Darkness Taunts (12 page)

“Getting good with the modern lingo aren’t you?” I asked. His brother always spoke so much more formally.

Micah shrugged. I still hadn’t gotten used to seeing Lucas’ face on him. “One of the advantages of ‘The Sleep’ is it refreshes the mind and makes it easier to assimilate new information.” He paused. “It also helps that television programming and movies have improved considerably during my absence. Those reality shows are teaching me a lot.”

I groaned. “Please tell me you’ve been watching something else besides those.”

The kitchen counter blocked my view, but I could hear him chopping something up. He kept his concentration on that as he spoke. “There is a particular show called
Sons of Anarchy
that I’ve found quite entertaining.”

I shook my head. “That’s not exactly going to teach you how to behave in society.”  

“Really?” he asked, dumping his latest ingredients into the pot. “Here I was plotting ways to sell illegal arms as an investment for my future.”

He was baiting me. I refused to take it while I had the chance to grill him for information without a certain other nephilim’s interference. “Hey, does Lucas ever go for The Sleep?”

“Not for a very long time. He’s never been the most pleasant brother to have, but too many centuries of going without The Sleep has made him increasingly irritable to be around.” Something in Micah’s voice and emotions told me this bothered him more than he wanted to let on.

“Then why don’t you encourage him to take his turn?” I asked. Maybe Lucas could sleep long enough to give me peace for the rest of my life.

Micah’s face hardened. “He doesn’t have the luxury to go for The Sleep.”

I’d suspected he’d say something like that. “Why not?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

I didn’t get a chance to say more. Micah stalked from the kitchen and out the front door. He didn’t go far—he was supposed to be keeping an eye on me in Lucas’ absence—but he went far enough to make it clear he didn’t want to talk. Whatever the problem was, it appeared to be a sore subject. Maybe if I asked the right questions between him and his brother I could figure it out.

For now, I had to concentrate on the indecipherable notes in front of me. Nik’s piss poor writing couldn’t wait. Lucas would be back tonight to take me out for some kind of meeting with the club owner whose place had been attacked by the demons recently. He wanted me to pose as a demonologist working with him on the problem. I had to learn all I could between now and then.

Thirty minutes into it and I found something that caught my attention. I reread the lines to make full sense of them.

A demon is at its weakest when it enters the host. Humans are almost always the target as they are the easiest to possess and control. Once a demon has taken hold, a battle is waged for the human’s soul. A strong one may last for up to five days, a weaker one for perhaps two. In the early stages a host’s emotions will be especially volatile to the senses. As time passes, they will weaken. Once the soul is lost, the human’s presence will no longer be discernible and the demon will be in full control. No mortal can survive if intervention does not arrive before this occurs.

It went on to say how to properly kill a host if the demon had fully taken over—by beheading.  If the soul still fought, then feeding the human sensor blood would end the possession. Either way, the demon didn’t die. It went back to hell, but their time on earth would leave them too weak to come back for centuries. How they knew that part, it didn’t say.

I thought back to my experience with the demon that morning. It should have bothered me that Lucas had killed the host, but it hadn’t. Maybe my sensor instincts recognized the host had already been lost. At least now I had a better idea of what to do if I ran into one.

The next couple of pages described specific instances of demon possession. Nik’s handwriting hadn’t gotten any better, though, so it took time to make out each line and rewrite it. My head had started to ache by the time Micah came back. He went straight into the kitchen with only a brief glance in my direction.

I didn’t want to befriend him. My instincts still told me to run whenever a sup came near, but he might be the only one who could give me more information on Lucas. Something told me I’d never get rid of that man and the more I knew about him the better. At least Micah would talk without all the ambiguity.

I set my notebooks down on the couch and moved over to the kitchen. Micah stirred the pot in lazy circles. His shoulders were stiff as if he expected me to attack. I grabbed a coke out of the fridge and popped it open.

“Smells good,” I said.

He grunted.

That was less than encouraging, but I had to try. I could be friendly and resist the urge to bang him over the head again. “Sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

Micah paused his stirring. “You didn’t make me mad.”

