One For Sorrow: The Veil Series, #5.5 Read online

  Not-Akil’s lips did a curious little tick of a smile, the first un-Akil reaction I’d seen from him. “From afar. He once lived here.” The accent twisted and warped from 1930’s American to something sharper, tinnier—French, possibly, but curiously smooth.

  So the house had once been Akil’s. I made a show of appraising the ballroom with a tongue-click and went over the pep talk again. I’d moved on. New person. New future. The past was behind me. He was behind me. And this imposter was just another demon screwing with my head.

  “So you figured what was good enough for the Prince of Greed was good enough for you? A lowly lesser, squatting in his home?”

  Not-Akil laughed, and his make-believe audience chuckled along with him. I smiled, swapped my drink to my left hand, and felt for my gun. It wasn’t there. Had he taken it from me when he’d brushed by me on the stairs? Perhaps it was there, but my manipulated thoughts wouldn’t allow me to recognize it. It didn’t matter. The gun was back-up. I still had my opening act.

  “Lesser?” he purred. “Oh dear, it seems somebody might have called you out under false pretenses.”

  “You made the call, huh?” I shrugged. It really didn’t matter. He’d be charcoal soon enough. “So are you going to introduce yourself, or do I have to ask one of your mind-puppets for your name?” The party-goers had lost their bright smiles and glared at me now like I’d pissed on their parade, as Ryder would say.

  “We have plenty of time to get to know one another, Muse.”

  He knew me. It could be my reputation as demon-hunter had reached him, or this might be personal. These days, it was mostly both.

  Not-Akil dipped his chin and glared through blonde lashes. His smile stretched wide across his face, and as he swept his hand back through his hair, his short locks turned platinum blonde and long enough to fall in front of his eyes.

  I laughed and shook my head. “Wow, what is this? Demon charades?”

  He made a good Stefan, but the smile and the eyes were all wrong. My father had perfected a Stefan act, but only after spending considerable time in Stefan’s head.

  He moved forward, prompting me to back up, and in the next step, the ballroom and its occupants blurred. I squeezed my eyes so hard they burned and opened them again to find Dawn standing in front of me, little Dawn, with her stuffed bunny, Missus Floppy, and her bouncy ringlets. I was reaching for her before I could think to stop myself. A gasp escaped me, and with it, I wanted to say so many things. So many sorrys. Leaving you was the only way. Some sacrifices have to be made…

  Hot, stinking breath blasted one side of my face. A low rumbling growl rumbled through the floor. Fear spilled ice water through my veins. I blinked, got an up-close-and-personal look down the muzzle of a hellhound, and then it lunged. A rush of heat bubbled up. Warmth wrapped me in light, and by the time I’d hit the floor—smothered by hellhound—my body was demon and my reaction swift. The hound squealed and might have thought twice about its assault if I’d given it a chance. I was done giving chances to demons. Thrusting out a hand, I blasted the beast with a tight pulse of concentrated heat and watched it burst into a cloud of superheated demon bits. A thrill curled through me, a little moment of triumph, right before the dust settled, and the pack of hounds eyed me as their next chew-toy.

  * * *

  I ran, mostly because it seemed the sensible thing to do, but also because my mystery mindfuck demon had vanished, and I couldn’t leave the house until there was one less demon in Boston. I made it up the first flight of stairs and ducked into a room, slamming the rotten door behind me—and then reconsidered my lifestyle choices.

  Lacy had invited Stefan and me on a double date. Her new guy, Travis, wore exquisitely tailored suits and looked remarkably like Akil, which Stefan had pointedly told her. Lacy had given him a look akin to scratching his eyes out. Needless to say, we’d declined the date. So Stefan was checking out a demon camped in a tree in Southie. I could still have gone on the date, had I not gotten Ryder’s message. A nice meal. Some chit-chat. Normal stuff. With normal people. Instead, I was dripping fire in an abandoned house with hellhounds chomping at my ankles. A little bubble of laughter escaped my lips. Exactly how I liked it. At least my Friday nights weren’t dull.

  I dialed back the fire, so as not to set the entire house aflame, but I kept my demon glow and waited, breathing hard, with my back pressed against the door. That many hellhounds should have been making a ruckus, but I couldn’t hear anything besides my own thudding heart and spluttering flames, which meant the hounds weren’t real—like the rest of this damned party.

