Demon's Hunger (29 page)

Its tone, all conversational and polite, was horrific. Chilling.

With one taloned hand, it stroked her cheek, its touch gentle. A moist sound erupted from deep in its chest, an ugly laugh, and with a rapid slash, it scored her neck, raking the sharp edge of its claw down over her collarbone. She felt a stinging pain and the warm swell of her blood.

"Let's have a little taste."

Shaking, she watched in horrified fascination as it licked her blood from its talon. A huff of air escaped it, and it leaned close to lap at her blood as she squirmed and twisted, the rasp of its tongue hideous.

Revolted, she shivered in abject terror, and the truth of that bit at her. No.
No
! Her fear fed her fury, sending a burst of adrenaline pumping though her system. She was not this creature's meal, and she was not going to cower here, sniveling while it carved her into slices.

Linking her hands together, she slammed upward as hard as she could, ramming the underside of the demon's chin. It's head snapped back, and the pressure on her chest eased. She shoved the heel of her palm against its nose and scrambled away, trying to scream, desperate to scream. Only her dread and panic were so great that the sound locked in her throat, her screams merely echoing in her mind.

Her shoulder slammed against the wall as she stumbled away, sending her spinning to the side. She choked on a sob as she righted herself, ran forward, her feet slipping and sliding, her heels teetering precariously with each step, her ankle shooting bright sparks of pain up her leg.

The alley opened up ahead, just a little farther and she'd reach the patch of sunlight, the crowded street. Safety.

Please. Please.

Something hit her back, hard, and she fell forward, her palms scraping against the asphalt, her clothes soaking up the freezing slush. No time to think. She scrambled and clawed at the ground, desperate to get away, kicking against the hand that closed about her ankle. With a grunt, the demon dragged her back toward the shadows.

She didn't want to die like this. Didn't want to die. Images flashed through her mind, her terror feeding on itself. She couldn't tell what was real and what was imagined, but she recalled blood and bright glowing blades and soulless eyes like black marbles.

As the images hung in her thoughts, certainty coalesced.

Dain had saved her from four creatures yesterday
. She remembered that now, the recollection hazy, like a dream.

Flailing and lashing at the demon with her free foot, she clawed at the ground, doing anything she could to hamper its progress. Her efforts were paltry in the face of the demon's strength.

Oh, God, she was going to die, and Dain would blame himself. Blame himself for failing to keep her safe. Just as he blamed himself for the deaths of his wife and daughter at demon hands, suffering every day for centuries.

Her fault. She would leave him in a living horror, leave him wishing he had those sixty seconds to live over again.

No. No. No.

She didn't want to leave him.

She screamed then, the sound high and frantic, and the monster's foot rocked forward to slam the side of her head in a brutal kick. The alley, the walls, the demon, everything spun in a sickening sway. Dazed, dizzy, she realized it was dragging her behind the Dumpster, and it was humming a happy little tune as it went.

This was not how she planned to die.

She thought of the forty thousand fragments of bones she'd sifted through. Bones of murdered women. And before that, so many cases. Men. Women. Even the bones of dead children.

Her work had helped nail their killers.

Who would find
her
killer, a monster from another realm? Who would seek justice for
her
?

A vision of Dain swam through her thoughts.

She didn't want to die. Didn't want to die like this, eaten by a gray-skinned, yellow-eyed demon with teeth the size of butcher's knives.

Didn't want to leave Dain alone, tormented by her loss.

She loved him. Oh, God, she
loved
him. She desperately wanted to have the chance to tell him. She wanted to
live
, for herself, for him. She needed to make it through this, needed to make it back to Dain.

Needed that single moment to tell him she loved him.

As the creature dragged her around behind the Dumpster, she saw a glint of metal, silver bright. Her vision was hazy, her head swimming. She saw muddy boots with metal buckles, and she raised her head. There was a gray-haired woman pressed back against the graffiti-covered brick, her face twisted in horror.

The demon's keeper, she realized, Dain's explanations skimming through her thoughts.

