Heart of the Demon (6 page)

“Different how?” She leaned toward him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

He couldn’t tell if she wondered how much he knew, or if she was legitimately curious. “It’s going to be open longer than
usual, and more prets are going to come through.”

Her eyes widened. “The rift will be open longer…how could that happen? And how would more prets come through from the other
dimension?”

“I have no idea. I’m only telling you what I’ve been hearing. And I want in.”

She blinked. “In on what?”

He withdrew his arm from around her shoulder and scooted his chair around so that he faced her. He hunched his shoulders,
leaning his elbows on his knees, and stared into her face. “I’ve heard there’s a group that has a device that can keep the
rift open. Hell, someone told me the machine could maybe even open a rift on its own. We wouldn’t have to wait another seventy-three
years for more of us to get here; to take over more human bodies.” Keeping his voice low, he said, “I want in on that group.”

Sinead sat quietly, looking at him, and didn’t respond.

He couldn’t tell what was going on behind those eyes. “It’s no secret that demons are in the minority among preternaturals,”
he went on. “We have fewer numbers than any other group. And compared to humans,” he shook his head for effect, “I’m tired
of the status quo. I want to shake things up.”

She continued to stare at him for several moments before she took a breath and leaned back in her chair. “I might know someone.
I’ll give him a call.”

Finn focused on keeping his heart rate steady. He couldn’t show the savage satisfaction he felt. “Who?” If he could get a
name, he’d be that much closer to his goal. And independence.

She waggled a finger and laughed. “Nuh-uh. It doesn’t work that way, Mr. Impatient. I’ll make a call, and if he’s interested
in letting you in, you can expect a text message.” She stood. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

As she walked away, he muttered, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not gonna budge.”

Sinead returned with a pad and pen, which she put on the table in front of him. “Give me your cell phone number, and I’ll
pass it on.”

He wrote down his number and handed the pad to her. “Thanks, Sinead. I appreciate this.”

She gave him a look of warning. “I’m not making any promises here. Maybe you’ll get a text, and maybe you won’t. If you do
receive one, you’d better follow the instructions.”

Finn got to his feet and dug out his wallet. To make it worth her time, he handed her a couple of twenties along with the
pen. “And if I don’t?”

She took the money and pen, clicking the end to retract the tip. “If you don’t want to die, you’ll do exactly what they tell
you to.” With that warning she walked off with much less sway in her hips than she had earlier. He guessed she was through
trying to entice him.

He settled his tab at the bar and left the club. Several minutes later, after making a few hard turns to discourage anyone
who might be tailing him, he pulled his bike to the curb a couple of blocks over from his father’s house. He followed a man-made
wash running like an alley behind a row of homes until he could climb over the tall privacy wall that separated Lucifer’s
property from his neighbors, and knocked on the back door.

He was getting ready to knock again when the door swung open. His dad’s longtime girlfriend Betty stood there, neither hostile
nor welcoming. Her short black curls glinted with blue from the overhead light, and her round dark eyes framed with sooty
long lashes were still youthful and reminiscent of a famous cartoon that had been created based on her back in the early thirties.
“Hello, Finn,” she said. She peered over his shoulder, a slight frown finally bringing some sort of life to her face. “Why
are you sneaking around in our backyard?”

“I’m not.” He bit back a sigh of impatience. “I was just making sure I wasn’t being followed. Can I come in? I need to talk
to my father.”

“Sure.” She stepped back to allow him entrance, then closed the door behind him. “Luc’s in the living room. Go on in.”

As Finn went into the living room, his father looked up from his computer tablet. “You have news?” Lucifer asked.

Finn shot him a look. For once he’d like to be treated like a blood relative, hell, like a son, instead of an employee. To
get a
Hi, son, how are you?
instead of being asked for a status report. But this was the king of demons after all. “I do.”

Lucifer smiled and set the tablet on the side table. “Let’s hear it.”

