Unearthed (7 page)

She nodded. “It was part of his ritual. Torture me, take me into the water, make me drink his blood, and leave just enough time to towel off before the next round. Sixth question.”

“How did no one find out?”

“Because no one looked. Seventh.”

“How did you escape?”

“He couldn’t play with a dead body.” Finally, her strength faltered a little. Davyn thought he saw the reflection of moisture in her eyes, but she looked at her feet before he could tell for sure. “When I came back, I was in a ditch.”

Seers died and then came back able to see the world hidden within the human one. If Lamere wasn’t such a prick, he would’ve just wiped her mind of all of it. But then again, he thought he’d killed her, so why bother?

“That’s a shitty way to become a seer, but at least he used his magic on you for all the rest of it. It ain’t much, puppet, but at least you didn’t feel it.”

“I felt everything.” She paused, maybe waiting for him to ask something else, but he didn’t know what to say. “If he’d used his power, it would have ruined his fun. When he took me, I was already a seer. I just didn’t know what that meant yet.”

The angels had failed. Somehow they’d missed her and had given Lamere the chance to take her before she knew anything about the Highworld.

Suddenly, it all clicked together. Davyn understood exactly why Lamere was tracking her, why he’d come back to the city. And it had nothing to do with making new vampires or challenging a demon.

The fucking psycho wants her back.
Because she was the one who got away. And all the rest of it was a game.

“Eighth question,” she said.

“You didn’t eat much. Are you still hungry?”

“Is that your question?”

“It’s
a
question. Are you?”

“No.”

“Me neither. But I have to go back in for the check.”

Her brow furrowed as she realized he was done asking questions and was serious about going back to pay. “You’re a shitty demon.”

He shrugged. “This world is my home for the time being. When in Rome, spend a lot of time in the bathhouses. When in San Francisco…? Well, there are no more bathhouses here, but there are a lot of great restaurants I want to be able to come back to. So I pay for my food.”

He approached her and grabbed her shirt between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it down carefully so he wouldn’t accidentally touch her. “I still have two more questions. I want to hold onto them for a while.”

She nodded. “I can’t answer them if I’m dead.”

“Then you’re going to have to make sure you don’t do anything that’ll get you killed, won’t you? And high on that list is to not fuck with me.”
You idiot. Just say it. You know you’re going to.
“Yes,” was all he got out before he remembered how much he disliked her.

“Yes, what?”

“I can’t sit back and go to a movie while you hunt Lamere down, not unless I want to bring the Devil’s wrath down on the world. So taking the vamp out is my number-one priority. But if you happen to get to him first, then yes, I will stand back and let you shove the stake into his heart.” He paused before walking away. “If you can’t keep up or if you’re bleeding too badly to take him out, the deal’s off. Got it?”

“Got it,” she answered quickly, probably shocked and afraid he would come to his senses before the deal was struck. “Does this mean we’ve teamed up?”

“No. It means that I will use my considerable skill, and you will use your marginal ones to make sure the same mark doesn’t get away.”

“You don’t know what team up means, do you?”

“Demons don’t team up,” he grumbled.

“Okay. It’s just two words, but whatever. Thanks for buying me dinner…and for not killing me earlier.”

“Yeah, well”—he shook his head as he went back into the restaurant to pay the bill—“don’t expect either of those things to ever happen again.”

Davyn found the hunter in the last place she should be spending her time—an alley after dark. Although to be fair, this one wasn’t dark. It was lit up like a Roman candle and toasty warm thanks to the thick flames that had completely overtaken the building across the street, the one she was currently staring at. Her skin looked bronze, her eyes intensifying with every flick of the fire.

Not demon fire thankfully, because the entire block would’ve gone up, but a demon had definitely set it. A stupid demon with idiot tendencies, which made Drinod the first one to pop into Davyn’s head. But why? To kill a few more humans? Listen to a few more screams?

“I got a question for you, puppet,” he growled. “Do you
want
to die?” He already regretted making the deal. Demons didn’t play by many rules, but that one was a biggie, the only kind of integrity his race had and the only time they could be trusted. Whether the deal was for a soul or the last piece of cake didn’t matter—if a demon made a deal, a demon kept a deal.

