Reluctant Adept: Book Three of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (41 page)

He didn't have to ask me twice. Hanging out with Maeve was about as pleasant as sharing a bath with a box jellyfish.

"Lire— " Red began, sounding worried.

"I know. The others found Brassal, so we're out of here."

With King Faonaín under my control, I sought Tíer's resonance, but the king's shroud slammed down, cutting off my telekinesis as efficiently as snipping a telephone line. I might have reeled back, spewing potential, but Fisk had made me an expert in dealing with that particular rebuff.

I glared at the king. "What—?"

The remaining words dried up in my throat along with all of my spit and half my breath when Azazel's malevolent voice grated through the room: "So soon, Princess? I don't relish being disturbed. I've just settled in with my newest pet." The mountainous demon picked at its curved black claws as it considered her. "Of course, I might be inclined to overlook this disruption if you have another mutually beneficial arrangement to propose."

While I'd been distracted by confronting the king, Maeve had summoned the creature that factored into my worst nightmares. Between my own caterwauling fear and Tíereachán's crushing alarm, I could do little more than stare, momentarily frozen in my size eights.

Azazel stood at the edge of Maeve's circle, displaying every inch of its nude body to frightful effect—eight feet of thick-skinned, monstrously-proportioned, slab-muscled demon. Even though it manifested in a male, roughly humanoid form, I knew better than to assign a gender to the creature. It could as easily appear as a gorgeous female sidhe if that's what it wanted. Interestingly, though, it seemed Azazel preferred this masculine, supremely powerful shape over other possibilities, since this is how it had appeared in our previous encounter. Who knew? Maybe demons
did
have identifiable genders. What I knew about their kind couldn't fill a Post-It note.
Know thy enemy
. Wasn't that a well-known saying? I seriously needed to sit down with Tíer and pick his brain about the time he spent as Azazel's servant.

Forget the king,
Tíereachán cut in.
Come to me now! As long as you're safe, I'll tell you all you want to know and more.

As I reeled from the force of his fervent demand, the repulsive creature eyed Nathan and its voice fell to even more menacing depths. "If this is your offering, my dear, I'll be greatly disappointed. The soulless do not interest me, no matter how pretty or how deliciously hard they like to bite."

Crap
. I'd forgotten about Nathan. Seeing his terrified expression snapped me out of my fear-induced stupor. I couldn't leave him behind to Maeve and Azazel's tender care. The whole time I'd been here, he'd possessed the distinct look of someone who'd been thrown into the deep end of the pool and had no idea how to get out. And, now that Lorcán was gone, Nathan's life preserver had vanished, such as it was. But this wasn't just my compassion talking. If his accompanying vamps had died fighting the king's guards, Nathan was the only one here who knew where my friends were being held.

Tíereachán's concern spiked, but even though I could feel his reluctance, he didn't try to dissuade me.
Follow your heart, but be quick about it. Azazel would not risk answering an Otherworld summons without reason.

I didn't think twice. With Nathan in my sights, I sidestepped my TK into the higher dimension, shot my invisible fingers to where I thought I'd find him, and poked my magical hand into the physical realm, piercing Maeve's circle. On my first attempt, I grabbed air, so I withdrew, but the second time, I hit my target. While I ran my magic over his body, learning his resonance, Nathan's complexion turned positively ashy, and I realized he probably thought the invasive going-over was Azazel's doing. Crazy as it was, I almost felt sorry for him.

I sidestepped the rigid strigoi to my side without a hitch. His face went from dire to astonished in lightning speed and, I swear, when he realized what had happened, he looked poised to hug me. Quite a transformation from the self-assured vamp I'd met at Julie and Steven's party.

While Azazel chuckled at Maeve's hissy fit over losing yet another pawn, I gave Nathan a pointed look. "You're going to return my friends to their former lives. If you do that and stop causing trouble, I'll protect you, even from the domn."

Before Nathan could reply, Azazel turned its unblinking eyes to our little group. It grinned widely, exhibiting a mouthful of multi-rowed serrated teeth, stained with things I didn't want to consider. Blunt-faced with flat, black eyes that were too large for its unnaturally broad face, the creature took 'uncanny valley' to a whole new level. Its appearance stirred things deep within me, an unfathomable dread that I'd only ever felt upon waking from an inconsolable nightmare.

"Ah, the adept," the demon crooned. Its guttural drawl vibrated up my spine, tightening my bowels. "How delightful. And— " It feigned a gasp. "My dear Princess, what's this? She's also stolen the prize I helped you win?"

The creature turned back to consider Maeve. "The adept seems to have a talent for taking things that don't belong to her, doesn't she?" It clucked its thick tongue with mock disappointment. "What a pity. Our mutual friend will be so disappointed. I think he deserves to know about this misstep, don't you?"

Maeve, who'd been looking like she just French kissed a banana slug, brightened with gleeful menace. "Why, yes," she drew out. "By all means."

It occurred to me that I might not enjoy knowing about this 'mutual friend,' but like a witness to a high-speed train wreck, I couldn't look away. And when Vince stepped into view, summoned by Azazel's command, I realized I'd effectively stepped into the demon's baited trap.

To Azazel's intense delight, I gasped.

Unfortunately, my agitation wasn't simply due to the fact that my former love interest had answered the archdemon's call, which all on its own would have been bad enough. No. What had shocked me most, at least initially, was Vince's lack of clothing.

Cheeks blazing hotter than my five-alarm chili, I came dangerously close to slapping both hands over my eyes at the sight of him. If he'd been a stranger—if we hadn't, not that long ago, shared a romantic interest in each other and a few stellar make-out sessions—I might not have been quite so flustered. But, although we'd been close (and, once, even slept together in the same bed), I'd never had the pleasure of seeing him full-on naked, which made this encounter all the more distressing.