Finn glanced toward the kitchen. “Uh, I thought Caine didn’t want anyone but the three of us and his wife to know—”

“I don’t keep things from Betty.” Lucifer’s face hardened with displeasure. “Besides, the day I let a vampire tell me what
to do is the day you put me six feet under.”

Apparently his father trusted Tobias Caine, respected him even, but wasn’t willing to let go of the natural hatred that existed
between vampires and demons. As far as Finn could tell, it stemmed from before any of them had come through the rift, and
no one could or would tell him exactly where it all had started. “Fine,” he said. “It’s your call.” At his father’s nod, Finn
filled him in, a feeling of satisfaction growing within him at the expression of pride on his father’s face. “I was about
ready to walk up to Caine’s nemesis and introduce myself,” Finn finished. “But it finally looks like our original plan is
going to work after all.”

“This calls for a celebration.” Lucifer turned his head toward the kitchen. “Sweetheart, is there any cheesecake left?”

“You want to celebrate with cheesecake?” And here Finn thought he knew his dad, but the old devil pulled something new out
of his bag of tricks.

Lucifer glanced his way. “It’s good cheesecake.”

“Uh-huh.”

“
Very
good cheesecake.”

Betty walked out of the kitchen and stopped under the arched entrance to the living room. “What kind do you want?”

“You have more than one kind?” Finn saw the sugar gluttony in his father’s eyes. “Of course you do.”

“I like cheesecake,” Lucifer said with an arch glance his way. “I’ll have a piece of both,” he said in a softer tone to his
girlfriend.

“And both would be?” Finn looked at Betty.

“Caramel apple and white chocolate raspberry.”

“You made them?”

Betty trilled a laugh. “Oh, hell no. I can’t cook worth a damn.”

Finn opted for the caramel apple.

Betty served them and took a seat next to Lucifer on the sofa. She curled her legs to one side and leaned against his shoulder,
one hand curled around his inner elbow.

It struck Finn, not for the first time, how this woman, a succubus, could be so attentive and attached to his father yet spare
barely a thought for her own daughter, Nix, Caine’s new wife. And now that Nix was part vampire, the mother-daughter relationship
was even more strained.

He supposed it was none of his business, though he was still curious. Certainly Nix didn’t want him poking his nose into her
relationship with her mother. And he couldn’t care less how Betty treated him. As long as his father was happy with her, that
was all that mattered.

As Finn dug into his piece of cake, Lucifer said, “I hear you and the new fey woman are on friendly terms with each other.”

“Which fey woman would that be?” Finn scraped the last bits of cheesecake from his plate and set it on the table next to his
chair.

“Keira Something-or-Other.”

“O’Brien.” Finn crossed his legs, resting one ankle against the opposite knee. He didn’t like the dismissive way his father
said her name, but he kept that hidden. Now wasn’t the time to get his father riled up. After he was released from duty, well,
that was a different story. “Her name is Keira O’Brien.”

Lucifer gave a nod and took another bite of cheesecake. He pointed his fork at Finn and said, “Don’t let your dick get in
the way of the job.”

“Have I ever?”

His father stared at him a moment and then shook his head.

“I won’t now, either.” Finn stood and looked at Betty. “Thanks for the cheesecake.” To his dad he said, “I’ll keep you posted.”
He said his good-byes and made his way back to his bike, his emotions churning. First his father seemed proud of the job he
was doing, then he felt the need to tell him how to do it.

Finn couldn’t wait for this final assignment to be over.

O
ver the next week Finn kept working his contacts. By Saturday afternoon he needed something to take his mind off things, since
his entire focus was on the text message that he still hadn’t received.
Damn it!
What more could he do to convince the right people that he was a rogue? Go out and kill someone?

At three o’clock he pulled his bike into a spot behind one of the local art galleries. It was a favorite of his, a place where
he could lose himself in beauty. Whenever he was stuck on a case or after he’d had to render ultimate judgment on a demon,
immersing himself in art put some lightness back into his soul. Regardless of what others might think of him, he wasn’t a
stone-cold killer. Every life he’d ever taken weighed heavily on him.