But
…if she decided going after Lamere was more trouble than it was worth or if she died before she could claim her end of it, all would be good. And fortunately, Davyn had never agreed to not kill her himself. “Because I’d be happy to help you out with that.”

She didn’t turn away from the fire, mesmerized. “A girl was killed at a bar last night. Sucked dry. I talked to a seer on the cleanup crew. She looked like…like the girl Lamere
turned
.” Which meant she looked like the hunter, too.

“Then why are you here?”

“That’s where I lived.” She pointed at the inferno. “Until this afternoon. The manager told me a guy came by around midnight last night, looking for me. No one’s ever looked for me. No one. He left me a note.” She shoved a crumpled piece of paper at Davyn.

He unwrinkled it and read:

Chérie,

If you play with fire, you will get burned.

“I should’ve called in a bomb threat or something so they would all leave. I just didn’t think he would…” She swallowed. “I stayed there too long. I should’ve moved so he couldn’t find me. Then…”

“Again I ask: Why are you here now?”

She didn’t respond.

Davyn wasn’t used to being ignored. “Okay, I appreciate that you’ve accepted yourself as bait, but the being-stupid thing needs to stop.” He grabbed her by the jacket and tugged her backwards, deeper into the alley, where it was darker and cooler. She ducked and pivoted, slipping out of the jacket entirely and backing up. Her eyes connected with his and stayed with him. Good.

She needed a push. Remorse and self-pity were way more damaging to the soul than fire ever would be.

“Talk to me, puppet.”

“I thought you didn’t like it when I spoke.”

“See that pretty fire over there?” he asked. “I didn’t set it.”

“I know.
He
did. Lamere and his demon.” She didn’t look for a way out, but he knew it wasn’t because she was overconfident, which she was. It was because she’d already blocked-out probably a dozen different ways to get out of the alley if she had to.

Smart. If he wanted a pet, she would be his first choice. Totally adorable and with a limited lifespan.

“Technically, yeah,” he said. “But realistically,
you
did. You set that fire and killed all those people the second you decided to act like an idiot.”

“What did you just say?” she shouted, redirecting her self-loathing outward—where it needed to be if she wanted to stay alive. Davyn didn’t give a shit if she died but, until that happened, he couldn’t be tripping over her
whaa
-it’s-all-my-fault attitude.

“That’s what you were thinking, right? It’s your fault those people are dead, not the psycho who actually set the fire or the other psycho who told him to. Yours. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She clamped her jaw shut, glaring at him.

“Your mistake wasn’t staying in the same place for too long. It was hunting him or going out for pizza, or whatever the fuck you do after dark. If you stay in at night, evil vampires can’t follow you home. Even if he’s old enough not to need sleep, he’s more lethargic, less logical, and can’t phase during daylight hours.”

“As much as it hurts to admit,” he continued, “the bastard is smart. So if you want to follow me around and pretend to help, then you need to be equally smart.”

“Do you know where he hangs out during the day?” she snapped. “Or where he’s been for the last few months? Because I don’t. What if he disappears for another six months? Or for good? What happens then?”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m immortal and very patient.” And a good liar. Davyn didn’t have enough patience for it to even be dubbed ‘impulse control.’ Except when it came to a tour’s expiration date. He’d be fine with putting that off, eternally. Unfortunately, that day was coming up fast, and there was no way to avoid it.

“Well, since I’m
not
immortal, why don’t you go enjoy the rest of your existence somewhere pretty? I’ll stay here because I have shit to kill.”

“I should hand you over to him. Make my life a lot easier.”

“Wow,” she said, deadpan. “And here I thought we’d bonded.”

“Yep. A lot easier.” And, of course, that was when he felt his shirt start to melt. Damn it. He loved this shirt. But he really should dress more appropriately for the occasion. Like his little puppet, except with style and taste. He could pull off black jeans, black boots, and a black jacket, too. He just didn’t
want
to.

