Azrael's Light [Demon Runners of Unearth] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 6

  “Funny thing about renegade demons. You never know where they’ll turn up.”

  “True. Who or what are you looking for in Capital City?” There was no telling what foul beast Cyril had been sent after. He did not envy the male one bit. He’d seen him take down rabid demons three times his size without breaking a sweat. He cringed to think on what could have brought him to town.

  “Nothing too nasty yet tonight. I just dispatched two full-grown Lilitu. The numbers of runaways have tripled in the last week. Something has them running scared from Unearth.”

  “Hard to imagine what would have them willingly face a potential death sentence. The best they could hope for living on this side of the gate would be skulking in the shadows and scavenging for scraps.”

  “Yeah. I’m finding runaways in all sorts of odd places.” Cyril gave him a hard, piercing look. “How is your search going?”

  “It’s not. The only lead I have is a confusing woman who looks and smells like a human but has no Kor. There’s no Light signature marking her as an immortal. She claims to be the girl’s aunt. She swears she has no idea where to look. On that I think I believe her, but I’m not sure what to think about the rest of it.”

  “Luc has a sister? Why didn’t I know this?” Genuine confusion marked Cyril’s hard face.

  “No. She claims she’s Lilith’s twin.” The confusion turned to shock and then full-blown amusement, and the Demon Runner burst into deep, booming, laughter.

  “Good luck with that, man. She’ll have you tied in knots for sure. Apparently every female in that family is trouble.”

  “No shit. I can’t wait to wash my hands of them all.” Deep, sparkling emerald eyes flashed in his mind.

  “Have you been to Cocytus Lake lately? There’s been odd activity there also.”

  “I haven’t made a run to the ninth circle in ages. I think the Fates have forgotten the beasts that live there.” A chilly shiver wriggled its way up the back of his neck. That was one creepy-ass place, and he was happy he didn’t have to travel there often.

  “Believe it or not from time to time, I come across runaways there. You never know what you’ll find. Seriously, when you get time, you may want to check it out.”

  Yeah, like he would have time to hang out with phantom monsters for shits and giggles anytime soon. Cyril gave him a look that was nothing but life-and-death serious.

  “You should check it out. Soon.”

  “Sure.” Azrael felt for the male, he really did. Cyril worked countless hours doing nothing more than hunting down rogue beasts and demons. He spent virtually no time with regular immortals. Maybe it was finally getting to him. “I gotta get back and check in with the aunt. Take care.”

  “Sure, Az. Take care.”

  Why did Cyril sound disappointed in him? Whatever. As much as he’d like to help, he didn’t have time to sort out someone else’s drama. He was up to his eyeballs in his own mess.

  * * * *

  “Ready?” She slung her purse and the tote bag containing her boots over her shoulder and went out the door Brick held open. She wasn’t sure how she’d manage the tote on his motorcycle, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to wear another skirt tonight. So, to go with her tight-as-sin hipster jeans she’d worn her sky-high “fuck me” boots. No question they brought in the tips, but she’d changed into her old sneakers the instant the last patron walked out the door. Her feet screamed at her.

  “You’re limping. Why do you women feel the need to wear torture devices to gain a man’s attention? We’re usually a sure thing. Crook your finger and we’ll come begging. I don’t get it. Do you want me to talk to Diane?”

  “No. Diane doesn’t care what I wear to work as long as I show and do my job.” She sighed. She’d already revealed so much to him. What would sharing one more piece of her screwed-up life with him hurt? “If you must know, I dress like a whore because men are idiots and tip really well when their brains are fogged with visions of sex. I just need the tip money, Brick. I’m not a whore.” Her gut clenched, and she looked at the toes of her old blue and gray sneakers. Shit. Why had she tacked on that last bit?

  He grabbed her elbow and turned her to face him.

  “Never. Never once since the day I first met you have I thought you were a whore. Hardworking. Stubborn. Spiteful. Beautiful. That’s what comes to mind when I think of you. Never a whore. Don’t let me hear that word come from your mouth when you talk about yourself.”

