Vein of Love (Blackest Gold Book 1) (6 page)

Albert closed his eyes and began to chant, over and over, his two fingers pressed against the ring. His words became louder and quicker, and soon he was out of breath.

Albert’s features fell, and he eyed Tensley cautiously. “It didn’t work. The charm used before is too complex, and…her essence is too strong to hide.”

Essence? What does that even mean?

Tensley’s grasp tightened. “You. You do it now,” Tensley ordered Jackson, holding Molly’s hand in his direction.

Molly hissed lowly. “Seriously, stop manhandling me, just let them fix the ring—”

“No.” Jackson smirked mockingly at him. The entire room grew silent at Jackson’s words.

Tensley grew rigid beside her.
Oh shit.
“No?”

“Let’s make a deal. You give me a hundred nyxes, and I won’t discuss your new toy with other high-borns,” Jackson said, leaning against the closed door to examine his nails.

“
Jackson,
” Albert warned.

Jackson waved him off. “If she was human, the cloaking charm would be easy, Al. Dark magic’s encrypted, and since our chants didn’t work to hide her, I’m figuring she’s not human. You can make the deal, give me the money, or I’ll make my own deal with another high-born who I’m sure would be very intrigued.”

Tensley dropped Molly’s wrist and stood to his full height. “Tell me, are you—a pathetic excuse of a warlock—threatening
me?
”

Molly cringed at his tone, wavering on the edge of losing his temper. This wasn’t going to be good.

Jackson attempted to keep his calm façade from breaking, but a hint of anger flashed in his eyes. “The Knight family isn’t what they used to be. You’re weak, and if we don’t help you, what are you going to do to us, huh? You’re soft, just like your brother,” Jackson said, his bravado unwavering while Albert watched in horror. Molly felt like she was stepping on glass as she watched the two men standoff.

Tensley’s figure blurred, making Molly dizzy, and the next second Jackson’s throat was clenched in his white-knuckled fist.
Oh god!

Tensley leaned closer. “I don’t like warlocks—hell, I hate them. But I could have ripped your beating heart out awhile back. I don’t need you; I can survive without you. Don’t disrespect me. Don’t confuse cunning with being
soft
, because I will tear out your intestines and shove them down your throat without a second thought. We clear?”

Molly’s clutched her chest, backing away.
Don’t do it, Tensley. Don’t do it.

Jackson wheezed, his toes skimming the floor. When Tensley released his collar, a part of the panic lifted from Molly’s chest. Jackson landed heavily on the ground, adjusted his clothing, and spat—directly onto Tensley’s polished dress shoes.

No!

“You pathetic, weak demonic bastard,” Jackson hissed, shoving Tensley.

It was like trying to push a freight train, and Molly watched as Tensley’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Oh no.

Tensley grabbed Jackson by the neck and slammed his other hand into the warlock’s chest. A wet, sickening sound echoed in the office, and Tensley released Jackson a moment later, dropping something else on the floor. The body hit the floor and something tumbled across the floor next to Molly’s shoes.

Molly stared down at the red, wet shape, for a few moments unable to process what it was.

A heart.

Her eyes travelled to the lifeless body by Tensley’s polished shoes, a bloody hole in the chest.

He yanked out his heart.

Molly staggered, fighting a gag as she collided with Albert. The other warlock steadied her, cupping her clammy hand in his own. He pushed a crumpled piece of paper into her palm.

“Get away from her,” Tensley said, glaring at Albert as he stepped back. Tensley walked over to his desk, opened his drawer, and used a white handkerchief to wipe his hand down. She gawked at the red smudges on the pure white fabric and tried to breathe through her nose, untrusting of opening her mouth. After a chilling silence he spoke again, voice strained. “So we can’t hide her. The ring can’t be fixed.”

“Not by me—or him.” Albert nodded at Jackson’s lifeless body and paled. “Not when she’s that strong.”

Molly’s heart ached at the loss of the ability to escape Tensley and his world.

“Leave then.” Tensley’s voice was emotionless, detached, and when Albert didn’t move, clearly in a state of shock, he continued more firmly.
He’s a heartless bastard.
“If you’d like to keep your head intact, I recommend you follow our contract and
get the hell out
.”

