Through a Crimson Veil (2 page)

As soon as he left the room, all hell broke loose. Allison tried to run, but her feet wouldn’t move. The dark-haired demon looked at her and nodded, letting her know that he was responsible for her paralysis. The blond demon shapeshifted, probably into his true form—burning red eyes, black-scaled body, claws, fangs. Fear rose in Allison’s throat, nearly choking her.

She turned her head away, unable to watch what the demons were doing, but the screams of Riker and the others seemed to echo through the lab. The ensuing silence was much worse.

“Think you to be special?”

Allison refused to look over, but a rough hand forced her face around to meet the dark-haired demon’s eyes.

“Think
you
to command the Bak-Faru?”

Her lips trembled, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think of anything to say with those icy purple eyes staring at her.

“We saved you for the finale,” the demon continued. His smile made her gulp. “You will pay for your hubris. Your thoughts, your arrogance reached us even in Orcus. You, human—you are
nothing.
” The demon increased its pressure on her chin, forcing her head back.

He and his companion looked at each other, then they changed back into their humanoid forms. Up close, they were movie-star handsome, but Allison couldn’t see beyond the earlier scales and claws.

“
You
will command
us?
” the dark one repeated. “I think not. Demons ruled the earth before our imprisonment, and
we will rule it again. You are no better than the dirt beneath our feet, and we are your masters.”

He pushed her, and Allison fell. For a moment, she simply stared at him; then she realized she could move. She scuttled backward on her butt, using her hands and feet to propel herself across the floor. That lasted only a moment before the demon’s foot came down on her hand.

Allison tried to swallow her shriek, but as he ground his boot down, her bones snapped—he was pulverizing them, turning them into dust. By the time he stopped, she was crying and sweat beaded on her brow. She wouldn’t beg. That was beneath her.

“Oh, but you
will
beg, human. You will beg me to kill you and you will acknowledge our superiority.”

He tore the fingernails from her crushed hand, then did the same to the other. Every time she passed out, he forced her back to awareness. Every time Allison’s brain distanced itself, he ended that numbness. The demon refused to allow her any respite from agony. She screamed until she was hoarse, pleaded for mercy, but there came none. He used her body as a weapon against her mind, used it by inflicting excruciating pain without killing her.

“Still believe you that the Bak-Faru are yours to command?” he asked.

“No.” Allison hardly recognized her voice; her screams had destroyed it.

“Who is the master?”

“You.” At his frown, she quickly added, “Demons are master.”

“Now beg for your death.”

She didn’t hesitate; death would be welcome. “Please.
Please
kill me.”

His hand morphed, and long talons appeared. He slid one sharp nail along her throat. The cut wasn’t deep enough to kill, but warm blood ran down her neck. Please, she thought, unable to speak. Please, end it.

She never felt the bite of the claw that severed her head from her body.

…and in the time of darkness, will come knowledge of one not of Orcus. Some shall ascribe to him the role of deliverer, others shall fear him with just cause—he is a slayer, a powerful mage—and he alone possesses the magic to lower the wall. Through the crimson veil shall he peer, and if it be ill, he shall tear it asunder. Thus shall the freedom of Orcus be known—and its enslavement…

—from a sacred parchment,
Predictions of An-Tul, Setonian Prophet

McCabe was hunting; Mika knew it.

And she was hunting the hunter.

The thought amused her, and she struggled to rein in her merriment. This was serious business, not a game. Her ability to find humor at any given moment had been one of the arguments of the Council against using her on this assignment, but when it came right down to it, there was no one else. Of all those she knew who lived in Orcus, only she had a human parent. This time, that was an advantage.

For one thing, only she could cross the veil at will; she’d been doing it for years. For another, it was unlikely any full-blooded demon would survive McCabe long enough to find out what they needed to know. Of course, there were no guarantees that she’d live either, but the Council believed McCabe would be slower to attack her since he’d recognize her mixed parentage.

Mika shrugged. She wasn’t going to worry about it. Tipping her face up to the night sky, she let her senses stretch. McCabe continued to move like a predator nearby—not too quickly, to avoid missing something, but not slowly either. Mika stayed just within her range, no closer, and
didn’t think he was aware of her yet. When the time felt right, she’d change that.

Anticipation zinged through her. She hadn’t wanted this mission. Not really. Yeah, she’d been tempted for a few seconds when it was presented—until she’d realized how risky it would be. She was aware that it would be difficult to say no—the Council ruled everyone except Orcus’s darkest residents—but she wasn’t willing to put her life on the line.

Then they’d handed her a sheaf of papers and, as she fanned through them, she’d caught a glimpse of the man. For a moment, her heart had stopped beating. And when Mika could breathe again, she knew Conor McCabe was her vishtau mate.

Her logical side—and contrary to popular belief, she did have one—said it was unlikely, that she couldn’t know from a mere picture. But she could meet him and find out for certain. She’d planned to turn down the assignment and seek him out on her own when it dawned on her that McCabe had been marked for death.

And so she’d bargained—his life in exchange for her participation in the mission. The Council had commented on her softness, that she was too weak to be even half demon, but she’d secured their promise to spare Conor and given her own oath in return. They’d nailed her down on this assignment, forcing her agree to more than she’d meant, but demons protected their vishtau mates no matter the cost. If she were mistaken, then no great harm was done, but if he were her mate…Mika’s heart rate accelerated. Soon she’d meet him; soon she’d know.

