Call of the Siren (5 page)

Lina let out a sigh. From her expression, it seemed like the answer would be no. But then, to his surprise, she said, “Okay.”

Excellent. Ronin glanced at his watch, which read four thirty. “I’ll pick you up in four hours.”

Lina straightened and took her hands off the counter. “No need. I’ll meet you there.”

He wanted to protest, but knew a losing battle when he saw one. So instead, he nodded. As he began to turn, he noticed the sunglasses sitting on the pass through counter, right next to his now-empty glass of liquor.

The very familiar pair of sunglasses.

A tendril of anger unfurled within him as he lifted his gaze back to Lina’s face. “Was Dagan here?”

Lina visibly froze. Her hands dropped back to the counter, nails digging into the surface. “Why do you ask?”

He picked up the sunglasses and held them toward her. When Lina’s cheeks turned pink, Ronin’s suspicion ignited into a ball of fury that settled like coals in the pit of his stomach.

She shrugged and tried to play it off. “He stopped by.”

That asshole. He’d warned his little brother. If Dagan was making a play for Lina, Ronin was going to kill him.

“Why?” he growled.

She prickled at his tone. “None of your business.”

“Lina…” He strove for calm, knowing that a display of anger would get him nowhere with her. “I told you about Dagan. He’s my little brother, and I love him, but he has a weakness—”

“For women.” She sliced her hand through the air in a casual gesture. “Yeah, you told me. I’ve got news for you Ronin. Dagan hasn’t cornered the market on casual sex.”

His hands clenched into fists, and the sunglasses snapped beneath his grip. “What?”

Lina made an impatient sound in her throat and swept some of her hair behind her shoulder. “I’m not telling you we had sex, I’m just saying, what I do is my business.”

She might have spoken again, but Ronin didn’t hear it past the sudden ringing in his ears. The word “sex” in conjunction with Lina and Dagan replayed itself over and over in his head, until he was left with one thought.

I’m gonna kick his ass.

Ronin turned without another word and headed for the door.

“Ronin!”

“I’ll see you there in four hours,” he said without turning back around.

His mind on his current mission, Ronin left without even processing her response.

Chapter Five

Belpheg paced the floors in the private reception chamber of his castle nestled deep in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania. When his hands shook uncontrollably, he shoved them inside the voluminous sleeves of his flowing black robe, praying his assistant didn’t realize how little control he was starting to have over his own body. He would give the demon no opportunity to question his authority.

Turning to face the hubrin demon, he asked, “Do you know why I summoned you here today, Thorne?”

The tall hubrin demon shuffled in his spot, appearing distinctly uneasy. Good. That was just how Belpheg wanted him.

“No?” said Thorne, more of a question than answer.

The air around Belpheg crackled with his anger at the obvious lie, and the demon took a cautious step back.

“I discovered you went to see the angel without my approval.”

Thorne blanched. “I can explain—”

Belpheg lifted his hand, and Thorne clutched his throat, struggling for breath. Sometimes it was truly fun to be such a powerful being. But then his hand trembled, easing the constriction around Thorne’s neck. Belpheg muttered an inward curse and played off his momentary weakness by hiding his hand in the folds of his robe. “What possible reason could you have for seeking her against my orders?”

“I…I wanted to see her. I thought if I could reestablish a relationship, then maybe—”

“I don’t pay you to think, do I?”

Thorne cast his gaze to the ground. “No. I’m sorry.”

“If you disobey me again, I’ll kill you.”

When Thorne nodded his understanding, Belpheg turned his back on the demon. He truly hoped he didn’t have to kill Thorne…yet. Who would have known when he recruited him several months ago that the man would turn out to be so useful?

It was through Thorne that Belpheg had learned of an angel mercenary who’d been adopted by a woman with a half angel, half demon son. From there it had been a simple matter to confirm that her adopted brother was one of Mammon’s sons. Hybrids weren’t all that common, especially of the angel-demon variety.

After Belpheg’s twelfth minion, Asmodeus, had betrayed him and proved himself unworthy, Belpheg had hired Lina to kill Asmodeus with the true intent of orchestrating a reunion between the angel and Mammon’s son. Now that they’d been back in each others’ lives for several months, long enough to reestablish a bond, he would use her as bait to lure Mammon’s sons to him. Once Belpheg drained them of their power and transferred it to Mammon, by way of the succubi he held chained in one of the towers, he would have his twelfth all-powerful minion…and he would be primed to complete the magical circle that would center his body and strengthen his power.

Belpheg speared Thorne with his gaze. “Do not contact the angel again until I tell you to do so.”