  Dumbstruck, she purposely ignored his beautiful comment and chose another at random. “Spiteful? You think I’m spiteful? How?” Would she ever unravel this man’s mysteries?

  “I thought you wore those skirts just to drive me insane with lust. You know, showing me flashes of what I couldn’t have.”

  She was screwed. She was in so far over her head that she feared becoming lost forever.

  She couldn’t allow herself to forget that she had Sammy to think of. He was her world. Without her son, she had nothing. But her mouth wasn’t cooperating. “Are you calling me a tease? Brick, honestly, I just need the tip money. Where’s your bike?”

  They’d come to the lot, and his motorcycle was missing from its usual spot. Maybe it was behind the hulking blue pickup. Oh God. She hoped no one stole it. That thing was his pride and joy.

  “I drove my truck, just in case the weather turned bad.”

  Weather? It was late summer with nothing but more hot and dry in the week’s forecast. Lights flashed, and the hulk beeped at them as if impatient. With a loose arm around her waist, he herded her toward it.

  “It must cost you a fortune in gas to drive it. I’ll pay to fill it up.” It would take a huge chunk out of her tips, but she was sure he’d done it because the motorcycle had scared her so much. He probably didn’t want to have to waste time coaxing her onto it like he had last night.

  “Nah. I got it. Let me help you in.”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got long legs, remember?”

  Before she could blink, he opened the door, wrapped his big hands around her waist, and lifted her into the seat. He took the seatbelt, reached across to buckle her in and his delicious, male scent teased her. He paused, placed a hand on each of her hips, and looked her in the eye. “Long legs? Yeah. Believe me, I remember every night.” He pulled back and carefully shut the door.

  Where had all the air gone? She couldn’t breathe, and her body caught fire as she involuntarily tracked his every step until he made it to the other door. It opened, and he climbed in and started the truck. The beast let out a low growl, and they were on their way.

  “So how’s Sam doing? I haven’t seen the little man in forever.” It had been almost a year since she’d had to take her son by the bar, and then it had been daytime, well before open. Even though Diane ran a tight ship and the place was spotless, she didn’t bring Sam by unless she had no other option.

  “He’s doing great. I don’t know if he’s more excited or nervous to start kindergarten.”

  “Whoa, kindergarten? Already? Does he still carry around that frog? What was its name? Harry? No. Herbie, yeah Herbie.”

  What looked like genuine interest marked his features, and there was no condescension because her little boy had a stuffed animal he never parted with. Her heart was melting fast, and that was more dangerous to her than anything her ex had put them through. Sam was her heart and soul, her entire world. Everything she did was for Sammy, and that included not letting anyone new into their lives, no matter how friendly they seemed. She’d protect Sammy’s soft heart with her dying breath.

  Rather than continue talking about her son, she chose avoidance and looked to the road ahead. It stretched on a seemingly endless route through the night. Dotted yellow lines and streetlights marked the path to infinity. Then a shadow appeared and solidified right in front of the truck.

  “Brick!”

  “What the fuck!” With a sudden, shattering impact, the truck slammed to a stop, dead in its tracks, as a wretched screeching soun
d tore through the air. Her seat belt pulled tight against her chest and hips. God, that noise. Were her ears bleeding?

  “Are you okay? Stay put.” His voice was all business as he gave her a once-over to answer his own question. He reached beneath the seat and pulled out a wicked-looking handgun. Tense, ready, this version of Brick made the drunk-tossing bouncer look like the Easter Bunny. He opened the door, hit the locks, and shut the door with a slam.

  Her mind felt stretched tight as she tried to process what she’d seen. The road had been empty. She knew it. Judging by Brick’s reactions, he’d seen the same thing she had, but people didn’t just appear out of thin air. She hoped they were okay, but judging by the pain in her chest and hips from slamming against the seat belt, she doubted it. From where she sat, the damage to his truck looked horrific. The hood had a huge wrinkle across the center where it had buckled. Smoke or steam hissed into the night air.

