White Hot Kiss (29 page)

My eyes were peeled wide as we headed through the front door of the apartment building into a brightly lit lobby. The last time I’d been here, I’d gone out the side entrance, so all of this was new to me.

A huge golden chandelier hung from the center of the mural-covered ceiling. The painting was...uh, interesting? Angels covered the vast ceiling, depicted in hard-core battle scenes. They were fighting one another with fiery swords. Some were falling through frothy white clouds. Time had been spent on their expressions. The grimaces of pain and the righteous gleam in their eyes looked far too real.

Yikes.

Old-school leather couches and chairs were spaced under the lighting fixture. The air carried a faint and not unpleasant smell of coffee and tobacco, and it looked like there was a coffee shop or something behind the darkened doors straight across the lobby.

It all had a very old-Hollywood hotel feel to it. I almost expected the ghost of Marilyn Monroe to appear out of thin air. The lobby wasn’t empty, but I was sure nobody here was rocking any human DNA.

Demons were everywhere, sprawled along the couches, talking on cell phones, curled up in chairs, reading books, and some were clustered in small groups.

Roth placed a hand on my back, steering me toward the stairs. “No elevator?” I asked.

“None that you’d want to get on.” At the look on my face, he smiled. “The elevators here only go down.”

Whoa. I’d known there were...
doorways
all around the city and the world. Common sense said there had to be, because how else would demons go back and forth? But no one, and especially not the Wardens, knew where they were, and I’d definitely never seen one. The fact that Roth would bring me here and tell me there was a portal was astronomically stupid.

In the stairwell, he slid me a knowing look. “I trust that you will not tell Stony about our elevator system.”

The thing was, I wasn’t planning to. I kept thinking of the Fiends and those in the lobby. They all looked so...so normal.

“Layla?” he questioned.

“I won’t.” And I meant that. “Besides, I’ve kept my mouth shut about everything else and I’m supposed to be at school right now.”

He nodded and we headed upstairs. Seeing his loft again—his bed—left me feeling out of sorts. While Roth went over to his piano, I mumbled something about going to the bathroom and ducked inside it. My face felt ungodly hot, my pulse out of control.

His bathroom was nice, surprisingly tidy and spacious. I hadn’t noticed that last time. Matching black towels hung beside the clawed tub and shower stall. The faucets were gilded in gold. I had a feeling it was real gold, too. I took my time, trying to calm the pounding in my chest.

I’m here to talk about where the
Lesser Key
could be. That’s all. The fact that I want him to kiss me has absolutely nothing to do with this visit. At all—and I don’t really want him to kiss me.

God, my inner monologue sounded nuts.

When I opened the door, he was sitting by the piano, idly teasing the black kitten with one hand and a glass of—
was that wine?
—in the other. Late-morning sunlight from the nearby windows cast a halo around him. No boy should look as good as he did, and especially no demon. I busied myself looking around his room, suddenly shy. There was something intimate about being in his loft again.

Roth looked up, eyeing me over the rim of his glass. “There’s a glass here for you if you wish.”

I inched closer to him. “No, thank you. Your...place is nice. I’m not sure if I told you that last time.”

He chuckled and stood. “Figured you wouldn’t.” He stopped in front of me, pulling my hand away from my hair. “Stop fidgeting. I’m not going to ravish you.”

Feeling myself turn three shades of red, I sidled over to the rows of books stacked on shelves. A second later, he was beside me. This time I only jumped a little. Roth’s half grin was both smug and mischievous. Humming under his breath, he ran a finger over the spines of the various books in a languid manner that made me think of him touching me that way. I let out a quiet breath, grateful he wasn’t looking at me. When Roth stopped on one, he pulled a thin volume out. As he strolled past me, he winked.

“What do you have?” I asked, sitting in his desk chair.

Without looking at me, Roth brought the book to the bed, where he flopped down on his side. The thin novel dangled from two fingers. “This is a commercial copy of
The Lesser Key of Solomon.
Want to take a look-see?”

I rolled closer to the bed. “A commercial copy?”

He nodded. “Yep, for all the little Satanist wannabes out there. It’s incomplete, obviously. But it goes over the list of all the major players. I’ve looked over it a dozen times. Maybe I’m missing something.”