When Thorne gave him an anxious nod, Belpheg turned and crossed to the marble pedestal in one corner of his dark, wood-paneled reception chamber. On top of the pedestal laid his most prized possession, the clan scrolls he’d been able to retrieve before his village was razed to the ground. Through them, he’d discovered a spell to stabilize the massive amounts of energy coursing through his veins. Power beyond what any one vessel was built to contain. In fact, if all went according to plan, once the spell was done, his power would increase tenfold.

His clan had been the most powerful amongst the dark fae, but as a result of their inbred energy, their bodies grew weaker with time. So one of the elders had devised the magical circle to center their abilities…but it could only be performed on a solstice or equinox and required the Transformative Power of Twelve: the aid of a dozen gifted men, each of whom had been gifted with twelve special abilities.

Belpheg had painstakingly created those twelve men over the past several months. The incubus Asmodeus had been the last of those twelve. It was only fitting that the men who’d helped take Asmodeus from him would be used to strengthen his replacement.

And delightfully poetic that Mammon would be that replacement. His new twelfth.

“What should I do now?” Thorne asked from behind him.

Belpheg had already waited far longer than he should to center his power. He feared if he didn’t act soon, his body would implode on itself. And the summer solstice would be upon him in just a few weeks. Which meant Mammon would have to gain all twelve of his powers soon if Belpheg were to have any chance of creating the circle by the deadline. Otherwise he’d be forced to wait three more months—three months he wasn’t sure he had.

Thankfully, being near his clan scrolls and occasionally touching them helped to stabilize his abilities. They pulsed with remnants of power from prior generations of his people. But even this wouldn’t be enough to last him much longer. His clan’s essence grew weaker, and he grew shorter on time.

“Belpheg?” Thorne’s tentative voice sounded out behind him. “What should I do next?”

He allowed himself one soft stroke of the vellum scrolls before turning back to the demon. “Did you take care of the mercenary—the one who calls himself Sam?”

Thorne nodded. “Yes. A few hours ago.”

“Good.”

The man had been a good, obedient servant, especially when it had come to implanting the device Belpheg would use to track the blond angel’s movements, but he’d outlived his usefulness.

“You may leave for now.” He waited until Thorne had turned before calling out to him once again. “Oh, and Thorne…send Mammon in on your way out.”

Mammon had begun to grow cocky in the months he’d resided here. Soon enough Belpheg would be forced to put him in his place. But for now, he would nurture him. Empower him.

Use him like the puppet he was.

…

Mammon sat in the dining hall of Belpheg’s massive castle, inhaling his fifth meal of the day, when the dark fae’s bastard lackey found him.

“How’d I know you would be in here?” Thorne smirked and leaned casually against the doorjamb of the wooden double doors.

Baring his teeth at the inconsequential demon, Mammon didn’t bother to respond. Truthfully, he’d spent much of the two months since Belpheg had rescued him in here, regaining his strength through sustenance. His time rotting in the Council prison had worn him down more than he cared to admit. They’d kept him all but starved, knowing that was the only way they could control him. That, more than anything, spoke to how much they feared him.

With good reason.

He would make them pay. Every single one of them.

Especially you, my prodigal sons.

They’d dared turn him into the Council, and for that they would forfeit their lives.

Thorne crossed his arms and made a show of examining Mammon. “I’ve gotta say, you look way better than the last time I saw you. Freedom must be agreeing with you.”

Despite the fact that Thorne’s smug tone rankled, he had to admit the stupid demon spoke the truth. Between the steady meals Belpheg’s staff provided and the stock of succubi he kept on hand to siphon powers into him, Mammon was feeling stronger than he had in quite a long time. Lucky for him, the Council had recently released a cure to the toxin sex demons naturally secreted during intercourse. That meant Belpheg could transfer powers to him without fear of him dying…and that Mammon had his very own harem of beautiful women to fuck whenever he pleased.

Yes, this was infinitely better than the Council prison.

“What do you want?” he growled at Thorne, tiring of the way the hubrin demon stared at him. The demon was far too cocky for his own good. He thought he was better than Mammon, simply because Belpheg had recruited him to do his bidding. He’d learn soon enough just how far beneath Mammon he was.

Thorne grinned and straightened from the doorway. “Belpheg wants to see you in his reception chamber.”

With those words, he turned and left.

Mammon let out a throaty growl, stifling the urge to rush after Thorne and detach his head from his body. When the time was right, he’d teach the hubrin demon his place. And he would delight in doing so.

As Mammon rose from his chair, he thought back to that night two months ago, when Belpheg had rescued him. Ever the gracious host, the dark fae had brought him back to his castle and shared a meal with him before discussing the reason he’d brought him here.

Belpheg sat back in his chair, placing some distance between his body and his nearly empty plate.“You’re probably wondering why I freed you.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Mammon replied, the sustenance he’d wolfed down lending his voice some strength.

