Something Wicked (12 page)

So you trust the demon
? she asked herself.
Completely and totally?

Yes, of course she did. She had to. She had no other choice.

“What happened?” Darrak asked.

Eden braced herself on the edge of her desk and tried to breathe normally. “No idea. One moment I was okay, and the next . . . I felt like something was trying to rip me apart.” She frowned. “Maybe Nancy poisoned my coffee so she could get to you without your bossy fake sister around.”

“Sounds reasonable. But you hadn’t drunk any coffee yet.”

“Then that cancels out that theory.” She placed a hand over her abdomen and pressed. The pain was completely gone.

“Were you conscious?” Darrak asked. “Did you hear everything Ben said before he left?”

“Not really,” she lied. “I was in and out. Didn’t hear much. Why? What did he say?”

“I don’t think him and me are going to be best friends.”

“What a shock.”

“He cares about you, Eden.” Darrak’s jaw clenched. “For real.”

“Hooray?”

“Does somebody want to explain to me what in the holy hell is going on here?” Andy demanded.

Eden moved away from Darrak and went to sit behind her desk. Sitting was good. She gathered her hair, now tangled, and pulled it over her right shoulder.

“Where do you want us to start?” she asked.

Andy pointed at Darrak warily. “He’s a demon.”

“Yes.”

“From Hell.”

“Originally,” she replied.

“But . . . is he evil?”

She looked at Darrak.

“Not at the moment,” he said.

“Okay.” Andy took another gulp from his flask. “But you have to possess Eden when it’s dark out, I gather?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you lied about being her brother.”

“Just playing along with what sis says.”

Eden grimaced. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And now?” Andy asked.

“Not so good.”

Andy took another drink, draining the flask, and then exhaled shakily. “Okay, I think that pretty much covers it.”

She was surprised. “Really?”

“Just so you know,” Darrak said, “you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

Andy waved a hand. “Oh, I know that.”

Darrak was surprised. “You do?”

“You do?” Eden echoed.

“Sure. I’m a good judge of character.” He shook out his flask, confirming it was now empty, and placed it next to the untouched coffees on his desk. “I’ve never sensed anything evil in you. And even with the, uh, revelations of the day, I’m sticking by my original impression.” He moved to hunt through his desk drawer, succeeding in pulling out another flask. “And I’m also going to get completely shit faced starting right now. Just wanted to let you know.”

Darrak gave him a tense smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Now if the drama of the day is over, I need you to pour through my recent files, Eden. Make sure everything’s in order. There’s enough here to keep you busy all day . . . that is, if you’ve recovered from . . . whatever that was.”

Good old Andy. He’d never suggest she take the day off sick. It was strange, but she felt nothing now—not even a twinge. It was as if what had happened had all been in her imagination. But it wasn’t.

“Don’t you want to know any more about Darrak?” she asked, surprised that Andy was willing to take everything he’d learned so far at face value.

Andy pursed his lips. “Is he going to kill me and drag my soul through the gates of Hell?”

“No!” she yelped, but then frowned. “At least . . . I don’t think so.”

That earned her a look from the demon. “Your soul is safe around me, Andy. I don’t drag souls back to Hell anymore.”

Andy gulped. “
Anymore
?”

“Uh . . .” Darrak grimaced. “Time changes many things.”

“Indeed it does,” Andy agreed.

Time changes many things.
Was it true? How could she ever know for sure? Yesterday at this time she’d believed in Darrak 100 percent. They’d been through enough together for him to earn her trust. But what if she was wrong?

You’re not wrong
, she told herself.
Ben is overreacting.

That was it. And now it would be best if she immersed herself in work for the rest of the day. Tonight they’d go back to Luxuria and find Stanley, the wizard’s assistant. That was all she wanted to focus on.

“Are the phones working again?” she asked.

“They are.” Andy frowned. “Strangest thing. It’s like it was some kind of power surge.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again,” Darrak said, although he didn’t seem certain about it. She could still see the worry in his blue eyes.

Eden forced a smile. “Fingers crossed.”

His gaze met hers. “You know, golden boy’s not going to give up on you.”

“I know. But at the moment, Ben Hanson is the least of my worries.”

At least, she really hoped so.

SEVEN

Three hundred years ago (give or take)

If there was one place that knew how to do torture right, it was Hell.

And if there was one being that could take it, it was an archdemon.

“That was fantastic,” Darrak gritted out as he was dragged in front of Lucifer. “I feel so much more relaxed now. Thank you, my prince.”

Coal black eyes stared back at him from the darkness. Darrak felt his wounds healing rapidly and tried to put the last three months out of his mind as much as he could.

“You liked it, did you?” Lucifer’s voice was cold. “Perhaps you’d enjoy a few more months of the same treatment?”

Darrak swallowed. “That is entirely up to you, of course.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Lucifer rose from his throne. Darrak’s eyesight was blurry, but he saw Lucifer’s outline. It glowed a little. Remnants from his beginnings as an angel. A constant reminder of where the Prince of Hell, the Lord of Pride, had come from.

