Drowning In The Dark: #4 The Veil Series

C
opyright
© 2015 by Pippa DaCosta

‘
D
rowning
In The Dark’

#4 The Veil Series

A
ll rights reserved
.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictions and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 1507816049

ISBN-13: 978-1507816042

Version 1.0 Feb 2015

A
kil Vitalis ~
Two nights ago.

I observe her from above. She has no idea I’m here, crouched on the rooftop, and I intend to keep it that way. Keep her that way. I shouldn’t be here. I’ve no concept of why I am. She stalks the Boston streets. My streets. And I stalk her.

The things she’s doing to me. I am not this man. I am demon. And yet this impossible woman undermines everything. Undermines me. Burrows deep. Deep into shadows, into darkness, into facets I’ve refused to acknowledge.

A siren wails. The sweet night air carries the sound, teasing me with the lure of chaos. Demons are close. They infiltrate my city. I do not share. I drive them back, and kill those who deny my authority. I should be doing exactly that. Instead, I am perched on a rooftop like the inferior lessers, eyeing my victim; not for the kill. No. My needs are visceral. Before her, they were easily met. I am greed. I yearn. I hunger. Here, in this time, this place, I take. But not her. I could. I could claim her, tie her up in lies and pin her down with promises. But I don’t. I skirt the fringes of truth. I weave a veil of misdirection. And ask myself, why? The answer eludes. Thousands of years, and I don’t possesses the answer to her.  

Below, in that narrow stinking alley, she finds her quarry and frees a dagger from her boot. The demon she’s stumbled upon is nothing. I could end his miserable existence with a click of my fingers. So could she, if she allowed herself the freedom to follow her instincts. Her stance tightens. Her body poised to fight; blade glinting in her hand. I permit a growl to rattle free. The breeze rips the sound away. The same breeze carries her scent to me. I grit my teeth, sending a burn through my jaw. Lust burns. She hasn’t the faintest idea how she kills me with the way she walks, how she tips her head, licks her lips, touches her hair. How she looks at me; eyes narrowed, hand on hip, so adamant in her belief she knows who—what I am. I need to take her; hard and fast. Rip the degenerate bastard from her soul, and seed myself inside her. Own her for eternity. Longer. I get my wants. My needs prove more difficult.

Her demon assailant lunges. She’s fast. Light on her feet. She darts to the side, spins, and plunges her blade between his shoulder blades. Demons think her weak because of her size, and her past. I know the truth. I’ve always known. I swallow, tasting her scent. I do not recall ever wanting something more. I’ve felt the sting of her bite, the burn of her wrath. Grinding my teeth I ignore the throb of need and push aside the memories of having her beneath me. Not the fragile conflicting thing she once was. But the powerful creature who found me after I thought her lost. Those memories of my insurmountable weakness prove stubborn.

I shift, stand, and walk along the edge of the roof, hissing air through my teeth so that I might taste her. She doesn’t understand how she commands lust. Or, if she does, she denies it, like I deny I feel anything for her. Now, as she dances with the demon, she’s teasing him. I absorb the sounds of battle. Of her rapid breaths, her growls, grunts. There’s a beast in her. Heat quivers through my flesh. My vessel slipping. If I drop the human pretense, I will hunt her down, kill the demon she’s teasing, and… I growl. Deep. I am Greed. I need her like night needs day. She ruins me. Strips me raw. I hate her for it. Despise myself. A Prince of Hell, reduced to this.

Between one step and the next, I discard the man, the suit, the restraint, the control, and lift my wings high with a basal growl that rumbles from the depths of those damned emotions. I’d tear those flaws out, if I could. Weak, fluttering, nonsense. Boston’s heat beats over me, and I relish the touch of life, of thousands of lives. Humans, and their nonsensical ways. Ah yes. My city. Chaos contained, chained by mere mortals. Orderly streets. Infrastructure. Systems. Plans.

Chaos caged. By humans. A smile crawls across my lips.

Below, she lands a killing blow. I see her face. Wide eyes. Parted lips. She’s never been more alive. Together we could burn the world. I’d burn it for her; just to free the fire. Her dark eyes lift. Her victim crumples at her feet.

She sees me. Senses me with all her human and demon instincts. Lust rides her scent and a snarl ripples across my lips.

