Chaos Rises: A Veil World Urban Fantasy (3 page)

Apart…apart we were dangerous.

T
ourists had once filled
the Santa Monica pier to its bursting point. They’d walk the sunbaked boards, browse the shacks selling LA baseball caps, Route 66 postcards, and shells-in-a-jar, dripping ice cream while gulls loitered. The pier jutted out from miles upon miles of Santa Monica beach. At night, the Pacific Park amusements had glittered all the colors of a rainbow, and at its center, the multicolored Ferris wheel shone like a jewel in a crown.

That was all gone.

Now, the pier was an unlit, jagged scar on the pale, silent beach. I knew what it had once looked like because I’d found postcards in the rubble, brushed the dust off, and pinned them to my hotel room walls. Allard’s operation ran out of what had once been a high-class hotel, situated along Ocean Avenue behind the three-hundred-foot-high sandstone bluffs between the hotels and the beach.

Where people had once leaned over the cliff-top barriers to take pictures of the pier, demons now prowled. A dry, dusty wind howled down the closed stretch of Pacific Coast highway, intersecting the beach and the bluffs. It wasn’t a nw-zone, but for the population of demons at the pier, it might as well have been.

Me and Del shared a room at Fairhaven Hotel. His bed was made, its corners perfect and pillows fluffed. The shelves were empty, like always—not like my side of the room, scattered with trinkets and mementos from before the Fall. Del hadn’t owned much. He didn’t need anything. Never had.
Just me.

He hadn’t come back.

I sat on the edge of Del’s bed and spread my hand across the cool sheet. I didn’t know a time without my brother by my side. My earliest memories were of the both of us inside the glass playroom. Eyes watched us from behind the walls of windows, but it was normal, it was everyday, so we didn’t care. We played catch, and hide and seek, although such games quickly lost their novelty. There was nowhere to hide at the Institute.

We’d trained together—hour after hour plugged into machines measuring our every heartbeat, our every breath…his hand in mine. And then they’d forced our demons out of us, made us fight. We’d relished in the momentary freedom until it became too dangerous.
He
became too dangerous. The quick slash of claws, the dark wave of power, so hungry, so dominant.

“Where are you, Del?”

When I’d left the hospital, I’d had Allard’s demons drive me back to the nw-zone, but there was nothing to show for the battle with the
vitiosus
and no sign of Del. He wasn’t in the Promenade nw-zone, and he wasn’t at home. I needed help, and there was only one demon I could turn to.

After a quick shower, I sheathed my daggers against my lower back and glared at my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. “Allard wants compensation.”

I could handle Allard when I wasn’t alone with him. He seemed to keep his distance with others present, but alone, he knew exactly where and how to apply pressure. My reflection in the mirror glared back. My hair had grown out into a ruffled mess since the Institute—where it had always been shaved—but only to my jaw. It stubbornly flicked up at the ends. I’d dyed it black in the hope it might help hide my identity from the Institute, but I couldn’t hide my startling blue eyes. Del’s eyes had always been mismatched. He’d hated it, and as soon as his hair had grown long enough, he’d let his bangs fall over his dark eye. I’d found his different eyes beautiful, but he’d shied away when I’d told him so.

A horrible ache hollowed out my chest. What if the Institute had found him?

Allard would know if there was any sign of Institute activity last night. That was our deal.

Time to go face him.

I strode down the hotel corridors, boots thudding on the deep red carpet. Bright sunlight blazed outside, but inside, it was dark and hot. Demons slunk out of the shadows. The flickering lights gave them a jarring motion. Some wore their human vessels, but most didn’t bother. Claws ticked, and wing membranes ruffled. They all eyed me like they’d prefer to tear strips off my skin and roast my insides for lunch. I kept my dagger sheathed, my shoulders back, and my head up. Allard’s extended
family
had tried to kill Del and me numerous times, but as long as I projected strength, they’d leave me alone. Mostly. Even as a half blood, I could hold my own against the majority of those I shared these halls with. They’d learned that quickly enough.

The tattoo on my shoulder itched—the Institute branding. Two entwined scorpions. The company logo. Branded like chattel. I hadn’t realized its significance until Del and I had found our way here and saw Allard brand his demons with a swirling glyph in a similar fashion. Ownership. I hadn’t realized a lot of things until I’d escaped the Institute.