As Albert stumbled through the doors and slammed them closed, Molly shakily squirreled the paper he’d given her into her skirt pocket. She couldn’t understand how he was so clam, so collected and
fucking fine
after killing a man.
How can he just do that? He was someone’s son!
She stood in the middle of the office, averting her eyes from the
human heart
on the rug nearby. “You killed him.” It came out as a whimper, and she wondered if she might really vomit.

Tensley’s frame shook as his palms, one bloody, rested against the leather chair nearest him. “Don’t come any closer.”

“He was someone’s son! He had a life, he was a breathing, living person who deserved a life and you took it from him—”

Tensley’s head ticked as if he slightly was affected by her words, and he stretched his body out.

“And now, he’s a body…” Molly bit into her lip to stop from crying out, but the warmth flooded her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “You killed him, you monster! You sick basta—”

“He was going to hurt you! Fuck!” His crimson hand slammed into the chair, knocking it over. “It didn’t work!”

Molly frowned, stepping back at his shaking figure. “What didn’t work?”

He spun, his face contorted in anger. “That damn ring! It’s been protecting you since you were six, hiding you from other demons. The warlock who made the ring is dead, along with that
ring
. That’s how the gorgon found you; that’s how others will be able to find you!”

Molly held her hands out like she might to a rabid beast, all sense of horror dissipating. She needed to survive this, and he was clearly losing it. “Tensley…calm down…”

“Do you know what this means? It means I can’t hide you—demons will begin to notice you and will do anything to get you!” He moved forward, jabbing his finger in the air. “You don’t understand this, so let me explain. I’m at your house because of
this
, because you don’t even understand your abilities or how to use them, and I do. I don’t choose to live in your fucking Brady Bunch home. I do this for
you!
”

He moved too close for her comfort as he yelled, veins like ropes in his neck. His eyes transformed from grey to a foreboding darkness.

“
Tensley!
Stop!” Molly shouted, stumbling back, scanning the room for a weapon, for an escape—anything!

He growled monstrously, bending his torso as he screwed his eyes shut and dug his fingers into his thighs, like he was battling himself.

The doors burst open, silencing both of them. A tall man stood at the doorway, examining Tensley and Molly.

“Calm down. Get your demon side under control,” the newcomer said, rushing over to the shaking Tensley.

“The damn warlocks provoked it, Illya,” Tensley hissed. She saw the glint of sweat on his forehead, like he was physically restraining himself. Illya stared down at the dead warlock and frowned.

Illya’s eyes found Molly’s widened, damp ones, and he cautiously stepped closer. Her shoulders lifted, still on edge.
Can I trust him? Or is he going to snap my neck too…

His yellow hair was swept to one side with a distinct widow’s peak, and his bright blue eyes seemed genuine. “I’m Illya. Don’t be afraid; we won’t hurt you.” He wore simple clothes: a jean T-shirt and dark green slacks, not like Tensley in his suit. “You must be Tensley’s fiancée?”

“Just
Molly
.”

“And you’re a daemon?”

Molly balked. “No! I mean…I don’t think…”

That caught Tensley’s attention. “You
are
a daemon.”

She yanked her shaking hands through her tangled curls. “Stop calling me that! I’m not, okay? I’m just Molly, and I don’t want any part of this! None of it!”

“You’re a daemon,” Tensley said, seemingly recovered from his inner turmoil. “Your eyes are what demons refer to as
blessed
. The Greeks called daemons the Golden Race, guardians for humans, to protect against our kind.”

She wrung her hands, too stubborn to listen to him. “That’s—that’s crazy.”
He’s crazy.

Tensley snickered once, wiped his large hands on his slacks, and cleared his throat. “It makes perfect sense. Your eyes stop demons in their tracks. You’re powerful; you just don’t know it yet.”

“Just stop.” She turned away from him, waving him off. She needed air, fresh air.

“If we have a child, they will inherit both our genes. Do you know what that could mean? A demon that could stop others with one look—and with your strength, this child would be more powerful than either of us.”

Molly froze, gawking at Tensley’s blood-splattered dress shoes.
No, no, I heard that wrong. He did not just say a baby…
His distant, muffled voice vibrated in her head, but she wasn’t listening. She felt too hot and fanned at her face, soon clawing at her constricting throat. As she spun, she saw the body and stumbled back.

