The Devil's Fool (Devil Series Book One) (2 page)

The moment the door closed, I replaced the dress with jeans and a t-shirt and planned my escape. I had to get outside and take a break from the contention that poisoned every person in the house. I would never make it through the night otherwise.

It wasn’t difficult to sneak away, my head down. It also helped that I hid my face by carrying a tall vase of flowers as if I was part of the event staff.

The moment I opened the back door, I bolted toward the edge of the nearby forest and didn’t stop until safely behind a thick oak tree.

I glanced back at the home. It was an ugly site. It wasn’t really a home but more of a gaudy mansion made of brick and stone. It was several stories above ground and several below, though only a select few knew of its depths. My room was in the east wing, opposite my parents. What I wouldn’t give to live in a suburban area, surrounded by normal people. Come home from school, play video games or watch TV. I wasn’t allowed to do any of those things. Occasionally, Erik allowed me to use his laptop for schoolwork, and when Jane wasn’t watching, I would visit different webpages, hungry to learn all I could about the outside world.

From inside, the hired orchestra played a hauntingly beautiful tune. Erik put on many events like this throughout the year. Anyone of importance, human or fiend, received an invitation. These events were the only times the two species willingly crossed paths. Of course, many of the humans had no idea who or what was sitting beside them. Demons, vampires, and other creatures were required to appear human-like. The whole event was a rouse to gain power over others. And my parents were the puppet masters, using their magical abilities to manipulate those who could further their political agenda in the human world and gain more clout in the supernatural one.

A few hours later, the first guest arrived. I shouldn’t delay getting ready any longer. When my parents began letting me attend these events a few years ago, I thought I would enjoy them since I was rarely allowed to socialize with others. But I never did. They all wore masks. I couldn't trust any of them—not even the humans.

Pushing myself up, I straightened my shoulders and prepared for the worst. It would all be over soon.

Back inside my room, I slid into the red evening gown just as Jane opened the bedroom door, panting heavily. “Your parents need you.”

“I’ll be right there,” I said, but she had already closed the door.

I finished forcing my arm through a strap of the tight gown and sighed wearily. I didn’t recognize the reflection staring back at me in the mirror. Black eyeliner framed my eyes like the edge of storm clouds, and my darkened eyebrows and reddened lips only added to the illusion. The two stylists had commented on my beauty, but to me, I looked like my mother. Not something I wanted.

Quietly and carefully, I walked downstairs, hoping to go unnoticed, and passed by the entrance to the ballroom that smelled of freshly baked pastries and wild roses. I didn’t have to look in to know its design. I was all too familiar with my parents’ outlandish décor of diamond-laced curtains, gold satin linens, and crystal chandeliers the Queen of England would envy.

I endured the evening by staying outside on the veranda as much as possible. The cool night air felt good against my bare arms and was a welcome distraction from the boisterous noises echoing from the brightly lit party.

“You stupid girl,” a voice said behind me.

I turned around. The black silhouette of my mother stood in the doorway of the ballroom. If it hadn’t been for her voice, I might have mistaken her for an unmasked demon.

“Get in here,” she said. “I want you to meet someone special.”

“Not tonight. Please.” It was a dumb thing to say. I knew it the second the words left my mouth. Maybe my mother was right.

“It wasn’t a question.”

Reluctantly, I stepped forward. Sable took hold of my arm and dragged me through the room, weaving in and out of the guests. I tried to see where she was guiding me, but dancing couples blocked my view. When she nudged aside two women in the middle of a conversation, I finally saw whom I was to meet.

I yanked my arm free and froze. Though he looked human, I knew better. A murky blackness clung to him like thick tar.

This was no man.

This was a vampire.

Every fiber of my body screamed to run. There was an energy, dark and ancient, that filled the area around him. Despite my instincts, I found it difficult to look away. His commanding presence sucked me in as if an invisible cord were pulling me toward him. I resisted, and a sharp pain stabbed in my lower spine.

Sable whirled around and dug her nails into my wrist and jerked me forward. “Don’t you dare insult him.”

