The Devil You Know (13 page)

I dragged my eyes from Jacq’s retreating back to Brit, who was also watching Jacq intently.

Brit shrugged, a slight flush rising on her neck. “I’d like to talk if you have the time.”

“Sure.” I patted the couch in offering but Brit took an armchair. She placed the sheathed sword over her knees and absently traced the leather’s etched symbols.

“Do you mind if I bow out of tonight’s family dinner?” Brittan asked, not meeting my eyes. “Risa called. She’s leaving on an assignment for Grey and won’t be returning for several days. I thought I’d sit with Rom.”

“I don’t mind,” I said gently. Risa was the Were tiger Brit had become attached to before the battle with Nicodemus. Rom was Risa’s twin brother. He’d been injured during the battle and was in bad shape. The twins’ Alpha, Grey, wouldn’t have sent Risa on assignment now unless she’d asked for it. Risa was running, and I wasn’t the only one who knew it.

“Weres aren’t known for being the best communicators,” I said. “Risa probably just needs time and space to grieve.”

“Maybe,” Brit said evenly, her head still bowed.

“Was there something else?”

“Yes.” Brit took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Did you know?” She raised her eyes, and I was startled to note their color. They were as green as new grass. So caught up in my own life, I had missed the change. Brit’s eyes, while pretty when we’d first met three days ago, had not been this vivid color. Her hair was a much deeper, much truer yellow than before, making her blue stripe stand out even more. These were signs of her new status as a magical being. A status she must face every time she looked into a mirror.

“Know what?” I asked, suspecting her meaning.

“Did you know what would happen to me, what I would become, when you gave me this?” In a move reminiscent of the moment she referred to, Brittan lifted the sheathed sword, balancing it across both palms. “Your family has gifts. Gifts I don’t understand. I thought maybe you had known.”

I took her question seriously, searching my mind and memories. “No,” I finally answered. “I don’t believe I did. I didn’t know what was coming. None of us did.” Searching her face, I asked softly, “Would it be easier if I had?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Then I would have someone to blame, someone to be angry at, instead of feeling so…so…” Brit lowered her head, her green eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Lost,” I supplied. Leaning forward, I put my hands on top of hers, the sword resting between our palms. Brit looked up, again surprised. “I understand how it is to become something you weren’t before, to somehow change. Not only are you different in here,” I rested a finger over her heart, “you’re different in here,” I moved my finger to her forehead. “How you see yourself…and the world…has changed.” She nodded. “And I’m sorry to tell you, but it will never be what it once was. You can never again be what you were. Even if your body could go back to being the same old Brit, the one I met days ago—no magic, no battle-scars, no looming, uncertain future—even if you could be that person again, your heart and your view of things could not.”

Anger filled the bright green orbs. Her fingers curled up, biting into the sheath’s leather under my hand. “How can you be so certain? I could learn to control it…” She stopped. The anger in her eyes turned to fright.

“Yes, you could. But what sort of life would that be? And do you really want to?” I said, asking the questions I’d recently asked my own mirrored reflection. I stood and squeezed Brittan’s shoulder. “Whatever you decide to do, whoever you decide to be, we’ll be here to help you.”

I headed for the door, the words echoing in my head. And well they should. I’d heard them from Nana this afternoon when I’d told her about the battles raging within my own heart, mind, and soul.

Brit continued to stare at her sword, never looking up as I left the room. If only I could give her the answers she so desperately wanted. But I was still searching for them myself.

How could I hope to provide them for someone else?

* * *

Mynx sipped her drink and used the mirror behind the bar to unobtrusively watch the crowd. Having left so late, she’d found it difficult to make it to the arranged spot on time. But not only had she managed it, apparently she had preceded her new client through the door. Or rather, the woman who wanted to be her client. The woman had been sparse with the details. Mynx wasn’t sure if she would accept the job…whatever it might be. She swirled the red wine around her glass and watched the woman with long auburn curls approach. There was something strangely familiar about her. As she stepped near, the woman half-smiled, a dimple showing in one cheek, and Mynx felt that sense of recognition again. The woman pulled out a chair.

Mynx looked into familiar light blue eyes and said, “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” The woman flashed another smile. “But you will.”