“A baby? Are you—a baby, oh god, that’s not happening—ever! Stop talking, just shut up!” She sucked air through her lips in little drags, white dots dancing across her vision.

The room was silent and she didn’t bother looking up, choosing to focus on her trembling hands.

“Take her home,” Tensley said from somewhere on her left; she couldn’t even focus any more.

Illya gently took her elbow, leading Molly away, and she couldn’t fight him. When they passed a potted plant, she pulled away, eyeing the bookcase twisting in on itself, and then focused on the large pot, reaching, darting clumsily forward. “Sorry, I’m—sick—”

Molly puked, apologizing through each heave.

Illya rubbed her back until it was over. “Don’t even worry; Tensley will take care of it. It’s what he deserves.”

Molly’s knees buckled and Illya wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her through some sort of back entrance with a lot less people. They stopped in the backyard, and the hazy scent of gardenias calmed Molly’s stomach.

“He killed him,” she said slowly, rubbing her temples.

“They provoked his demon side. Please, stop for a moment. You don’t look well.” Illya led Molly to a wrought iron bench near a small fountain of a winged angel levitating over the water.
Ironic.

Molly sat heavily. “His demon side?”

Illya nodded, placing an ice-cold palm on her sweaty forehead. She flinched back. “We were cursed with two sides—some indulge more in the demon side.”              

“
Demon side
,” she repeated, shaking her head. Illya had a faint, lilting accent, but from where, she couldn’t tell. “Wow. I just saw someone die. Like…dead. On the floor. Heart yanked out. And
he
did it.” Molly looked over at Illya, stomach muscles aching from her violent retching. “He’s a monster.” She vigorously shook her head. “I’m not—I’m not marrying him. I’m not doing anything with him!”

Illya shook his head. “He’s not—you just caught him at a bad time.”

A bad time? Was there a good time? Maybe he only killed people on Tuesdays.

“I need—I need to go.” She pushed out of his grip, walking past blooming violet and fuchsia rhododendrons toward the gate.
So much beauty…to mask the death.
Illya’s soft footsteps followed, and Molly looked back when she felt steady enough. “Illya, please. Don’t follow me. I’m fine.”

His brows lifted, but after a second, he stopped moving. As she walked away, she double-checked to find him standing where she’d left him and sighed unevenly. She speed-walked away from the townhouse, hitting several shoulders and murmuring distracted apologies.

Molly slipped her hand into her skirt pocket for her cell but paused when she felt the crumpled piece of paper first. She yanked it out, unrolling it to read the scribbled writing.

One side:
Shoot the Freak

The other side:
Athena

Molly furrowed her brow, flipping the paper back and forth, straining to put the pieces together. Nothing added up, nothing made sense, and she pulled at the paper to straighten it out—as if that would help.

Shoot the freak?

What does it mean?

WHEN MOLLY ENTERED
her tiny apartment, she rushed into the closet she used as a bedroom and shoved the bit of clothing and toiletries she kept there into a bag. She couldn’t stay there, not when Tensley was going around snapping people’s necks. If she was quick enough, September wouldn’t find her and ask questions.

She snatched a few loose papers from her research for the museum and for her parent’s house. When she was done packing, Molly stopped, eyeing the tiny room with its exposed red bricks and squeaky floorboards.

She’d only been there a few months, but it was a place she felt safe, a solitude.

And now it was gone.

The curtain—aka the door to her room—swished, and she twisted to see September dressed in her Danny’s diner striped shirt, arms crossed. Shit.

“Who was that guy, Mol?”

“He, uh, was a friend,” Molly muttered, turning back to stuffing her bag.

September frowned. “He kissed your hand.”

Her stomach dropped. “Uh, yeah, he’s foreign. I think.”
You have no idea how foreign.

“So…what’s going on?”

“What do you mean? Aren’t you supposed to go to work right now?” Molly did one more quick sweep of her room, keeping her eyes down.

“Oh no—don’t switch topics. Where do I start? The fact that you’ve been avoiding me, or that you didn’t even seem to care that Michael, your lifelong crush, was at that party, because now you apparently have a foreign boyfriend?”

“He’s
not
my boyfriend,” Molly countered a bit too forcefully.

