Blood In The Stars (15 page)

Did his father remember the last time they spoke? After demons had knocked Jason out, he had awoken at the villa. He never understood why they had left him his life, but he had gone to his father immediately. They’d met in the library that day, the same as today. Alastor had joined them.

Instead of the dispassionate glance Luke gave him now, white fury had blazed from those angelic eyes. Pure hatred. That was when Jason knew his father and brother despised him. For his weakness in wanting to run away with Alice. For his inability to defend her. For his impotence to take the demons’ lives. He had embarrassed his House, brought shame to the ruling family.

How will you ever gain any respect if you are afraid to kill a few demons?

He’d never fit in. Jason valued life very differently than his father and had given up trying to make him understand. In silence, Jason had stood tall and dealt with his father’s barrage of insults while Alastor looked on with a smirk. After losing Alice and putting up with his unsympathetic family, Jason left, not to return until today.

But there was one thing that would always make him his father’s son. Jason folded his wings behind him and sat down across from his father. “I asked to see you, Father.”

His father snapped his book shut and placed it on his lap, turning his cold, calculating blue eyes on Jason. Expressionless eyes. Rarely had Jason observed his father display any emotion, and it was strange to imagine that this man had once commanded armies and wrought havoc. Jason always thought such a man should exhibit more passion.

“The laws dictate that the oldest son marry the auspicious one. I know that rule is to ensure succession in the House. But in our case, we are already the ruling House. I ask to marry Daria and Alastor can still succeed you.” Jason kept his voice low and respectful.

His father’s dispassionate gaze held steady for the longest time, before asking, “What does your brother think about all this?”

Jason stared down at his hands. “Alastor said I would have to kill him first.”

“I see. And we all know you would never do something so vile.”

Though his father’s tone was even, Jason could hear the derision in his voice. Why did it matter whether or not he had killed? Yet for some reason, his father and brother used it as a way to determine his loyalty to his family. They all knew the potential of his powers. His father knew best. And Jason understood the power he possessed could start another war. It was a war he couldn’t afford.

“Is there no other way?” Jason asked softly.

His father picked up the book and opened it back to where he had left off. “If you want to be with her that badly, then you’ll have to kill him.”

Chapter 13

Daria swung Candy’s sword and the beautiful blond clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“You should hold it like this.” Candy straightened Daria’s arm.

After assisting Miller with some of the most horrid things she had ever smelled in her life, she had asked Candy for help learning self-defense. Candy had taken on the task with gusto but Daria kept seeing her throw furtive glances at Miller.

“I’m pooped,” Daria admitted, handing the sword back to Candy. “We should get ready to go to Club Triple Six.”

“Oh, I won’t be going.”

“You should,” Daria exclaimed. She turned toward Miller. “Tell Candy she needs to go.”

Miller bristled and Daria gave him an impatient look. With a frown, he walked over, his shoulders stiff, and politely asked, “Candy, please come with us.”

Something was going on between them. Daria was sure of it. “Make it happen,” she said to Miller. “I need to change.” With a secret smile, Daria retreated to her room.

She leaned against the closed door and glanced at her watch. Jason had been gone for seven hours already. When he disappeared from her arms as though he had never stood there to begin with, she was momentarily stunned. He left and returned so easily. He could walk out of her life as suddenly as he came.

That knowledge sent fear coursing through her body. The thought of possibly losing him permanently brought panic to her heart. She couldn’t lose him. When her parents died, she thought the world should have ended. If she were to lose Jason now, the world really would end. Not because she worried for her life, but because she didn’t know if she would be able to go on.

No matter the cost, she had to protect him.

Jason said he needed her. She had always thought it was the other way around. Perhaps they were both right. They needed each other to fill that cavern of loneliness that had choked their hearts. He was estranged from his family and she had no one left. But when they were together, the world fell away. When they were together, they needed no one else.

Where was he now?

She changed into a little black dress and took her time to put on make-up; a deep red gloss on her lips and darker liner and mascara around her eyes. She wanted to look nice for Jason when he came back but . . .

“Hey, are you done yet?” Miller called from beyond the door.

She sighed and opened the door. Miller stood in the hallway, blinking at her, before a small crinkle appeared between his brows. Then he quickly turned away and muttered, “Didn’t know you could clean up so well.”

A sarcastic retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped herself. Maybe this was Miller’s sorry way of complimenting her.

“Jason’s back,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Her heart lurched and she raced past Miller to the living room. Jason stood in the center, already changed into a shirt and dark jeans. She stared at him expectantly and he gave her a tired smile in return.

Damien waited for them at the front door. “Let’s go.”