“Okay.” I went around the counter and sat on a bar stool directly in front of him. “Well, I’m sorry for whatever I did that sent you wandering around the woods outside for the last hour.”

He shot me a disgruntled look. “It’s not all about you, you know.”

I set my elbows on the counter and rested my chin on my cupped hands to look at him. “Sometimes, Lucas makes me think it is. He’s always made it clear he doesn’t like me, but I’ve never done anything to him.”

Micah dipped a spoon into the stew and tasted it. I grew hungrier watching him. It really did smell mouth watering. He made me wait a minute while he added some salt before replying. “There is a lot you don’t know, but Lucas has his reasons for behaving the way he does.”

Time to dig deeper. “Do you know how I first met your brother?”

“He never gave the details.”

I blew out a breath and forced myself to bring up one of my worst memories. “I was eighteen, ready to go off to college and start my life. He showed up at my house with no warning and cut my guardian’s body in half with his sword. I had no family left and he killed the one person who seemed to care about me. It wasn’t until last year he explained why he did it, but for all that time he let me to believe I was next.”

Micah didn’t look up or say anything.

I got off the stool and gripped the counter. “So I’m sorry if I irritate you and your brother with my very existence, but I’m not my ancestors…or anyone else who may have wronged you. I didn’t do anything to deserve all this blind hatred. Yeah, the world is cruel and unfair. I get that. Believe me, I do, but why can’t you people stay the hell away from me if I’m so revolting to be around!”

I walked away. It had been my intention to make peace, but the memories from all those years ago and my frustration over recent events had made it impossible to maintain my emotional facade. Micah wasn’t worth the effort it would take to get on his good side. I thought I could use sympathy as a way in, but it hurt too much.

“Melena,” Micah called out. He had the same voice as Lucas, but now I could differentiate the subtle differences between them.

I paused but didn’t turn around. “What?”

“Come taste this and see what you think.”

He was throwing out a peace offering. It took a few deep breaths to pull myself back together. I’d be damned if he saw how upset I’d really become. When I felt I had my face back to its usual mask of control I went back and stood next to them.

“Here.” He had been blowing on the spoon to cool the stew.

I let him guide it to my mouth. It tasted even better than it had smelled. Full of spices, vegetables, and deer meat. I closed my eyes and savored it before swallowing.

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s good.”

He nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

Lucas’ eyes narrowed when I walked into the living room. We were about to head to The Asylum to meet with the owner. He’d made it clear that I should wear something that would fit into a supernatural club known for its erotic tastes. About a year before, I’d bought a dress for an exclusive club my friend Lisette had planned to drag me to. I ended up never wearing it because I came down with the flu, but it was perfect for this occasion.

The black dress had long sleeves that widened at the wrists—perfect for concealing a knife so long as I didn’t raise my arms up high—a v-neck that enhanced what cleavage I had, and a very short skirt. It barely covered my butt and it had slits on the sides. The material had a subtle see-through quality that made it eye catching. I almost felt naked in it, but a part of me enjoyed the sexy look.

Micah almost dropped the glass of wine he held when he saw me. I pretended not to notice. Lucas walked up and helped me put on my dark overcoat. It was made of quality material and perfect for times when my outfits were a little too skimpy for cold weather. He managed to adjust it over my shoulders without touching my skin at all. Somehow, his avoidance made it that much more tense between us.

“You understand your role tonight?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. As if I could forget. He’d called to check on me twice today to go over the details. We hadn’t actually seen each other since this morning. I’d been busy getting ready when he arrived back at the cabin.

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Wait.” I turned to go back to the bedroom. “I need my purse.”

He grabbed my arm. “Leave it.”

I glanced at the hand holding me and lifted my brows. The sparks were already flying. “I’m not going out without money or an ID.”

He loosened his hold. “You’ll be with me. I’ll take care of anything you need. It is understood that humans who come to the club belong to the supernatural man or woman who brings them. None of the staff will even talk to you.”

