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

  “If he wore my face, you sure wouldn’t have any problem taking him down.”

  I threw a glance over my shoulder and saw Ryder working his jaw. He walked stiffly too. I might have added a bit of unnecessary force to my earlier right hooks.

  “I’ve been practicing with Stefan.” I removing my cell from my pocket and shined the flashlight up the stairs. “He knows exactly where you leave yourself wide open.”

  Ryder clicked his tongue. “The rush on entry. I should’a known. That’s his move.” He pressed his back against the wall and eyed the layers of shadows flickering along the landing.

  I could have done with Stefan at my back too. He’d have sauntered through this house, unfazed by the mindfuck demon, sprinkling some sharp-as-ice quips as he went. He made it look easy. Life. Freedom. Living. He loved it. Thrived off it. He made me forget the worst of things and remember the best. I’d love him for that alone. But then there was his smile, a smile that had endured through the pain, the horror, and the heartache. When it was just the two of us, his smile took on a sly, knowing angle, and mischief brightened his blue eyes. He was still the light to my dark.

  “Focus, firecracker, or our demon will rip that happy place right out of your head.”

  I wiped the smile off my face and started up the steps, testing their strength under my boots. “He’s not as powerful as Asmodeus.”

  “Is that hope or fact talkin’?” When I didn’t answer, Ryder grumbled. “Thought so.”

  “Saul is not a prince.”

  “Yeah, well, you sure as shit aren’t destruction on two legs anymore either, so let’s just get this done.”

  “We could just burn this place down.” I climbed higher, reaching the landing to angle the flashlight around the corner. A little itch started in my fingertips at the thought of freeing the fire.

  “We need to confirm he’s dead. He could slip out a pipe, or through a dr—”

  In between steps, the stairs gave out. My stomach lurched as the world seemed to jolt upward. My right arm slammed onto a remaining step, jarring me to a dangling halt. Behind me, Ryder wasn’t so lucky, but he was alive. I could tell by the string of curses echoing in the dark below.

  “Ryder?”

  “I’m good.” He groaned, and something clattered, more of the stairs collapsing.

  I swung my left arm up and heaved myself out of the hole. I’d lost my phone, and couldn’t see much beyond blurred darkness. Summoning the demon half of me sharpened my vision. I peered through eyes designed for netherworld air and down into the gap where the stairs had been. Ryder stood hunched against some sort of countertop. A kitchen maybe. Or workshop. I couldn’t quite tell. “Can you see a way out?”

  He waved a hand in front of him. “I can’t see anything down here.”

  “I dropped my cell. It has to be close to you.” He groped around in the dark, hands out, reaching. He still had the gun in his hand, so he wasn’t completely vulnerable. “I’m coming down.”

  “No, there’s no use you gettin’ trapped down here. Go, finish off the demon then come get me.”

  “You going to be okay?”

  “Sure, the dark never hurt anyone.”

  I was more concerned with what lurked in the dark. I turned my gaze on the rest of the staircase, seeing through shades of red—my own firelight.

  “Muse?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Deep fry his ass.”

  I grinned over sharp teeth. “I’m on it.”

  I made it onto the next landing when the rain started. It fell from apparently nowhere and sizzled against my lava-veined skin. Indoor rain. There was always something new to learn when hunting demons. They each had unique talents. A little rain wasn’t going to hurt me, unless Saul could wash me down a hallway the way Levi had. I shook off that unpleasant memory and pushed more heat through my skin.

  “Tickles,” I purred, stalking toward the door at the end of the landing. A third staircase—leading to the attic—had collapsed, and the ceiling above was little more than a few rotten boards. I saw the eaves, and through the holes in the roof, Boston’s orange tinged-night sky. There was only one last place to look.

  The last room was vast, covering what remained of the top floor. A master bedroom, perhaps. The windows overlooked Boston’s twinkling skyline, and as I approached the dirt-smudged glass, I had the sense that Akil had often stood in the same spot, admiring 1930s Boston, a city that would soon be his. Memories can sometimes be so powerful, they drag the past into the present. I felt him then as surely as if he stood behind me. It wasn’t Saul, no, but a gut-deep ache and a heartfelt knowing. It was real. I wondered if wherever he was in the netherworld, he might be standing somewhere high, his wings held aloft, his eyes on the burned forest or barrens, but his thoughts with me. I liked to think so. I see you, the presence said. I know you. I will never forget.

