Chaos Rises: A Veil World Urban Fantasy (17 page)

“What can I do?” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“Water,” he rasped.

Water. The bath. I made sure to move slowly and deliberately, easing around him, careful to avoid his damaged wings. I tried not to think about how every inch of him trembled or about the clear claw marks raking his legs.

I set the bath running and stared into it, feeling smaller by the second. He’d pulled his elemental touch right up against him like a shield, but as the bath filled, that smooth sensation reached outward, sliding over my back, finding its way to the water. The rest of him followed. He stepped into the bath, clamped his tattered wings closed with a hiss, and sank down into the water. He pulled his knees up against his chest, loosened his wings so they half hung limp behind him, and rested his forehead against his knees.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that I hadn’t known what Allard would do, but it would have been lies. I bumped against the wall and slid down into a sitting position, drawing my legs up much the same way Torrent had. There was nothing I could say that would make it hurt less or help him heal faster.

We stayed like that until the hotel had fallen quiet and dawn started to filter through the windows. I’d watched his beautiful scales painstakingly stitch themselves together, but it would take days to heal properly, if he could. He was in pain. The shivers and ragged breathing were enough to tell me that, but he didn’t make a sound. Not a word.

“Del is a chaos demon,” I finally managed to croak out, my voice even more broken. “We were both created in the Boston Institute Laboratories. Project Gamma and Delta.” I sighed, no longer caring what he knew. The least I could do was tell him the truth. “Delta was always dangerous.” I paused, wondering if Torrent was listening. He hadn’t moved. I might have thought him asleep if it weren’t for the rapid breathing. “When Allard found us, we were lost and starving. We’d never been without the Institute before, and after we escaped the netherworld, we just…we just ran. The Institute taught us about life outside the lab, but we’d never really lived it. We don’t know how the world works. Then the veil fell, and we almost died.” I swallowed hard. “Allard found us on the streets, said he knew what we were, and it felt like we had someone on our side. He promised we’d be safe. We believed him.” It seemed ludicrous now, believing a demon, the very creature we’d both been designed to kill. We’d had little alternative. “Del took PC-Thirty-Four to hide what he was, but also to control the chaos. It’s…it’s a terrible thing. He’s my brother, and I love him, but…the chaos… It’s wrong. It shouldn’t be here in this world. Chaos isn’t right here.” My voice broke and not just from my dry throat. I remembered the lure of chaos, remembered how it had called to me, how the Institute had made me fight my own brother because nothing else could stop him. I’d gotten through to him then, but if Allard was luring the chaos out of him, he might already have been beyond my reach.

Torrent turned his head, rested his left horn on his knee, and blinked at me. Then he closed his eyes, and his demon dissolved, leaving a bloodied man in the bath, complete with raggedy wet clothes.

“Allard is creating a court.” I rested my wrists on my knees. “I don’t know what the
coronam
does or what part it plays, but he told me I’d be part of his court. I only know one demon court. Seven princes rule the Dark Court in the netherworld. At least, that’s what the Institute files say.”

“He’s not a prince.” He sounded gravelly, and I hoped with all my ice-encased heart that it wasn’t from him crying out. The thought of Torrent on his knees while Allard laid into him in all the imaginative ways Allard could, made saliva pool in my mouth. “Vanessa said he wasn’t a prince.”

“No, but he has one in the basement.”

Torrent’s eyes widened. “There’s a Prince of Hell here? On this side of the veil?”

“Yeah, he’s caged. At the moment, anyway.”

“He’ll escape.”

“Well, yeah. But he’s been down there since the Fall, and he didn’t look like he was going anywhere anytime soon.”

“You’ve seen him?”

I nodded, remembering the demon with the burned wings hunched over in the cage. “I think Allard wanted to show off his trophy.”

Torrent leaned back and sunk his shoulders below the water. “He can’t believe he can control a prince. What one of the Seven is he?”

“Allard called him Li’el, the Prince of Pride and probably an air elemental, making a full house of elementals. Allard has his court.”

“But we’re half bloods. We can’t be anything else.”

“Doesn’t matter. There’s nothing half about our demons. Before the veil fell, we were powerful badasses.” I tried a little smile, but Torrent wasn’t looking at me. He stared at the wall in that odd way he had, like he was somewhere else, maybe wishing he was someone else. “Allard told me the netherworld princes killed their queen. A court has a king and queen.”

Torrent slid his green eyes back to me. “Don’t tell me. He naturally wants to be king.”