She ignored him and went straight to Jason. The exhaustion on his face showed through his hollow eyes. “You okay? Maybe you should stay here,” she suggested. “Get some rest.”

“I’m all right. Alastor’s waiting for us.” He placed his hand on her back and hurried her out before she could protest.

Daria didn’t understand what the rush was. She hadn’t even had the chance to ask him what happened.

Jason avoided her eyes as they walked down the hallway. While the four of them waited inside the elevator, he leaned back against the railing. She touched his arm as disappointment sliced her heart. “No luck?”

He finally looked at her and the suffering in his eyes was almost more than she could bear. “Later.”

She nodded, understanding that he might not want to share his lack of success. It took every ounce of willpower for her not to ask more questions. Curiosity ate away at her and even though logic and reason told her Jason wanted to tell her in private, she hoped he wasn’t keeping things from her. He always bore the weight of the world on his shoulders and he needed to know she could help relieve some of the burden.

“Where’s Candy?” She poked Miller.

“She doesn’t do clubs,” was all he said.

Daria suppressed the sigh rising to her throat. Playing matchmaker wasn’t her forte. She’d try again later.

Jason fell in step with Damien, leaving her to walk with Miller. Damien seemed to be in good cheer with a little skip in his stride while he and Jason chatted of frivolous matters like the stock market. Occasionally, they turned around to goad Miller about how difficult it had to be as a trust fund baby. Miller would laugh good-naturedly and throw a barb back.

No taxis came by so they headed west along Ontario, passing by office buildings, small restaurants, and cafés. Her heels clicked down the sidewalk, echoing through the empty street.

As she watched them josh around, she could see their friendship though they came together as competitors. In a world made up of humans and non-humans, these men belonged in the latter. And Miller, as a human who knew of the other kind that shared his world, held a special place among them.

To Daria, they all remained a mystery, shrouded in legend and fairytale, myth and magic. Good-naturedly jostling with each other, they seemed like anyone else walking along the streets. But she knew differently. They were unique.

Supernatural.

After walking three blocks, Jason hailed a cab and they piled in. Ten minutes later, they stood outside on the sidewalk, staring at a ridiculously long line in front of 666 Wells Street and the eponymous lounge.

Flashing lights came from the windows upstairs, and based on the different types of music escaping from the cracks in the wall, techno, Latin, and hip-hop flooded the floors.

“How could there be so many people?” Daria puzzled. “It’s a school night. A work night. And a weekday.”

Miller stared at her in disbelief. “What cave have you been hiding in? This is the most popular club in the city right now. It’s hot
every
night of the week.”

“Other people clearly don’t have to work,” Daria mumbled under her breath.

She didn’t need to worry about the crowd, though. Damien strode to the front of the line and the bouncer straightened immediately, clearing the way for them to enter.

“Did I mention I own the place?” Damien tossed over his shoulder.

No
. She gazed at him in wonder. Damien had failed to mention this little tidbit. Not only did he run one of the largest foundations in the country, but also owned nightclubs? The surprises never ceased.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, which clouded all hope of making it easy to find anyone at all. They wound their way through the maze of people. Three layers thick of bodies blocked the bar that kept two bartenders running back and forth with drinks and money. Swathed in darkness, others milled around the sparse cocktail tables and booths littered to the side.

And amid the thundering beats, dozens of people in scantily clad clothing, skin slick with sweat and alcohol, gyrated and pulsed with the music in front of a live band. Even in the darkness, she felt people watching her, turning to stare as they meandered by.

The din made it difficult to think and every time she turned to meet someone’s gaze, no one stared back. She saw nothing but club-goers. Perhaps all the talk about her blood and flesh made her paranoid.

They continued weaving around the throngs of people until they reached the back, where small booths lined the wall. “We can sit here,” Damien yelled above the din and slid into the booth. Miller followed. Only she and Jason still stood.

Despite his carefree attitude earlier, Daria sensed his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

“Anyone want a drink?” Jason asked.

“I’ll go,” Daria had to shout to be heard. “What do you all want?” She was surprised when no one spoke up. Did demons and witches not drink?

“Maybe I should go with you,” Jason suggested.

Damien laughed. “I own the place. She’s safe here.”

With a shrug, Daria waded through the hordes to the bar. As she was about to raise her arm to signal the bartender, she felt a gentle touch on her hand. She turned around to see Jason. Obviously he still wasn’t comfortable about leaving her alone.

“Hey.”

Daria reached out to give him a hug. “Whenever you want to talk about what happened, I’m here.”

“Want to get some air?”