I took the stairs down. A demon had made a den of the main elevator and hadn’t budged in the time I’d lived in the block. Even Allard had given up trying to coax it out. Fairhaven was filled with similar demon oddities. Much of the hotel remained unexplored. There were too many corners, too many twisting corridors and barred fire escapes—plenty of places to ambush the unsuspecting half blood.

Emerging on the ground floor, I passed by the basement door with its rows of elemental glyphs etched into the cheap panels. The glyphs flared softly, pushing against my demon as a clear warning—stay out.

I found Allard in what had once been the hotel bar. Much of the décor had survived the Fall. A dark wood wrap-around bar retained the sophisticated atmosphere. The tables and chairs created sub-meeting areas, but today, the bar was empty except for Allard and his right-hand demon, Joseph.

Allard saw me as soon as I stepped inside the room. He straightened, swept his jacket back, and regarded me with the same measured appraisal as he had at the hospital, right before he’d yanked me off my feet.

Joseph was careful to keep his gaze drifting midway between Allard and me. As a higher fire elemental, he and I were naturally opposed. He’d barely said three words to me in the six months Del and I had been working for Allard, and he certainly didn’t bother to look me in the eye. I was half blood, lesser, not worthy. That was fine by me as long as he didn’t leave me alone with Allard.

“Come, Gem,” Allard made his way toward me. “We can talk while I check the stock.”

I dipped my head as he passed and flicked my gaze to Joseph leaning back against a table. The sneer pulling his lips back from his teeth was all for me. I let a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth just because I could. Allard wasn’t looking. Del had often told me not to taunt the demons, but where was the fun in that? The only sign Joseph noticed my smile was the slight narrowing of his eyes. He made it too easy to bait him.

I caught up with Allard as he left the hotel for the adjacent complex of bungalows. The little buildings huddled around a drained kidney-shaped swimming pool. I imagined it must have been luxurious once, basking in the LA sun. But now, the bungalows held Allard’s stock. Painted glyphs throbbed on the windows, keeping the lessers locked inside. The air smelled like burned rubber. Occasionally, a scuffle would break out, and the sounds of claws scraping, yips, and yowls bounced around the pool area.

Connie, one of Allard’s higher demons, had her human vessel suited-up in a white pantsuit. She dipped her chin demurely as Allard approached.

“My lord,” she enunciated clearly. Allard made sure his demons knew how to blend in. No snarling, growling, or drooling in public. Connie wore her vessel well. “We have three new arrivals. One, a particularly rare infant
larkwrari
.” She held out a clipboard and checklist. Allard took it and scanned the contents without slowing.

I’d never seen a
larkwrari
, but I’d read about the one that had tried to break through the veil over Boston’s skyline. Fully grown, they’re the size of an airplane and look like snakes with wings.

Connie trailed along behind Allard, her heels clicking on broken tiles, and I picked up my pace, dropping behind the both of them, boots scuffing the ground. As we passed each bungalow, glowing eyes peered out from inside. The conditions inside the bungalows were foul, hot, and filthy, but it wasn’t anything the demons weren’t already used to. I shivered, pushing unwanted netherworld memories back.

One bungalow was full of
ventores
. They squawked, snapped their elongated sword-like bills, and flapped their leathery wings. Allard left them like that until they started eating each other, then he’d sell the one that was left—the strongest—for the caged fights.

It hadn’t taken long for LA to find a way to utilize the leftover demons. None of it was legal, of course, besides capturing demons for ‘scientific study.’ As far as the authorities were concerned, Mr. Clayton Allard was a demon dealer. They likely didn’t know he
was
a demon.

Allard clicked his fingers. “Gem.”

Picking up my pace, I passed Connie—her warm gaze rode my back—and fell into step beside Allard.

“Your brother—”

“He hasn’t come back, and I—”

“I’ve tasked Joseph with finding him. He’s probably decided to stretch his wings. We were all young once.” An ironic smile lifted his lips. Thinking of his younger demon exploits perhaps? “No harm done.”

