The Complete Demonblood Saga Page 3
“I don’t believe you.” My voice shakes with thinly restrained fury. “You just don’t want me hunting them. You’re just afraid that—”
“I never lie, Lucky,” she says quietly. “You, of all beings, know that. I admit I disapprove of your perilous quest, but I will not try to stop you. Justice is the essence of your existence, and I cannot deny that. This path is yours and yours alone, and you are well aware of the consequences. But for now, I can assure you the Amazèa are no longer within your range.”
I clench my teeth and glare at her. What’s that expression about not killing the messenger?
But I know she’s not lying. If she says they’re gone—they’re gone. And there’s nothing I can do about it. For now.
This is all Liora’s fault. If she didn’t turn into a stupid Sapie, rendering me impotent from dawn to dusk, I’d have caught the Amazèa by now. In bitter silence I fume while Tatiana gives me the details for the night’s assignment, only half-hearing what she’s saying. When she’s done, I storm out of our cabin and into the brisk night air. Pulling my hood over my head, I let out a sharp whistle.
The clomping of hooves sound as the Arabian stallion emerges from his place in the shadows. He nuzzles his nose into my chest and gives a low grunt. I stroke his long sable neck and press my cheek to his. Then, I grab a chunk of his silky mane and swiftly mount the smooth sway of his back.
“Fly, Diablo,” I whisper and lean forward. He takes off like a shot and we streak toward the forest. Diablo knows the surrounding woods even better than I do, and as he races along the narrow paths I keep my head down to avoid the low-hanging tree branches, my rage growing steadily with each beat of his hooves.
Another night of being trapped.
I hadn’t always been like this. Up until five years ago, when I was twelve, I was a regular demion, a demi-demon with a perfectly beautiful blend of the Ancient Powers of Darkness inherited from my demon sire, combined with the gentle capabilities and goodness of my human mother. I had the best of both worlds— a viable connection to the Powers along with all of the benefits of being a human, a Sapie, we call them. Sapies don’t know we exist, but we’re everywhere. We look like them, talk like them, and act like them. But we’re better than them in almost every way. At least, I think so.
I served a purpose in this world. I knew my place. That is, until the Amazèa cast a spell in an attempt to separate me from my Powers. They succeeded, sort of. I still have my Powers, but they split my soul in half—shattered me right down the middle. Now, I’m only alive at night. My human half, Liora, lives during the day, complete with her own personality, memories, free will.
When the Amazèa separated my demon half from my human half, it was far worse than if I had died. For so long afterwards I wished it had been me who died. Instead, it had been my best friends, Kayla and Michael Roberts, who paid the ultimate price while I was forced to watch them suffer.
I’ve never forgiven myself for being unable to help them.
I’ve never forgotten the vows I made beside their crumpled, lifeless bodies as I swore to avenge their murders to my last dying breath.
I’ll never stop trying to lift the curse and restore my broken soul, whatever the cost.
Killing the Amazèa is my only option. There is no plan B.
Unfortunately, this isn’t as easy as slaying a run-of-the-mill parasite demon or even a lower Light-angel. It’s strictly forbidden by Demonic Law for any demon or demion to attack another ranked higher in the hierarchy. As far as the chain of command goes, the Amazèa rank near the top while I rest somewhere in the middle.
I don’t care. I only care about revenge for Kayla and Michael.
I only care about getting my life back.
Whatever the cost.
Diablo gallops us closer to our destination, and I force away the anguish that threatens to swallow my heart whole. Soon we’ll reach a Portal to Thiberoux. In order to pass through its protective seal, I need to focus. As the cold fog suddenly appears, enveloping us in complete darkness, I wrap my hand around my Boumeaux. Diablo, unfazed by the blinding barrier all around us, continues racing forward.
I close my eyes. I feel my palm smolder; the stone vibrates in my grasp. Silently, I recite the secret command:
Hasish Auria, permissum mihi obduco.
Hasish Auria, permissum mihi obduco.
Hasish Auria, permissum mihi obduco.
