Blood In The Stars (20 page)

“It’s just oven mail,” Jason explained, reaching over to open the door.

An innocuous white envelope the size of a greeting card rested inside. Before he could break the seal, Damien rushed into the kitchen and snatched the letter from him. Alastor had followed Damien in and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe as Damien tore open the envelope.

His black eyes skimmed the note, his thick fingers clenching the paper. His cry of anguish cut through the kitchen.

“There’s been an uprising in Hell.”

Chapter 18

“That’s why we came.”

Daria spun to see who’d spoken and found herself facing the man who had killed all the water sprites.
Jason’s father
. He stood next to Alastor and she had to admit they bore an uncanny resemblance. Women killed to possess their hair and skin. Men spent hours at the gym to have their athletic cut and build. The faithful dreamt such men would someday guide them to Heaven.

The three of them—Jason’s father, Alastor, and the third man—exuded radiance, their glowing auras blinding. Yet there was a coldness, an aloof persona that told onlookers they could only look and could never hope to attain their perfection.

Daria locked eyes with Jason’s father, who studied her. She resisted the urge to rub her arms, unwilling to admit he scared her. The chill Jason and Alastor often generated could not compare to the fear she had of this man, a dread that came from deep within the fibers of her being. Yet she found herself lifting her chin in challenge and he smiled in response.

“Why are you and Uncle Mike together?” Jason asked.

Uncle Mike. So that’s the beefier man.
Jason had said he was from the House of Fallen Angels. Did that mean this man was the Angel Michael? Daria didn’t know much about the roles of the different angels, but she knew there had been plenty of Hollywood movies about him. Now that she met him in person, it was almost a little anticlimactic. He was certainly beautiful enough to be an angel and yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was all there was. Another pretty face.

“You look disappointed.”

Blood rushed to her face. Damn, was her every thought written on her forehead? She had to be careful around this one.

Mike winked at her.

“Where’s your sister?” Lucifer asked.

“Upstairs,” Jason replied. “She hasn’t woken up yet.”

Daria blinked.
Sister?
The only person upstairs was Candy . . . Lucifer was talking about Candy? They were all freaking
related
? This entire time she had been jealous of Jason’s sister. Daria would have sighed in disgust if she were alone.

“Stop looking so surprised,” Lucifer chided. “Candace is my second child. And you can call me Luke.”

His silky sweet voice reminded her of Alastor’s. He had none of Jason’s warmth and didn’t seem personable at all. How did Jason’s mother, the last auspicious one, end up falling in love with this guy?

Michael burst out laughing and slapped Luke on the back. “I wonder that
all
the time!”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes and she flushed
. Mind reading confirmed.

“Anything else in the letter?” Jason asked, refocusing her distracted thoughts.

Damien shook his head. Then he whirled toward Mike and Luke. “But you two clearly know something.”

“There have been rumors of mobilization.” Luke nodded. “I sent a team to get more information but they never came back.”

“We also heard there’s been some—unusual—activity in Hell lately,” Mike added.

The angel was hiding something. Daria saw it in the flicker of his eyes, the hesitation in his voice. Why wasn’t anyone saying anything? She glanced around surreptitiously. The men didn’t seem to notice, or else they weren’t showing it. Damien frowned in worry and aggravation while Jason’s brows met in deep contemplation.

“Most of the attacks on Daria came from demons,” Jason mused. “It seemed strange that the other creatures hadn’t come, but I didn’t have time to worry about it.” He hesitated. “The coalition isn’t all here yet. We’ll probably know more tomorrow.”

Her heart twisted. How many more would die tomorrow? The horrific scene of Alastor killing the demons and Luke taking out the water sprites flashed through her mind. Acid rose to her throat. No more nameless demons, faceless minions, and everything in between should die because of her. It had to stop.

Jason had said he knew another way. But they hadn’t had a chance to talk about it again after he brought it up.

Damien grasped Miller’s arm, hard. “Let me out of the house. I need to go to my father.”

She had to hand it to Miller. Though Damien was easily twice his size, Miller didn’t lose his cool. “Have you forgotten that Daria’s maturation date is coming up?”