Worse, I couldn't think of a single scenario in which Vince would choose to walk around in public this way. Knowing Azazel had forced him into such a vulnerable position troubled me deeply and I couldn't stop wondering what else the demon had done to him.

Heat roared through me, drawn by my unchecked anger, as I sidestepped my TK, practically whipping it in Vince's direction through the higher realm. Tíereachán's frantic warning blasted through my mind, but it came too late. I'd punched through to the physical plane, opening my senses to the most foul, unctuously repugnant object I'd ever encountered. I thought I'd miscalculated and accidentally grasped Azazel, but beneath the loathsome, slippery taint that seized upon my magical tether, I detected Vince's unmistakable resonance.

I fell to my knees, gagging. Instinctively, I drew upon my fire, which already simmered under the surface, and slung a mad flare down the length of my magical webbing, incinerating the corruption that raced along its invisible length to invade my mind.

Azazel chuckled. "My dear Adept, unlike my traitorous servant, who was weakened by your blood,
this one
"—it stroked the curved side of one wicked claw down Vince's arm— "is mine and mine alone."

I peered through my disheveled hair at Vince, now coming face to face with the ghastly truth.

Dear God. Why hadn't I seen this sooner? I might have gone to him, saved him!

It is ridiculous to blame yourself
, Tíereachán thought.
This is the path he, alone, chose. Please, mionngáel, come to me. The longer you remain in my master's presence, the more likely you'll become tangled within its web.

As I scrambled to my feet, anger heated me.
Stop calling it that! It's no longer your master. I saw to that.

Our bond has weakened Azazel's hold on me, it's true, but don't let that sway you into thinking you can free your former love. Hear me on this, Lire. This is precisely what Azazel wants you to believe. I think this was its plan all along. It allowed me to escape, intending us to unite, for no other reason than to lead you down the golden path, to make you think you are capable of attaining something that is outside of your reach, and taking that one perilous step too far.
Tíereachán paused, his emotions painting a desperate plea in my mind.
Please, love, do not take that step. If not for me, then for your friends who need you and the thousands of humans who will benefit from your power to fight the coming scourge.

I hear you, Tíer. I do. I know the value of my soul and it isn't up for barter. I won't fall. I promise.

I felt him sag, not quite in defeat, but in grim acceptance. For a second, I saw through his eyes as he flattened his hands against the sealed door that separated us, as though he sought to touch me through the barrier.
Remember, Anóen, you are the linchpin, the one being who has the power to foil the demonic invasion. Azazel knows this. It will use any means necessary to corrupt or destroy you. If it can achieve this by turning love to hate, hope to despair, trust to suspicion—all the better.

I examined Vince. What in God's name had driven him to tie himself to the demon?

Considering the fact that he'd been under Azazel's thumb, subjected to God knew what horrors, Vince appeared remarkably hale and at ease. In fact, he looked altogether gorgeous—better than ever. His dark glossy hair settled around his face in the most delicious tangle, his espresso-brown eyes were wide and bright, and his body … let's just say, his toned physique exceeded every one of my pre-Tíereachán fantasies by a mile.

Unfazed by my attempt to rescue him, nor even my studious eye, Vince surveyed his surroundings as he blinked back the disorientation that came with being summoned. He stood tall and confident, as though paying a house call with an archdemon, while naked, was something he did every day.

When his eyes met mine, he looked pleasantly surprised, but at sight of King Faonaín his expression clouded over, going from sunny to F5 territory in an instant.

"What is he doing free?" he demanded, his murderous glare aimed squarely at Maeve.

She folded her arms, fashioning a taut frame for her perfect breasts, and gave him a haughty raised eyebrow.

When he whipped his glare in my direction several beats later, I realized she'd replied to him through their shared connection.

"Why?" he growled, his voice a choleric, accusing indictment. "Why the fuck did you free him?"

I jerked at his scathing censure. "Why? You can't be serious." I glanced at the wounded sidhe next to me. "Look at him. Your precious mate and her attack dog were torturing him."

His brows twitched in surprise before they knitted downward and stayed there. "Do you have any idea what he's done?"

"What difference does that make? You're a police detective, for God's sake. Since when is slow dismemberment an acceptable punishment? Never mind the fact that he hasn't even had a trial." Eyes wide, I huffed. "I can't believe we're even having this discussion. What the hell's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter?" he roared, his face a savage caricature of the caring man I once knew. "That miscreant is what's the matter!"

He strode to the leading edge of Maeve's summoning circle. "Trial," he spat. "I don't need a fucking trial. How's
this
for firsthand knowledge?"

In an instant, instead of a handsome, virile man, I gazed upon something out of a nightmare, his skin a bloody, horrifying canvas. Someone, some depraved, monstrous individual, had carved words—Silven script of varying size—into his flesh, some of it scabbed and inflamed, some of it crimson and still weeping, and since he was naked, I could see in frightening detail that almost no part of his body had been left unmarked. The effect was so singular, so ghastly, I couldn't immediately process it. And when he held out the blood-stained, fingerless stumps of his two hands for my inspection, I turned my watery, horrified gaze to the king.

"Why?" I managed to choke out, too shattered to remember that he couldn't answer me even if he'd wanted to.

"Because I refused to tell him what he most wanted to know," Vince said. "Your one weakness. The one person or object his precious adept covets above all else. The one thing he could steal and use against you, to force your compliance in every way." He shook his head, his mouth locked into a grimace. "At one time, I hoped that might have been me. But you and I both know that wasn't going to happen. There's one person at your side who comes first and always will."

I gasped and almost reached for Red's leg as he stood on my shoulder, but I resisted the protective impulse.