“What self-respecting demon wouldn’t? Vanessa said we’re all his pawns. She was right. He’s got his elemental demons. He has a prince. He clearly has the knowledge, probably straight from the prince himself.”

“So who’s the queen?”

“If Del is chaos, then the last element—and his opposite—is control. I guess Allard could be setting himself up as the opposite. I don’t think it really matters whether the king and queen are male and female. It’s more about balance.”

Torrent’s cheek twitched. “He’s not as controlled as he appears—” His voice cracked, and he turned his head away, clenching his jaw.

There was that ache again. I got to my feet, suddenly needing to be somewhere else so I didn’t have to see the raw pain in his eyes. “You can borrow some of Del’s clothes.”

After rummaging through Del’s closet, I tossed a shirt and some pants into the bathroom and closed the door, giving Torrent space.

I’d never really felt guilt before, not at the depth I did then. I considered myself a good solider. The times I’d fought, I’d
hurt
people. Once such time, I’d attacked an Institute assistant. I’d blamed it on my demon, but Del and I both knew it was all me. The assistant had been…
friendly
—friendly in ways that hadn’t felt right. And so I’d broken his hand and dislocated his shoulder. I’d felt the slippery sense of guilt after that. But with Torrent it was much, much worse.

I pressed my hand against the window and peered out over the dark strip of Santa Monica beach, sorry teetering on my lips. Torrent had trusted me, and I’d given him up to Allard. Then I’d defied Allard, enraged him to the point he’d dearly wanted to kill me, and he’d taken his frustration out on Torrent. I had to be the worst friend in the world.

Torrent emerged from the bathroom. His wet hair stuck out at ruffled angles, and his eyes had lost some of their luster, but at least he wasn’t bleeding or limping. “Can you get me close to the prince?”

“I can try. There are glyphs guarding him. I don’t know if I can get through without Allard. If he… If he catches us…”

Torrent’s smile dashed across his lips—there and gone again in a second. “What can he possibly do that he hasn’t already?”

Take your wings,
I thought and hated myself all over again.

* * *

I
n that quiet
moment between dawn and daylight, the demons rested, and the hotel foyer was virtually empty. I kept my head up and my element close, projecting confidence. If I looked like I was supposed to venturing in to the basement, I hoped no demon would challenge me. The basement wasn’t guarded. The glyphs did the guard work. Those on the door pulsed as we approached.

Torrent hissed through his teeth. “I see what you mean.”

The push wasn’t nearly as strong against me. I did feel an unsettling scatter of unpleasant needles, but the second I gripped the handle and shoved the door open, the deterrent washed over me.

Torrent wasn’t so lucky. He staggered back, flinching out of the way of the door. “I can’t go down there.” He looked past me at the stairwell like it was about to swallow him whole. “How can you stand it?”

Sure, I felt the unpleasant waves and the odd awkward feeling like I’d walked in on something I really shouldn’t have, but I could push through it easily enough.

“I can’t,” he said again and grumbled a curse. “It’s the demon in me. I can’t go any further.”

“Go back to my room. Wait for me there. I won’t be long.”

I hoped to be in and out in less than ten minutes anyway. Nobody had to know.

The glyphs’ power lapped at me with each step down into the basement, but like before, it wasn’t strong enough to elicit a reaction like Torrent’s. Allard had said if I didn’t have PC34A in my veins, I’d have felt the glyphs more keenly. Interesting.

I jogged down the steps, aware that I would have a hard time explaining this away should Allard catch me. But if I couldn’t go up against Allard, I needed another way to get to him: something—some
one
stronger than me, stronger than Allard.

The basement lights rippled on, and there he was. I paused in the doorway, struck by the prince’s beauty. Artificial lights couldn’t diminish the glisten of his black as night skin, but they did eat at the stark bone structure of his wings. He was still hunched over. His skeletal wings draped down his back and across the cage floor.

I’d moved forward without any memory of doing so. With each step, the glyphs pushed harder and harder until I was forced to stop a few yards from the cage.

His shoulders rose and fell along with his steady breathing. I licked my lips and stretched my hand forward, pushing through the invisible wall. If I could get close enough to the cage, there was a chance I could break it open with the right tools. Harder. My demon squirmed and pulled back as though she could fling herself from my skin. Teeth gritted against the throbbing pressure, I gave it my all, reaching harder, pushing deeper, and touched the cool metal cage. A spark ignited and slapped me. I recoiled with a gasp and staggered back, cradling my tingling hand.

I’d touched the cage.

If I’d had cutters, I could have broken inside.

“Li’el?” My voice leapt into the quiet and was met by silence.

He didn’t move.