Damien flicked her a glance, his internal struggle visible on his face. “I don’t need to be here for her to pick me,” he grumbled.

The deadline seemed to act as an omnipresent reminder of her imminent doom.
If I can’t marry Jason, that is.
She felt bad about Damien. For all that he had kidnapped her and shown up half-naked in her bed, he had grown on her with his obnoxious attitude and arrogant demeanor. She didn’t want to keep him here if his father needed him. She had Jason.

She felt Jason’s eyes on her and turned slightly to give him a small smile. Just a few more hours until the deadline.  The clock on the mantle showed it was already eleven. Technically only one hour until her birthday.

“It’s late,” Jason said. “At least get some rest and we can talk about it in the morning.”

“But I want to talk to my father
now
,” Damien yelled like a petulant child. “Summon him here.”

Miller’s lips drew into a thin line. “You want to summon the Demon King.
Here
.” He blinked as if confused.

Daria hid a smile. Miller had a way of making people feel stupid with one glance, and his current expression belittled Damien to less than nothing.

Damien waved his hands toward the center of the room. “Set it up for me. If you don’t let my father come to me, then let me go to him.”

“You could arrange some crystals here,” Jason suggested. “Or at least open a channel to put Damien’s mind at ease.”

Miller narrowed his eyes. “I will not allow the Demon King to enter this house. This is a stronghold for the House of Witches.”

At Damien’s glower, Miller sighed in acquiescence. “I can open a channel but you need to give me something to enable the connection.”

Damien shoved the note at Miller. “Here.”

Miller frowned and took the letter. He filled a large pot with water, set it on the stove, and turned on the heat.

“What are we waiting for?” Daria whispered to Jason.

“For the water to boil.”

Oh. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?
She rolled her eyes in annoyance at the obvious and Jason just smiled.

While they waited, Damien impatiently hopped from one foot to another. As the water in the pot started to roil and churn, Miller pulled out jars from his kitchen cabinets. Daria guessed they were spices, but nothing she had ever seen—scraggly twigs, dried, brown things in the shape of a frog, and a blackened circular disc. She didn’t want to know. She’d rather pretend they were put in to flavor the ‘soup,’ and just hoped no one would make her drink it.

Miller threw in the letter, one each of the weird things in the jars, and then a dash of some kind of pink crystalline powder. A small puff of smoke rose from the pot and Miller waved Damien forward. “See if you can find him.”

Damien shouted into the pot, “Father! It’s me, Damien. Can you hear me?”

From where she stood, Daria saw nothing, but she very clearly heard a voice. “Where are you?” It came from far away as though at the end of a large cavern. Hollow and a tad faint.

“I’m with the other sons,” Damien replied. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Everyone’s fine. You got my letter, then?”

Damien visibly relaxed and for the briefest moment, the smooth-talking demon revealed a great vulnerability. Though he had stood against the attackers with bravado, he worried for his father’s safety.

“Who was it?” Damien asked through clenched teeth.

Daria heard nothing but static in response.

“Father?” Damien cried, desperation leaking into his voice.

“We’re fine. Take care of things on your end first. And watch your back.”

Then nothing. Damien leaned away from the pot. The blood had drained from his face.

Jason placed his hand on Damien’s shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll discuss it in the morning to see how we can help.”

Damien vacillated, opening his mouth only to close it. After a few seconds, he nodded reluctantly.

Miller offered to show them to their rooms and provide a change of clothes. Daria smiled at him gratefully. In their rush to escape, she didn’t have anything and she wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower in the morning and put on something clean and fresh.

As she followed Miller out, she saw Alastor stop Jason from leaving. What could Alastor need to talk to Jason about?

“Jason.”

He froze, trying not to let the cringe show. But like a good little brother, he turned around to face Alastor.

“Perhaps we can talk in private before you head to your room?”

“Sure.”

Alastor hadn’t said anything too derisive since his arrival at Miller’s house. It was out of character. Jason expected his brother would goad him more, stabbing into a gaping wound and turning until the screw cracked; that was his style. Always had been. Alastor without the usual insults worried him more. What was his brother up to?

