Darkest Before Dawn (26 page)

They’d drugged Akil. They’d
drugged
a Prince of Hell. Panic speared through me. “Give him the antidote. Now. Before he comes ’round. Let him go. Do that, and you’ll live. Otherwise, Ryder, when he wakes and realizes what you’ve done, you’re a dead man. And not just you. Everyone here. Shit, maybe the whole city for all I know. Don’t risk it. Walk away now. Tell Adam you failed.”

Ryder beamed and backed up. “Hell, no. This is the best night of my life.” He nodded in the direction of Akil’s lifeless body. “That bastard deserves everything he gets, and now we have him. Happy days, Muse.” He winked, and strode away.

“Ryder! Don’t do this. You’ll get them all killed. You can still make it right!” I kicked at the mountain of a man to my right, stamped on his instep and tried to clamp my sharp teeth down onto the hand gripping my shoulder. Ryder grumbled a warning.
Screw him.
I snapped my head back, caught something soft on the outside and bony inside, heard one of them spit a curse, and drove my elbow back. The blow, when it came, cracked across the back of my skull and sent me spiraling into darkness.

B
en Stone eyed
me from behind his bar, his hands busy drying glasses. “Bit early for whiskey, Charley.”

“Bite me, Ben. I’ve had a rough night.” I eased my sore body onto a barstool. “What time does Adam get here?”

“Seven-ish.” He still eyed me, like a stepbrother trying to decide whether he should care or not. “I serve coffee now. With real beans. Maybe you’d prefer caffeine to alcohol?”

“No offense, but the syrup you serve isn’t coffee.” I glared. He really didn’t want to push me. “I tried to take down a demon last night when he decided to wipe an alley floor with me and sharpen his claws on my insides. I then promptly had my Prince of Hell lover shot to shreds in front of me by my ex-friend and intend to speak with said ex-friend’s boss in about”—I checked the clock on the wall behind the bar— “ten minutes. So would you just cut me some slack, and serve me a drink? I’m a big girl. I can handle whiskey at seven a.m.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Your conscience is clear. You said your bit. Now, where’s my drink?” Yes, I was being short with him. He didn’t deserve it, but I’d had virtually zero sleep. I felt as though I’d been put through the wringer. Somewhere, there was a Prince of Hell fuming at the hands of the Institute. If he hadn’t laid waste to their base of operations yet, he would soon. I had to find him. Fast. Adam was getting an earful the second he stepped through the Stone’s Throw’s doors.

Ben delivered my drink with a side order of judgmental expression. He knew I was a wreck. I knew I was a wreck. Surely we were past all the arched eyebrows and tut-tuts by now?

As the bar began to fill with Institute staff—most of them filing out the back to their temporary safe house—I wondered where Ryder had taken Akil. Obviously, the Institute had another base of operations somewhere, yet they still used Stone’s Throw as an unofficial office. What had once been a forgotten bar Ryder and I frequented after work had turned into the Boston hub for all things demon hunting. The back wall looked like a psycho’s pin-board, except the photos and maps were all demon related. The Enforcer’s rallied here, and Adam dropped by three days a week. Today just happened to be one of those days. I’d mostly avoided the days he graced the bar/office for fear I might boil his insides. In fact, I’d not been to the bar much at all since the events a few weeks ago when Ryder had shot a half blood girl in the head, thereby destroying her short, tragic life and driving possibly the final nail in the coffin of my control. The only thing keeping me sane was stalking the streets, killing demons who stepped out of line or bumping illegal demon-immigrants back through the veil. I didn’t sleep. Not any more.
He
was there, stalking my dreams. I was on a downward spiral, one I’d finally accepted I needed Akil’s help to break free of. Well, that wasn’t happening any time soon.

Ryder walked in with several Enforcers in tow, Jenna the raven haired no-bullshit beauty, being one of them. The group clearly still buzzed from the previous nights’ exploits, bouncing on Enforcer happy-pills until they saw me. Ryder peeled away from them, wove around the empty tables, and hitched himself onto a stool beside mine.