The keeper's gaze slid to hers, and away. She'd be no help.

Frantic, Vivien looked around, squinted at the shadows under the Dumpster. Yes, there. Something she could use.

Her scraped hands screamed in protest as she grabbed for a length of metal rod lying in the dirt. A snarl ripped from her mouth, and she swung with all her might, whacking the demon's knee with a sharp crack.

The thing roared in pain and loosed its hold on her ankle.

With a desperate sob, she scrambled to her feet and lurched away, using the Dumpster for support. With the metal rod still clutched in one hand, she turned once more to the mouth of the alley.

A shadow loomed there, broad and tall and forbidding, backlit by the sun.

Dain ran down the alley that cut off Yonge Street, his feet slapping the pavement, fear for Vivien giving him a burst of strength when he had none. He could feel the malevolence, a smear of evil that made his skin crawl.

A demon had Vivien.

The thing was using dark magic to veil itself and the depths of the alley, an effective tool against even an experienced sorcerer at full power. Dain was hunting on instinct, letting his gut lead him, because right now, he was pretty much running on empty as far as magic went.

Guilt and rage and worry spurred him on, an ugly mix. He'd done this to himself, ignoring the signs that his body was in need, basically setting his sights on self-destruction. Trusting no one, not even himself.

A reality check punched him. He'd been set on self-destruct for centuries, pretending he was cool, in control. In reality, he just hadn't given a damn about himself.

And the past couple of weeks had been no different.

He'd been injured, and he hadn't bothered to heal. He'd been exhausted, and he hadn't taken rest. Then last night, with Vivien, he hadn't stopped her from pulling whatever she wanted from him.

Only, that
was
different. Because he had wanted to slake her need, had wanted that incredible connection to her. It had been unlike anything he'd ever known, and suddenly he'd wanted to
feel
, because of Vivien.

But now, because of his self-neglect, he was weak when Vivien needed him most.

Anger burned in his gut. He was going to wrap his hands around the demon's neck and wrench its head from its body. Primitive, powerful, stark rage emptied him of all other emotion. There was only the need to reach her, to save her, to kill the thing that threatened her, whether it was by magic or with his bare hands.

Gathering the tattered remnants of his magic, he blinked against the bright spots that swam before his eyes. Sheer force of will kept him moving, because he would
not
be weak, would not be too late,
would not fail her
.

He called his staff of acacia wood, the magic it took to summon it twisting him with bone searing pain.

His skin felt icy cold and clammy as he burst through the veneer conjured by the demon's dark magic.

Eyes wide, Vivien turned her face toward him. She was deathly pale, her clothes stained and torn, as though she'd fallen or been thrown to the ground. But right now she was standing there under her own steam, brandishing the metal pipe in her hand like a weapon. Relief was sweet and sharp.

Pride and admiration for her courage surged. Smart, coolheaded Vivien. She'd found something to defend herself with, and from the look of the demon, she'd already given as good as she got.

Snarling, the demon rose from a crouched position, power and menace radiating from it. Over by the wall, a gray-haired woman cowered. The demon's keeper; she was no threat.

The stink of brimstone and sulfur and rancid decay hung in the air, the acrid reek calling all of Dain's instincts and his magic. Only there was so damned little to call.

A thick cascade of dark power oozed from the creature as it spun to face him, sensing a threat. The demon was strong, ancient. It smiled, baring jagged teeth.

"Ah, the sorcerer rides to your rescue, dear. What a splendid coup." It glanced at Vivien, who stood trembling and wide-eyed. "Breakfast"—it looked back at Dain—"and a midmorning snack."

Dain summoned his light magic, every reserve called into play, the dragon current gliding in a wave through his cells, and it
hurt
, a terrible, deep pain that wrenched his insides into knots because he was pulling up resources he didn't have.

He had not felt so weak, so powerless, since he had held the bodies of his dead wife and child in his arms.

Primal and pure, his rage and pain coalesced. He would not let this thing have Vivien. He would not fail her.

