The Devil's in the Details (28 page)

“Where in Hades have you been?” Blythe demanded the minute I finally walked into the foyer of the Bell Tower, my grandfather and Judge Parks in tow. Unfortunately, I’d been unconscious for most of the day. When I’d finally opened my eyes and stood up to Gramps, the sun had already set. “The wedding was supposed to start five minutes ago. Your mother is about to pop an artery.”

“I got tied up.” I thought of the slimy snakes slithering around my hands and feet thanks to Gramps.

And the mirror? The noose? The spiders?

Someone else had been responsible.

But who?

“Where’s Azazel?” I blurted.

“We have to get started,” Blythe rushed on, obviously scared and flustered and ready to bail.

I
so
knew the feeling.

“Your mom already zapped the beverage manager for not bringing in enough preceremony cocktails and she started a fire in the bridal suite and—”

“
Where is he?
” The screech flew out of my mouth, surprising both of us.

“I told him he was only invited for the reception and sent him out to the car waiting at the curb just like you said.”

“How long ago?”

“About ten minutes, I think.”

“You think or you know?”

“I know. That is, I think I know.” She shook her head. “Give me a break. It’s been crazy around here. George got bit by Cerberus and was late picking up a bunch of guests.” She motioned to a robed George, who stood in the corner, a white bandage covering half his arm. “Luckily we have a few doctors in the house.”

Possessed doctors, but who was I to argue semantics?

“That idiot dog,” my grandfather growled. “He should have saved it for the groom.”

“Zip it.” I glared at Gramps. “Or I’m telling everyone that you freak at the first sign of tears.”

He opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut again. His eyes flashed red before cooling to a deep, fathomless black that scared me almost as much as the bright crimson.

I snatched a boutonniere from a nearby table and pinned it on Judge Parks before grabbing another and turning to my sour-faced grandfather. He started to protest and I poked him. Just to keep the current balance of power intact.

I had a feeling it wouldn’t last for long.

“I don’t know what’s going on here”—Blythe glanced at my gramps and the judge before shifting her attention back to me—“but we
really
have to get started.”

Ten minutes.
My gaze zigzagged to the street out front and I did a quick search for the Datsun. Smith was nowhere to be seen.

Because he’s helping Cutter.

The plan was already in motion. Azazel had climbed into the waiting car, and Cutter was reclaiming his soul at that very moment in some dark and quiet place where no one would interfere. I had delivered on my end, and it was time to forget everything else and shift into David Tutera mode.

I celebrated all of two seconds before Blythe handed me my purse. My cell phone bleeped from inside. “The restaurant sent this
over, along with your iPad and a box of your stuff. You must have forgotten it last night.”

“Yeah.” I gave Gramps an accusing look. “I must have.”

I fished out the bleeping phone and glanced at the display. Forty-eight voice messages in the past two hours. Thirty-three texts, too. All from the same phone number. All with the same message.

Cutter never picked up the limo. I can’t reach him. Something’s wrong. Call me!!!!

My heart thumped. I hit
Return
and waited for Smith to pick up. The call went straight to voice mail, and my anxiety morphed into full-blown terror.

“What kind of car did Azazel get into?”

“I don’t know.” Blythe shrugged. “Maybe a BMW or a Lincoln. I just know it was short and black. Some sort of compact, I think.”

My stomach bottomed out. “It was supposed to be a limo.”

“Maybe there were car problems and they had to switch at the last minute.”

If only.
But if that had been the case, Cutter would have communicated the change to Smith. The young rookie was his only backup.

“What difference does it make?” Blythe shrugged. “Azazel wasn’t the least bit put out that it wasn’t a limo. In fact, he looked really pleased when he climbed into the car.”

Pleased because he didn’t have to attend a long, boring wedding ceremony?

Or because he’d managed to turn the tables on Cutter and strike first?

“Forget Azazel. We’ve got bigger problems.” Blythe snagged my phone and tried to shoo me toward the bridal suite. “I’ve got a change of clothes waiting for you.” George moaned and she gave him a look that said
Suck it up, big boy
. “We’ll all be begging for a
rabies shot if we don’t get this show on the road. Your mom will sic that dog on every one of us. If she doesn’t zap us first.”

A very likely possibility, given the yelling and smoke coming from the room down the hall.

“Tell Mother that we’re here and everything is fine.” I stuffed my phone back into my purse. “Get the judge into position. Then get Gramps seated and stall.”

“But—”

“Which way was the car headed?”

“East. But—”

“I’ll be back.” Or so I hoped.

I left a stunned Blythe staring after me as I darted out of the Bell Tower, snagged the first cab I could find, and hightailed it down the street to save Cutter’s ass. I knew Azazel wouldn’t go far. Regardless of what he had in store for Cutter, he still had to put in an appearance at the reception or risk my mother’s wrath.

He had to be close by. I knew that much.

It was just a matter of pinpointing exactly where before he stole more than Cutter’s soul.

It was the only abandoned building in the vicinity.

I stared up at the monstrous structure as I fished some money out of my purse and paid the cab driver. The place had once housed several offices before the economy took a nosedive and the housing market bottomed out. Several real-estate agents and a mortgage company had closed down, leaving the building vacant. A
FOR LEASE
sign sat out front, but I could tell by the broken windows on the second floor that it had been vacant for quite a while.

It was just the sort of place where a demon might take a kidnapped demon slayer. Or vice versa.

I tuned my senses, searching for some sign of life inside the building, but it was quiet. Dark.

Perfect.

The notion struck and I bolted forward. My gut instinct was to race through the double glass doors at the front, but a strange sensation crawled through me as I reached for the handle. I stalled. A heartbeat later, I did an about-face and started around the building, searching for a back door or a window or something—
there
.