The dense fog quickly lifts, and I welcome my new surroundings. My real world – not the one Liora lives in. There, I am an outsider. Unwanted. Here is where I belong.
The three full moons of the goddess Illyria glow brightly in the eternally sunless sky, illuminating the landscape. Acres of lush foliage paint the hillsides vibrant green and gold, untouched by Man’s seasons which turn their trees into skeletons. There is no death here. Only life. And limbo. But never death.
The Land of Thiberoux. Home of the royal descendants of the first Dark-angels, the enchanted realm of demonia. Safely hidden from the naïve eyes of the human world.
Once, after one of my first visits to Thiberoux as a young demion, I looked for its location on a Sapie map. I was surprised to see that instead of the lakes of fire and oceans of ice, volcanoes exploding with thunder and lightning, magical forests full of sprites and elves, and the pits of swirling vortexes connecting various dimensions, there were cities, freeways, two airports, and four major universities. Two separate and opposite worlds existing in the exact same space. I used to wonder how that could be possible.
Now I totally understand.
Diablo grunts, his powerful muscles push and strain as we head up the mountainside. I bury my face in his mane and squeeze my legs tight. He’s never thrown me, but the curves here are wicked, the cliffs treacherous, and he barrels around them with terrifying agility.
He eases to a trot as we approach the River of Kings. The stream of churning fire flows for miles in either direction and creates a perfect circle around the inner sanctum of Dryndara, my tribe’s territory of Thiberoux. A massive beast, nearly invisible in the night save for his piercing yellow eyes, growls menacingly at us from the base of the footbridge.
I eye the creature with caution and dismount. A light tap on his hindquarters sends Diablo cantering into the shadows to await further commands. After dusting off my cloak and lowering my hood, I approach the sentry. The hellhound growls again and bares his razor-sharp teeth.
“What’s your problem?” I ask good-naturedly and give him an affectionate pat on the head.
I take several steps back as the canine begins to tremble violently. He rises on his haunches, twisting and convulsing until his new shape is formed. It is that of a young man, skin stretched tight over rippling muscles—his formerly beastly body now a vision of smooth and sculpted perfection. He runs his hands through his bronze hair and looks at me through the lushest of lashes. Fire mixed with desire smolders in his coffee-colored eyes. His sensuous mouth, one designed to render human females utterly helpless, turns slightly down in a heartbreaking pout.
Once again, I count my lucky stars I’m not a Sapie. It is so not fair that he is so much more beautiful than me. As a demion, I have a hard enough time resisting him. As a Sapie, I’d be toast.
“I’m mad at you.” He runs his gaze up and down my body and lets out a soft, lustful moan.
I roll my eyes. Bones is my best friend, and I know he can’t help himself, BUT STILL… Just once it’d be nice for him to not greet me with his über sexy, ‘come-hither-and-do-me’ persona. A demion can only take so much, you know? Oh well, what did I really expect from something that’s also half incubus?
“Yeah? What’d I do this time?” Despite my bad mood, I smile. Seeing Bones always makes me feel better.
“You were supposed to meet me by Cyler’s Point last night so we could go into the city together, remember? You were going to torment some of your regulars while I found a few virgins to mate with. But you totally blew me off. Any of this ringing a bell?”
“I’m sorry…I overheard something last night and had to check it out. C’mon, let’s go get some drinks. I’m losing my mind and need someone to talk to.”
Bones gives me his very best sexy smile and shifts closer. “You know I can’t leave my post while I’m on duty. But I can help you relax and take your mind off things for a while if you like.” He places his hands lightly on my hips and pulls me to him.
Although Bones is perfectly well aware that I’m immune to his hypnotizing powers of seduction, he never stops trying. Usually I love it. Not tonight.
I push his hands away.
“What’s up?” he asks, still staring at my body longingly. I feel the lightest tickle of warm rays where his gaze falls and groan with genuine annoyance.
“Bones, stop it. You know it creeps me out when you try your powers on me. Face it, they don’t work. Never have, never will. It’s nothing personal,” I add when he gives a hurt-puppy pout. “You know how much the Sapie girls looove you.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same. They’re all so powerless and weak, it gets a little boring. Now you on the other hand…” He steps closer again, reaches inside the opening of my cloak, and lightly traces his fingers over my bare abdomen.
