Devil of a Chance, page 6
Her emotions had cascaded over me like a waterfall, dousing me with what she’d been feeling at that exact moment. The confusion I expected, but everything else had rooted me to the spot. An old anger had hit me first, followed immediately by a longing so fierce, it left me shaken even after I’d left the bar. I was sure I had to be imagining that last one. If I hadn’t felt the same emotions all over again while I pulled her from the fire, I’d never have believed it. Attraction. She was attracted to me even when I’d been enraged. When I snarled at her, she hadn’t flinched. No, she’d wanted me to stay. How could she not see how dangerous I was? Couldn’t she feel how close I was to losing the battle with the voices inside my head?
I had to stay away from her.
And the moment I thought it, I growled loudly at the idea of not going back to her. That and she still didn’t know the truth.
I buried my fists in the sand, wishing I’d kept one of those men alive to take my anger out on.
The more I thought of Ashmielle, the more her face manifested in my mind. Those silver eyes, so full of power and a fight to live that shimmered brightly.
The presence of her aura lingered on my skin, and I focused on it. The voices quieted one by one in my head until it was just me again. Or it was until I realized how close Ashmielle came to being grievously wounded or captured tonight.
Lucifer’s enraged roar deafened me. I curled in on myself, waiting for the agony from the noise to go away. Instead of it fading as it usually did, his roar was cut off by a second, fiercer one edged with a power. Ashmielle.
The sudden quiet startled me and I sat upright, glancing around the desert.
Needing to get to Hell and tell Heph what happened, I rose from the ground. I waved my hand, and two bright flames shot from my palm. They twisted around each other and formed an arched doorway leading to Hell.
This was the only bit of fire I’d been able to use since leaving my cell. It wasn’t nearly enough, but for now, it was better than nothing. Relying on another demon to see me to and from Hell would not have been ideal. I stepped through it, leaving the mortal plane behind.
The dry heat from the underworld was a welcome balm to my skin. Hell might be where the sinners ended up, but I couldn’t sense their sins unless I entered the levels. Being around humans for the past few days had been torture, but no worse than what I’d endured while locked in my cell. Anyway, it had been worth it to keep an eye on Ashmielle.
Demons walked by me, not paying me any attention on their way to the surface or the levels to carry out their duties. I stood at the epicenter of the underworld. Beyond me stretched the city of Tamesis, where the demons of Hell resided. I was sure most humans believed we simply lived in fiery pits. Those were reserved for the sinners.
Our homes were constructed of black stone that shone in the glamoured sky overhead that was always trapped somewhere between dusk and darkness. There was no sun, not down here. But the sky was Lucifer’s doing. Some said it was because he secretly loathed holding domain underground. One day, they whispered he planned to break free and rule on the surface, but the Fallen would never let that happen. All of Heaven would rise up if he attempted to take over the mortal plane and forsake his oath to keep watch over the damned.
I turned around, taking in the marketplace to my right, filled with vendors and shops selling weapons and exotic goods and even souls. When someone died, their soul was sent to either Heaven or Hell, it was true. Then there were those who made deals. When their time was up, a demon would collect their soul before its time, leaving the husk of a person left to wander the earth until their body finally died.
These souls here were those taken without a deal. Lucifer outwardly condemned such practices as soul-stealing, but every demon knew as long as they weren’t caught, Lucifer didn’t care how many souls were pilfered. Humans were nothing but a source of power to him.
And not all souls taken went to powering the flames of Hell.
I paused at the booth, unable to look away as a demon purchased a human’s soul, the ethereal outline of its former self hovering a few inches off the ground. The demon opened his mouth wide and sucked the helpless spirit into his being. I almost felt pity for the human. Almost.
The demon shuddered, absorbing the life force, then let out a deep roar. When he opened his eyes, they were black with gold flecks shimmering in their depths.
A long time ago, when I was a much younger demon, I’d swallowed a soul. The rush of power had been beyond intoxicating. Humans took drugs to get high, but demons, we ate souls, took their life force, and melded it with ours. For hours afterward, we were stronger, harder to kill, our fire far more potent.
But as with any drug, eventually, it wears off. Lucifer would never admit it, but many demons were addicted to swallowing souls. The Black Hearts were the King of Hell’s personal guard. They patrolled the underworld, were intended to keep the addicts in check. Before I’d been thrown in my cell, many of them had turned the other way. From the number of souls currently being sold and the demons lined up to devour them, that was still the case.
You should take one, a whisper sounded in my mind. Do it. You’ll need it. Taking souls will be the only way to keep her safe. To protect her. To not fail. Take it. Take a soul. You want it. You know you do.
Lip twitching in disgust, I pushed onward, past the market, and toward the carved cave entrance that led to Heph’s massive forge. The temperature rose drastically around the raging fires. Sweat broke out on my forehead while I glanced at the demons preparing new weapons. I asked a female demon for Heph, and she pointed me to the rear of the forge.