Belpheg’s hands trembled, and he dropped his utensils onto his plate. “I want to offer you the opportunity to take down the Council.”

Just the words he’d wanted to hear. Mammon broke into a slow grin and began to speak, but Belpheg cut him off. “That’s not even the best part. You see…it also comes with revenge on your rebellious sons.”

Mammon shifted back in his seat. Now this was getting more interesting. “I’m listening.”

Belpheg explained the requirements of the magic circle. “It necessitates the aid of twelve men, who will channel their strength into me. From there, destroying the Council will be an easy matter. I had almost everything I needed, but your sons murdered my twelfth before he could gain his full power.”

A ribbon of excitement wound through Mammon’s chest. The plan that Belpheg had outlined seemed foolproof. Especially with Belpheg at the helm. Much as it grated to acknowledge it, Mammon knew of no other person who could equal Belpheg’s power. He’d gotten firsthand proof of that during Belpheg’s stunning rescue operation. To think, he’d simply waltzed in through the front door of the Council headquarters, paralyzing anyone who dared stand in his way. Those fools must have been out of their minds from the shock of it.

Oh yes, Mammon would do well to partner with someone of Belpheg’s immense power. However, since it didn’t seem wise to show all his cards up front, he kept his tone nonchalant when he said, “And what do you suggest?”

Belpheg returned his steady gaze. “I need another twelfth. I’d originally planned to use another incubus and perhaps bring you on to assist in controlling my twelve, but you see, there’s been a development recently.”

When Mammon merely cocked a brow, Belpheg continued.

“The Council has released a cure to the sex demon toxins. So I started to think.” Belpheg grinned. “How much more poetic would it be if I use you as my twelfth?”

Mammon’s breath caught. He forced himself to stay relaxed, when he wanted to jump from the excitement of it all. This was more than he could have dared to imagine. With the powers Belpheg had mentioned coursing through his veins, Mammon would be unstoppable. Second to no one, other than perhaps Belpheg himself.

He would be a king.

“I believe I could be persuaded to join your cause,” Mammon said evenly.

Belpheg chuckled, as if he found humor in Mammon’s words. The action caused momentary rage to rise up within Mammon, but he stifled it. He was wise enough to know not to bite the hand that fed him. Soon enough he’d have more than enough power…but for now, Belpheg held most of the control.

“You mentioned my sons,” he said to Belpheg. “What do you intend to do with them?”

“Ah, but that’s the best part.”

When Belpheg’s hand trembled slightly, he slid it out of view beneath the table. Though his movement was casual, Mammon couldn’t help but notice it. Something was amiss there.

“Their strength, the power you bred into them, can be used to make you stronger,” Belpheg continued. “You can absorb their abilities, use them to garner some of your needed powers. Once you’ve amassed the required twelve, I will be ready to proceed. And the Council won’t stand a chance.”

Oh, yes. This was too good. Mammon rubbed his chin and let out a chuckle.

“So, by giving their lives, they will allow us to wipe out the Council and rule over all? Seems like a worthy sacrifice to me. Especially since it’s not mine.”

Belpheg cocked one brow. “My proposal is that you head my twelve. Guide them into battle when we move to destroy the Council. Are these terms acceptable to you?”

Mammon pretended to ponder the question for one long moment. Finally he nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I have your agreement that you will aid me?” Belpheg leaned forward to offer his hand.

Glancing at Belpheg’s outstretched hand, Mammon hesitated. Though the dark fae’s gesture was casual, something about it set off warning bells in his head. He knew it was just a handshake, but somehow it felt like taking Belpheg’s hand would be tantamount to sealing his own fate.

Yet in the end, the deal was too sweet for him to pass up. He clasped his hand in Belpheg’s.

A spark of electricity shot from Belpheg’s arm to his, momentarily clenching his muscles tight. Before Mammon could question it, the current was gone.

Belpheg released his grip and sat back in his chair. He gave Mammon a slow grin. “And so it begins.”

True to his word, Belpheg had proceeded to accumulate the life essences of powerful Otherworlders via his succubi and pass it onto Mammon. The problem was that the success ratio for transference of powers along with the life essences was rather low, perhaps one in a hundred. He’d managed to amass three new powers, which never ceased to amaze him, but he still had nine to go, and Belpheg seemed to be growing impatient. Mammon didn’t miss that his body was shaking more and more recently as well.

He’s growing weaker.

Perhaps that would be of some advantage. But until he figured out how, he would play the obedient second-in-charge. He would come when Belpheg summoned him. He would wait to go after his sons until Belpheg was ready.

However, there was no mistake about it. Mammon would bow to no one.