She thinks me
just demon
. She is wrong about that. I was wrong about her, I realize. She knows I watch her. Every night. And every night I fight my battle. She smiles a knowing smile—no less wolfish for blunt human teeth—wipes the dagger on her sleeve and tosses me the kind of fluttering dismissive wave I’d have killed others for. She dances with the devil. Flirts with destruction. While she turns her back and strides away, I watch her. I’ve always watched her. The time will come when I must act. I do not trust myself to do what must be done. But, until then, she’s mine. I do not share. I am greed. I will have her. All of her. She. Is. Mine.

D
emon claws sliced
into my waist, sending sparks of pain dancing up my right side and stealing a ragged cry from my lips. I twisted away, more by instinct than thought, and cracked my fist across the demon’s brittle jaw. His face fractured like glass, which would have been a victory, had the shards not pierced my knuckles. Damn, it was like fighting barbed wire. I saw the right hook coming—his claws spread wide—and realized I might have underestimated my quarry and overestimated my current abilities. I ducked, snatched my dagger from its sheath at my ankle, and lunged upward, driving the blade deep into his gut. He grunted. My gaze met his opaque eyes. His slippery blue lips peeled from jagged teeth. Hot blood spilled over my hand, but from the look of glee on his crumpled face, you’d think he’d won. I was missing something. His brittle laughter confirmed it.

“They’re coming, half blood,” he growled around his fangs.

“Yeah, I got the memo. The princes are coming, blah blah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

His hand shot out like a viper strike. I yanked the blade from his gut, recoiled from his scalpel-like claws, and arched away, but my balance wobbled. Overreaching, I staggered. My stomach flip-flopped. Fear churned my gut. The big grin on his bony face morphed into a hideous, toothy snarl. He lunged and slammed his not-so-lightweight body into me. My back hit the alley dirt, knocking the breath out of my lungs. This would be one of those times when calling the fire would solve my misbehaving demon problem. I could kill him in an instant. A flicker of a thought was all it would take. But I knew I wouldn’t stop there. The alley would look nice draped in fire. That overflowing dumpster back there would go up like the 4
^th
of July. The buildings would catch next. My fire would lick the sky, devour the neighborhood, and gobble up every living thing in the immediate vicinity. Insane laughter bubbled through my thoughts.

The demon coiled his hands around my throat. His legs straddled me. I took a swipe at his arm with my blade. His skin peeled apart and blood dribbled, but he didn’t loosen his grip. I sliced again. My lungs burned. His grip on my throat tightened. My vision clouded. The edges of his broken face blurred. My demon snarled inside my mind and rattled her mental bars.
Let me out…
she urged.
Let me play. We will make short work of this beast. We are destruction. We taste his death. Ashes in the air. Let us devour.
It was pretty crowded in my head. Next to add to my demon’s cacophony was my personal parasite, and he spilled his poison into my veins, stoking my thirst for fire. I couldn’t hold out much longer. The fire would come. My demon would break the reins, and this time, I might not come back. This could be it: the very last time I had control. Was it over so soon? Would I lose my battle in this alley?

Demon spittle dribbled onto my face. My head lolled to one side. Through the fog of impending unconsciousness, a dark figure walked toward me. I didn’t need to see clearly to know him. His element flooded ahead of him. Heat. A terrible, breath-stealing, skin-crawling heat. Fire without the flames. The demon with his hands around my throat jerked his head up. His chokehold vanished as foreign words spilled from his lips. He scrambled off me, but he stayed kneeling, skinny shoulders hunched.

Akil’s image shimmered behind a veil of heat-haze. The air around his body rippled and strummed. He wore a double-breasted overcoat over his trademark suit, as though he might actually feel the cold on this chilly Boston evening. Only Akil could stalk back alleys and still look like he’d stepped off the pages of
GQ
magazine.

As my demon attacker mumbled and growled in an ancient and exotic language, I concentrated on filling my lungs with air, ignoring the odors of mildew, fish, and urine. The air tasted pretty sweet to my oxygen-starved lungs.

“Return to the netherworld,” Akil ordered, his tone level and direct. He didn’t expect to be disobeyed. He stopped in front of the prostrate demon, handsome face perfectly neutral.

“It won’t do any good, Sire. They come. There is nothing there but death.”

Akil’s dark eyes flicked to me. I wiggled my fingers at him. It was all I could muster.

“Perhaps you misheard because I’m certain you didn’t just deny a direct order from your prince.” A smile flirted across Akil’s lips, and fire rimmed the irises in his otherwise hazel eyes.

“No, Sire.” The demon ducked his head.

“Good.” Akil flicked his fingers, and a ribbon of light rippled open beside him.
The veil.
“Be on your way.”

