Night Falls on the Wicked (23 page)

She wondered whether tomorrow, her first day as a demon witch, she could say the same. Whether she would be able to think for herself at all anymore.

D
ARBY DIDN’T GO VERY
far. Exiting the hotel’s glass doors, she walked to a nearby park, her boots crunching over the snow. She waited in the quiet darkness, burrowing deep in her cloak as she sat on a park bench and watched the light snowfall with unseeing eyes.

It was cold, but she hoped that without her necklace, and in her state of utter vulnerability, a demon would find her. More than likely the same one that appeared to her in her apartment would not be too out of range to detect her. Once he found her, it would only take a few moments and
the deed would be done. At least that’s what she’d always been told. Warned. Whatever.

She closed her eyes in a tight, painful blink, inwardly cringing at what she was about to do. A sob built in her throat and lodged there as she thought of her aunts and how this would hurt them, devastate them. First her mother. And now her. They’d prefer her dead to this.

But she couldn’t reconsider. She couldn’t let anything happen to Aimee. Not if she could help it—and she could. She
would
.

It wasn’t as though she were giving up on herself. It didn’t have to be the end of the world for her. She could move further north and live where no demon could appear and materialize for even a moment. An environment where a demon couldn’t wield control over her. She had no other choice. That’s what she would have to do after this night.

The wind stirred—a chalky breeze. The snow gave off its own glow around her, a source of light in itself, a great blanket of white, radiant and bright.

She peered out from the scarf she’d wrapped several times around the lower half of her face, searching for shadows—for dark, twisted shapes that had no natural purpose on this earth. That weren’t shadows at all, but something else.

Nothing. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and relaxed into a state that bordered sleep. She mellowed, tuning out the cold as best she could.

Her pulse slowed to a dull, rhythmic ticking at her neck, lightly hopping beneath her skin. There was no reason for her to hold herself tense and alert against bad things that might do her harm. Not when she was waiting for a demon to show up.

If she wanted to speed along the chance of that happening, then it would be better if she were in the most receptive state possible.

She’d never tried to use her gift on purpose before. Her visions simply struck her unsolicited—unwanted and reviled. But she knew witches could wield their powers. With skill and practice—neither of which she could claim—they could summon their powers at whim. Her aunts had been able to. Even her mother—she’d just been resistant.

Darby had never tried before. Now she wished she’d paid better attention to the lessons her aunts had tried to force on her.

She breathed in and out, in and out, sliding low on the bench. Her head dipped forward, her body relaxing, mind emptying, as she readied herself as much as she could for a vision.

It didn’t come. This time there was no vision.
No flash of future events. Nothing to help attract a demon to her side.

But it turned out she didn’t need a vision to bring a demon to her. He came to her regardless.

When she was struck with his presence, it was with such a sharp bolt of awareness that she lurched upright on the bench. In the years since she’d lived in cold climates such as this, she’d never felt a demon’s presence so powerfully.

She shivered, lacing her hands tightly together as she searched for his shadow.

Maybe he came without the draw of her vision because she’d summoned him, pulling him from whatever dark beyond where he lurked. She didn’t know. She’d spent her life running and hiding from demons. She didn’t know what happened when you actually welcomed one with open arms.

Or maybe he came because she’d removed the necklace. Without holy water, salt and milk, she was an easier target.

She broke from the bench, still trembling as she staggered to her feet. But not from the cold. His heat was all around her, blistering her with renewed force. She hugged herself tightly and forced herself not to run.

A guttural voice taunted in her ear, the demon tongue instantly translating itself in her head.
“Now I’m almost thinking you want me here, little one, because this is simply too easy.”

She turned her head slightly, angling to better view him, a shadowy shape just beginning to take form in front of her. She stiffened but showed no other sign that she was even alarmed at his presence—this thing, this shadow that was not shadow.