Reaching the foot of the bed, I held out my hand. “Let me see.”

“Join me.”

I stared at him a moment, then rolled my eyes. Standing, I cautiously approached where he lay. “Okay?”

“Uh-uh.” He pulled the book back. “Sit with me.”

I scowled at him. “Why?”

“Because I’m lonely.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m
right
here.”

His lashes lowered. “But that’s too far away, Layla.”

My hands curled into fists as a teasing grin appeared on his lips. He wasn’t going to budge. Muttering under my breath, I sat beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever. Can I see the book now?”

Roth handed it over. The book was narrow and couldn’t be more than a hundred pages. A circle and star were drawn onto the front cover.

“The real deal has the symbol engraved and the cover looks like aged beef jerky,” he explained. “Bound in human skin.”

It was all I could do not to drop the replica in my hand. “Ew.”

“Yep. That’s how they rolled back in the day.”

I flipped open the book and let out a low whistle. “Nice.”

I was studying a hand-drawn picture of a half human, half blackbird. The caption beneath proclaimed its name to be Caym, the grand President of Hell, ruler of thirty legions. “‘Master of logic and pun,’” I read. “He looks like a freak.”

“You should see him in person.”

On the opposite page was a half-complete incantation to summon and banish the demon back to Hell. I fell quiet as Roth reached over and flipped through the pages, listening as he made a comment here and there.

I stopped on a demon called Paimon.

“‘Ranked first and principal King of Hell, he rules over the West. He commands two hundred legions.’ Wow,” I said.

“That he does, but he is—or was—high-ranking. Basically the Boss’s assistant. He was the most loyal to the Boss.”

“‘Was’?” I couldn’t stop staring at the drawing. It was a man with some kind of dark headdress, riding upon a camel. Or a horse with back problems. One or the other.

“He and the Boss had a falling-out centuries ago.”

My little old ears perked right up. “A big enough falling-out that he could be behind this?”

“Half of the demons have been on the outs with the Boss a time or two.” Roth sat up fluidly, his shoulder against mine. “See the wonky-doodle banishing spell on the opposite page that was no doubt stolen from an episode of
Supernatural?
”

I grinned.

“The real book has a real spell, which includes—can you guess?—a real demon trap. That’s why this book is so powerful. If the stone-cold crew—your Wardens—got ahold of this, they could really get rid of demons.”

The gasp came out of me before I could stop it. “What about—”

“Me?” Roth gave a lopsided shrug. “They could try.”

I tucked my hair back. “And you’re okay with that?”

He barked out a laugh. “I’m hard to catch.”

Watching him for a moment, I turned back to the book and changed the subject. Thinking about Roth being banished wigged me out more than it should. “It still surprises me that Hell even follows the rules, you know? It just seems counterintuitive.”

“Whatever agreement the Boss has with Him has stood for over two thousand years. We try to play by the rules, and the Alphas don’t wipe us off the planet.” He turned the page, settling on a list of lower demons that could be summoned for favors. “There has to be good and bad in the world. There has to be a choice. And you’re also half-demon. Believe it or not, the Boss doesn’t like us fighting among ourselves. Believes it’s a waste of time and purpose. But when one of his kind starts breaking the rules, he’s not a happy camper.”

I snickered. “Yeah, because you should be spending time corrupting human souls instead.”

“You’re right,” Roth answered, continuously flipping through the pages. “How are you feeling? Are you hurting from going kung-fu master on the demons?”

I shook my head. “No. Everything is healed up from...well, you know what from. And my hands feel okay.”

Roth nodded as he flipped to the next page, but I was no longer looking at the book. I was watching him, studying him really. “I owe you an apology.”

He glanced up, hand hovering over the book. “I’m in no real need of apologies. I find they’re given out far too often to mean anything.”

“I’m sorry,” I said anyway. “I shouldn’t have given you so much crap in the beginning.”

Roth fell quiet and I took over flipping through the pages. Demons and more demons, and then one caught my eye. “Hey!” I cried out as Roth made a grab for the thin book. “No! Don’t!” I planted my hands on the book.