“Now? B-But…”

Akil plucked the demon off his knees and shoved him through the twitching sliver of light. Moments later, the veil stitched itself closed, and Akil turned to me. “Before you say a word about not needing my help, I observed your altercation for several minutes before intervening. Had it gone on any longer, I’m quite certain you would be dead.”

“Dead is such a strong word.” My voice came out littered with scratches and hitches, dashing my attempt at bravado. I rolled onto my side, winced as the wound in my side flared, and climbed to my feet. Akil watched me stagger and right myself. He knew better than to help me.

“Nice coat. Do you always kick demon ass dressed like an Italian supermodel?” I brushed loose dirt from my jeans and tee. When I caught sight of the bloom of blood and the warm metallic scent of it hit me, I swallowed a knot of fear. It
had
been too close.

Akil blinked into existence right in front of me. His heat wrapped me in a quilt-like embrace. I attempted to deny how his warmth soothed my rattled body and mind, but it was a losing battle. Exhausted, battered, bruised, and bleeding, I was in no condition to argue with him. I’d not spoken to him in weeks—not officially—but I knew he’d been on the streets, eager to kick any wayward demons back to the netherworld, or hell as it was fondly referred to. According to Akil, Boston was his city, and nobody would take it from him, not an influx of demons and certainly not the other princes. I wasn’t entirely surprised to see him. I suspected he’d been watching me from afar.

He hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my head up. “Why did you allow that demon to best you?”

I fluttered my eyes closed. The disappointment on his face was too much. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what? Not him.”

“Damien.” My parasite. I opened my eyes in time to catch Akil’s glare narrowing. “He constantly pulls on my control. And my demon… She’s impatient. She whispers to me the whole time. If I let her go, Akil, I’m afraid I might not come back.” I’d lost control a few weeks ago, almost killing an angry mob and nearly tearing Akil’s arm off in the process. He’d stopped me from doing both, but it had been too close for comfort.

He drew his hand back. Our gazes locked for a few seconds before he dipped his lower, over my lips, my chest, to where his fingers peeled the sticky hem of my top away from my waist. “You know how to remove the soul-lock. I’m sure you don’t need me to say it again.”

Right, by letting Akil dig him out. I’d been thinking about it every night when I woke screaming, drenched in cold sweat, body aching and mind shattered beneath a flood of revolting images—Damien’s memories. Yeah, I’d thought about it a lot while drowning myself in whiskey. Damien was killing me as surely as if he stood over my shoulder, driving a dagger into my back. I needed Akil’s help. I was losing this battle. I’d been losing it since the beginning. And I didn’t have much time left.

“Could he ever come back?” I asked quietly. “The part of him that’s in me, could it ever become solid again, flesh and blood real?”

Akil searched my face, delaying, until he finally gave me the truth. “Yes. There is a way. But you need not concern yourself with it. Without your consent, it could never happen.” Disgust burned at the back of my throat. I wanted my owner out, gone for good. I’d have gladly cut him out with a rusted razor blade if I could. “You cannot continue like this, Muse.” Akil’s deft fingers probed my side, drawing a hiss from my lips. “If you refuse to summon your demon, you will likely die the next time you find yourself in harm’s way. I may not always be here to save you.”

I bowed my head, simultaneously resting my forehead against his chest while he pressed his hand over the wounds and fizzed heat through my flesh. “I think… maybe…” I sighed. “You’re right. I’m ready.” His body tensed, and his hand stilled over the wound. “You need to take him out of me, Akil. Please. I can’t live like this anymore.”

He laced his fingers into my hair and tipped my head back. I could have fought him, but what was the point? We both knew this had to happen eventually. He didn’t look as happy as I thought he would. He studied me, his sculpted face marred by suspicion.

“I expected you to, y’know, gloat or something. You’ve wanted this since he soul-locked me.”

“Much longer, actually. But I—”

His teeth snapped together, and he jerked as though struck then shoved me away from him. I almost fell over my own feet trying to stay upright. Stumbling against the wall, I spluttered a curse. “What the hell?”

He’d spun around and faced the mouth of the alley, his back to me. I saw them then: six black-clad men and women, assault rifles raised and trained on Akil as they closed in. Laser dots bounced around on his back. I searched the roofline and spotted the snipers. Worse, more special-ops jogged in from my left behind Akil. I recognized one instantly. Ryder led the smaller team, rifle shouldered and aimed at Akil’s back.