Erik, who was shaking hands with the vampire, turned. His slicked-back blond hair looked as greasy as his tanned complexion. “Eve, darling, this is Boaz. Boaz, meet my only daughter, Eve.”

The light seemed to flee the room as Boaz’s eyes met mine. He was strangely captivating with black hair, high cheekbones, and a distinct jaw line. My heart fluttered, and I grew faint. If it weren't for Sable’s hand on my elbow, I would’ve staggered back. But it wasn’t his appearance that made me weak. My mind tried to capture what it was, but his stare became too intense, forcing me to look away.

Erik said something under his breath and then chuckled.

“She may be, but I’ll have to find out for myself,” Boaz said.

Erik smirked, and Sable laughed obnoxiously. I was disgusted with all three of them.

“It was nice to meet you,
Sir
.” It took all the strength I had, but I managed to yank my arm away, turn, and walk off, my heart racing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sable begin to follow, but Boaz grabbed her wrist and held her in place.

I walked calmly, yet briskly, toward the stairs leading to the second floor. I nodded and smiled politely to several people who said “hello,” but I refused to stop.

As I stepped upon the first stair, cold fingers touched my back. I gasped and whirled around. To my amazement, no one was there. I slowly continued upward but again felt the touch of a hand caress the skin of my naked back. The icy coolness of it stole my breath. I spun back around, peering into the crowd.

I scanned the many faces, some of which appeared human, but I wasn’t fooled. My eyes settled on the only one who stood out—not because he was different, but because he was their leader. They circled him like starving dogs anxious to devour whatever scrap of attention he might toss them. But Boaz paid little heed—his focus was entirely on me. His eyes bore into mine like those of a predatory animal. I could practically hear him snarling from across the room.

Frightened, I turned back to continue up the stairs, this time using the handrail for support. The invisible caresses continued until I was out of his view.

Safely hidden on the second floor, I leaned against a white pillar, my breaths coming in short gasps. My toes tingled, and a familiar, dark feeling crept up my body—magic.
Relax.
I couldn’t let myself feel it, not here, not now, not ever.

A ways away, I spotted the narrow staircase leading to the kitchen. I descended the steps quickly and darted through the hot, steamy room, ignoring the staff’s curious looks. I paused at the entrance to the ballroom. It would take twenty steps to reach the glass doors that opened to the veranda.
I can make it.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to three.
Go!
My eyes snapped open, and I bolted.

Fifteen steps left.

Ten steps.

Three.

I reached to push the door open but froze when I heard my name. The beguiling voice of the devil himself. I turned around slowly.

“Yes?” I asked Boaz, desperately trying to sound curt.

“Will you give me the pleasure of dancing with you?” He extended his hand.

“I don’t feel well.”

“One dance, love.”

Before I could refuse, he took hold of my arm and pulled me onto the dance floor. When we reached the center of the room, he spun me to him and wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing me to his chest.

“Try to have fun,” he said. “This is a party after all.”

I avoided his eyes, instead staring beyond to envious faces. The song ended and another began: a bitter harmony of plucked violins and sobbing French horns. It was a torturous melody—one that should be played for the dead, not the living. Boaz’s lip twitched into a subtle smile, as if he knew what I was thinking.

I did my best to act indifferent, but if I came across as cold, Boaz gave no indication. He held me close as if we were lovers, and I couldn’t help but blush. Every touch, every sway of his body, overwhelmed me—whether from revulsion or pleasure, I couldn’t be sure.

Finally, he pulled away and asked, “Why are you afraid?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m not.”

“You’re a horrible liar. Look at me.”

I turned to him. My body weakened, and he tightened his grip.

“Why are you frightened?” he asked again.

I bit the inside of my cheek. “There’s something about you. I don’t know—”

“What do you feel?”

I tried to articulate my emotions. “I feel as if I’m spinning and can’t keep my balance.”

“The power. Intoxicating, isn’t it?” Boaz danced flawlessly, every step obeying his silent command like the tides obey the moon. Other dancing couples retreated from his path as if he were royalty. I didn’t know his real age, but by the way he spoke and carried himself, I’d guess centuries. Maybe he had been royalty at one point in time.