  The dim streetlights highlighted the utter confusion on his face. She couldn’t stand it. Knowing she would get an earful, she carefully undid her seat belt and slipped out of the truck. Cautiously she headed around to stand across from Brick with the thing on the blacktop between them. She didn’t know what else to call it.

  What looked like a teenage boy with a bright green stripe running through his short black hair lay in a crumpled heap. Judging by the tangled heap of limbs, he shouldn’t be living, yet his green eyes glowed bright enough to cast an eerie haze across Brick’s face. She must have made some sort of gasp. Alerted to her presence, Brick looked up, cursed, and came around to stand beside her with an arm in front of her chest. He grumbled something about stubborn women as the boy-thing tried to speak in a hissing whisper. Dear God. Was his tongue forked like a snake’s?

  “Sorry ’bout carriage. Tell Diane ’Lia in circle. Last circle. Go through water. Last circle. Tell Diane.” Then he was gone. No flash, no puff of smoke, no anything. He was there one second and simply gone the next.

  She looked over at Brick as he looked at her. They stared at each other, speechless. Then they turned to look at the damage to his truck. Claw marks raked through the crushed chrome grill.

  “Brick, can we take your motorcycle next time?”

  Chapter 9

  She removed her heavy boots at the door and headed for a bottle of wine. Juggling busy hours and worry over Alia’s disappearance had taken a toll on her energy and sanity.

  Maybe she should turn the bar over to Alice tomorrow and take a night off. She’d been thinking about promoting her. She was more than capable of running the show. Or she could even close it down all together for a night or two. Her staff wouldn’t know what to do if she gave them a night or two off with full pay. She could afford the minor loss, and they had more than earned it. As a bonus, it might prompt Alia to stop by and check on things if she was in the area. Whether it was out of worry or curiosity, Diane would take the chance it might draw her out. Alia knew she hadn’t closed the bar one night in the twelve years she’d owned it.

  Before that she’d owned and operated another club for fifteen years. When she was satisfied it would thrive in the staff’s hands, she’d made her assistant manager an offer he couldn’t refuse and sold it to him. Well, in reality, she’d practically given him the place. She’d moved to Capital City and started fresh with Hellfire. Of all the clubs and bars she’d owned over the years, Hellfire and its staff held a special place in her heart. She couldn’t figure out why. If anything, the club and the old brick warehouse that housed it and her apartment were a little rough and ragged around the edges.

  Truly, the only thing the club had going for it was its staff. They were unflinchingly hardworking, reliable, and loyal. Despite appearing to be no more than a gang of misfits, they had pulled together to make Hellfire a place they could all be proud of. The credit was as much theirs as hers.

  Just the thought of leaving it behind in a year or two dug a hollow place deep in her chest. She would not allow herself to open her heart next time. If she couldn’t keep her friends for more than a few years, it might be better to not have them at all rather than lose them over and over again. For an immortal living in the mortal world, ten years went by in the blink of an eye. As much as it pained her, isolation and the resulting loneliness was part of the price she had to pay for living on Earth. The only other option was loss, and she’d given up too much already.

  Leaving her crew behind at Hellfire would serve as a painful reminder of the stranglehold time and loss wielded over everyone, both mortal and immortal.

  Restless, she watched her city through the window. What sort of beasts lurked within its shadowed alleys? Was Azrael among them? She suspected he was, searching hard for answers. While her gut screamed at her to trust him, her brain urged her to play it safe.

  Was she smart in her caution or wasting precious time? Sadly, even if she wanted to cooperate, she didn’t have anything of importance to add to the search. She’d lived in the mortal realm for so long she’d become virtual a stranger to Unearth. But had she done anything about it?

  No. Nothing. She lurked in her apartment waiting and hoping her niece would show up. That wasn’t good enough. It was time for action. If only she knew where to begin.

  “Things are pretty quiet tonight, though I did find Cyril, hunting in the park.” Azrael’s voice spoke quietly just behind her. What did it say that his sudden appearance hadn’t even made her blink? “He said the number of demons fleeing Hell and Unearth have increased drastically. He suspects something big is in the works but doesn’t know anything more than we do. Have you heard anything?”