“I’m not some kind of property,” I said through gritted teeth.

His eyes ran up and down my body. They almost bored a hole through my coat. I knew he could remember exactly what I wore underneath. “Tonight you have dressed the part and you will play it.”

A moment of indecision overtook me. Could I do this? The independent woman inside railed against the idea, but it was the only way inside the club if we wanted to keep a low profile. The owner wasn’t supposed to let anyone know about our true purpose. I’d have to pretend for one night that I did belong to Lucas—whatever that meant. My pride would have to take another hit for the sake of saving innocent lives. I’d deal with it, somehow.

“Fine, let’s go.”

***

I didn’t see much of the The Asylum before a stuffy vampire ushered us to the private area in the back. We did have to pass through part of the club to get there and what I saw made me glad for all times Nik had exposed me to the wilder side of supernatural behavior. No rules held anyone back here.

They’d taken my coat at the door, but suddenly my dress didn’t feel all that revealing. Most women wore little or nothing at all. With the men it varied, but the majority didn’t have much on. I did notice an older vampire and a strong werewolf—each at opposite ends of the room—who both had considerable power and all their clothes on, but they surrounded themselves with nude servants. There was definitely a hierarchy around here.

Lucas kept his hand at my back the whole time and stared down anyone who looked at me too closely. I knew he intended it as a statement, but at least at the end of the night it would be over. Tomorrow we could go back to outwardly hating each other.

We were led into an office where a vampire with long red hair pulled back in a queue sat behind a desk pecking away at his laptop keyboard. He might have been alive for almost six hundred years, but it seemed the art of typing still eluded him. Expensive furniture filled the room, but it was cluttered with papers and the occasional random box. He stood up as soon as he saw us and held out his hand to Lucas.

“Master Aeson told me to expect you,” he said. “I am Othello, owner of The Asylum.”

“You may call me Lucas.” Sups didn’t like to give up their full names if they could help it. That whole “names have power” thing kept them from revealing anything more than necessary. Neither of them paid any attention to me.

“Please, have a seat,” Othello indicated the chairs in front of his desk. Lucas nodded at me as if I had to have some kind of secondary permission. This posturing was so stupid.

The vampire sat down as well. “Would you like something to drink?”

Lucas didn’t bother to look at me before answering. “Wine, preferably Pinot Noir.”

Damn him, he knew I didn’t care for red wine.

“Excellent.” Othello clasped his hands together. “Carmen will be here in a moment to serve it.”

It didn’t take long. A female werewolf arrived with three glasses and an unopened bottle a few minutes later. I’d sensed Othello had used mental communication as soon as Lucas gave his drink order. My abilities didn’t extend to telling me what he said, but I knew he communicated with her again when she arrived. She uncorked the bottle right in front of us before handing the glasses around and filling them.

Her nostrils flared more than normal when she leaned close to me and her lips twitched. For some reason the female werewolf went from vaguely annoyed when she came in, to pleased. More communication between her and her boss followed. Too bad I couldn’t tell Lucas what was happening. Having to sit there and keep quiet grated on my nerves. Her lust-filled eyes roved over him a few times, but he didn’t appear to notice. That gave me an uncomfortable sense of satisfaction.

She left the room after we all had our glasses full. Her generous hips sashayed as she went. Maybe she was in heat—that’d explain a lot, though my abilities couldn’t pick up on that sort of thing. I sipped my drink and pretended to enjoy it. No doubt it was some special vintage, but it was lost on me.

Lucas swirled the wine in his glass, studying it closely, before speaking. “Why don’t you describe the night of the attack for me.”

Othello leaned back in his chair. “It all happened in less than five minutes. The vampire stationed at the front door alerted me when two humans, as he believed they were, began to cause trouble. I sent a few of my stronger men to assist him, but by the time they got there he’d already been killed. The show of power made us realize we weren’t dealing with ordinary humans. The entry area sustained quite a bit of damage—not to mention the casualties—before my men could kill one of the demon hosts. The other fled and we were unable to catch him.”