I eyed the half-rusted metal door barely hanging onto its hinges. A soft push and metal groaned. I ducked my head inside, peering into the blackness for a few breathless moments, then I slipped inside and started down the pitch-black hallway.

Luckily I was a fierce and foreboding demon, otherwise I would have been terrified of the dark.

Okay, so I was a little terrified of
this
dark, particularly since zero moonlight pushed through the sparse windows, but desperation kicked a candy-ass any day. Cutter might be inside, possibly hurt and bleeding, and I had to
do
something.

And if he’s already opened up a can of whup-ass on Azazel and is now sucking down lattes at a nearby Starbucks?

He wasn’t. I wasn’t sure how I knew, I just knew. First off, he didn’t strike me as a latte drinker. Second, I’d been around enough evil in the past one thousand years to know what it felt like.

It felt like
this
.

A tension in the air and a dark sense of foreboding. Of danger. Of death.

I eased down the length of the hall, ducking my head into every doorway, searching every available space before hitting the stairwell at the very end. On the second floor, I started over.

Move forward.

Duck in.

Quick visual.

I was just about to hit door number three when I saw the shimmering shadow at the far end of the hall. It whispered through the open doorway and disappeared into the wall.

I knew that I would find Cutter inside.

I knew, but I wasn’t prepared for the reality.

My heart lunged into my throat when I saw his limp body sprawled on the scarred linoleum. It had been six days since I’d seen him, and while I could still picture him alive and sexy, this was so totally opposite that I wasn’t prepared for the ice that rushed through my veins.

His face was battered and bruised. One eye was swollen nearly shut, the other closed. He wore a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that had been ripped halfway down his chest. Blood oozed from an open wound. He was still, so still, and quiet.

I was beside him in that next instant, my hand going to his neck. His pulse thudded against my fingers and my heart started beating again.

“Cutter?” I murmured. “It’s me.”

“Jess?” His lips were thick around the breath of the word.

He forced his eyelids open a fraction. Pain clouded the familiar green. I had to get him out of here. Now. Quick.

Before Azazel returned.

I wasn’t fool enough to think he’d left Cutter alive by accident. No demon would walk away from a still-breathing slayer.

Azazel was still here somewhere.

“Can you walk?” I whispered, trying to pull him into a sitting position.

After a few pained seconds, he was upright. I pulled and was just about to hoist him up with my shoulder when I heard the voice.

“I’m afraid that’s mine.” The words rushed across the room like an arctic wind and froze me on the spot.

My head snapped up and I stared at the man standing in the doorway.

Azazel was tall, with long, dark, flowing hair and black eyes that drilled through me.

“Nice body choice,” I said, desperately trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.

“A grunge band had a massive pileup on the interstate and this was all that was left at the morgue when I came up last week.” He glanced down at the battered T-shirt and ripped jeans. “It’s not my personal preference, but it’ll do.”

“You’ve been in this realm for an entire week?”

“A week and five days if you want to get technical. Who did you think was playing those little tricks on you?” He must have read the shock on my face, because he smirked. “Ah, but you didn’t know, did you? Who did you think it was? Bella? Levita? They’re all talk and no action. Lillith is the only one with any real balls. She has no problem killing to get her way. Or lying. I bet you think she was the one who tempted Eve, don’t you? Everyone does. But it wasn’t her. It was me.”

I snorted, pretending a calmness I didn’t feel. “Yeah, and I’m going to believe that because you’re such a stickler for honesty, right?”

“Believe what you want, but it
was
me. Just like it’s been me tormenting you these past few weeks.” He shook his head. “You poor thing. Tsk, tsk. You couldn’t back off, could you? You just had to help the slayer, and so you’re here. Both of you.” A vicious gleam lit his eyes. “And you’re mine.”

The truth crystallized as I looked in horror at the ancient demon. Instead of running, Azazel had been keeping tabs on his biggest nemesis. That’s why he’d been able to elude Cutter for so long. He’d been one step ahead of the slayer. Watching his every move. Waiting for the chance to eliminate the threat. I’d played right into Azazel’s hands by inviting him to the wedding.

And now he was going to kill Cutter.

He was going to kill
me
. I knew it even before he opened his mouth.

“I wonder what Lillith would say if she knew you were getting friendly with the enemy?” Azazel sneered. “Surely she would banish you. Not that she’ll need to. I intend to destroy that pretty little body of yours and send you Down Under myself.”

“She likes to do her own dirty work. You’ll only piss her off.”

“Then bravo for me.” His expression hardened into sharp lines and angles. “Lillith’s a bitch, and it’s high time I one-upped her after the garden incident.”

Horror gripped me, and I knew that for all my bravado, Azazel would rip out my heart and eat it right in front of me.

He was old. Ancient. And while I was related to Satan herself, that meant little to a backstabbing, two-faced, zillion-year-old, soul-stealing demon. Azazel was supremely powerful thanks to all the souls he’d hoarded. Like all ancients, he was also selfish and all about
me
,
me
,
me
.

And he’d obviously decided his allegiance to Gramps was over.

He reached me in the blink of an eye.

I sidestepped the hands that grabbed for me, and whirled. But he kept coming, backing me into a corner so fast that I barely had time to catch a breath.

He reached out and I ducked, but I wasn’t fast enough. He caught my throat and squeezed. The pressure cut off my blood flow, and everything went hazy as he slung me around and threw me toward the opposite wall. I slammed into the Sheetrock, pieces shattering against my back. Before I could open my eyes, he reached for me again, tossing me like a rag doll as walls crumbled and ceiling tiles rained down. I ended up flat on my back, the linoleum buckled beneath me, as he moved in for the kill.