Heph stood in front of a model of demon wings. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up, and sweat dripped down his face, though he didn’t seem to care. A leather band held back his hair, drenched from the long hours he spent at the forges. He was working with clay, molding it into shape around the wing’s joints.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“New project. Guards for the joints, make them stronger. Added protection and a weapon if need be.” He set the clay down and picked up a small carving tool. “I was wondering if you’d ever return to us. Did you speak to her yet?”
Distractedly, I picked up a bit of the molding clay, tearing it apart in my hands and squishing it back together. “Yes and no.”
If I told Heph about my encounter with Ashmielle, I wasn’t sure what he’d do. I hadn’t wanted to go to the surface, to begin with. However, knowing she was up there now changed everything. I was a potential threat to her but being away from her aura, which gave me such comfort, wasn’t ideal. I grunted angrily, picturing another demon guarding her instead of me.
“Samazrael? You going to share, or do I have to drag the answers out of you?”
“It’s complicated,” I replied stiffly. “Someone set her place on fire tonight. Likely to prove she’s Lucifer’s daughter, or to kill her if she wasn’t.” The voices clamored to be heard the second the words were out of my mouth. Cringing, I squeezed the clay in my hand, feeling it ooze through my fingers.
And just as before, focusing on what little of Ashmielle’s aura remained on my skin chased them all back into the shadowy recesses of my mind.
“Samazrael?”
“Right, sorry.” I cleared my throat and told Heph about the men sneaking around the apartment building and the fire they’d set. His eyes shifted to black when I told him how I found Ashmielle pinned in her apartment with the fire ready to destroy her. “There can be no more denying who she is.”
“I’m not the one who doubted,” Heph said quietly.
I tossed the ball of clay aside, stalking around the wing model. “Was it wrong of me to hope it wasn’t her?”
“Doesn’t matter now. It’s her, and she needs to know who she is.”
“Why haven’t you gone to Lucifer?” I demanded, whipping around and nailing him with a glare. “He should know. The moment you thought it was her, he should’ve been alerted. Why hasn’t he been? Why isn’t he the one going to the surface to tell her?”
“You know why,” Heph replied quietly.
“She’s his daughter.”
“And he’ll think it’s a trap to draw him in. He might’ve loved her when she was born, but then she was stolen from him, and it nearly destroyed him. Having a child became a weakness he wasn’t ready for.” Heph went back to carving the clay, his brow wrinkling while his eyes shimmered with sympathy for his half-brother. “He’s never gotten over what he lost that day. If we don’t play this out carefully, there’s a chance he’ll kill her himself.”
“She’s his flesh and blood,” I argued, my claws and fangs extending at the thought of Lucifer harming Ashmielle. “He’ll know if he sees her. I don’t understand how you and Alron didn’t sense her presence the same way we feel Lucifer’s.”
“That is intriguing, and I have a theory about that, one you don’t need to hear just yet.” Heph sighed but didn’t stop his work. “And I’ve known Lucifer far longer than you have. Dahlia betrayed him that night. They both did, at least, that’s how he sees it in his mind. You failed to keep them safe, true, but they left him.”
“We have no idea what Dahlia and Ashmielle went through.” The scars on Ashmielle’s arms were enough to tell me her life hadn’t been as happy as I’d first imagined.
“And to Lucifer, it won’t matter, not at first. I have no way to predict how he’ll react. He’s grown angrier over the years. Impulsive. He’s not the same demon he used to be,” he said quietly, his words tinged with sadness.
“Why did you want me to see her then?” I snapped. “Why have me go there in the first place? Why not simply leave her be to live out her life?”
“Clearly, we’re not the only ones interested in her. Do you really want to leave her to deal with whoever’s after her on her own?” He pinned me with a glower that forced me back a step. “And I was not going to watch you rot away in that damned cell another second,” he bellowed, catching me off guard with his outburst. “I’m not only doing this for Lucifer. I'm doing this for you.”
I swallowed hard, unsure what he was trying to tell me. “I don’t understand,” I whispered.
He came to me and rested his hands heavily on my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “You have a great destiny. The moment you were chosen to be one of Lucifer’s personal guards, I knew it. I sensed the potential for such power, waiting for a chance to show itself. Ashmielle is your future. She always has been. You need her as much as she’s going to need you.”
I wanted to comprehend what was coming out of his mouth. His words were jumbled together with the arguing voices attempting to make a loud comeback in my mind. “What destiny?” I finally mumbled.
“You’ll see in time.” He released me, picked up more clay, and went back to the model. “Those men who tried to kill her, you believe they were just normal men?”
“They died like them.”
Heph gave me a solemn nod. “Perhaps, but I doubt that’s what they were. You need to speak with Alron before you return to the surface. He’ll have more information for you. It’s his job to keep track of them after all.”
My claws extended, and I growled. “You think they’re Demon Hunters? How? Lucifer’s own guard couldn’t find her after all these years. How would they have tracked her down?”
“That is the question. Speak with Alron,” he repeated, his tone dismissive. “And don’t return to Hell until you’ve told Ashmielle who she is. Without the truth, she’ll never be able to defend herself against those who wish her harm.”