While normally he was able to control how little or how much heat he gave off, there were a few circumstances when no method of control was enough. This time, it wasn’t stress or that he’d been using his glamour too long.

Even though his nerves were raw and he was in a horrible mood, this was a hint from the big guy. A reminder that his vacation time was almost up. In about three above-the-crust weeks, Davyn would get the Devil’s second warning. He wouldn’t get a third.

Three weeks was more than enough time to finish this job. If the hunter didn’t fuck it all up, of course. Not the best way to spend his last weeks on earth, though. Davyn should be enjoying every second, being as gluttonous and pleasure-seeking as possible, to gear up for going back. Even though he wouldn’t be in hell long, time was a tricky thing there. A few days here seemed like a century there, but that could be because of the excruciating pain used to reset his mind back to the factory settings—evil, evil, and more evil. Not many giggles where he was from.

When he saw the first hole appear in the shoulder of his shirt, he ripped the thing off. It was destroyed anyway. If he waited until after the fight was over—and there
would
be a fight and he
would
be around when it was over—he might cool off. Then he’d have to chip the synthetic fabric off. It had happened. More times than he wanted to count.

The hunter looked at him with big eyes that darted from his face to his chest to somewhere a little farther down and back again.

“Careful, puppet. You look at me like that again and I may get the wrong idea.”

She turned away, the blush on her cheeks making her even more attractive, letting him know her body was hotter than normal. Because of him. That she couldn’t hide it was a big fucking turn-on.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Why did you take off your shirt?”

“I had a hot flash.” And was getting hotter—not because of his glamour or his boss. Because of her. Oh, the things he would do to her if he could. For starters, he’d rip every single piece of clothing off her body. Then he’d—

Fuck. Not helpful.
He should kick her ass, not do anything else to it.

“Is it over or do you need a minute?” she asked with one hundred and ten percent insincerity.

“You worry about you. I’m fine.” He shook himself off because that obviously wasn’t true. As if fantasizing about a human wasn’t bad enough, he was actually listening to what she said. The Devil’s reboot couldn’t have come at a better time. After fifty years on the surface, Davyn had forgotten what he was.

He’d heard of it happening, once, maybe twice since time began. Demons who refused to return, enjoying the human thing a bit more than they should, acclimatizing to it. Poor bastards. Sucked all the way down to Level Nine with the boss himself, never having another chance to get out of that fucking horrible pit.

Despite popular belief, a demon’s leash was annoyingly short and their collar uncomfortably tight. Go against any of the big man’s orders? Eternal pain in hell, no chance of parole.

“Let’s see what you got, puppet,” Davyn said, focusing on the issue at hand. “Prove to me you have any kind of value, because I’m really starting to wonder.”

“I thought I was bait.”

He shrugged. “You’re also easily replaceable. There’ll never be a shortage of pretty girls with short brown hair and low IQs.”

“Fuck you.”

“Sorry. The only thing I do with humans is fuck
with
them.”

The hunter pulled at her shirt, popping the first couple of buttons and exposing a bra, some
beautiful
breasts, and a knife holster. She very carefully pulled the knife out and held it in front of her. When the blade caught the light, suddenly Davyn had a lot more respect for her. It wasn’t steel. It wasn’t even iron.

It was salt. Had to be homemade because you couldn’t buy shit like that off the shelf at Walmart. She’d whittled a salt block into a fucking knife. It wasn’t strong, but that was the brilliance of it—all she had to do was stab him. As soon as the blade broke off inside his body, he’d be in excruciating pain until he could get all of it out.

“You little devil,” he said in admiration. “Did you make that for me or for the other bastard?”

She answered with a tiny shrug of her shoulders, but her message was heard.

Davyn smiled. She confused him—a very tough thing to do. Moderately smart and highly ambitious, consumed by what she wanted and willing to do whatever it took to get it. Humans claimed to be willing, but they never were, stumbling over the first roadblock and making up some stupid excuse as to why they had to quit. This one was going up against two demons to get to a vampire. It was just delusional enough to actually work, and Davyn wanted to be there—to see her reach the goal or die trying.