I push him away, stronger this time. “Ugh, stop! Don’t make me have to hurt you. What is with you tonight?”
“Sorry…” he says, as if he isn’t remorseful in the slightest. “Just in the mood for some fun. I’m a little charged up. Didn’t make as many conquests as I needed last night, and tonight they put me on patrol when I need to be out mating. It’s been so slow out here, and then along comes the sexiest fireball for a thousand miles and you expect me to behave?” He laughs as if it’s the funniest idea he’s ever heard. And they say Sapie men have one-track minds; they have nothing on incubi. Their sole reason for existing is seduction, mating, procreating—that’s it.
I give him the dirtiest look I can and stomp toward the bridge, but he reaches out for my hand and gently pulls me back.
“Hey, Lucky, I’m sorry, hon…I’m only playing. No more. I’ll behave, I promise. What’s wrong, are you okay? Talk to me.” This time his voice is noticeably softer and his seductive aura muted.
Finally. This is the Bones I want to talk to. My friend. I slink over to a tree stump and plop down, covering my face with my hands.
“They’re gone,” I say, fighting back the tears threatening to form. “They got away while stupid Liora played school girl.” At these words a surge of rage floods through me. I have to sit on my hands so as not to uproot the massive stump and heave it into the pile of rocks behind me…only because I don’t want to have to sit on the ground.
Bones sits beside me on the grass. He places a comforting hand on my back, and I feel its fire.
“I know how much you wanted to get them. But I can’t say that I’m sorry you didn’t. I’m glad they’re gone,” he says quietly.
“Bones, do not start—” I jump to my feet and glare down at him.
“I’m sorry, Lucky, but you know how I feel. No good will come of this vendetta. Even if somehow you do manage to kill them you’ll likely be banished. That is, if the Legionare doesn’t kill you first. Or worse…”
“Bones, you know why I have to—”
He puts up his hand, cutting me off. “No, I don’t know. I’ve heard your reasons for years, but I’ve never once agreed with you, have I? Killing the Amazèa will not bring your friends back; they are long gone. You don’t even know with all certainty that your curse would be broken upon their deaths. All you will accomplish by hunting them is getting yourself killed. And maybe others you care about, if you start a war and we’re forced to take sides.”
Fiery rage boils up inside me as I stare him down. If Bones had been even the slightest bit human, he’d be dead by now under my vicious glare. But as much as I hate what he’s saying, I know he’s right.
I don’t care.
“You’re my friend. My best friend. You’re supposed to support me no matter what—”
An urgent howling in the distance diverts Bones’ attention from my futile argument. The same one we’ve been having for over five years. “That sounds important. Sorry, I gotta go…you gonna be okay?” He looks at me with concern. He is so sweet when he wants to be. Damn him.
I nod. “I’ll be fine. Boring night, collecting taxes. Not gonna start any demon wars, I promise.” I give him a shaky smile and a quick a peck on his cheek before stepping away.
His body convulses violently for a few seconds until he falls forward on his two large paws. He gently nudges my leg with his long nose, and then takes off running.
I cross the river of fire to join my family.
******
The entrance to Demon Bar looks like an ordinary boulder to anyone who doesn’t know better. Located deep inside the inner forests of Dryndara, directly above the nexus of the Source of Energy, it’s the one place where all the demons, demions, and creatures in the territory come to replenish.
The rock protects those who enter it, and as I press down on the hidden lever I take several deep breaths to calm myself. Violent demons looking for a fight aren’t allowed inside the enclave, and even though my anger isn’t directed at anyone there, the guard won’t care. Only passive demons are allowed in. And I need to drink, badly.
A small door opens, and I pass on through. I descend a flight of steps to another door, this one guarded by a young demion named Ivy.
Ivy looks sweet enough; her petite build and pale blonde hair give the impression of a helpless ingénue turned cheerleader. But she has the power to stun her victims into submission with one painful glare of her baby-blues. And if she’s in a less-than-generous mood, she’ll leave them in a permanent vegetative state.