It was him. The same demon from before. She tried not to shudder as she gazed at his repulsive image … tried not to consider that this
thing
would be inside her head soon enough. That he would own her soul.

“You must like the cold,” she taunted back. “You keep showing up here.”

“No, I must like you,” his hissing voice countered, snake’s tongue darting to his nonexistent lips. “I can’t seem to stay away from you.”

She inhaled a difficult breath. “It seems I may need you, after all.”

“Indeed?” His large snake’s head nodded as though in approval.

And yet he didn’t seem surprised. In fact, his slit eyes gazed down at her with a smug knowledge, like he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. She had done precisely as expected, and she wondered if there was something intrinsic to
her
. Something that marked her over other
witches. Did demons know which witches would be most susceptible? Her aunts had never been particularly harassed. Not like her mother. Not like her.

It made her ill to think that she may have been headed to this moment all along—no matter how she tried, how she fought it. This was always going to happen. Always going to be.

But it wasn’t over, she quickly reminded herself before despair crept over her.

This demon wasn’t going to get an easy possession out of her. She’d move to Antarctica if she had to. See how much he liked that. If he wanted to use her as an instrument for evil, she wasn’t going to give him a lot of opportunity to do that.

The demon continued in his slithering voice, “Well, let’s proceed then.” His scaly flesh shivered—shuddered, actually, and she knew he couldn’t last in this temperature for much longer. “A witch’s soul never comes for free. I’m aware of that. What do you want, my dear? Name your price.”

She sucked in a deep breath. Nothing was more important than this moment. She had to get it right.

“There’s a little girl, Aimee.” She moistened her dry, cold lips. “She’s been bitten by a lycan.”

“Ah.” The demon nodded, his serpent tongue
darting out in a way that made her stomach twist and tighten sickly. “The poor little one is infected and you want me to reverse the curse on her.”

“Yes, but no tricks. I want her to be the same healthy,
human
girl she used to be. I want her returned safely to Niklas, a—” She stopped, unsure what to say about Niklas. Unsure what she should say.

What was Niklas to her?
Everything
, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind.
Everything you’re losing. Everything you ever wanted and never knew.

She swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat. The last thing she wanted this demon to think was that Niklas meant something special to her. The demon might use him to get to her when he discovered just how uncooperative she was.

“Niklas?” he prompted.

She forced her shoulders into an indifferent shrug. “Yes. He’s staying at the Fairmont Hotel,” she finished. “He knows the girl and will take care of her—see her safely home.”

“That can all be arranged.”

She stabbed a finger in his direction. “Exactly as I described,” she threatened, marveling that she was even negotiating with such a hideous creature so calmly. The sight of him would have sent her running before. Before Aimee. Before Niklas.
Before she realized she couldn’t spend her life running. That life was about more than her. It was about innocent little girls whose mothers were brutally murdered by monsters—a girl whose youth was ripped away, her future stolen.

It was about the fact that Darby possessed the power to give Aimee a chance at life—if she was selfless enough to do it.

The demon chuckled. “What? You don’t trust me? And we’re going to be so close. That hurts.”

“I’m not finished.”

He waved a three-taloned hand for her to continue.

“The lycan that infected her, Cyprian … I want him gone. Dead. Understand?” This she could do for Niklas—to say nothing of the world. But truth be told, it was mostly for Niklas. Her gift to him. He’d be free at last. What he chose to do after that, whether he devoted the rest of his life to hunting other lycans instead of living his own life for himself, was out of her hands. But this—Cyprian’s wretched life—she could end it for him.

The demon counted off on his talons. “Girl returned to her old self and the lycan responsible destroyed. Sounds simple enough.” He brought those creepy fingers to his scaly cheek.

Darby stared at him through narrowed eyes, replaying their agreement in her head. She remembered
that Niklas’s mother hadn’t worded her request very well. She didn’t want to repeat that mistake. After careful consideration, she gave a brisk nod. “Yes. That should do it.”

The demon smiled a lipless grin. “Very good.”