  I sighed through my nose. So far, Demon-Frenchy had played me like a tune. This was getting embarrassing.

  “Mother of Freaking Destruction…” I grumbled. “Hiding behind a door.” Demon hunting had been so much easier when I’d had the fires of hell at my fingertips. Now I barely had enough oomph to roast a marshmallow or a hellhound.

  “You want him still,” Frenchy said from the other side of the door. “I felt it in the press of your female body.”

  I pushed away from the wood and turned to look at the panels as though I could look through them. I could shoot through the door, but while I was demoned up, I couldn’t free my gun. If I dropped the fire, I’d have access to my weapon again, unless he still had control of my mind. The room didn’t hold much help. My ember-lit body cast enough light to see that vines had crawled in through the rotten window frames. A steel-framed bed had been upended in one corner, and the floor was spongy beneath my boots. It would seem the 1930s were over. If Frenchy’s power was anything like my father’s mind-warping ability, he could make me believe anything, especially if I was receptive the way I had been with Akil. Damned emotions.

  “Greed is formidable,” Frenchy continued. “The mortal half of you loves him still. I smelled the arousal on you, the stink of mortal attraction.”

  I laughed because this demon had no idea who the Prince of Greed was to me and never would. “You sweet talker, you.”

  “Do not pretend that what I showed you meant nothing,” he replied, the European bite to his words all the sharper because I wasn’t whimpering at his feet, begging to have my prince of hell back.

  “How do you know I’m not just a demon-groupie who gets her rocks off cuddling up to leftovers like you?”

  A beat of silence passed. Then another. I stepped closer to the door and pressed my ear against the wood. Nothing. Not even the unending burble of city sounds. A forced silence. Not real.

  “Muse? You in here?”

  Ryder. I tugged open the door and found the landing empty. Frenchy wouldn’t have gone far. I had to warn Ryder.

  “Up here.” I headed for the top of the stairs. “Ryder, the demon’s a class—” A gunshot rang out. I ducked and flinched to one side. “Ryder, damnit! It’s me.” I heard him spit a curse, and the stairs creaked. “I’m coming out. Don’t shoot.”

  I peeked over the top step. A lick of light slid over the Desert Eagle right before Ryder fired, and a new fire rushed down my side. I scuttled back with a hiss and gave my wing a flick. Sizzling blood trickled from near the joint. Another hole. Wonderful. “Hey, dumbass. Friendly demon over here.”

  “C’mon out lil’ demon.” The stairs creaked. “One more peek and I’ll hit yah square between those fiery eyes.”

  He doesn’t know it’s me. “Ryder, you can’t shoot for shit.”

  “Keep on growling. You’re just makin’ it easy.”

  He couldn’t hear me. He’d come here expecting to find a Class C demon, and Frenchy was helping his mind fill in the blanks. A ripple of laughter trickled down the hallway. Oh, I was so going to enjoy picking my teeth with Frenchy’s demon bones. I could drop my demon, but there was no guarantee Ryder wouldn’t shoot me right between the eyes, and he’d do it too. At least my demon skin afforded me some protection, albeit not much from the Desert Eagle and its etched rounds.

  I bolted, heard a shot boom, and found myself back in the empty room. I sla
mmed the door closed, only for Ryder to kick it in. No time. He came through the doorway, gun braced in both hands. I barreled into him, shoved the gun high, and cracked my right fist into his cheek with enough muscle behind it to stagger him. Had I opened my claws, I could have taken his face off. He hissed and turned his face away from the heat pouring off me. Damn, I didn’t want to hurt him.

  I wrapped a hand around the Desert Eagle, clamping down hard, and pushed fire through the steel. C’mon, you stubborn bastard. Let go. He clung on—even as I smelled burning flesh—he clung on and glared into my eyes. He wouldn’t give up without a fight. He didn’t know he fought me, didn’t know I wouldn’t hurt him. As far as he knew, this was a fight to the death.

  I jerked my elbow up, under his jaw, snapping his head back, snatched the gun from his grip and then punched him in the gut to drop him to his knees. “Sorry.” He spat blood and spluttered a string of curses. I winced. I’d forgotten my own strength. “I’ll buy the beers.”