  I smiled and closed my eyes.

  Saul might have landed the blow had I not felt a pull to my left and followed it like an instinct. I spun on my feet, using the weight of my wing to pivot, and backhanded Saul across the back of his slippery demon head. His wings shot out, slimy and smooth. He slapped one across my face while he groped for the window frame to stop himself from toppling outside.

  I raked my claws down his back, opening up four vicious gashes and drew back a fist. He let out a howl and whirled on me, splashing an arch of cool water across my torso. Pain flashed through my body, clamping muscles and screaming inside my head. Goddamned water elementals.

  He burst forward in a flurry of claws and teeth and wings. I hunched low, tucked in my wing, and tackled him low enough to lift him up and throw him over my back. Water and fire hissed, crackled, and spat where our bodies clashed. Pain danced all over and throbbed my vision. I twisted and yanked the heat from the nearest sources—nearby streetlights, car engines, electrical cables anything and everything—and funneled it through me to blast it all at him. He bucked and writhed on the floor, his wings curling inward. His skin cracked and pulled tight across his jagged bones. And he screamed, screamed the way only creatures from the netherworld could. Those screams weren’t meant for this world. Neither was he.

  My fire spluttered. I reached for more but couldn’t find anything. The neighborhood was too empty, too desolate. The further I reached, the weaker the result would be.

  Saul’s glare fixed on me. His cracked lips split as he smiled. “It might not be me.” Water dribbled from his lips, down his cheek and neck. “But we will not rest. We w-will not h-hide.”

  A snarl rippled across my lips. I stood over him, watching him try to shift back. But his burned limbs had seized. He was dead. He just didn’t know it yet. I pressed a knee into his chest and braced an arm beside his head, leaning close to his face. Wide double-lidded demon eyes, half shriveled in their sockets, peered up at me. Fear. He felt it then and knew he’d picked the wrong half-blood to tussle with. “This city is mine.”

  He spluttered, choked, and gathered himself together enough to say, “You can’t protect all the cities, half-blood. There’s only one of you and more of us here than you know. I’m not the only one hungry for chaos. It will come. It will live again, and you’re just a half-blood wh—”

  One swipe of my claws across his throat tore out whatever he had left to say, taking the rest of his life with it. He twitched and struggled for a few moments more. Head tilted, I watched the life leak out of his body. Only when he fell completely still and the last breath sighed from the gash in his throat, did I lean in closer still, my eyes burning into his, and say again, “This city is mine.”

  * * *

  Ryder yanked open the rusted iron gate and strode through, brushing dust and splinters of wood from his hair. He hadn’t stopped grumbling since I’d broken through the old kitchen door and lit up the room with my fire glow.

  “Let’s go.” He strode for his car.

  “One second.”

  “Muse.”

  I was already heading back up the pat
h and pooling fire through my arm into my hand. It didn’t take much for the flames to catch hold of the house and start climbing its walls. I backed up, watching my fire lick and dance higher, and urged them on with a few nudges here and there.

  By the time I joined Ryder, leaning against his car, the inferno blazed bright and high enough to bathe him and the street in rippling orange light. He gave me a dry look full of questions.

  It took him all of a minute of watching the fire gobble the house for him to ask, “Did that place mean something to you?”

  I stared into the light, into the flames, felt the thrill of the fire as it blazed skyward. “Once. It did once.”

  He didn’t buy it. And as soon as we got back to the workshop, he’d ask Jenna to search the records for the owner. He might not find the link immediately, but he’d keep digging. And eventually, he’d find Akil Vitalis on the deed. Ryder’s gaze told me all of that and asked—without words—if it might be better to tell him the truth now. I grinned, showing him blunt human teeth, and headed for my own car, parked down the street. “C’mon. Beers are on me for punching you in the gut.”