He swung his leg over the bike, stood and stretched. He adjusted the legs of his jeans, then went into the gallery. When he
pushed open the door, the chime above it sounded. As he walked into the main room, he glanced around. As far as he could tell,
he was the only patron there.

Light classical music played softly in the background, and a faint aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg scented the air. The staging
of the various pieces of art was welcoming, and a few small sofas scattered around the large main room invited people to sit
and enjoy their surroundings.

Within a few seconds the gallery owner, no doubt having heard the chime, walked out of the office. “Finn! I was hoping you’d
stop by this week.” The older man came forward and shook Finn’s hand. “I missed you the other night.”

“Rudi.” Finn clapped the man on the shoulder. “I wanted to come to the opening but got tied up with work.” Actually, he’d
been so wrapped up in trying to get into the rogue group that the exhibition gala had completely slipped his mind. “You know
how much I love putting on my tux.”

“Ah, well.” Rüdiger Zimmer rolled his eyes a bit. Finn had complained more than once at having to don his monkey suit for
opening galas, so the gallery owner was well aware of his aversion to tuxedos. “At least you’re here now.” His round face
wrinkled with his broad smile. Bright blue eyes sparkled from beneath graying eyebrows. “I think you’ll enjoy the guest artist
exhibit in the Cactus Room.”

“Oh?” Finn glanced toward the smaller side room to his left.

Rudi nodded. “The artist does mostly western-inspired landscapes. You’ll like the colors and composition.”

“I’ll go take a look, then.” Finn patted Rudi’s shoulder and headed toward the exhibit. He entered the room and was immediately
bombarded with a sense of wild beauty and riotous color. A light citrus scent freshened the air, and Finn realized it came
from small bowls of dried lemons Rudi had stashed on various tables and nooks in the room.

He was standing in front of a watercolor of a Monument Valley sunset when he heard the click of high heels behind him. He
glanced over his shoulder to see Keira walk into the room.

She wore shiny dark blue, slim-legged pants and a sleeveless button-down blouse the color of lilacs. Pointy-toed turquoise
spike heels and her gold cuff watch completed the outfit. Her long hair was pulled back in a haphazard knot on one side of
her neck. As she caught sight of him, her eyes widened. “Finn? What’re you doing here?” She stopped in front of him and looked
up into his face. “This is the last place I would’ve expected to run into you.”

He tried to ignore how good she smelled, because it made him want to bury his face in her neck and breathe deeply. “Really?
Why?”

She gave a shrug. “You don’t seem like the art appreciation type to me.”

Finn figured that most people would be surprised to find out he was a man who enjoyed art. When he looked at paintings or
sculptures, he not only recognized the talent behind them, but also found a calmness of spirit from the study of them. Somehow
it stung to realize that Keira, in not discerning his connection to art, was the same as everyone else, even though he realized
there was no reason she should know this about him. It wasn’t like he’d shared that much of himself with her. “What are you
doing here?” he asked without responding to her observation.

Her slender shoulders lifted in a dainty shrug. She seemed a little self-conscious, and her next words told him why. “This
is my work. I just stopped in to see if anything more had sold.”

He couldn’t hide his surprise. “You did these?” He glanced around the room, taking in the bright colors in the paintings,
the subject matter of all of them connected to some aspect of nature. He decided it fit her, both the subject matter and the
fact that she’d chosen to paint vibrant landscapes. It would figure that an earth fey would stick to a subject she was familiar
with. “They’re really good.”

“Thanks.” She paused a moment, searching his eyes. She grimaced at whatever she saw there. “I’m sorry. I guess I was wrong
about you.” She moved around him and looked at the painting he’d been studying. “So, what do you think of this one?”

Finn turned and stared at the watercolor again. “It’s evocative. Powerful yet peaceful.”