  “Do it,” he snarled. “I’m ready.”

  “Pah. You’re not ready to die. You’re going be a hero and make a lunge when I get close.” I backed up. “Demon hunting one-oh-one. Don’t give them room to move because they’ll always go in for the kill. So I’m just going to take my fiery ass over here until you figure it out.”

  “Do it!”

  “A demon would do it.” I waggled my claw-tipped fingers at him and then made a deliberate show of removing the gun’s clip and tossing the empty weapon at his feet. Not an easy thing to accomplish with claws. Demons didn’t dismantle guns. I offered up a fist to bump, in the universal sign of mutual celebration. His eyes narrowed while his brain tried to figure out the catch.

  I clicked my tongue. “Fine.”

  Crossing the room, I pulled the steel-framed bed down with a clatter and perched on its edge. “See. Not killing you. Not demon. Well, not a bad demon. Mostly. Sometimes. You know what I mean.”

  Ryder huffed a laugh and shifted himself into a seated position against the doorframe. “Well, I’ll be damned. First time I’ve had one of you Class Cs wanna sit and talk.”

  I rolled my eyes. “The demon is in your head. And he’s not a Class C. B, hopefully. A if we’re unlucky. I really hope he’s the dying kind.”

  “You’re an intriguing thing.” Not-Akil strode into the room. His lethal grace had a demon purr bubbling at the back of my throat. I cleared it with a growl.

  “I’d heard of you.” He cast a dismissive hand gesture my way before leaning against the wall opposite Ryder. “Greed’s half-blood. It made sense, once it was revealed he’d infused your soul with his, claimed you so that he might live through the battle. Genius, really.”

  “Genius,” I grumbled, keeping a close eye on Ryder as he fingered his ribs and eyed me back like I was the crazy demon in the room. He couldn’t see Frenchy, couldn’t hear my words. I just hoped he didn’t do anything stupid to attract Frenchy’s attention. I had a gun clip but no gun. The Desert Eagle rested beside Ryder’s boot.

  I propped an elbow on my knee, with my head in my hand and clicked my claws against my cheek. If Ryder would get his act together, I could kick the clip back to him, and he could shoot Frenchy. But that all relied on his all-too human mind figuring out why the demon he’d been sent to take down was sitting on the bed, looking bored instead of chewing on his insides. He’d get it. Eventually.

  Meanwhile, Not-Akil smirked at me like he’d won.

  “Y’know,” I began, “you’re not fit to wear his image. Demon like you, he’d snuff you out with a click of his fingers.” I would have too, once. I liked to think I didn’t miss the power or its sirens call. But there were times, like this one, when it would have been nice to have it back, just for a few seconds, long enough to click my fingers and remind this demon how I’d earned the name Destruction.

  “I don’t doubt it, half-blood. Greed’s method of sentencing was legendary. He did not suffer weaklings and lessers. I’m surprised he suffered you, a half-blood whore.”

  It had been a long time since any demon had called me that. Now the words meant little and slid right off me, where once they would have hooked in and chipped at my self-worth. He could call me what he liked. Later, he’d start begging. But either way, he wasn’t living through this night. He’d sealed his fate the moment he’d looked at me with Akil’s eyes, spoken with Akil’s words, and touched—

  “He still matters, I see.” Not-Akil pushed off the wall and stalked forward, his strides precisely restrained, just like Akil’s. I watched the way he moved with a predator’s grace, how the light slid off his dark suit, and I soaked it up, knowing it was wrong, but wanting him all the same. It shouldn’t have surprised me that I still wanted Akil. I probably always would, and that was my weakness—the reason Frenchy still wore Akil’s face. This clever demon knew my mind the same as my father had, when he’d used Stefan’s image to both protect himself and get close to me. My father and this demon had the same power: to twist the mind and its beliefs. But Frenchy surely couldn’t keep up the act for long. He wasn’t Asmodeus, but he was smarter than the average Class C.

  “Why are you doing this?” I peeked around his waist to see Ryder arch an eyebrow at what must have looked to him like a Class C growling to herself.

  “There is little else to occupy me in this wretched world with its tepid elements and equally tepid people. You and your Ice Prince, you would kill every last one of us trapped here.”

  “That’s the plan.” I smirked.

