Bound in Black (8 page)

“What do you say we scarf down this delicious Mexican food that you’re crying all over, then go kick some demon ass?”

She dropped her balled-up napkin and grinned at me through watery eyes.

“Hell yeah.”

Chapter Six

Mira refused to sift back to Arran when I told her she couldn’t go where we were going. Instead, she perched herself on top of the building as we crossed the street toward the basement-level club I knew too well. Stubborn bird. But I loved her.

The beefy bouncer at the door was the same guy I’d seen other times I’d visited Tartarus. One of those nights happened to be my twentieth birthday—the first time I’d laid eyes on the dark and beautiful Jude Delacroix and the first time I’d nearly been killed by a demon. Best and worst birthday ever.

“Long time, no see,” said the bouncer, eyeing my ID.

“You missed me, Sunshine?”

I have no idea why I found it fun to tease straight-faced behemoths like this guy, but I did. His chiseled features cracked into what was sort of a smile before he nodded me through the door. Kat followed. We beelined for the bar. I ordered a Killian’s Red, though I had no intention of drinking it. I needed a prop to fit in.

Music pumped a heavy beat even though the crowd was thin. No attention whores danced in the cages up on platforms on either side of the dance floor tonight. Just a few black-clad regulars milling about and a group of frat boys at the bar knocking back shots to the cheers of a gaggle of plastic blondes.

We sat on the end of the bar with the best view of the club, scanning the place for demons. I reached out with my VS, sensing nothing.

“You don’t have your sword, do you?” asked Kat.

Most Flamma, strong ones like Kat and me, could see through casts of illusion when we concentrated. Right now, she was staring at my back like it was about to catch fire.

“There’s nothing to see. No. I didn’t bring it, but no worries. I’m armed.” I patted the boot I propped on the middle rung of her barstool.

“Do you even need it?”

“I don’t know. But the steel helps me channel the power. I—”

Both our heads snapped to the dance floor. The sudden presence of demons seemed to signal us at the same time.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I murmured.

Among a throng of dancers grinding to some death-metal tune was Bleed and one of the guys from his band, Gallow’s End. Bleed. What an asinine name. Perfectly fit the owner. Last time Kat and I had seen him in that demon club on Bayou Sauvage, his long, sleek hair was dyed midnight blue. He’d changed it to deep purple. Two stumbling-drunk girls were clinging to him and the tall, lanky guy I recognized as his drummer. Their eyes shimmered red in the smoky dark of the club.

That was one thing lower demons didn’t have to worry about in New Orleans. With so many freaks in the city joining artificial vampire covens, there was no need to disguise red eyes or sharpened fangs. Both of which were the distinct outward features of a lower demon inhabiting a human.

The young brunette who looked barely eighteen hung on to Bleed’s arm. He made a signal to Drummer Boy, who escorted another girl wearing a miniskirt so short I could see her ass cheek. They veered toward a back entrance, taking their fully intoxicated dates with them. Knowing Bleed was into kink and violence and certainly not above forcing his will on the weak and vulnerable, I nudged Kat.

Without a word, we were off the stools and following the four through the storage room, which indeed had a back entrance for deliveries. The door to the alley creaked closed. Bleed said something, obviously witty and wonderful because the girls giggled in unison. I reached into my boot and pulled out my sharpened stiletto. Kat pulled out a similar but thicker blade, sheathed on a vest harness covered by her jacket.

Kat cracked the door, peering outside. We heard the distant shuffling as the four moved farther off.

“Hurry,” I whispered.

We slipped through the exit and stalked after them. They rounded the corner of a darkened building. Although we were walking in the open, this part of the business district was deserted after hours. In the French Quarter, you could find crowds on every street well into the wee hours of the morning. But this area was only busy during the daytime. Perfect place to commit some heinous crime on unsuspecting, underage and intoxicated girls.

By the time we reached the next block, Bleed and Drummer Boy had lured the girls down a dark alley. Talk about cliché.