  “Are you goin’ to tell Stefan you dropped me in two moves?”

  “Hell, yes.” I grinned, striding away.

  Ryder’s car door opened. “Muse?”

  His tone had softened with enough concern to tighten my throat. “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  A curl of demon pleasure skittered down my back. The fire whispered as it devoured the house, and with it any remnants of Akil’s presence. Destruction, the fire called. I glanced over my shoulder. “Never better.” The fire’s crackles and snarls hid the growl in my voice. “Race yah,” I called back with a wink.

  He ducked inside his car.

  Destruction.

  A satisfied smile sat lightly on my lips as I climbed into my own car.

  I’d let him win.

  * * *

  Alone Time

  “Who spends their holidays in a bar?”

  I arched an eyebrow at Ryder as he slipped onto the barstool beside me. He shivered and pulled his jacket tighter around him, muttering something about balls and ice. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “Well…” I raised my glass and wet my lips with whiskey. “My family’s idea of Thanksgiving and Christmas involves spit-roasting half bloods on an open fire.”

  He snorted a laugh. “The netherworld doesn’t do warm and fuzzy, huh?”

  “I didn’t think you did either.”

  He signaled the bartender, ordered a drink then angled sideways on the stool and appraised me in that oh-so-dry way he has. “I do holiday cheer. Mostly it involves the range and some fifty-caliber rounds.”

  I chinked my glass against his beer bottle. “Nice.” If his settling shuffle was anything to go by, he was apparently staying. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “Nope.”

  “C’mon. You must have family, friends…”

  “The enforcers are gettin’ together for drinks”—he checked his cell— “in an hour. Wanna come?”

  Right. Me at the office party. That’d go down like…well, a house on fire. “I’ll pass.” Hunching over the bar, it occurred to me that I’d never really done Christmas. The years I’d spent with Akil didn’t count. The only religion he got behind was the worship of his own ego. After I’d ‘escaped’ his clutches, I’d tried the whole tree and decorations thing once. With Sam. Sure, it had been nice. He’d laughed at my complete lack of holiday knowledge, and I’d frowned at the fact he had a dead tree in his living room, decorated with popcorn? I quickly figured out it takes a family to make a Christmas, and I didn’t have one, so I had spent the holidays in my workshop, beating out my frustration on the metalwork. Then Stefan happened, and my life got twisted pretty damn fast.

  So, there I was, sitting in a bar, sipping whiskey. I was fine with keeping myself company, but it seemed Ryder wasn’t.

  “What’s your favorite thing to do?” He lifted his beer bottle to his lips.

  I blinked. “I don’t know.” Between work and my hectic kill-or-be-killed social life, I didn’t really have me-time.

  “You got a hobby?” His brow pinched as though I was deliberately being evasive, or he couldn’t quite believe how recreationally inept I was. “You must have something you like doing that ain’t playin’ with fire.”

  “Erm, I dunno… Coffee?”

  “Coffee.” He laughed, but the chuckle soon faded when he saw my face. “Shit. You’re serious.”

  “Look, where I come from, we didn’t do hobbies or traditions, okay? Unless you consider reading the past in metal a hobby?”

  A jaunty grin curled his lips at the corners. “Conversations with you just get weirder.” He raked his fingers through his hair and dragged a hand across his chin. “Okay, when I was a kid, my dad used to take me out to the plains near our farm. We’d fire off a few rounds. Target practice, y’know. But during the holidays we’d go out there…” He paused and shot me a scowl. “Y’know what… Come with me.” He was off his stool, beer abandoned, before I could say no. “Leave the whiskey,” he called back, already half way to the door.

  Seemed like a damn shame to leave a perfectly good whiskey behind. “Where we goin’?” I slid off my stool and followed.

  Ryder held open the door, a smile hitching his lips into a crooked smile. “To light up the town.”

  * * *

  “Ryder, I’m pretty sure this is illegal.”

  He hefted a duffle bag onto his shoulder. “I’m the weapons guy. I can handle explosives with my eyes closed.”

  “Not literally, I hope.”