I waited for him to comment on the whiskey in my glass. He picked up a coaster and teased the edges with his fingers, his smile dying. “A hundred demons came through the veil last week alone, and those are the ones we know about. New York caught or killed dozens more. We ain’t got the luxury of being picky—not no more, Muse. We gotta use everything we have. If that means grabbing the Prince of Greed, we do it. One Prince down. Five to go.”

Technically four, if you didn’t count Stefan, the newly crowned Prince of Wrath. Ryder didn’t know about Stefan’s recent promotion. Few did. Akil knew. Would he tell the Institute? No. It wouldn’t come to that. He wouldn’t let it. Shit, Akil would make them pay if I didn’t get to him and talk him down.

“Akil was helping us.”

He lifted mocha-brown eyes to me and ran a hand through his hair. His chin bristled with stubble, but he looked good, in a don’t-give-a-damn kinda way. His eyes were bright, his gaze sharp. I knew that look. He was ex-military, and he liked nothing better than to get his teeth into a mission and feel like he was doing the world a favor. His scuffed tan-leather jacket looked as though it had seen as much action as he had.

“I’m not getting into a bitching contest with you about Akil, Muse. He’s fucked you over more times than I can count. He’s the Prince of Greed, for fuck’s sake. Get over your Stockholm Syndrome, and move on. You’ll live longer.”

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. How dare he sweep me up in a statement like that? He knew what Akil had done for me. I’d thought Ryder knew me,
really
knew me, the way friends should. I snatched up my glass and threw whiskey in his face just as Adam walked through the door. Ryder spluttered, knocked the glass out of my hand, and stilled himself. His right hand clenched in a fist that trembled with the effort of restraint.

I shot to my feet, sneering into Ryder’s face. Ryder’s groupies loomed near the back of the bar, hands on their holstered weapons. Jenna included. “You bastard,” I growled. “I thought you were different. I thought we understood each other.”

“Get the fuck outtah my face, Muse, before I do something I’ll regret.” He delivered his threat with enough bravado to deter me, even with whiskey dripping from his chin.

“What happened to you?”

“Me?” He dragged a hand down his face and flicked moisture from his fingers. “We’re at war, and you’re on the wrong side. Get your shit together, or get out of Boston.”

Adam’s presence loomed to my left. He was a big guy, built like a lumberjack in Abercrombie & Fitch apparel. Casually classy. He loitered in my peripheral vision, radiating authority the way Akil radiated heat. Behind him, three Enforcers watched me like hawks hovering over their prey. Six others hung back. All they needed was an excuse, and I’d be full of bullet holes. I blinked—grossly outnumbered—and backed away from Ryder. This wasn’t over. I threw him a glare that told him as much and then steeled myself against Adam’s stare of abject disapproval.

Adam nodded once and beckoned me away from Ryder. Whiskey churned in my gut as I obliged. Ryder’s words couldn’t have hurt me more if he’d stabbed my in the chest. I knew things were bad between us, but I hadn’t realized how deep his hatred went. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I hated him right back for what he did to Dawn, the half blood girl I’d tried to save and he’d killed.

“Everything okay?” Adam pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit. I snorted and crossed my arms. “Sit.”

“No.”

“Very well.” He sat and leaned back in the chair, stretching his long legs beneath the table. “This is about Akil. Let me make something perfectly clear, Muse. You will not be seeing Akil unless you’re under the influence of P-C-Thirty-Four.”

His words sucker-punched me right where Ryder’s had already wounded me. My head spun, and my vision blurred. I sat in the chair and slumped forward, sinking my fingers into my hair. A dull ache throbbed up my right side, and the whiskey in my stomach threatened to force its way back up my throat. “I can’t do that.”

“This is not something we can negotiate. You’re too volatile, and he’s too valuable.”