“Do you always get this much attention?” I asked.

“They know to respect power when they see it.”

“Arrogant much?”

He moved his head back and looked at me, dark eyes wide. “It’s not me, love. It’s us.”

“There is no
us
.”

Boaz smiled. “Your parents are watching.”

I glanced behind him. Sure enough, Erik and Sable stared in our direction. Sable especially looked excited, her nose scrunched up, hands rubbing together as if anticipating a winning lottery number.

“Why do you think they look so eager?” Boaz asked. He spun me out and brought me back into his arms.

“Because you are their type, and they’d like nothing more than to see me with you.”

“And what would you like, Eve?”

His question surprised me. No one had ever asked me that. “I want to be free to do as I please.”

The smile on his face spread.

“Is something funny?” I asked.

“How would you like to play a little joke on your parents? Teach them a lesson for spying?”

“Like what?”

“Slap me,” he ordered.

“What?”

“Slap me as hard as you can and walk away. Your parents will be furious, and you may pay for it later, but I promise their expressions will be well worth it—and you might actually enjoy it.”

I didn’t have to think twice. I stepped away and let my hand fly. It struck his face hard, stinging my palm.

I glanced over at my parents who looked as though I’d struck them rather than Boaz. Their eyebrows were pulled tightly together, and their mouths turned down. Lines I never knew existed appeared in sync with bulging veins on their necks. It was a comical scene, for they were still trying to keep up the appearance of having a wonderful time. Their poor faces looked as if they were having twin seizures.

I grinned and walked away. That felt much better than I’d expected. I headed straight to the veranda and stepped into the night, strangely elated. That was the first time I’d done exactly what I wanted without fearing the consequences.

“Very good,” Boaz said.

I jumped. He was resting in a chair as if he’d been there all night. There was no trace of a handprint on his face. Next to him, a massive black wolf stared with one blue eye and one white.

“How did you—” I looked back toward the ballroom. There was no way he could’ve beaten me here.

“Don’t be naïve, love. You know what I am.”

My gaze lowered to the strangely still wolf. Without a sound, he bared his sharp canine teeth. “And who’s this friendly beast?”

The wolf growled.

Boaz ran his fingers through its thick, bristly fur. “This is Hunwald.”

“Interesting name. Where did you get it?”

“I didn’t
get
it anywhere. He chose it.”

“All right,” I said, not understanding. “How long have you had him?”

“He’s had
me
since I was a child,” he corrected again.

“What do you mean?”

Boaz leaned forward. The movement was too quick, too smooth, reminding me again how inhuman he really was. Instinctively, I stepped back.

“My mother was a vicious woman. The kind of woman who should never have had a child, but apparently Fate thought it amusing, and she bore me. Though in the end, I’m not sure who the joke was really on.” He smiled to himself. “My mother used to carry a big stick everywhere she went. She called it
Thorne
, and every time she said its name, she would laugh atrociously, as though it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Her saying
Thorne
meant only one thing—that I was to receive a severe beating for failing to fulfill one of her absurd expectations. It was in the middle of one of these beatings that Hunwald found us in the woods. He tore my mother to shreds right in front of me.” He turned to Hunwald and ruffled the fur on his face between his hands. “Didn’t you? You good boy!”

“That’s terrible,” I said.

Boaz’s head snapped up. “Don’t tell me you haven’t ever wished your parents dead.”

“I couldn’t, wouldn’t—”

“Give it time.”

I stepped toward the ballroom. “I should go inside—”

Boaz appeared in front of me, blocking the door. Air caught in my chest. He took hold of my wrist and, with his thumb, rubbed the flesh beneath my palm, exactly where my pulse beat.

“Stay for just a moment longer,” he said, his tone commanding.

My head spun. The circular motion of his thumb on the sensitive part of my wrist made me lightheaded as if I’d had too much to drink.

“I want to wish you a happy birthday,” he purred.