She tensed now, unsure what to do, how any of this happened—how the most reprehensible thing she had
never
thought to happen would actually come to pass.

“Relax, my dear. This won’t hurt.”

The demon stepped nearer, engulfing her in his embrace. He was uncomfortably warm. Despite the cold raging around them, his leathery flesh was baking hot. Even so, she still shivered.

“Shh.” He slid his large palm across her cheek. It wasn’t scaled like the rest of him, but felt rubbery and slick. “Everything’s going to be all right. We’ll be together forever. Just the two of us.”

Bile rose to the back of her throat. This did nothing to still her trembling, but his arms tightened around her, holding her so snug she could hardly move.

“Repeat after me: I submit to you, I submit to you.”

She parted her lips. The words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t say it—couldn’t do it. She closed her eyes, angry at herself, but a small, cowardly part of her also felt relieved.

As if he sensed this, his taunting voice filled her ears. “Don’t you want to save your little girl? So innocent. So sweet. She didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to her … what’s going to happen to her. What’s her name again?”

She shook her head, lips pressed tightly together.

His taloned fingers dug deep into her arms, the nails cutting her flesh. “Her name?”

Tears seeped between her closed eyelids. “Aimee.”

“Ah, Aimee. Poor Aimee. Wonder how many will die at her hands. Taken in by her appearance, a lost little girl in need. She couldn’t possibly harm anyone.” He chuckled. “Until she devours them.”

It was a horrible scenario, but one she could picture as perfectly as any vision.

She had to do this. She couldn’t let that happen. The words rose on her shuddering lips: “I submit to you, I submit to you … I submit.”

He exhaled slowly as if she had done something to ease a long-standing ache, a deeply buried wound. “It is done,” he said on a breath.

Suddenly she was caught in a storm of dark wind. The demon was shadow again, steaming air swirling all around her, gaining speed until she felt like she was caught in a massive cyclone.

Suddenly the wind stopped, disappeared. And
she was slammed against something so hard every bone in her body rattled.

She was lifted off her feet and then flung back down. She lay flat on the ground, facedown in bitter-cold snow. But a strange new heat spread up from her core, suffusing her. Like something living and breathing inside her.

Looking around, there was no sight of the demon. Yet she wasn’t alone. The demon was still with her. She felt him.

He was inside her.

N
iklas woke with a rough gasp, his heart beating like a fierce drum in his chest. Instantly, he looked around, reacquainting himself with his surroundings. One learned to do that, especially when one never woke in the same place, when the scenery constantly changed.

The fact that Darby wasn’t in the room struck him immediately. His mind registered this even though his body already knew, already sensed her missing from his side.

“Darby?” he called, flinging back the covers and rising from the bed. He checked the bathroom and then the other two rooms. Scowling, he stopped, wondering where she could have gone. She wouldn’t have gone looking for Aimee on her own. She needed his help for that.

He returned to his room and his gaze caught on the glint of something on the bedside table. The flesh at the back of his neck prickled. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for it, grasping the
chain between his fingers. He held the necklace up and let the three charms dangle before his eyes. Darby’s talisman. He’d never seen her without it.

He folded the necklace into his hand, curling his fingers into a tight fist. She left it here. He knew what that meant. Knew where she’d gone—what she’d done.

With a curse, he dropped back down on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends tightly.

Just like his mother.
It was happening again. She was sacrificing herself. It felt the same. The crushing guilt. The grief.

He inhaled deeply and sat up straight. No. Not again. He wasn’t going to let this happen again.

Lifting his hands, he put her necklace around his neck for safekeeping. Until he could return it to her.

Suddenly finding Cyprian wasn’t nearly so important to him. He surged back to his feet, determined to find Darby. He’d already lost one woman in his life to a demon. He wasn’t going to lose another one.

He dressed quickly, his mind racing, trying to imagine where Darby would have gone to do this …
thing
.