Hearing the husky voice, Mynx gulped her wine and signaled for another. She had the feeling she was going to need it.

Chapter Eight

“In the South, it’s important to remember three things: Everyone is related. Everything is connected. And that old adage about wearing clean underwear is always…always…true. Now I suggest you go change yours before you make a mess of my floor.”

—Mamie Deveroux

Night Eleven

I eyed the vampire kneeling at my feet in disbelief. I’d never had a man fall to the ground before me, at least not willingly. So to say I was surprised, after opening the ward door to allow in the Demon Queen and her entourage only to have one lay down in supplication at my sandal-clad toes, was an understatement. And to have it be this smarmy, bloodsucker friend of Serena’s was flabbergasting. I couldn’t say why but I looked to my new demon grandmother for assistance, for the first time distantly noting we were nearly the same height.

Despite the very modern cut of her flowing golden gown, the bearing of Denoir’s Queen was timelessly regal. There was no crown gracing her silver head, no scepter in her thin hand, no ceremonial robes trailing behind her. By all appearances, she was incognito. But her aura of command, the dignified stillness of her features, the pride that kept her spine ever straight—all these things and more made her nobility unquestionable.

She eyed the kneeling man then me and subtly jerked her chin upward.

I looked from the vampire’s bowed head to the two vamps standing behind the Queen and her guard/nephew Van, their expressions expectant, and sighed. “Stand up, already.”

Only his head rose. Shades now gone, the suited Kin’s black eyes stared into mine. “I made a blood oath,” he said, “our greatest of vows, and it was broken. As the one my word was given to, my loyalty to my Master cannot be trusted until you exact a punishment and forgive me of this. Else I am to be your servant all the days of your life.”

The words were spoken very calmly, but it was easy to tell the Kin found them distasteful. He wasn’t the only one. My blood pressure rose. Seth knew this was going to happen. That damn vampire had decided to leave me out of the loop. Undoubtedly, he was even now in his NOLA lair, laughing his fanged head off.

I was pissed but not at the kneeling vampire, and I wasn’t going to show my temper so early in the evening. Besides, even without the warning, I’d expected this, simply not so soon. I’d vetted all of Seth’s employees as part of last week’s search for their stolen money—half of which was still missing. I knew enough about the vampire before me to know he was, annoyingly enough, a man of his word.

I waved the kneeling vampire’s request away and tried to smile. “Fine, your punishment is waived as I already hold others responsible for my injuries and that matter has been settled with Denoir’s Queen. Argue that point and you’ll insult the demons.” He scowled but didn’t say a word. “And you’ll have my forgiveness for a favor.”

His expression turned neutral, but I detected the doubt in his eyes. The Blood didn’t believe in free generosity. And in this case, he was right. I needed something. But it wasn’t what he was expecting.

“It’s a small favor,” I explained. “Not a drop of blood need be spilled to fulfill it. We’ll discuss it after my meeting. Now, Marco, get up off the ground. My dinner’s on the table, and it’s getting cold.”

His cheek twitched, but he didn’t speak. He did, however, climb to his feet.

I turned to my guests, noting several vampires had been left outside the wards to guard the white limo parked just beyond the swirling green and blue barrier. “Please, follow me.”

I led them into the house and to the dark-paneled dining room. It was a little late for dinner, but we were operating on the Kin’s schedule. Though the vampires would not be eating, they would stay near their charges. Not only was the kitchen too small, it was also too informal according to Aunt Helena and Nana. I’d argued we didn’t need anything fancy for the demons but had been thrown out of the kitchen when I’d suggested simply plunking a half-opened can of Spam down on each plate. I’d wisely kept my second suggestion of frozen pizza to myself.

Instead, the Delacy matriarchs had spent hours cooking, cleaning, forcing me to undergo more healing until my bruises had faded to the nearly unnoticeable stage, and generally bossing everyone around. I’d attempted to help but had been shooed away. I’d even been told what to wear and had graciously (okay, almost graciously) consented to “pretty-up,” as my late Grams would have said, in a white sundress, white sandals, and a pair of silver enspelled earrings which provided the illusion of blue eye shadow and pink lipstick. It seems that though I’d provided the invitation, for the time being I was not in charge. Most might find this lack of control stressful. I simply went with it. As long as no one made me wear pantyhose or tried to take away the knife I’d strapped to my upper thigh, we were good.