“Where issit?” slurred the brunette. The other girl’s giggle echoed off the alley walls.

“Right over here,” said Bleed. “I’m going to show you.”

I could hear the sneer in his voice. I grabbed Kat’s arm, and she looked back at me as we edged closer to the corner of the alley.
Sift
, I mouthed. She nodded.

Holding up my left hand, I put up one finger, then two, then three.

We sifted into the alley a yard away from them. There was no telling what Bleed had in mind, because we interrupted whatever it was he had planned. Somehow, he didn’t look surprised to see us, which put me on edge. My VS zinged to life, igniting my underlight to full throttle.

The brunette pointed at me, her hair a mess, her lipstick smeared. “Hey. You look like a fairy.”

She and her friend burst into laughter, one of them bending her knees with the weight of drunken hilarity. They’d definitely put more than alcohol in their systems. Or they’d had four too many of whatever they were drinking.

“Go,” I told the girls. “Get out of here.”

“Whu…why?” hiccupped Miniskirt.

Whispering the words to break through a cast of illusion, I slashed my dagger in the air toward Bleed, who’d not said a word. For the briefest of seconds, the outer shell of the beautiful human he hid inside vanished, revealing the fanged, bony, pasty-gray demon he truly was. Three seconds later, the veil that cloaked the demon in dark beauty hid the beast within once more.

The girls—slack-jawed and wide-eyed—simply stared in horror until Bleed hissed at them. They squealed and stumbled away toward the street, the brunette breaking a heel but not stopping.

“There now, Domina,” said Bleed, speaking to Kat, whom he favored over me. My feelings weren’t hurt, trust me. “Now that you have us all to yourself, what shall we do?”

“I think it’s time to send you back to your playpen, once and for all,” she answered with stoic grace.

The gangly one was already backing away, but not Bleed. “I would like nothing more than to bask in the tortures you have planned for me,” he said in a sultry tone, inching closer to her.

“Not this shit again,” I said, remembering how last time he’d begged her for a little S&M treatment.

He ignored me. “Word has spread, Domina, that you have certain tastes. Delicacies that align with my own desires.”

“I’m riveted,” said Kat. “Please. Do tell what demons are saying about me.”

The salacious grin that spread across Bleed’s face as his hand slipped down and cupped his crotch sent a grotesque chill over my body. “That you prefer…chains in the bedroom. I too enjoy bondage, Domina.” The asshole hadn’t noticed that Kat had gone rigid with rage, just as she always did two seconds before she was going to strike. “Perhaps we could enjoy each other—”

She sliced out with a leap, but he moved like lightning, prepared for her attack. He ended up behind her with one arm wrapped around her waist. The other hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist holding the dagger. He whispered something I couldn’t hear. Before I could even react to help her, she doubled over and flipped him on the pavement.

Drummer Boy took off running. “Kat!” I screamed, taking two steps after him.

She hovered over Bleed, who lay there, grinning like a fiend, on the ground. “Go.” She waved me off. “Get him!”

I took off. The dude didn’t look like much, but he sure as hell could run with those long-ass legs. I sprinted after him down the alley, coming out onto another well-lit but abandoned street in the business district. The frosty air filled my lungs, stinging as I sucked in each breath. His cackling laughter echoed to the right. I caught his lanky figure rounding a corner. Another alley.

As soon as I ran into the lane, a familiar signature wafted over me. Winter wind and new-fallen snow, ice castles and midnight blue—a potent seduction of ice and heat. The sight, sound, smell, color of winter emanated not from the atmosphere but from the man—the angel—standing five feet from me.

Drummer Boy was gone. In his place stood Thomas, the one I’d longed to find, to exact vengeance upon him for his betrayal, for what he’d done to Jude. For what he’d done to me. But for several seconds, all I could do was stand there and stare at him, convincing myself he was real and not another mirage.