“Peaceful?”

He nodded. “The subject matter is so majestic, it makes you feel small, you know? And if you’re small, your troubles are no
big deal, either.” He caught the wondering look she gave him and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. She acted like he’d said
something profound. The heat of embarrassment crept up his neck. “You asked,” he said with a pinch of defensiveness in his
tone.

“I did, and I’m amazed.” She stared at her work again. “I don’t know why, but I never pictured you having such an appreciation
for art.” She shot him a sidelong glance. “And here I thought you were just another pretty face.”

“Ha.” He shook his head. “What you really mean is you thought me a mindless killer following my master’s orders, right?” He
caught the flicker of regret that crossed her face. For once he was able to read her reactions, and he wondered why. Was she
letting him, or was she feeling particularly vulnerable around him? “I am more than my job.” He couldn’t keep the growl from
his throat. He was, wasn’t he?

Keira’s slender hand rested on his upper arm. “I know and I’m sorry. Again.” She shifted her position so that she faced him
and slid her hand down until she clasped his. The smoothness of her skin made his callused palm seem even rougher. With a
slight squeeze of his fingers, she said, “Not sure why I’m surprised that there’s more to you than meets the eye. I know you’re
a complicated man.”

“Complicated? Me?” Finn gave her the best innocent expression he could manage. “Nah. I’m the simplest of creatures.”

From the look she shot him, she wasn’t buying it. She let go of his hand, and he immediately missed the feel of her soft flesh
against his. She walked a few feet over to another painting and crossed her arms. He shoved his hands into his pockets and
sauntered after her.

“What about this one?” she asked. “How does it make you feel?”

He took a few moments to study the painting, another watercolor sunset, this one with Camelback Mountain as the subject. The
sky was painted with vibrant purples, pinks, and reds. It gave him the same overall sense of peace. “Same as the other.”

“Hmm.” She stared at it a moment or two longer. “I remember when I painted this. I wasn’t feeling particularly peaceful.”

He looked closer at the painting. “It doesn’t show,” he said. “You don’t have wide, sweeping brushstrokes I’d expect of someone
in a temper, or uneven tones in the paint itself.”

Keira’s expression showed a growing respect for his art acumen. She moved on to the next canvas.

“How long have you been painting?” Finn asked.

“Off and on, for about fifty years.” She glanced at him. “It’s only been in the last ten years or so that I decided to do
something with my artwork other than stack it up in a storage facility.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You had stuff like this sitting in storage? Seriously?” He looked at the closest painting and gave
a little whistle. “I should have known you sooner.”

She grinned. “You point to any painting here, and it’s yours.”

Finn took a look at the price tag on the painting to his right and shook his head. He wouldn’t let her give him something
that she could get thousands of dollars for. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m happy to support a friend.” When Keira started
to object, he waved one hand. “Let me buy the one I like, okay?”

A slow bloom of pink flushed her cheeks. She looked pleased to hear he considered her a friend. Why wouldn’t he? They got
along well and enjoyed each other’s company before and after they’d had sex. Why would things suddenly be different now? Her
eyes met his. “I’d rather give it to you—”

“Nope. And that’s final.” He stared around the display. “It must be nerve-racking, though, to put your art out there like
this. You know, open yourself for Joe Public to criticize.”

“I suppose so but I don’t mind. Especially when I see how much pleasure my work gives to others.”

“If that’s the case, why not paint them for friends instead of selling them?” Finn turned so he could look at her straight
on.

She shifted her feet, her gaze on the painting on the wall in front of her, though he had a feeling she wasn’t actually seeing
it. “I don’t really have that many friends. Any, really. I’ve been on my own a long time.”

He slid one hand along her jaw until he cupped her face in his palm. “Well, you have me now.”

Her lips parted and she raised her eyes to his. “I do, don’t I?” A slight smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. “And you
know you can count on me, too, right?”

“I do.”