“I can help you.” If I took a few more hits of PC34A, if I buried my demon so deep the glyphs would have no effect on me, I could get to him. I knew it. “I want to make a deal. If I get you out, you have to swear you won’t kill, maim, torture, or in any way hurt me or my brother…or Torrent,” I quickly added.

He still didn’t move. What if he couldn’t hear me? Or what if he could and releasing him unleashed something far worse than Allard?

The Prince of Hell who’d broken me and Del out of the Institute could have lit the entire sky on fire. What could this one do if he was free? Was I trading one minor demon with high aspirations for an ageless, immortal, nightmare? What if this cage was the best place for him?

But Allard had him here for a reason, and it wasn’t just to add to his stock. Li’el would escape. Wouldn’t it be better to have him on my side when he did?

“Li’el, I can’t do this without assurances from you. I need to know you won’t…”
Won’t what? Be demon? Lay waste to LA? Kill thousands of innocent people?

This wasn’t going to work. Even if he could assure me he wouldn’t wreak havoc, demons lied. They lied, they cheated, they manipulated, and none more so than a Prince of Hell.

I gave my head a quick shake and sighed. Unleashing a prince to stop Allard would be a mistake. Everything the Institute taught me about these demons—what little they knew—was that they were utterly, unequivocally, demon. You don’t get to be a Prince of Hell by being nice or helping little half bloods in trouble with their owners. I couldn’t let him out, but maybe he’d talk with me?

“Li’el… Can you hear me?”

For a few moments, nothing happened. A feather—one of only a few left—broke from his right wing and spiraled through the air. Before it could hit the ground, a puff of air sent it twirling out of the cage. It landed softly at my feet. I regarded it carefully, not believing for one second that its appearance was luck.

Crouching, I poked at the feather. When it didn’t bite, I picked it up and settled it in the palm of my hand. Had he heard and replied in the only way he could? Silky smooth and as light as air, so black that light soaked into it, the feather meant something. A sign, I was sure of it.

“We have a deal?” He didn’t move or reply, and no more feathers fell.

Maybe it
was
just a feather. Or maybe I’d just made a deal with a Prince of Hell?

I tucked the feather gently into my pocket and hurried from the basement.

“
B
olt cutters
.”

Torrent turned his back on the window and frowned. “What?”

I kicked the door closed, pulled the feather free, and waggled it. “I can get him out.”

His frown deepened, and he looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Wait a second. You want to
free
a Prince of Hell? How is that in any way better?”

I stopped beside him, holding the feather between us. He recoiled slightly like the feather was a steel trap. His hand went to his key pendant, but when he noticed
I’d
noticed, he let go.

“I can’t beat Allard,” I said. “There was a time I could have, before the veil fell… Anyway, he’s a higher demon, and he has my brother. The longer we delay, the more Del is in danger, and so are the rest of us. The prince gave me this feather.”

“He
gave
it to you?” Torrent spluttered.

“Sort of—”

The door opened. I knew it was Allard by the sudden surge of his element and the way tension shot through Torrent.

Quickly, I tucked the feather inside my bra. Allard had never been interested in that part of my anatomy. Torrent saw where I’d stashed it, flicked his gaze away, and bowed his head, keeping his eyes low and off Allard. Standing as close as I was, I heard his teeth grind.

“Gem,” Allard said, calm, and controlled. I turned and plastered what I hoped was an innocent smile on my face. He either didn’t buy my smile or didn’t care. “There will be no more PC-Thirty-Four.”

“But—”

“How long before your system is completely free of the drug?”

Time. I needed time. Time to find some more PC34A, to fill my veins with it and break the prince out. “I don’t know.”
Four to five hours, depending on demon activity.
I knew because the Institute had it tested over and over. “Maybe twelve hours?”

His frown cut deeper. “You have six hours. Have your demon ready. If you don’t, I can’t guarantee your survival during the ascension.”

Ascension
? His severe expression kept the question off my lips.

He slid his glare to Torrent, raked it over the half blood, jerked his chin in satisfaction, and left.

I waited a few moments, crossed the room, checked he wasn’t lurking in the corridor, and closed the door. “Six hours! I was going to use PC-Thirty-Four to get to the prince. I can’t find more, inject it, free the prince, and have it wear off in six hours.”

Torrent had turned to face the window again and the ocean beyond. He braced his arms against the frame, and a memory flashed: Torrent, his wings spread. But in a blink, the image was gone. “How long
does
it take to wear off?”

“Four hours if I go fully-demon at some point. Being demon pushes the dregs out.”