Roth pulled on the edge. “Layla.”

“If you keep pulling it, you’re going to rip it apart.” I pressed down harder. “Let me see it.”

He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes flaring. “Fine.” He let go of the book, sitting back on his haunches.

I made a face, flipping the book back around. The drawing was that of a young man wearing an unremarkable silver crown. He had wings that were nearly as long as his body. Wings just as dramatic as the ones I saw on Roth. On one arm, a black snake curled, and there was a Hellhound stationed by his feet.

He was also nude and anatomically drawn.

My cheeks flushed. “Astaroth, the Crown...Prince of Hell?”

Roth said nothing.

“‘Astaroth is a very powerful demon of the First Hierarchy, who seduces by means of laziness, vanity and rationalized philosophies.’” I snorted. “Sounds like you. ‘He also has the power to make mortals invisible and can give power over serpents to mortals.’”

Roth sighed. “Are you done?”

“No.” I laughed, reading over the partial incantation to summon. It involved getting naked and the blood of a virgin. No surprise there. There was no banishment spell. Though there was a seal that sort of looked like a messed-up compass. “How do I get rid of you?”

“All demons of the First Hierarchy have no known spells of banishment. You’d have to use a devil’s trap on a full moon, which is explained in the
Lesser Key.
But a devil’s trap doesn’t just banish a demon. It sends them to the fiery pits. That is like death to us.”

I looked at him, my amusement slowly fading. A muscle ticked along his jaw as he stared across the room, out the windows. “What?” I gave a short laugh. “This isn’t really you. It can’t be.”

He turned his head back to me, brows furrowed. “What do you think my full name is?”

“Whatever. You’re only eighteen and...” And I trailed off as I glanced back at the picture. The Roth sitting in front of me couldn’t be the Crown Prince of Hell. Then it struck me and I wanted to kung fu the book straight into his face. “You’ve been lying to me.”

“No. I was born eighteen years ago.” Roth shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t. This might be a fake, but the
Lesser Key
is older than dirt. How could you be in it?”

“I am just one of many,” he said, voice flat and cold. “Those who came before me met untimely ends or no longer served their purpose.” He smiled, but it lacked everything that made it human. “I am the most
recent
Crown Prince.”

I sat back. “So...you’re like a replacement?”

“An identical replacement.” He laughed humorlessly. “Each Roth before me looked just like me, talked like me and was probably almost as charming. So yeah, I’m a replacement.”

“Is it like that with the other demons?”

Roth dragged his fingers through his hair. “No. Demons can’t really die, but the fiery pits are our equivalent of death. All the former Princes are there, suffering in ways you couldn’t even imagine. I can hear their screams. Kind of serves as a good reminder to behave.” He shrugged casually, but I knew this whole thing bothered him. “So you see, I have lied a bit. I’m practically not even real.”

I closed the book, wanting to push it off the bed. Roth still sat beside me, stiff as stone. He was a replacement, created because the one before him had failed at something or had fallen prey to a devil’s trap. I couldn’t begin to imagine what that must feel like. Was he even his own person or an accumulation of the dozens, if not hundreds, that came before him?

I felt terrible for him. While I had barely scratched the surface of my heritage, Roth knew far too much about his own.

Silence stretched out. I could hear the kittens under the bed, purring like little freight trains. I dared a look at him and found him watching me intently. Our gazes locked.

He took a deep breath. “What?”

“I’m...I’m just sorry.”

Roth opened his mouth and then closed it. Several seconds passed before he spoke. “You shouldn’t feel sorry for me. I don’t.”

I didn’t believe him. Suddenly so many things made sense. “That’s bullshit.”

His eyes popped wide.

“It’s why you like it up here so much. You don’t want to be down there. You want to be up here, where everything is real.” I leaned forward, keeping his gaze. “Because you’re real and not just another Roth when you’re here.”

He blinked and then laughed. “Maybe that would be the case if I actually cared about that kind of stuff. I am what I am. I’m—”

“You’re a demon. I know.” I climbed onto my knees, facing him. “You always say that. Like you’re trying to convince yourself that’s the only thing you are, and I know that’s not the case. You are more than that, more than just another Roth.”