Fera and my family were already gathered around the table, which was spread with a southern-style feast of biscuits, pot roast, vegetables, and, of course, a large vat of gravy.

Everyone stood as we entered. Hiding my smile, I said, “Kathryn, Demon Queen of Denoir, meet Josephine Fera, the local Council sheriff. Fera, Nana, and Aunt Helena, please meet my grandmother and her nephew, Vanguard.”

Prepared, Nana and Aunt Helena had polite smiles on their faces. Fera managed to mask her surprise until I hit “grandmother,” then her butt hit her chair, the soft plop loud in the quiet room.

“Let’s eat, I’m starving.” I pulled out a chair, sat quickly, and placed my napkin into my lap.

“Catherine!” Nana scolded. She pulled out a chair for the Demon Queen, who arched a brow. I smiled at the two, my face cheerfully blank.

“Like that’s not going to get confusing,” Fera muttered.

Van snorted, and the others moved to take their seats. The vamps stayed right outside the door.

I reached for a biscuit, and Aunt Helena slapped my hand. “We’ll have a blessing and welcome our guests.” More softly, she added, “Then you can find something to fill that big mouth of yours.”

I bit my lip to keep in a laugh, unfazed by my aunt’s rebuke. Since I’d been kicked out of the kitchen, a snack had been difficult to garner. If we didn’t commence with the eating soon, a hand-slap wouldn’t be enough to stop me.

Nana and Aunt Helena made proper greetings, exclaiming over the demon attack on the limo and their appreciation that Seth’s doctor had taken such good care of me. They courteously tiptoed around the fact our demon guests had put me in the position to be hurt in the first place. Earlier, I’d told my family Seth’s report that Jacq had actually done the majority of the healing. I hoped they would make a larger fuss over her efforts later, though I couldn’t be sure. Oddly, Aunt Helena seemed in favor of our romance, but I couldn’t read Nana. Still, I wasn’t too worried. Knowing Nana, she would let me know soon enough which side of the fence she occupied.

Their gushing done, Nana announced the blessing. Everyone bowed their heads and closed their eyes, even the mannerly demons. Everyone, but me. Sensing a certain dashing law enforcer’s return, I kept my head up and my eyes on the open archway. As my grandmother recited a traditional prayer to thank the goddess for the repast we were about to partake of, Jacq strode confidently past the Kin, stopping just inside the archway. I briefly admired her black trousers, matching short-sleeved shirt, and dark green vest before mouthing, “Welcome.”

That dimpled half grin appeared, and I smiled back. She silently moved to my side and took the chair I’d held for her. Under the table, her hand slid into mine. All seemed right with the world. Then my stomach growled loudly, interrupting the prayer. Jacq raised a brow and smirked, while my Aunt Helena cracked an eye long enough to scowl at me. I looked at Jacq, shrugged, and smiled.

No doubt more trouble was on the horizon. But for a moment, while looking into my love’s gray gaze and feeling her mind once again tucked securely into mine, I was willing to believe tonight was not about secrets and bargains—not about blood and pain—but about family and new beginnings.

Yeah, so I was probably having another of those overly optimistic moments, but everyone’s entitled to a few. I just happened to be using all of mine within the span of a few days.

* * *

After all that hype about having dinner with demons, the event itself seemed rather dull. Even the normally curious, asinine Fera was muted. The two stiff-suited vamps, Marco and another I didn’t recognize, stood outside the dining room, watching the empty hall. They declined Nana’s offer of wine and stood like cold, pale statues guarding a tomb. Considering how the conversation was dying a slow death, the analogy seemed apt.

We covered local politics, national politics, who was cheating on who with whom, the strain of traveling between realms, politics again, and predictions as to how the local football teams would do in the upcoming school year. The last led to a strange conversation between Jacq and Van explaining the sport, which led to a costly explanation of what a TV was. I say costly as I’d bet Mynx they had cable in Hell, or at least the reality shows. Apparently I was wrong and ten bucks poorer for it since my sly aunt would no doubt crow to Mynx of my defeat when she returned. Finally the talk died. The atmosphere was so stifling I expected a tumbleweed to roll through at any moment.