Her smile widened. She gave his hand a quick squeeze and moved on to the next display of her work.

Feeling the need to appreciate beauty of a different kind, Finn watched Keira, enjoying the way the lighting, strategized
to enhance the art, played off her dark red hair. As she scrutinized the painting she chewed on her lower lip. The longer
she did it, the more he wanted to be the one to nibble on that plump lip. And he wouldn’t contain himself any longer.

With a low growl, he took her arm and guided her to an alcove a few feet away. The atmosphere and contents of the art gallery
might be calming to him, but this woman fired him up like no other. “I’ve wanted to do this since that damned slow dance at
the club the other night.”

She looked at him, startled, but he saw no alarm in her eyes. Then humor replaced the surprise. He wasn’t discomfited by it
because she always seemed to find something about him that struck her funny bone. Which was all right by Finn. He could laugh
at himself, too.

“Someone might come in,” she whispered. She stroked her fingers down his cheek, letting her thumb play across his mouth. He
assumed she wasn’t overly concerned by the possibility of being interrupted.

He took a moment to listen to the sounds in the gallery. He couldn’t hear anything but the music and the faint sound of their
breaths. He pressed a kiss to the pad of her thumb. “Other than Rudi, we’re the only two in here right now,” he murmured back.
“And he’s not going to bother us.”

She looped her arms around his neck, her hands cradling his skull. Her eyes were as blue as he’d ever seen them. “Well, then,”
she said with a delectable lilt in her sultry voice, “let’s not waste any time.”

He bent his head and set his mouth on hers. The feel of her lips beneath his was as arousing as the first time he’d kissed
her. Giving a low groan, he closed his eyes and pressed her deeper into the alcove, enticing her to part for the sweep of
his tongue into her mouth. God, she tasted good. Fresh and sweet with a hint of tartness.

Finn left her lips to explore her jaw, the slope of her neck, the hollow of her throat. Keira shifted, slowly rocking her
hips against his, the slide of her body making him hard all over. His muscles tensed, his hands tightened around her waist,
pulling her closer. He went back to her lips, determined to make a meal of the honeyed depths of her mouth.

When she sighed, he drank down her breath like it was the finest of wines. She tightened her fingers in his hair, Keira’s
mouth becoming more demanding.

After a few minutes he drew back and rested his forehead against hers. She was breathing as harshly as he was, and once he
had enough breath to talk he said, “You’re addictive, you know that?”

“No more than you are.” She lifted her head. Looking into his eyes, she said, “Why am I so drawn to you?”

To Finn she sounded like she was trying to work through a particularly knotty problem. “Because I’m so good-looking? And charming.
And smart. And—”

“And so obviously modest, too.” She grinned, making the smallest of dimples flash near the left corner of her mouth.

“You didn’t let me finish.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “And a fantastic lover.”

Keira’s expression went serious. “That you are.” She reached up and pushed her fingers through his hair, the tips sliding
against his scalp in a caress that made him tilt his head into her touch. “I’m not sure you’re good for me.”

He
knew
he wasn’t. He was the son of a ruthless demon, and he’d done things he wasn’t proud of. Things that had needed to be done,
but still, his past wasn’t something to be gloated over. He wished he could have met her a thousand years ago. A time when
he hadn’t been as hardened or as cynical. “If either of us was looking for a long-term relationship, I’d agree with you. But
we’re not, are we?”

She shook her head. Sadness flicked through her eyes before she chased it away with a smile. “You’re a bad boy through and
through, and pure temptation.” She slid her arms around his waist. “Yet you’ve always treated me with nothing but respect
and gentleness, in spite of that tough image you project.” Her smile grew wider. “It’s a good thing I like bad boys.”

As he started to bend toward her again, her phone buzzed. She jumped in surprise and brushed against a small ironwork wall
hanging. With a cry she jerked to one side, her hand coming up to cover her upper arm. Tears swam in her eyes and she bit
her lip.