September wrinkled her brow, appearing taken aback. “Okay…”

Molly let her weight fall down onto her cheap mattress and the burden on her chest sharpened. “September, I…” She breathed, studying her hands: thin and dainty, one single finger still carrying the burden of her entrapment. “It’s happened.” Taking deep breaths of their humid, sticky apartment air, she tried to calm herself, the sensation of her glowing eyes reminding her of
why
he
wanted her.

September sat down beside her and rubbed her back. “What happened?”

“Everything we joked about, everything that seemed crazy.” Molly blew out a harsh breath. “They came back.”

September shook her head. “Who came back?”

“The shadows—the people from thirteen years ago. They came back, September. For me.” After a pregnant pause, September stood up and paced in the bit of empty space Molly’s closet-bedroom offered. “I know it’s crazy, and you won’t believe me—”

“I believe you,” September interrupted, threading her fingers through her frizzy mane. “Your eyes freakin’ glow—it’s not that farfetched.” She stopped mid-step. “So the guy at the museum…?”

“A demon,” Molly whispered.

September’s eyes darted to Molly. “He’s a
demon
? Like, what are demons? Like demons-
demons
? Satan-demons? Does he transform into a red creepy thing?” Then a string of Spanish words spat out of her mouth as she clenched her fists.

Molly’s stomach twisted. “No! I mean…I don’t think so. I don’t know! Stop saying stuff like that.” The thought of Tensley being something even more physically inhumane freaked her out.

September’s eyes pleaded with Molly. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me before—at the museum?”

“I didn’t want you involved. I was scared.” Molly rubbed at her shoulder. “Scared of him. I wanted to protect you.” She cradled her head in her hands. “He says I’m his fiancée.”

“What? Are you serious?” When Molly simply looked up at September with red, puffy eyes, September’s jaw locked and she grinded her teeth. “Joder! Oh, he’s going to get a mouthful from me.”

Molly’s heart stalled. She thought back to Tensley ripping out Jackson’s heart for disrespecting him, and then to September’s unfiltered mouth. Molly couldn’t let her get hurt. She had to keep September as far from this as possible

“I need to go,” Molly said, swinging her bag over the uninjured shoulder.

September followed. “Where are you going?”

Molly’s throat grew dry and tight. “It’s not safe to be around me, September. I love you so much, and I can’t have you involved in my family’s problems. Please, don’t make me have to worry about you, too. I can’t risk him hurting you.”

“Just stay here. We’ll figure something out.”

“My parents have a plan,” she lied through her teeth.

“Molly—”

Molly spun around. “He threatened my family! He threatened to rip my dad limb from limb if I didn’t do what he said. And—and I just saw him rip out a man’s heart for spitting on his shoes. I can’t—I cannot risk him hurting you too, okay?”

September stood there silently, eyes wide. “He did
what?
”

“Just stay away from me, okay? Until I can figure this out.”

As Molly turned, her hand on the doorknob of the crappy apartment she’d grown to love, September spoke. “Molly, you’re my sister. I’m not going to abandon you.”

“You should,” Molly said, voice as cruel as she could make it. “You really fucking should.”

Molly bit the inside of her mouth to stop from crying out as she ran down the stairs. She needed to focus, needed to keep those around her as safe as possible, and that meant sacrifice.

AS SOON AS
the front door of her parents’ townhouse closed, Molly heard their heated argument, and her already battered emotions stretched further. When she stepped into the living room, all of the air escaped her lungs.

Her father’s usually pristine suit was torn, his bottom lip swollen and bleeding. He sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand underneath his crooked nose to wipe the smeared blood away as he limped to the couch.

“What happened?” Molly couldn’t hide the wobble in her broken voice. Her father hadn’t deserved this, any of this, and her heart burnt and crumbled with the knowledge that she had caused this. Her hands ached to reach out, to hold him, but she froze at the fear of crushing him with how heightened her emotions were—which meant her strength was uncontrollable. “Who did this?”

He fell down onto the sofa, lowered his eyes, and held his damaged face in his palms. “I tried to bargain with them. I told them to take me instead; I carry the gene.
My
family is the damn thing that caused this.”

“Derrek, why would you just do that without discussing it with me?” Fiona went to grab his hand, but he batted it away. “What did they say?”