  Irritation ticked at this expression. “But here, now, in this time and place, there is opportunity.” He crouched to eye level with me. “If I can remove you, remove the one half-blood creature standing in the way of chaos, this city could be mine.” My fiery reflection shimmered in his dark eyes, but there was nothing of Mammon’s infinite darkness there, nothing of his deep hunger, his need to own, to possess. His greed.

  I wondered where Akil was and if my weakness would amuse or anger him. Both, probably.

  “You are not afraid,” Not-Akil mused.

  “Afraid?” I huffed a dry laugh. “Why would I be afraid when I already know how this ends?” Demons: strike one down, and another rises to fill its egotistical shoes. I should have guessed the leftovers would try to carve out a piece of real estate for themselves. Akil’s presence had kept them in check before. But now… Now Boston was still recovering, and ripe for the picking, if there was a demon left on this side with enough ambition and balls to face me. Frenchy thought he was that demon.

  “All I want is my chance, my time. The princes are not here to stop me. I can be prince of my own city and its weak-minded people.”

  “And what would you be the prince of? The Prince of Charades?” I slowly rose to my feet and lifted my wing. He straightened, his eyes locked with mine. “You can’t just call yourself prince.”

  “Can’t I?

  “All I see is a little demon with grand ideas.” My step forward forced him one step back. “Do you even have a name?”

  The frown looked wrong on Akil’s face, crooked, like the thing behind the act. “My name is Saul.”

  I dropped the ammo clip and gave it a quick kick in Ryder’s direction. Saul tried to turn his head, but I caught his Akil-face in my hand and squeezed.

  The familiar metallic sounds of the magazine ramming home, and the chink-chink of the round being loaded into the chamber had my demon heart skipping. Ryder was about to shoot Saul or me or both.

  I yanked Saul so close that the skin of his face flushed red and started to sizzle. “Nobody gets to use Akil’s memory against me.” I sneered, baring my fangs. “Ever.”

  The gun fired. Saul burst apart in a sudden blast of water that hit me like a slap in the face. I staggered back, more from surprise than anything else. Water pooled on the floor and crept—serpentine-like—up the wall and through a hole in the ceiling. I shot a blast of heat in its direction, but the fire ravaged the rotten wood, forcing me to pull it back and snuff it out befor
e the flames escaped.

  I dropped my gaze to Ryder, standing in a braced stance, gun aimed over my shoulder at my wing, which would explain the new throbbing pain.

  “Ryder, you shot me. Again.”

  “Shit, Muse. I didn’t know it was you. You demons all look the same.”

  “One wing, Ryder. One. Wing. I’m starting to take it personally.”

  “You were blurry, and my head’s all messed up.” He lowered the gun and scratched at his cheek. “Ah, quit your bitchin’. It’s just a nick off that hook-thing you’ve got there. It’ll grow back.”

  I cocked my head and clicked my claws. “I’ll slice some parts off you, and we’ll see if they grow back, shall we?”

  His lips quirked. “He ain’t no Class C.”

  “No, he sure ain’t,” I drawled, shucking off my demon and rolling my shoulders as I settled once more into my human skin.

  “You ever seen one turn to water like that?”

  “No. Well, there was Levi.” The Prince of Envy had tried to drown me on several occasions. He could turn into water-vapor. But his subject, Carol-Anne had been a water demon, and as far as I knew, she couldn’t turn herself into a puddle. Maybe that meant Saul was more powerful than I‘d hoped.

  “When did you figure out what you were seeing wasn’t real?” I checked my gun and cellphone. All present and correct. Saul had released our minds for now.

  “Demons don’t do fist-bumps.”

  I grinned. “This one does.” Ryder had my back, and now Saul had no chance. “Let’s bag us a demon who fancies himself a prince.”

  “Does he know who you are?” Ryder followed me out the door toward the next flight of stairs.

  “Yeah, but he thinks if he wears Akil’s face, I won’t hurt him.”

  It took Ryder only a few steps to ask, “Will you?”

  We didn’t talk about Akil. I didn’t talk about Akil. There was little point. Nothing I said would make any difference. Lacy got it. Stefan, too. They knew I’d focused on moving forward. But they were there, if—when I needed them. That was all I’d ever needed, someone who understood. Now I had four friends who understood in their own unique ways, and I counted myself lucky every damn day.