"Run, Vivien," Dain barked. "Get the hell out of here."

Relief touched him as she listened, darting behind him with an oddly uneven gait. There was no chance for him to watch her run for safety, because in that instant, the demon lunged, its lips peeled back, teeth snapping.

Dain shifted to the side, but he was slow, too slow, his movements a pathetic shadow of his usual power. The crack of his staff against the demon's shoulder sent a reverberation along the wood, into his hands, and he almost dropped the damned thing. Christ. He was as weak as a babe.

"No magic left for this fight?" the demon clucked. "That's fine. I'll simply tear your limbs off. One at a time, just to keep things sporting."

The demon's fist caught his jaw. Pain exploded, and Dain stumbled. Down on one knee, he brought his forearm up, blocked a killing blow. A sharp snap told him the bone had splintered under the force, and the pain roared through him as the jagged shards tore through his skin and the cloth of his coat. Nausea churned in his gut. This was not good, definitely not good.

The thing was toying with him. Playing with its food.

Heart hammering, he quickly ran through his options. What options? His breath chugged in and out like a piston.

Darqun had ended their cell phone conversation with the assurance that he and Javier were on their way, that he would put in a call to Ciarran, as well. Problem was, the alley wouldn't be so easy to find. The demon's power was vast, its ability to obscure the alley strong. Dain had followed his heart to Vivien, but his brothers of the Compact had no such shining trail. They might have a hell of a time finding them.

They might not find them at all.

Gathering his strength, Dain rammed the end of his staff one-handed into the demon's belly, and had the satisfaction of seeing it double over and stagger back.

He just needed to hold on until the others got here. He just needed to hold on.

With a cackle, the demon came back at him, closing its teeth on his shoulder, knocking him to the ground as it straddled his chest, the dark ooze of its power coming over him like an oil slick.

He called his magic.
Where the fuck was his magic
?

Blunted and dull, the remnants of his power came in faltering beats. Light sparked around him, flashes and flares, but he couldn't summon enough to create a glow, and his single perfect weapon, the acacia staff that had seen him through a thousand years, failed him now, sliding from his numbed fingers.

Jamming his thumbs against the demon's eyes, Dain cried out, his shattered forearm on fire as he pressed with all the force he could muster, relying on physical skill now rather than magic. The demon came down atop him, saliva dripping from its teeth.

"Bastard! Get the hell off of him!"

Vivien. Shit. He'd wanted her gone from here. Wanted her safe.

A thud echoed off the walls of the alley, and the demon slumped to the side. Dain grabbed the advantage and shoved the thing off him, coming up on one knee as he struggled for breath.

Blinking against the sweat that ran into his eyes, he saw Vivien standing above him with the metal pipe clutched in her hand, her arms cranked up and back like she was about to hit a home run. He dragged the back of his hand across his eyes, not certain what the hell he was seeing—because Vivien was haloed in a shimmering dark aura that snaked and writhed around her like a living thing, a dusky purple glow unlike anything Dain had ever seen.

And she smelled like brimstone, like demon. Was it her? Or was it the stink of the demon hanging off her where it had touched her?

"You fucking… come… through me," she panted, stepping forward until she stood between Dain and the demon, legs planted, body taut. "You fucking get to him through me."

In that instant he knew it didn't matter. Succubus, demon, Vivien was his light. She was everything to him. She was standing in front of him, risking her life, ready to die to keep him safe.

The enormity of that crashed over him in a brutal wave.

He loved her.

Staring at the dark aura flaring around her, a nimbus of purple and gray, he couldn't deny the truth. He loved her. Not halfway, but with all his heart, his soul, everything that he was.

It mattered not what she was; it only mattered what she chose to be. He loved her. And he needed to keep them both alive long enough to tell her.

With a feral growl, the demon spurted forward. Dain dove to get there, to stand with her against it, crying out as his shattered arm screamed in agony. He skidded across the wet asphalt at her feet.

The dark glow around Vivien blasted out at the creature like a bubble, growing and growing and finally bursting in a bright eruption, lifting the demon, punching it back.