The bartender wasn’t paying any attention to her anyway. Air sounded good. It would give them some time to be alone. Maybe they would see Alastor outside.

Daria nodded and together, they wound through the club, clearing a path to the door. The crisp night air kissed her cheeks when she finally made it outside. She sucked in a breath, needing to clear her head, but found it polluted by car exhaust as a cab drove by.

She folded her arms around her chest and they strode down Wells in a random direction. She didn’t plan to go far in her heels. Jason trailed behind her slightly and she slowed but didn’t turn around. Maybe he still needed some space. When he was ready to confide in her, he would. She was confident of that.

A street lamp flickered and then died as she approached. She continued walking, the lull of the El growing closer with every step. Another light died.

“There must be something wrong with the lights,” Daria mused. When Jason didn’t respond, she glanced over her shoulder to wait for him to catch up.

And realized he was gone.

Violent buzzing rang overheard. Daria froze and gaped at the streetlamp. It blinked before going out altogether. The light next to it dimmed and popped. Then another and another until the only light that shone came from the soft fluorescent glow of the store signs.

Fear gripped her. Jason would never leave her stranded.
Then who was that guy I left the club with?

A whisper traveled with the wind. Slowly, Daria turned. Cold fingers wrapped around her throat and squeezed. She gasped, fingers clawing, swiping at the wrist, failing to push the attacker away. Her hands couldn’t reach him. She couldn’t see him. He remained a dark shadow amongst the remaining lights.

As the assailant’s grip tightened, she felt her body lifted, her feet dangling as they left the ground. She reached inside her cleavage, pulled out a small glass vial, and threw it at her attacker. The creature screeched in pain but didn’t let go. Even the potion Miller made hadn’t worked.

She really did need someone to protect her. Or she’d die.

“Daria!”

Someone screamed her name though the ringing in her ears drowned the voice to a muffled mess. Was it Jason? Had he come to save her? She rolled her eyes to the side as another rough hand landed on her bare shoulder, pushing it down. Her head was wrenched to the right.

Pain seared her left shoulder. As her life oozed out in a stream of blood, she caught a flash of steel before blessed sleep took over her consciousness.

Jason had lost sight of Daria through the crowd. Many humans danced, but he had seen just as many supernatural beings. While this was Damien’s bar, he still didn’t feel good about letting her leave his side. Perhaps the reek of alcohol and sweat could mask the scent of the auspicious one. Maybe not. He considered going after her but the sudden surge of power next to him made him stay.

Damien had a glowing fireball in his hand. “How about I greet your brother with this?”

Miller rolled his eyes. “Do you really think your little fireball is going to scare Alastor?”

Damien scowled. “It’s enough to scare
you
.” Suddenly, he stiffened. “I don’t sense Daria in the club anymore.”

Without another word, Jason tore through the crowd and ran out of the lounge. Dread flooded him; he prayed he’d get to her in time. He halted when he stepped outside, gauging where Daria had gone. Then he took off to the left. After sprinting down a block, he saw her.

The shapeshifter had her by the throat. With the streetlamps broken, it had hidden behind a black mist so only the long, gangly arm and scraggly hand lay visible to the human eye.

Jason screamed her name but it came out softer than he intended, less threatening. Because he already knew the demon’s intentions, knew he wouldn’t be able to get to her in time . . . and knew that someone else already had.

The demon sank his teeth into Daria’s shoulder right as the moonlight glinted off a dagger’s blade and Jason watched steel slice across the demon’s neck. The head disengaged from the body and Jason saw Daria’s eyes roll to the back of her head in a dead faint.

Within the black haze, a hand reached out and pulled the demon’s head and hand from Daria’s body just as Jason reached her.

He caught Daria as she fell and glared into the mist. “You’re late.”

“You should be thanking me.” The droll voice floated toward Jason in the darkness. “I just saved your precious love. And I would work on that gushing wound of hers before I asked so many questions.”

Footsteps came up behind him and Jason knew the others had arrived. But his sole focus remained with Daria. The deep gash cut to the bone and hot blood poured out, filling the air with a disgusting metallic scent. Thankfully, the shapeshifter had missed her artery.

Jason laid his hand over Daria’s wound and a searing light emanated from his palm to shine on the opening. After a minute, he removed his hand, satisfied to see the wound had healed.

“You’re quite good at that. I mean, considering we’re not healers.”

Jason scooped Daria into his arms and turned to his brother, who had finally condescended to step out from behind the dark veil.

Miller crouched over the sidewalk, staring down at the broken glass. “She brought a potion with her,” he noted in disbelief. “This demon was too strong. I’ll have to whip up a better batch.”