called?” Finn crossed his legs, resting one ankle on top of the opposite knee. He drummed
his fingers on the arm of the chair. “How is it that by virtue of being your son I’m automatically at your beck and call forever?”
He held his father’s dark gaze. “Seriously, I’ve been doing this for over a thousand years. You have other sons you can foist
this job on. Go make one of
them
miserable for a while.”

“Miserable. Really?” Lucifer frowned, the action barely causing wrinkles to form. That was one of the quirky things about
being a preternatural. Lucifer had been on Earth for over seven thousand years, yet he looked like he was in his early forties.
Certainly not old enough to have an adult son as old as Finn appeared to be. Not that Finn looked old. He wasn’t a vain guy,
but he knew he looked good, roughly thirty-five years old.

“Yeah, killing demons gets old after about, oh, five hundred years, give or take.”

“Is that so?” From the tone of Lucifer’s voice, it was clear he didn’t give a damn. “Well, I have another job for you.”

Finn scowled. As usual, his father ignored Finn’s objections and plowed ahead with his own agenda. “And if I say no?”

Lucifer’s mouth twisted. “Let us tell you about it first before you turn it down, all right?” He pressed a button on his desk
and Finn heard the elevator start up.

“Who’s us?” Finn twisted around as the elevator doors pinged open. He frowned at the vampire who stepped into the foyer.

“Tobias, come in,” Lucifer said, getting to his feet. The two men shook hands and the vampire took the chair next to Finn.

“What’s this all about?” Finn asked as Lucifer sat back down.

A former liaison to the Council of Preternaturals, Tobias Caine had just been appointed to the council as their newest member.
The council, made up of thirteen members of the various pret clans, governed the preternatural community. Every preternatural—vampire,
shapeshifter, and fey—had representation. Only demons, by choice, did not participate in council governance. They had a strong
abhorrence of anyone telling them what they could and could not do, especially when nondemons were the ones setting the rules.

Tobias shifted in his seat to look at Finn. “We’re looking at statistics taken over the years to determine the breakdown of
preternaturals who come through the rift opened by the Moore-Creasy-Devon comet,” Caine said. “It’s apparent that of all the
pret clans, demons have the smallest representation.”

“So?” Finn frowned. “There have always been fewer of us than other prets. We can hold our own.”

“For how long?” Lucifer leaned his elbows on the desk. “Every seventy-three years, when the comet opens the rift between dimensions,
there are fewer demons that come through than any other preternatural. Century after century this occurs. In a few hundred
years we could very well be an endangered species.”

“Then demons should have more babies.” Finn wasn’t sure what the fuss was all about. People became preternaturals by traveling
through the rift and taking over bodies of human hosts. But all of them could procreate the good, old-fashioned way as well.
“That’s how I got here, after all.”

“Demon women would have to be perpetually pregnant to make any headway at all,” Caine said dryly.

“And the problem with that is…” Finn grinned at the annoyed looks on the other men’s faces. “I’m kidding.”

“Despite your ill-timed humor, this is a serious problem.” His father shot him a scowl. “The only way preternaturals keep
the community somewhat at peace is because there is a balance between all groups. As soon as one group becomes more powerful
than the others, there will be a fight for control.”

“I’ve never been much of a big picture kind of guy,” Finn said. “You might need to explain why you’re acting like this is
my problem.”

“Because it’s
my
problem. Therefore, it’s yours, too.”

Finn blew out a sigh. Since this wasn’t something that involved another demon directly, Finn’s skills as an enforcer weren’t
being called upon. Which meant he could refuse the assignment. “Sorry,” he said, not meaning a bit of it. He pushed to his
feet. “Whatever it is you’re asking me to do, I’ll pass.” He wanted to get away from doing his father’s bidding, not do more
of it.

“You can’t refuse to help, Finn.” Lucifer crossed his arms and glowered at his son.

“Are you asking me to hunt down a demon who’s been attacking humans or other prets?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then I believe I can refuse.” He cocked a brow. “And I do.”

“I realize you’ve never looked out for anyone but yourself, and you do a hell of a job at it. Can’t you look past your own
needs just this once?” Caine asked.

“You’re such a sweet talker,” Finn muttered. “You’re really making me want to help.” Finn thought a moment. “I have one question:
What’s in it for me?”

Caine’s scowl mirrored Lucifer’s. He muttered a curse. “Cut the crap, Finn. You’re not as much of a loner as you make out.
Listen to your conscience.” He pressed his lips together. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll give you half a mill to do it.”

“To do what, exactly?” It had to be something good for Caine to toss around that kind of money.

The vampire shared a glance with Lucifer, then said, “We want you to infiltrate a rogue group that’s planning something big
at the next Influx.”

The next Influx of preternaturals to come through the rift was due in four months. That didn’t give him a lot of time to go
undercover.

“We figure your reputation will speak for itself,” Caine added. “It should open doors quicker than someone else could get
it done.”

“The thing is…” Finn sat back down. He stretched his legs out in front of him and clasped his hands across his stomach. “I
don’t need the money. I’ve got plenty.”

“Two million.” This from Lucifer.

That cut him deep. Since when had Finn ever done anything he’d been asked to because of a paycheck? He might be a lot of things,
but mercenary wasn’t one of them. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I don’t need the money,” he repeated.

“Three million.”

Finn folded his arms over his chest and thought about the offer. He’d been truthful when he said he didn’t need the money
because he had more than he could spend in a couple hundred years. But there was something he’d been wanting, something that
had been out of his reach for a long time. What he wanted was to be his own man for once. Do what he wanted when he wanted
instead of having to ask permission from his boss, who also happened to be his father and the leader of the demon enclave
in the region.