  She turned and faced him. “Nothing. I feel like I’m wasting time by standing around and waiting. I need to get out and look, but I don’t know where. If I had only made her stay in the bar with me for ten more minutes, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” A heavy blanket of guilt smothered her. She crossed her arms and rubbed them, then closed her eyes.

  Hard hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her into a wall of warmth. The feel of his soft T-shirt and the smell of old leather filled her with a peace she didn’t deserve. The steady thump of his heart beneath her ear lulled her into what she knew to be false solace. She had no business taking comfort in his embrace but couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

  “Do you blame me for not showing up ten minutes sooner?” His voice was quiet in her ear.

  “Of course not. I’m sure you came as soon as you knew, and it shouldn’t be your responsibility in the first place. I wish I could say that I’m surprised my sister did this, but I can’t even pretend to be shocked.”

  “Yes, I came as soon as Lilith left my sight.” His voice rumbled through his chest with low vibrations.

  A large hand ran up and down her back, while the other held her hips tight to his, a firm press of comfort running from her hip, along her belly to the cheek pressed to his chest. “Then you have no blame in this.” Azrael was surely no saint, but in this she had no doubt he was clean, and it always pained her to see innocents drawn into her sister’s messes. Would she ever learn? No, if having her only child in the center of one of her own catastrophes wasn’t enough to teach her caution, nothing would.

  “Then why are you shouldering what should be your sister’s burden? You did nothing to cause this and weren’t even told about it. She could have at least told you not to be surprised when Death appeared knocking at your door. It might have even saved us some time.”

  “You’re right, but it’s hard to let go of the worry.” The hand rubbing soft sweeps up and down her back stopped, left, and moved up to grip her chin. He tugged until she was looking him in the eye.

  “You care deeply about Alia. You’re entitled to your worry. You are not entitled to your guilt.” His low, sexy voice seduced her, not quite letting her indignation rise.

  “Allowed? Who are you to allow me anything?”

  “I’m no one, except in this. In this I am your master.” His hand cupped her jaw, slid behind her neck, and tangled in her
hair, restraining her and accepting no argument. His mouth descended and claimed hers in a kiss that reached her soul. His lips nibbled on hers until she opened, allowing his tongue free rein to have its way with hers. Pulling back just a fraction, he bit her bottom lip and held her in place, commanding her attention. With her gaze trapped in his, he let go.

  “Now. Tell me your name.”

  “It’s Diane.”

  “Diane. Until this is done, you will obey me in this. There is no time for guilt or worry.” Her breath caught somewhere between her ribs and heart, and for a moment she thought he went all dark and dominant because he cared, not because of their all-too-short timeframe. His words said otherwise. But his kiss? It contradicted his words and gave her questions substance.

  Stepping back, he raked her with his gaze. His chest rose deeper with each breath. He turned his head, looked up at the moon, and paused. She waited as he stood still and silent, as if the weight of the world waited impatiently on his shoulders. She imagined it wasn’t far from the truth.

  Finally, as if coming to a difficult decision, he turned, stepped to her, and towered, a dark, seductive stalker. The city’s lights cast shadows beneath his arched cheekbones. Full, sensual lips quirked in an awkward smile as if conceding that he’d lost some secret battle to her.

  “And tonight I need you to obey me in this.” In a flash, his hand was in a soft, firm grip at the base of her skull, her hair tangled in his hand. With a tenderness that belied his words, his mouth descended on hers. Speechless, powerless against him, she opened and let him in. He licked into her mouth, sending her into a tailspin of decadent sensations. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Don’t move them.” Without thought, she put them at the curve where his corded, muscled throat met his broad shoulders. She slipped them down a few inches and beneath the collar of his coat.

  “It’s at least seventy-five degrees in here. Why don’t you ditch the coat?” Though she meant the question in a seductive and playful way, he answered her in a dead-serious tone as he zeroed in on her neck. When his mumbled answer vibrated against the skin of her throat, she wanted to weep for him.