Black hair curling at his nape like Michelangelo’s David. Sea-green eyes deeper than any ocean. Fair, flawless skin that rivaled that of Raphael’s most perfect painting. And a physique that had indeed been born of heaven. He was the embodiment of breathtaking beauty, and yet all I could do was imagine how quickly I could plunge my dagger into his heart.

I wanted to show him the depth of my rage, of my grief, of my loss. But I didn’t. When he moved closer, a mere foot from me, all I could do was stand there, literally shaking in my boots, trembling from the myriad emotions shooting through my frame. Before I killed him, I wanted answers.

“Genevieve.” Even his voice was beautiful. I cringed, wanting my name off his tongue. “You are so lovely. I’ve missed you. I—”

“Shut up. I can’t believe you’d just walk up and pretend like nothing happened.” I shook uncontrollably.

“You have a right to be angry—”

“You got that fucking right.”

“Please…Genevieve. Calm down for a minute.”

He raised his palms in supplication, as if gentling a wild animal. That was when I noticed the air around me was moving. A torrent of wind swept in a circle, lifting my hair. I gripped my dagger so hard, my bones cracked and my skin pinched against the hilt. A sharp sound crackled in the air. Electricity snapped in a halo around…me. He was using something to try to calm my ire, but it wasn’t working.

“What did you do with Drummer Boy?” I asked.

“Who?”

“The guy I was chasing. The lower demon.”

“I banished him back to hell. I took care of him for you.”

“Doing favors for me? Like last time?” A tear streaked down my face as I remembered. Jude had cupped my face in his hands, mouthed the words
I love y
ou, then leapt into that foul creature, Lethe. “Don’t do anything for me anymore. I swore I’d kill your ass the first second I saw you again.”

He lowered his palms to his sides as the wind died. “I understand your anger.”

“You understand nothing. Were you trying to trap me? Or Jude?”

His eyes cast downward in a moment of remorse, though I knew better. “I knew Jude would be there. I knew he would take your place.”

“It’s as I thought, then.” I lunged, slamming his body into the brick wall. Before I could shove my dagger into his chest, his wrist wrapped mine, my blade an inch from the fine linen of his shirt.

“Don’t, Genevieve. Please listen.” His plea, filled with anguish, made me pause.

One fist in his pretty shirt, I kept my weight angled against him, waiting for his grasp to relent. Panting fiercely, my breath white in the night air, I said all that my heart screamed. “You took my husband from me. You sent him to some torturous circle of hell where I can’t…I can’t see him, can’t hear him, feel him. I hate you, Thomas. I wish I could make you feel the pain I feel now. Even if I killed you, it wouldn’t change anything that you’ve done. He’d still be gone.” I choked on a bitter sob.

His grip held hard on my wrist. But his other hand came up, gently brushing the loose strands of hair from my face, his fingertips trailing my cheek. His eyes pooled with unshed tears, electrifying them to an unnatural glossy green. I was transfixed by the moment…by him.

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“And you do?”

His mouth tilted on one side, cracking his cool facade. “I suppose not. I only wanted… I love you, you see. A desperate man will do what he must to win his lady.”

I jerked back out of his grasp, needing his hands off me. His honeyed words didn’t have the same impact as they once had.

“But I can feel it.” He pressed his fist to his heart, over which I’d held my sharpened blade a second before. “We were meant for each other. Don’t you sense it?”

I shook my head. “Are you crazy? Didn’t you just hear me?”

“Do you dream of me as I dream of you?”

I flinched and moved farther away. Were the dreams some kind of vision? More than mere fantasy?

His tender smile sickened me. “You do dream of me.” He shoved off the wall, stepping into my space. An unearthly force pulled at my core, like gravity drawing all things toward Thomas. I stood still, falling almost into a trance as he lifted a hand and cupped my jaw. “You dream of me,” he whispered with confidence, gaze roving my face, landing on my lips. “You must love me.” When his thumb trailed across my cheek to my bottom lip, I snapped from the strange icy hypnosis he’d held me in. Slapping his arm away, I moved back toward the street entrance.