I started to walk away, leaving with far more questions than I hoped to have rattling around in my head when I paused. “Why now?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“She’s the daughter of Lucifer. She should’ve been showing signs of being different all her life, but if that was the case, the Fallen or another demon would’ve discovered her sooner. Why is she only now coming into what she is?”
“My guess someone placed a charm on her to keep her hidden, and it’s since faded. We won’t know until you speak to her and find out where she’s been all this time. Now go.”
I left the forges and set out for Tamesis to find Alron. Heph’s words unsettled me, a sensation that only grew with every step I took away from him. He seemed to know more about Ashmielle’s situation than he let on. And his answer about some charm keeping her safe was too easy. As much as he cared about my finding this woman and proving she was Lucifer’s daughter, he appeared almost indifferent to learning what had happened to her. But he wanted her back with me. Why? Alron could’ve easily been the one to tell Ashmielle who she was. Or any other demon could have, for that matter.
And never in my nearly three hundred years had someone told me I had a great destiny in store. When had that changed?
Does it matter? You heard him. Demon Hunters want her. You swore an oath.
Or we could simply let her be killed. Why not? She’s the reason for our suffering now.
She’s innocent. She was a child.
And? No one is ever truly innocent. Let her rot in a cell for decades until she goes mad—
“Enough!”
Demons close to me backed away in alarm, whispering to each other at my outburst. Clenching my jaw to stop myself from losing it in front of them, I hurried away. The presence of Ashmielle’s aura was quickly dissipating, taking it with it the relief I had from the madness taking over.
Heph should’ve left me in that cell. How was I going to protect anyone when what little sanity I had left was being eaten away by a soul turning darker by the second?
When a small part of me wanted her to pay for what she did to me?
Chapter 6
Ashmielle
The small flame from the candle flickered each time I moved my hand through it. And each time, I passed my hand through it slower and slower, waiting to feel more than heat. I glanced around, but I was alone in the bar. There were no customers in sight, and Hank wasn’t coming in until later.
It’d been three days since the fire destroyed my apartment. The official report was arson. Who did it, the authorities didn’t know yet. Strangely enough, that same night, three dead men had been found not too far from my place. The news had been vague regarding the details, but it sounded as if the state of their bodies hadn’t been pleasant. The night Hank and I heard that story, we’d both looked at each other, especially after they showed photos of the men’s faces in hopes of identifying them.
I might not have known their names, but I knew who they were—the three bastards from the bar. I guessed they’d upgraded from attempting to snag me at the bar to letting innocent people die for a chance to get close to me.
The fourth must not have wanted to get his hands dirty. Or he’d been waiting somewhere for me to run out? Unless they decided they didn’t want to kidnap me anymore. Not that I cared. Whatever their intentions had been no longer mattered. I’d told Hank about the demon pulling me from my apartment and wondered if he was the reason those men were dead. That possibility raised more questions aside from the obvious. Since the fire, he’d been absent from the bar, which meant I couldn’t ask him how he knew I’d been in trouble. And why would he go so far as to murder three humans on my behalf? I was no one.
The more you say it doesn’t mean it’s going to be true, my inner voice pointed out. You burned a handprint into the bat. You threw those guys around like they weighed nothing. Oh, and yeah, you didn’t burn to death.
I grunted in reply and glanced at the bat, safely tucked out of sight under the bar. No one had pulled it out as far as I knew, and my secret was safe. That other demon had seen it and probably told Samazrael. He’d shown up here the following evening. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Hank’s concern had only increased these last few days. He didn’t say anything, but there was fear in his eyes. He’d even tried to convince me to take some time off work and simply hang out at his place. Relax. I wasn’t about to hide away for the rest of my life just because some assholes decided I was worth kidnapping or killing.
He said something about your eyes, the voice reminded me loudly. They were looking for you. Maybe Hank’s right—
“What the hell are you doing?” Hank yelled, snatching my wrist and yanking me away from the counter. “Are you trying to hurt yourself again?”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“You were holding your hand over the damn flame,” he scolded, raising my hand and staring at my palm. His bushy brows drew together, then his face went blank.
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my hand in the same spot over the candle while my mind rambled on. “Hank?”
“There’s nothing there,” he whispered. “You’re not burned.”
Slowly, I took my hand back, noting he was right. The fire hadn’t burned me, just like the flames at the apartment had somehow left me alone. I tugged the sleeves of my black shirt down and shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal?” Hank rested against the back counter and crossed his arms, but his face remained unreadable. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are? You should’ve been burned alive, as much as I hate to think about it. You should’ve died, but you’re alive. The fire didn’t even touch you, but you said it was all around you. You felt it.”
“I also could’ve been hallucinating,” I argued. “Pretty sure I inhaled a lot of smoke.”
His face going impossibly more blank, told me he wasn’t buying it. “Those men appearing in the bar, the other guy attacking you, then the demons appearing, and that fire? The timing’s too perfect.”
“Don’t make this into something it isn’t,” I pleaded. “It’s messed up, but I’m not anything special. I’m just a human girl who lost her mom at twelve and ran away and was taken in by a kindhearted guy who owns a bar. That’s it. That’s the whole story of Ashmielle, so can we please not blow things out of proportion?”