“They said it wasn’t good enough. They said ‘the daemon’ is the only thing that can satisfy the contract. Apparently daemons have gone nearly extinct; Molly’s the only known one left. They’ll never give this up.”
I’m the only one left?
Somehow, even over the years of being an outcast, she felt the loneliness engulf her. Derrek licked his bloodied lip and looked at Molly sadly. “Please go upstairs honey; I need some time to think.”

Her heart caved and she turned to leave, stopping in the kitchen on the way for a huge butcher knife from the block on the counter. She gripped the knife and marched upstairs, but paused.

You want to hurt my family? Fine. Then I’ll hurt you.

Molly moved to the guest room, curious if he had moved his things in.

She tapped the door twice and when she heard nothing, she peeked inside to see the neat royal blue bedroom. Her eyes automatically zoomed into the suitcase on the floor.

She threw the top open, but it was just full of books. Old books. She sat back on her heels and pushed through them. A lot of them were old sonnets and Shakespearean works. At the very top of the pile was a hardcover tome, worn and frayed from years of use. A crest of a scorpion, poised for attack, was imprinted on the reddish-brown cover. Sprawled above the crest was the title:
The Rosier
.

Flipping through the thick pages, she couldn’t stop reading. The book stated that demons were heartless–that didn’t shock her. They were angels and had fallen when humans seduced them. It went on to say that the demon’s partner, usually another demon, had to be a strong mate to give one another power. If a demon’s mate was powerful, that demon was too.

SIX LAWS OF BABYLON

i)
      
Thou shall not express pure affection or adoration to the extent of danger of producing a full heart.

ii)
   
If one shall produce a full heart, the Crown Prince will take appropriate action of removal of said threat.

iii)
Thou shall not interact equally with a demon not of their class.

iv)
 
Thou shall support the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.

v)
    
Thou shall hold vigil on any suspicious activity and interference between other demons and the human populace.

vi)
 
Any threat or opposition to the Hanging Gardens of Babylon will be terminated through trial and execution of the Crown Prince’s choosing.

“
Demons who have relationships with humans must be warned that if they make love continuously to the human, they will be at risk of developing a full heart.
”

Molly paused, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth. “So he
can
develop a heart?” She flipped to the next page.

“
If that occurs, the Crown Prince Fallen will destroy the heart and thus, the demon will be reborn…
”

Why does growing a heart matter so much? Why is love such a terrible thing to them? It doesn’t make sense.

Her eyes focused on the image beside the text:
a sketch of a terrifying man with an unkempt mane of hair, rippled muscles, and talons, ripping out another man’s heart.

Dear lord…

The door slammed and she jolted, shoving the book back into his suitcase. She tiptoed out of the bedroom; knife clenched in hand, and glanced over the banister as she tried to move silently down the stairs.

Tensley stood in front of her father in the living room with a scowl on his face. His eyes flickered over to Molly’s, but Derrek was still unaware of her presence.

“Thank you,” her father said.

What?

Tensley’s face stayed the same, radiating irritation. “Don’t be so fucking stupid next time as to think my father would bargain with you.”

After a long silence, her dad lifted a tumbler glass to Tensley. “I'd like to put everything behind us, and start fresh…as family?”

Molly balked and tightened her grip on the knife.

Her father took a seat in his leather chair, leaning back to get comfortable. Tensley grasped the drink and took a gulp, staring at Molly through the bottom of the glass. He joined Derrek on the nearby sofa.

“You know, it’s funny,” Tensley said, his finger tapping a constant beat on the glass. “Demons have excellent senses—we’re faster, and our reflexes are definitely above yours.” He paused, taking another drink as Molly gulped at the anxiety building in her throat. He sighed and licked his lips. “Scent is a well-known strength for us—we could
smell
it if someone has poisoned the food…or in your case, the alcohol.”

Tensley crushed the glass with his bare hand, flinging it across the room. He stood, his chin held high as he moved closer to her father. Molly took a step forward, and Tensley’s eyes sliced through hers.

“Poison—
your
kind of poison—doesn’t work on demons,” Tensley seethed. Molly couldn’t look away from the blood dripping down Tensley’s lacerated hand. “Stop trying to intervene, old man.”

“She’s my daughter!” Derrek jumped up, grasping at Tensley’s forearm. “She doesn’t deserve this! You’re just using her for your family’s own gain!”

Molly moved to the bottom of the staircase, preparing to attack. She hoped her strength might actually appear when she
needed
it this time.