“Hey, Lucky. Damn girl, you look hot,” Ivy says with an approving grin. “I’m surprised Bones even let you past him.”
“Hey, sweetie…thanks.” I lean against the doorway and casually glance inside the smoky room. “Bones had to bail on me…”
Ivy flips her golden mane over one shoulder and leans closer. “Well, if you are looking for some fun, our mystery guy from the other night is inside playing cards with the Deveni brothers. Go check him out and give me the scoop.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What about Cody?” Ivy and Cody have been an item for as long as I can remember. With the exception of their occasional nuclear battles, they’re perfect for each other. She shrugs to hide the wry smile spreading across her lips. I grin at her. “Someone’s being naughty.”
“No harm in living vicariously through my single friends, is there? Besides, I’m curious about him. He shows up from out of nowhere…no one really knows anything about him, and he always seems like he’s looking for something or someone. He tries to act all nonchalant, but I can tell he’s doing it.”
I have to laugh at her suspicious tone. Despite the fact that the Bar is swarming with demons, it’s probably one of the safest places in the realm. But I figure she must get so bored standing out here just watching all of us all night. Nothing like a good mystery to fuel the fires.
“Hmm. Better not let Cody know you’re spying on a sexy stranger, and with him standing just twenty feet away.”
Ivy shrugs. “Can I help it if these eyes see everything?” she asks innocently, as they turn a startling shade of sapphire.
I quickly avert my gaze from her cherubic face. Sure we’re friends, but with demions you can never be too careful.
“Maybe he’s a vamp?” I scrunch my nose. Vampires are the lowest of the low in our culture. Many centuries ago, some rogue demons had tried to create an army by reproducing with corpses of Sapies. The result was a living-dead creature that could only survive off the energy of living beings, as they couldn’t produce any of their own. They’re weak, stupid, and contribute nothing other than stinking up the joint for all eternity.
“No, he’s definitely a demion. He’s just playing cards with them,
for whatever reason. There’s no accounting for taste.”
“Cool, I’ll have to go check him out,” I say, even though the absolute last thing on my mind at the moment is scamming on some new demion. I don’t want to be rude.
Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit blares from the jukebox. Cody smiles as I take a seat in front of him. He’s probably the friendliest demion in here, and one of the few in the room who isn’t openly gawking at me. He wouldn’t dare. Not with the pair of deadly eyes trained on him from the other side of the door.
“What’s your poison, Lucky Lady?”
“Any of my three favorite men will do.”
He nods and pours me a tall glass of whisky on the rocks. I always start my evenings with Jim Beam, Jack Daniels or Jose Cuervo. I gulp down the first glass, but sip the second one. Pure demons can ingest their Energy undiluted, but as a demion I need mine infused with alcohol. It’s the only way my modified body can process the magical elixir. Without my daily fix, my blood thickens and feels uncomfortably cold; my muscles get stiff and achy and my powers weaken. It’s even worse when I’m agitated, like now.
“You okay, Lucky? You seem…tense.” Cody chooses his words carefully. Years of dealing with unpredictable demons has taught him well.
“I’m fine. Just need a pick-me-up. Been a rough couple of nights.” I swivel my barstool and survey the scene. The usual crowd mingles around. All of them, like me, forced to come here and drink from the Source.
I’ve always found it mildly amusing that even in Demon Bar, the occupants tend to cluster according to type, rank, and status. A group of pure, highest-level demons are playing pool in the back corner, swigging their beers. Although they look human, unlike the demions who age and eventually die, demons never do either. Immortals, all of them, they look exactly the same as they always have for many millennia.
A table of demions —doctors, lawyers, CEO’s of major international corporations, several famous movie stars and even a former President and Vice President of the United States—sit on the other side of the room sipping champagne and keeping to themselves. The creatures—demons and demions blended with animal DNA—huddle by the fire pit telling each other raucous tales of mayhem and murder. And as usual, the vamps are gathered in the back, away from the rest of us.