No harm done, yet.
“But—”

“Gem, you failed to retrieve a
vitiosus,
and now I have one unhappy client to deal with.” Allard stopped outside the last bungalow and handed the clipboard back to Connie. “My, my…” A rippling purr sounded at the back of Allard’s throat, a sound I’d never heard from him before.

I paused beside him and tried to wrap my head around what it was I was looking at behind the glyph-marked glass. Scales shimmered like oil on water. Coils writhed in slow, hypnotic knots. And there, at the back, rested the
larkwrari’s
head. Two horns spiraled in front of a proud crest. Emerald eyes glittered. It was…beautiful. It looked back at us and blinked slowly, smoothly, contemplating, wondering.

In a snap, it struck, slamming into the glass. I jerked back and sprung my daggers free. But the glyphs flared, and the glass held. The
larkwrari
shook its magnificent head and knotted its snake-like body once more. Its grumble rippled through the earth, stirring the nearby lessers into a frenzy.

Allard hadn’t even flinched. “Impressive.”

“I thought you’d be pleased, my lord.”

He canted his head and gave Connie a slow nod that brought a flush of color to her cheeks. I caught the smell of the demon-spices she threw his way, a demon come-on, and rolled my eyes. I had no idea if they were screwing as humans or rucking as demons. She certainly wanted to. I just wanted to get to the part where Allard tells me what I have to do for him to help find Del and for him to hand over my hit of PC34A.

“Connie, check over the remaining stock. Gem and I have matters to discuss.”

Oh, no.
He was dismissing her. We’d be alone. I scanned the overgrown gardens. Palm trees cast great swaying shadows. Bushes blocked most of the paths, leaving only one clear way in and out—behind him.

The moment Connie left, Allard turned his gaze on me. The sound of her heels punctured the scrabbling sounds of caged demons until even those noises faded, and I was left with the hissing of the palm fronds overhead to listen to instead of my thudding heart. Allard probably didn’t have a heart, at least not one I’d recognize. Or a soul. The first thing the Institute taught us was that demons are little more than machines, driven by their beast-like needs. They wanted. They took. If they couldn’t get what they wanted, they’d lie, cheat, steal, manipulate, and finally resort to claws and teeth to make damn sure they won. What the Institute hadn’t taught me was exactly how convincing a higher elemental demon could be. Maybe that part of my training had been up next, but the veil fell, and the demon with lava-veined wings so vast they blotted out the sky took my brother and me away.

I blinked the memory away, finding Allard studying me with a curious glint in his eye.

“Has there been any indication that the Institute might be sniffing around?” I asked, surprised at how level and direct my tone was. At least I sounded tough.

“None. They have been reduced to little more than a few desperate individuals. Toothless and spineless.”

He dug into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small, cylindrical jet-injector. The clear liquid sloshed in the tiny glass vial. Just 5ml of PC34A was enough to quell my demon and take the edge off her madness. With that dose in my veins, I could still summon enough of my element to fulfill Allard’s tasks and keep myself safe among his demon rabble, but I had complete control. I needed that drug.

Allard had moved closer. I couldn’t remember him doing so. The spicy, evocative smell of demon wrapped around me, nudging my demon urges awake. He lifted my hand—warmth flushed over my skin—then dropped the injector into my palm, and closed my fingers around it. “Delta will be found. You have my word.”

The word of a demon, how much was that worth?

“But—”
Here it comes.
“You must do something in return, half blood.”

Anything.
I swallowed the demon voice, kept her mind from mine, told myself it was just because he was full demon that the thing in me wanted to rub up against him. The sooner I injected PC34A, the sooner my demon would shut up.

“I’ve been tracking an artifact that made its way here during the Fall. Its existence was rumor, but I’ve had several reliable sources tell me otherwise. I know where it is, and I’d like you to retrieve it for me.”

Alarm bells chimed in my head. Why couldn’t his stronger, more powerful demons get it? Why me? Why now? What did a demon dealer want with an
artifact
? I didn’t even know demons had artifacts. They didn’t create art or anything as frivolous. Where they came from, only actions counted—the more vicious, the better.

He touched my face, the slightest of touches, barely there at all, and yet the heat from his fingertips burned all the way down, tightening more than just the demon lust.

“Ask the questions I see in your human eyes.” He pulled his fingers back, allowing me to breathe again.