There was no way in hell I was letting Adam stick a needle in me and pump me full of PC34 again. Not going to happen. Ever. Not even for the demon who had saved me from myself on many occasions and in many different ways.

I lifted my head and despised the fact he’d see the tears brimming my eyes. I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop them, so I snarled. “Akil was on our side. He’s been on the streets like us. He no more wants the princes here than we do. What you’ve done… You don’t understand how bad this is. He’ll never let you live, Adam. He despises the Institute and how you meddle with demons. Until you did this, he’s tolerated you, but that’s not an option anymore. He’ll destroy you.”

“He’s contained—and he’s not going anywhere, Muse. Not for a very long time.”

The thought of Akil strapped to a table and at the mercy of the Institute scientists was almost enough to tip my thin control over the edge. “Is he conscious?”

“Yes.” Adam blinked slowly.

“Has he said anything?”

He didn’t reply as he assessed me, obviously working over a few possible replies in his head before finally saying, “He’s demanded to see you.”

My heart flipped, but Adam’s concerned expression trampled on the new-shoots of hope.

He sighed. “He believes you’re involved in his capture. He claims the real reason you didn’t summon your demon in that alley was to lure him into action. He’s not saying much, but when he does, he’s quite… vehement.”

Fuck. I clamped my teeth together. I could see how, from Akil’s point of view, it might look like I’d been involved. “And you haven’t said anything to put him right?” Adam didn’t reply. How could he sit there, so freakin’ calm? If it wasn’t for the anti-elemental symbols adorning the walls, I’d be dancing in the fire and giving him third degree burns by now. “How did you know he’d be in that alley?” I leaned back and crossed my arms, locking my trembling fingers into fists.

“Akil usually resurfaces around you. I had you watched.”

“Where are you keeping him?”

“A secure facility.”

“Is he… alright?”

“He’s recovering from the assault better than expected, considering PC-Thirty-Four is subduing his demonic nature.”

My jaw ached. A terrible pressure throbbed in my head. They could have killed him. Had they used etched bullets, they’d have destroyed his human avatar. Akil as I knew him, would have died. Mammon would have lived. He was truly immortal. But I didn’t care about Mammon. I cared for Akil more than I’d realized. They’d taken him from me. He was mine, and the Institute had ripped him out of my arms. Worse, they’d defiled a Prince of Hell. A demon growl rumbled up my throat.

Adam’s eyes widened. “Do I need to be concerned about you, Muse?”

“I’d be concerned about your affairs, Adam. Best get that Will & Testament written up while you’re still breathing.” They had no idea what they’d captured. Akil wasn’t just another demon. He was chaos eternal. A force of nature. “You’re an idiot. You all are. You had a Prince of Hell working toward the same goals as you—a direct link to the others—and you’ve managed to royally fuck it up. After what you’ve done to him, he’ll never help you. You won’t get anything out of him. You might as well let him go before he escapes. Which he will. Trust me.” I looked around the bar and allowed my stewing anger to raise my voice. “You’re all as good as dead. You just don’t know it yet.”

A dozen Enforcers glared back at me. They hated me. All of them. Fine. I was done with them. With everything and everyone. Ryder didn’t even look over. I got a great view of his back and knew exactly where I stood with him. I shook my head at Adam. “Don’t come crawling back to me, Adam, when you have the princes breathing down your neck. It’s over. I can’t help you any more.”

He nodded, not in the least concerned. He would be.

‘
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B
orn in Tonbridge
, Kent in 1979, Pippa's family moved to the South West of England where she grew up among the dramatic moorland and sweeping coastlands of Devon & Cornwall. With a family history brimming with intrigue, complete with Gypsy angst on one side and Jewish survivors on the other, she draws from a patchwork of ancestry and uses it as the inspiration for her writing. Happily married and the mother of two little girls, she resides on the Devon & Cornwall border.

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