Crying out, Vivian sagged, her body dropping like a stone, and Dain barely moved quickly enough to catch her with his good arm before she hit the ground. With a grunt, he tightened his hold, the pain in his shattered arm sending waves of nausea hurtling through him.

The demon—

Fuck.

The thing was up, coming for them, fast.

Dain lashed out, his foot connecting with the demon's skull. The thing blinked, shaking its head back and forth.

Where the fuck were Darqun and Javier?

With a destination clearly pictured in their minds, they could grab the dragon current and be here in seconds. But that was the problem. The greasy wall of demon magic guaranteed that their destination was obscured, their arrival here delayed.

Holding Vivien against his uninjured side, Dain called his magic, desperate. There was only a hollow echo as his power failed him completely.

Mortal. He was mortal, subject to all their limitations and weaknesses. How the fuck was he supposed to protect her now?

Vivien's particular magic quivered just beneath the surface. He could feel it, sense it, and he grabbed at a sick and desperate possibility. As a succubus, she could drain the demon, take its power, pull its life force from its body. Kill it. She wouldn't think of doing that, wouldn't even imagine it. Not unless he told her.

He looked at her, at her wide eyes, her set jaw, his brave, beautiful Vivien. And he couldn't do it. Couldn't set her to drain the demon, to taste its vile magic. Not even to save his life.

But
he
could do it to save hers. Though he wasn't capable of drawing magic from the demon, he could take the dark smear from the charm bag in her pocket. Welcome it. Make it his own. There was enough there for him to set wards.

Enough there to keep her safe until the others got here.

He would not fail in this.

He would go against everything he was, swallow the disgust for his own actions, and he would open himself to the darkness. He would do it to save her.

Reaching deep, he found the last faint spark inside him, used it to link to the dark magic that smeared the charm bag, a viscous sludge. Nausea roiled in his gut as he dragged the demon magic into himself.

He gathered it, used it to set a ward of protection around Vivien. His lips worked, whispering ancient words and spells, building a wall that would keep her safe. He didn't have enough left in him to ward them both, but Vivien would be safe, at least for a short time. Long enough for Ciarran and Darqun and Javier to come for her. He hoped.

At least he'd given her a chance. And he would fight for her with all that he was. Little enough to offer up against a demon.

Panting, he reached for the pipe Vivien had dropped. His hand connected with hers, and she grabbed on, her fingers lacing with his, her terror and panic clear and sharp.

He groaned as pain knifed through him, whirling, a rush of magic, not his own. Vivien's magic, pewter and ash and blue-flame bright. Shadows and light. The feel, the taste of it, burned through him. He channeled it, a medium for its release.

Fuck. The feel of it was so foreign his head spun, but deep in the pulse of power, he felt a seed of light magic. It was coming from Vivien. Immense power, wild, untamed. She had no idea what to do with it, how to use it.

Could succubi conjure? Cast spells? Set wards? He had no clue.

Vivien's magic pounded through him, foreign, dark, but light, too. A part of her. A part of him.

The demon laughed, a wet, sloppy sound.

"You are no different than me, sorcerer. You are darkness now, light no longer. How easy was it to turn? How easy was it to betray your ideals?"

Shifting closer to him, Vivien pressed against his side. Not for protection. For solidarity, support.

"He is nothing like you," she said, her voice low and hard. "The darkness you speak of—you could fill him with it, choke him with it, and he will never be what you are."

She shoved her hand into her pocket and dragged out the charm bag with its smear of vile power.

The demon's gaze locked onto it and glowed.

Ripping open the cloth, she pulled out the fragment of bone, closed her hand around it, then pressed her fist to the back of Dain's hand, skin to skin. A measure of magic came to him, a greasy slide of darkness and brimstone, and he took it, welcomed it. It was just a tool, and he could bend it to his will.

But he knew it wasn't enough.

The demon lumbered at them, froze, and twisted mid-lunge as though slammed against an invisible wall.