“That gives you two hours to get the rest done.”

Two hours? What could I do with two hours? “I don’t even know where to get more PC-Thirty-Four.”

“Where does Allard get it?” He shifted, half turning his head, keeping his back to me. Torrent’s tension had spread, encasing him in stone. And now his element had joined us in the room.

“There was an Institute guy at a demon fight. He was Allard’s source. But I don’t know how to find him.”

He fell quiet, his thoughts still far away. “What about your lady cop friend?”

Summoning a little demon into my vision, I saw exactly the ripple of his element pulled tightly around him. The shimmer gave him a blurred aura. Another memory, this time of the demon huddled in a corner, his wings wrapped around him. Those wings had been so warm and soft—not nearly as tough as they’d appeared.

He was afraid and hiding it well, as only half bloods could. What was he still doing here? Why didn’t he leave, just walk out and go far, far away. I stayed for Del because I could never abandon my brother. There were no such ties keeping Torrent here.

He turned and lifted his gaze through fine, dark lashes. “Go on, ask.”

“I…”

“You’ve been looking at me like that since I came back. You looked at me that way when you watched me heal in the bath. So ask me what’s burning you up so bad that you can’t say it.” A smile ticked across his lips, but it wasn’t pleasant. “You want to know what he did?”

“No. I… I already know.”

A moment passed between us, a pause filled with understanding.

“I’m sorry. Alright? For giving you up. I… I have to protect Del, and I knew Allard wanted you.”

“Thank you for
that
.” His tone cut, and I winced. “Truly. For a second there, I thought you were different. Thanks for setting me straight, Gem.”

“Then leave,” I blurted, turning my back on him and heading for the door. I couldn’t stand what his words were doing to me, making the guilt burn in my gut. “Just go.”

“He needs a water elemental. He’ll scour the city for me. Where am I going to go? And…”

I paused, hand on the door handle.

“And maybe I don’t want to go.”

Shame stuttered through his admission. My own shallow little smile tugged on my lips. I knew that feeling. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Allard had a way of making the pain feel right, like it belonged, like it was all you deserved, and you should be grateful for his affections. Half bloods must be owned. Sometimes, that demon truth was the only part of this half blood life that felt natural.

I pressed a hand to the feather tucked against my chest. “Maybe Officer Ramírez can get an address of the Institute doctor.” And then I asked the question he’d wanted, the question he’d seen on my face since he’d returned, bloodied and broken. “Are you with me, or are you with Allard?”

He didn’t reply, but he did cross the room in a few strides. I caught his eye when he stopped beside me. The bright turquoise swirl of color was back. His demon waited right below the surface. It would be easy to forget how strong Torrent could be. He wore his submissive armor well, almost as well as I wore mine.

* * *

T
he LAPD precinct
was a hive of activity. Officer Ramírez wasn’t available. Torrent and I were told to wait. We gravitated toward a corner. I watched the other people in the waiting room like they’d any second declare me demon and brandish guns. Torrent leaned against the wall, a curious smile on his lips. He’d retrieved his raggedy old coat before leaving Fairhaven, but the crossbow was missing from his casual ensemble. I assumed Allard had taken it. Nobody else would have been able to pry it from Torrent’s hands.

After forty wasted minutes, Officer Ramírez emerged through a door. She smiled a flat, professional smile, sliding her gaze from me to Torrent and back to me again. A flicker of something tightened her smile, flattening it even more.

“Gem, I have some information for you.”

I’d forgotten I’d asked her to look for my brother. “I er… I think we found Del.” I pushed off the wall. “But I have something else to ask you.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows lifted. “You found your brother? That’s good.” She could tell from my face that it wasn’t. “Let’s go somewhere a little quieter?” The glance she skipped past me to Torrent was positively frosty.

Torrent moved to follow.

“Just you, Gem. I’m sorry, but your friend will have to stay here.”

I’d never been the best at reading expressions—the Institute technicians I’d grown up around were pretty good at hiding their thoughts from their faces—but Ramírez gave off some skittish vibes. If she was going to help me find the Institute doctor, I needed her on my side, not worried about Torrent.

“Wait here,” I told him. He’d already settled back against the wall and crossed his arms like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll be right back.”

I followed Ramírez down a narrow corridor, passing a few uniformed cops, and into a small, quiet interview room. Once again, the sterile, impersonal, windowless space reminded me of past interrogations. Ramírez knew better than to offer me a seat. She sat on the edge of a table and handed me a closed blue file.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

I looked at it, still in her hand. “I know where my brother is.”