  “Just stay back, and keep your fiery tendrils to yourself.”

  “Sure thing.” I tucked my hands into my pockets and watched Ryder stomp into the dark a few hundred yards away. Firelight from the campfire I’d hastily ignited haloed his distant silhouette. In the distance, diamond lights from Boston’s financial district high-rises sparkled on black harbor waters. In the park where Ryder and I were, all was quiet. Peaceful. Whatever he was doing, the picture-postcard scenery was reward enough for leaving my drink behind.

  “You’re gonna miss the enforcer shindig.” My voice ricocheted into the quiet.

  He tossed me a wave. At least, I thought he did. It could just as easily have been a single finger salute. I couldn’t see him well enough to be sure. If I called my demon, I’d be able to see in the dark, but Ryder had warned me to keep my flames to myself. Just a little heat… Just enough to sharpen my vision…

  “Don’t even think it,” he warned, boots scuffing on the earth as he trudged back to the fireside. He puffed into his cupped hands and caught sight of my incredulous expression. “You get a look when you’re about to go demon.”

  “A look?”

  “Yeah.” He circled a finger around his face, and scowled. “All intense and vague at the same time.”

  Sounded painful. “So.” I warmed my hands over the fire. “What are we doin’ here, boss?”

  “Watch.” He turned his back on the fire and peered into the dark.

  I did the same. Seconds ticked by. I skittered my gaze to Ryder, but he didn’t move, just gazed ahead. “If I was standing here with anyone else, I’d have started to wonder about you—”

  A rocket shot from the dark, blasted skyward with an ear-piercing cry, and burst into a million stars. Fragments of light rained from the inky Boston sky. My heart jumped into my throat. Adrenalin surged hot in my veins, and my demon nearly leapt from my skin. “Holy crap, Ryder. You scared the—” A second rocket blasted skyward, illuminating the broad grin on Ryder’s face. I stumbled back, heart galloping.

  “You never seen fireworks before, Muse?” He laughed.

  The truth was I hadn’t, not in real life. But that wasn’t the reason my voice had abandoned me. With each rocket, each explosion of fire, heat and light, my element kicked, twitched, and danced. I felt the fireworks spark to life, felt the chemical reaction burn fiercely in those f
ew fleeting seconds, and then experienced the dying moments until what had been so incredibly beautiful, fizzled away to nothing. I couldn’t explain it to Ryder, but maybe he saw the awe on my face because he stopped watching the display and, for a few seconds, watched me. I couldn’t look away from the multicolored explosions, couldn’t move. My breath hitched in my throat. Color and light bloomed over us. Fireworks screamed and fizzed. Booms shook the air.

  Then it stopped. The quiet rushed back in, and the peace settled around us once more. I blinked. The spell was broken. It was over.

  “Damn, Muse… Only you would cry at fireworks.”

  “What?” I swept the wetness off my cheeks. “No, I… It’s—” Ah, hell. Crying in front of Ryder? On a scale of hell no, that was right up there with public displays of affection. His expression seemed to be caught somewhere between a sympathetic frown and an amused smirk. He looked about as awkward as I felt, like he might try to hug me. I laughed because really, what else could I do? I wanted to thank him but was afraid the tears swimming in my eyes might fall. He wouldn’t understand it, not really. The fire had lived, if only for a few fleeting moments, and in those seconds, it had commanded the skies. I’d been connected to each controlled explosion on a visceral, soul-deep level. Add to that the fact Ryder had taken the time to do this for me, and I had to chew on my bottom lip to stop it quivering.

  “Is it a girl thing or a demon thing?” He scratched at his cheek and averted his gaze.

  “Crying at fireworks?” I shrugged and snorted, “I think it’s a me thing.”

  A rocket shot out of the dark and streaked over our heads. We ducked. Ryder swore. All hell broke lose. Rockets exploded to our left, our right, and above. Each mini explosion jolted my senses and tickled my demon.

  “I reckon this is a good time to bring your fiery other half to the party,” Ryder hissed, hunched over, hands clasped over his head. Another rocket corkscrewed into the bushes.