“Shit, Akil, get out of here.” I shoved off the wall and strode into the line of fire, exuding a confidence I didn’t have. “Don’t do this, Ryder.” I called over the sound of hammering boots on asphalt. Akil could kill them all.

“Get outtah the way, Muse,” Ryder barked. “We will shoot through you.”

Akil’s element lashed outward, surging past me and rushing toward Ryder’s group. “Dammit, Ryder, you wanna be responsible for more deaths?”

“Ain’t gonna happen.” His men were closing fast. It would be a bloodbath. I saw five in his group, a couple on the roof, and six approaching Akil from the front. It wouldn’t be enough. A hundred wouldn’t be enough. What the hell was Ryder thinking?

Akil’s element spluttered beneath my feet. I felt it choke and gasped, spinning around to see Akil drop to one knee and brace himself against the ground, head bowed. Heat throbbed around him, beating the air in relentless waves. He should have been upright, smug and confident. At the worst, he could have called his true form, Mammon. Something was very wrong. “Akil?”

The enforcers gathered around him. His shoulders rose and fell as he breathed hard, but he made no move to attack them or protect himself. A deep, inhuman growl rumbled through him. He snapped his head up and scored a few enforcers with his powerful glare, but it only seemed to make them more determined. They closed ranks, moving tighter.

I stole a few steps closer. Ryder grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. “Stay away, if you know what’s good for you.” He shoved me back, fierce determination making his glare hard and cold.

“Ryder, he’ll kill all of you. Are you insane?” Akil might be down now, but it was likely a trap. He was probably hoping to lure them in so he could catch them together. I strode forward. “Let him go before it’s too late.” I didn’t want to see anyone hurt, especially Ryder. We’d had our differences, but he didn’t deserve to screw up like this. “You can’t capture a Prince of Hell. Ryder, please, c’mon… Before he brings Mammon…” My words trailed off as Akil’s gaze found me. Lips pulled back in a snarl, eyes bright with amber, he glared at me, accusations burning in his gaze. What? Did he think I had something to do with this? “Akil… Don’t hurt them. Let them go.” Another growl rumbled through him.

“He’s not going anywhere, Muse.” Ryder raised his rifle, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The sharp crack bounced around the alley. Akil took the hit in the shoulder. He spun around, his body moving liquid fast, but it wasn’t enough. They all opened fire. The deafening noise of gunfire drowned out my shriek of alarm. I sprang forward, only for Ryder to grab me and shove me into the arms of three of his crew. I kicked, yanked, writhed, and bucked, but the enforcers held fast.

When the gunfire ceased, a horrible, unearthly quiet settled over the alley. The smell of hot metal and acrid gun smoke burned my nostrils and laced my throat. Ragged breaths sawed out of me. I couldn’t tear my gaze from the group huddled around a pool of blood. He couldn’t be dead. Could he? Why hadn’t he fought? Why didn’t he summon Mammon? He’d once told me seven hundred enforcers wouldn’t be enough to take him down.

The crowd of special-ops parted. My knees buckled. Akil lay on his side, shredded clothes dark with blood. His glassy gaze stared into the middle-distance, seeing nothing. Blood dribbled from his parted lips. This couldn’t be. My demon surged forward, driving a growl ahead of her and out of me.

Ryder turned to me. “Don’t even think of bringing her to the party, Muse.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the snipers above. I saw them and followed their aim and saw the red fireflies dancing on my chest. “Unless you want your demon packed away for another day.”

He glanced back, smiled, and nodded. “Job well done, everyone. Bag him, and let’s get outtah here.”

“You killed him, ” I snarled, battling with the terrible desire to spill fire into my veins and burn everyone in the alley—to turn them to ash and dance with their remains in the breeze. It was insane, but that didn’t make the thought any less appealing. “He was helping us drive the demons back.” I clamped my teeth together, hissing each breath between them even as I felt my fangs lengthen. “Why do this?”

Ryder finally looked at me and saw me, not another demon getting in his way, but me—once his friend. “Look.” He lowered his voice. “He ain’t dead. He’s just chock-full of PC-Thirty-Four and a bit beaten up. He’ll be so angry he could spit nails, for sure, but he won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

They’d drugged Akil. They’d
drugged
a Prince of Hell. Panic speared through me. “Give him the antidote. Now. Before he comes ’round. Let him go. Do that, and you’ll live. Otherwise, Ryder, when he wakes and realizes what you’ve done, you’re a dead man. And not just you, everyone here. Shit, maybe the whole city, for all I know. Don’t risk it. Walk away now. Tell Adam you failed.”