“This isn’t about your brother.” Her expression softened, and the hard-ass cop persona melted from her shoulders.

“I just came to ask if you could help me find someone. It’s er… It’s pretty time sensitive.”

She opened the file, pulled a grainy color 8x5 photograph from inside, and held it up.

Corpses. Blood splashes in fans across a road, streams of blood running into the gutter. And a demon. His outline was blurred by the same forces that make it difficult to focus on a demon with human eyes. An aura of green-blue glowed from his impressive physique, but it was the wings that betrayed him. The grainy image couldn’t hide their pearlescent shimmer. He practically glowed. The photo wasn’t bad quality, I realized. It was rain obscuring the image, rain that washed the blood into the gutters, rain that glittered on his leathery wings.

“We believe that demon is responsible for the death of at least five hundred people,” Ramírez said.

I took the photo. A chill wrapped itself around my legs and climbed higher. My element responded to my racing heart. His face, the same inviting eyes, the same sweeping horns I’d seen when he turned fully demon. To many, demons all look the same: the wings, the horns, the claws. But not to me. There was no mistaking Torrent.

“That’s not him.” I held the photo out to her, eager to get rid of it.

Ramírez’s lips pinched together. She took another print from the file. This time, it was black and white. He crouched on the rubble of a collapsed burning building, wings arched, hunched, ready for the attack, and at his feet, his throat clearly cut—probably by claws—was a firefighter. The camera angle caught Torrent’s face turned up, searching the skies. Ramírez had a good eye to be able to recognize Torrent’s demon and identify it as the man currently in the waiting room.

My lips turned down. I couldn’t stop the revulsion bleeding through onto my face. “It does look remarkably similar, but that’s not Torrent.” My throat tightened around the lies.

“I’m sorry.”

I cleared my throat and swallowed then plucked the black-and-white picture from her fingers. “When was this?”

“Prior to the Fall, a number of demons came through in a pre-wave attack. That one was one of the first. He vanished after the Fall. We assumed he’d gone back before the veil closed.”

The picture was taken before Torrent lost his memories. Or was that lies to stop me asking about his past, from finding out exactly who he really was. Whatever it was, I didn’t have time to deal with it. Clearly, Torrent wasn’t what I believed, but I had Allard to deal with. My six hours had rapidly dwindled to almost four.

“I told you I wouldn’t call the Institute in for you, and I didn’t. But I couldn’t keep this quiet, Gem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I alerted the Institute to Torrent’s presence as soon as you arrived. They’re already here. If you want to stay away from them, I can take you out the back exit.”

“They’re here?”

“They probably already have Torrent in their custody.”

They’re here.
I had to get away. If they saw me, if any of them recognized me, they’d come looking. I couldn’t go back to the tests, the maze, the room that had been my prison for so long.

I looked at the door, wondering if any second they’d barge in. Coming here was a terrible mistake. “Show me the way out.”

True to her word, Officer Ramírez escorted me out the back of the precinct. Shouts and jeers sailed from the main street. “
Demon
!” the collective cries accused.

I stood at the back of the precinct among the cop cars and glared ahead, down the street, away from the noise, toward freedom. The picture in my hand was all the evidence I needed. Torrent was a killer and not just a mindless lesser who didn’t know any better, but a powerful, higher demon. I closed my eyes, feeling the sun warm my face. The graphic images stayed with me. The Institute would take him away and lock him down. He’d joked that he’d seen the worst anyone could do to him. He was wrong.

I hung back at the corner of the precinct and tried to see through the crowd. A number of black vans crowded around the front. I saw him, being led down the steps. His wrists were bound, and his eyes flashed. He sneered at the crowd, who bayed and taunted. The Institute team was clad in black and body armored up. At least twenty field troops. They were all armed, probably with PC34A darts. That was the only way they could have stopped Torrent from turning demon and ripping them apart.

I couldn’t help him.

Folding the photo, I tucked it into my back pocket and bowed my head.

If the Institute saw me—the escape, the netherworld, the demons, Allard—it would all be for nothing. The LA Institute hub was about as far away from Boston—my home—as you could get, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be aware of the two missing East Coast half bloods. The safest thing for me to do was walk away.

I tucked my chin in and turned.

Someone screamed. Shouts rose up from the crowd in an angry wave. I could just make out Torrent struggling with an Institute solider. He was still bound at the wrists, but all that had done was slow him down. He flung his head back and cracked his skull against the guy behind him, throwing him off. It was hopeless. Torrent couldn’t fight off that many of the troops. The Institute trained for exactly this.