“Although,” Darrak reasoned, “I would serve you much better at your side.”

“Would you? I have to argue with that. Is there anything you want to tell me, Darrakayiis?”

“Like what?”

Lucifer smiled. “I know you want to destroy me.”

Darrak went very still. He said nothing.

“I have to say I’m surprised. I’ve given you so much. I took you from your humble beginnings as an incubus and gave you the power of an archdemon. And you choose to repay me by plotting my demise. Do you really think it would be that easy?”

Panic ripped through him. This was all Theo’s fault. Stupid plan. But he hadn’t heard any more about it in a hundred years.

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Lucifer waved a hand, sealing Darrak’s mouth shut. It felt as if he was being choked. Demons couldn’t die as humans do, but they could feel pain and they could be destroyed—some more easily than others. Since Lucifer was the one who’d originally created Darrak from hellfire, he had more power over him than any other being in the universe. A simple thought from him would be enough to end Darrak’s existence.

Darrak hated being at another’s mercy.

If nothing else, at least he was dealing with a coherent Lucifer. Sometimes he wasn’t like this—he turned into more of a beast, one that couldn’t be reasoned with. One that only wanted to destroy anything that came into his path. That was when Lucifer insisted on being called Satan.

Total split personality.

“I know you’ve been working with Asmodeus,” Lucifer said evenly. “He hired you to destroy me so he could take my throne.”

Huh? That was surprising. Darrak had seen Asmo briefly last year, but it hadn’t been a meeting of conspiracy. Asmo, being the Lord of Lust, had needed some input from an ex-incubus about his own growing harem of human souls. Darrak happened to be an expert on the subject.

That was all it was.

Where had Lucifer gotten this information?

“The thing is,” Lucifer said, “I will get to Asmodeus before he comes close to destroying me. But I won’t destroy him completely. I’m going to make him suffer for his sins.”

Terrific. The Prince of Hell lecturing a demon about sinning. Something seemed wrong about that.

“As for you—” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “What shall I do with you?”

Let me go on my merry way, you crazy ex-angel
? Darrak thought. Being that he had no mouth, presently, he couldn’t speak this aloud.

“Shall I return you to your incubus self?” he mused. “Or should your punishment be a bit more severe than a slap on the wrist?”

Darrak waited to be decimated. It couldn’t hurt any more than three months of torture had. He hoped. He’d been totally faking it when he said he’d enjoyed it.

Torture was not enjoyable, even for a demon.

Lucifer smiled. “I think I have it. There was a time that I went against the rules set forth for me and I was cast out of Heaven. Have you heard that story?”

Many times. Yawn.

“For my beliefs, for my so-called pride and untrustworthiness, I was evicted from the only home I’d ever known. The protection and love of Heaven was no longer mine.” His voice twisted with pain, and Darrak could have sworn there was a shine of tears in his black eyes. “Being here, created by me, you have been under my protection for all these centuries. This is something that you’ve obviously taken for granted. You’ve attempted to use my trust in you against me. Believe me when I say this, Darrakayiis, it will not happen again.” He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. “So that is how it shall be—my decision is made. I wish you luck. You will need it.”

Darrak’s mouth appeared again, and he gasped as a light breeze touched his leathery skin, the flames that coated him extinguishing for a moment before they lit again as bright and hot as before. He looked down at himself, expecting to see a change, but saw nothing different.

He looked up at the throne, but Lucifer had already disappeared.

“You have been under my protection for all these centuries. This is something that you’ve obviously taken for granted.”

Whatever that meant.

Maybe this was a test to see how Darrak would react. To see if he’d sell out Theo at the first opportunity to divert attention from himself. Lucifer was wrong, after all. Asmodeus hadn’t conspired with Darrak to destroy Lucifer.

Uh, that had been Theo.

Asmo was in big trouble. That demon lord wasn’t the smartest one in Hell—usually he ignored Hell’s politics in favor of being preoccupied by his dens of lust and building his harem to be bigger than Lucifer’s. It was his hobby. Asmo would never see it coming.

Oh well, not Darrak’s problem.

He stood from his position on his knees and stretched. He felt fine. Better than fine, really. There was nothing like three months of torture to give you a new lease on—

There was a sudden twinge in his chest. Then his left horn began to tingle. What was that?

He looked around the dark room. Could he hear . . . chanting?

Yes, chanting. A woman’s voice. Latin words. Familiar, somehow.

It was a—he listened closely before his eyes widened in recognition. It was a summoning ritual. And it wasn’t originating from Hell itself.

But how could he—?

He gasped as he was suddenly pulled upward through Hell’s core, through the gates, up through the vast expanse of nothingness, and into the human world. It felt as if he’d been crushed by a huge hand and then mashed down into the soft ground and grass and . . . he blinked . . . were those daisies?