Alastor smiled at him. “Good. We can talk here.”

They waited for the others to clear out of the kitchen. Alastor settled on a barstool and waited for Jason to do the same.

He wondered if Alastor filtered through his vocabulary, trying to find the most scathing words possible to express his disappointment. He had already seen it in Alastor’s face. He didn’t need to hear it, too.

“Would you have done it today? If I hadn’t shown up, would you have saved Damien and killed those demons? Or later with the water sprites, would you have stepped outside?”

Jason didn’t reply at first, mulling over the events of the night. He could have changed into his true form to face Balthazar. When he went out to help Damien, he could have rushed into the fray instead of letting Alastor do the dirty work. And with the water sprites, he could have stayed outside to fight instead of hiding behind Miller’s gates with everyone else. Better yet, he could have gone back out. All those ‘could haves,’ but in the end, he hadn’t.

Yet that didn’t change his resolve. He had made a decision to do whatever necessary to protect Daria. And if that meant taking another life, so be it.

“Yes, I would have,” Jason admitted.

“For her.” Alastor stared at him with what could only be described as shock. “You, who have
never
dirtied your hands, would do it all for her?”

“But I didn’t, right? I didn’t end up doing it.”

Suddenly, Alastor stood, his face somber and his eyes hard. “But it’s good to know that you would. That you’re capable of it, Jason. Never forget who you are. We are the children of Lucifer. Fallen angels. No matter how much you want to keep your hands clean, you can’t. They were born tainted.”

“But they aren’t tainted with the blood of my family,” Jason whispered.

Alastor tilted his head. “Touché.”

“Why do you keep forcing me?” Jason asked tiredly. “I don’t want to kill you.”

He had never wanted to rule the House of Fallen Angels. Alastor was the oldest and Jason had always been content to live out his days as the youngest, disfavored son. Even now.

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “That’s why what you
want
is out of the equation. It’s what
must
be done if you wish to marry her.” He paused. “If you stood in my way, Jason, I would not hesitate to cut you down. Remember that lesson well. That’s what Father did when he rebelled in Heaven. There is always a price to get what you want.” With that, Alastor left Jason to his solitude.

Will the price be our lives?
Jason couldn’t suppress the despairing thought. He had to find another way. For all that he and his brother no longer acted like family, it didn’t change the fact they were. That alone would always stay his hand.

Miller came back not long after and showed Jason to a room downstairs. It had a queen-sized bed and its own bathroom. Silently, he handed Jason a few items of clothing, all designer labels as befitted Miller’s station in life.

As the witch turned to leave, Jason called out, “Wait.” At the look on Miller’s face, the scrunched brows and downturned lips, it was obvious Miller suspected what Jason would ask.

“About what I said earlier,” Jason leaned close and whispered almost soundlessly, “Show me how to lower the shield.”

Miller’s big eyes flared even larger and he stared incredulously at Jason. He shook his head. “That’s what you meant about the marriage? You want to leave?”

“The marriage must be sanctioned. You must let us out.”

“It’s a secret of our House. You can’t expect me to share that.”

“Then give me the code to the gate,” Jason argued.

Miller stepped back as though afraid of what Jason might do to gain the secret. “It’s on a rotating basis through a security company that my House owns. I don’t even know what the code is until I need to use it.”

Jason blew out a frustrated breath. He had heard about such measures for company IT secrets but had no idea the witches employed the same devices.

“Even if I give you the code, who would possibly preside over the marriage? You need me,” Miller added.

“If you know I need you, then you should help me. The House of Witches has always protected the auspicious ones.”

The marriage had complications. Jason knew that. Sanctioning was one thing. Finding someone with the ability to preside over the marriage and act as a witness was quite another. Miller was the only one he knew who could fulfill both duties.

He tried another tactic. “We love each other.”

Miller took another step back, creating a larger distance between them. “I know. It’s obvious. I’m rooting for you guys, it’s just . . .” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. After a long silence, he said, “I’ll think about it. You should get some rest.”