For now, she kept her distance from McCabe, strolling through the night with assurance. She’d cloaked herself. Though she wasn’t putting much energy into it, she was invisible to humans. To average humans, she corrected. A
sensitive
might be able to feel her, but it was unlikely there would be one around in this neighborhood: Not many existed, and this was a bad part of town with few inhabitants.

How did people live like this? The buildings were mostly boarded over, and many had yellow
Condemned
notices stapled to the plywood. Graffiti covered almost every inch of available space, and grime coated everything heavily enough to make the structures look as if they’d been firebombed. Only her ability to control her body’s sensitivity kept her from overloading on the stench, noise and ugliness of the place.

If humans, vampires and werewolves acted together, maybe they could clean up areas like this. Of course, it would mean putting aside their differences to work with each other, and Mika guessed she’d be respected by the strong demons in Orcus before that ever happened. She shook off her cynicism. Los Angeles hadn’t earned the nickname Crimson City because the different species lived in harmony. There had been tension and distrust here for her entire life.

She rounded a corner and stopped short, face-to-face with a woman. It was a vampire, Mika knew; demons like herself could read energy. There was a moment of surprise for both of them, then the female stared at her in challenge. Mika met that challenge head-on—she might be Mahsei, one of the weaker branches of demon, but she was more than strong enough to take on a vampire.

Shifting to balance her weight more evenly, Mika waited to see what happened. She’d read the newspaper articles about and seen evidence of the bloodshed in Crimson City right now. Humans and vampires and werewolves were all plotting and killing each other, and becoming bolder about it, their truce all but forgotten. She was prepared to fight, but she wouldn’t be the one to start something; that wasn’t part of her mission.

Patience turned out to be the right course of action. The vampire broke off the confrontation, inclining her head and stepping around Mika to continue on her way. Mika watched her disappear down the block, then tried again to
pick up McCabe’s trail. She had to locate his energy pattern, and quick.

A breeze whirled past, blowing her dark hair into her face. Pushing it out of the way, Mika sensed something and looked up. She knew just enough about birds to guess it was a great-horned owl. Another hunter. Busy night, she thought. Her lips curved again with amusement.

She’d carefully planned her first meeting with McCabe. Though he might be surprised to know it, seeing as they existed in another world, the Council had a very detailed dossier on his life. He was a demon hunter, one who’d killed many of her kind, and the leadership subscribed to the theory of
know thine enemy
. They’d allowed Mika to study McCabe’s file before she left Orcus, and among other things, she’d discovered he was a man who protected those he perceived as weaker than himself.

To capitalize on that, her approach would be hesitant, almost timid. She would also use her appearance. She looked younger than she was and there was a naivete to her face. But along with that seeming ingenuousness was a sensuality that attracted males—each wanted to be the one to introduce her to passion. At least, until she showed them her demon side.

She laughed quietly. Once they realized her innocent face hid a darker nature, they couldn’t get away from her fast enough. But if McCabe reacted to her the way human men did initially, she’d have time to spin her tale even if he did know what she was.

Her amusement drained away as she spotted hopscotch squares chalked on the sidewalk. Mika stopped in front of the game, stared at it for a moment, then jumped in with two feet. Next she used just her right foot, then both again. Then she went still. Surely there was more to it than this, but she couldn’t recall what she’d seen girls do as they played. She quit hopping and strode away. Her difficulty was illustrative of all her life’s problems: She’d divided her
time between her parents, never fitting in to either this world or Orcus—but it had been worse when she’d lived here with her dad.

Not that things were a picnic in Orcus. Because of her mixed genetics, demons viewed her as an aberration, a freak, and most kept their distance. But at least in the Other World, she could be herself. She didn’t need to be concerned about her eyes glowing red or worry that she might inadvertently hurt someone with her physical strength. With humans, she had to remain watchful and make sure she camouflaged her true nature.

Scowling, Mika forced such thoughts aside. She should be concentrating. Even if he were her vishtau mate, Mc-Cabe might kill her before he realized they shared a bond. Although, according to the intel the Council had gathered, he hadn’t slain any weak demons; the deaths attributed to him were all from the strongest, most aggressive branches, and there weren’t
that
many. Of course, there weren’t that many demons loose in Los Angeles either, but it reassured her that he spent most of his time working for the government, hunting down outlaw vampires and werewolves.

Several blocks ahead, under the first unbroken streetlight she’d seen in the area, she spied a heap lying on the sidewalk. Mika scanned its energy and recognized the bundle was a human male, and thus no threat, as he’d never know she was there. But as she skirted around him, she nearly squeaked with surprise when his hand closed over her ankle.

He wasn’t that old, but with the whiskers and filth on his face, he looked far more ancient than his years. His bloodshot eyes clearly showed something was altering his perception of reality—probably drugs, which were also the reason he could see her. Mika tried to pull her leg free, but she was reluctant to injure him unnecessarily. “Let go,” she ordered.

“It’s not safe away from the light,” he said, his voice slurred. “There are monsters out there, you know.”

“There’s a monster right here too.” Mika made her eyes
glow red, but he was too far gone to have something so subtle scare him.

Time to go for the drama, she decided. After a moment’s thought, she created the illusion that she had three heads—one belonging to a bull, another to a dragon and the third to an ogre. When the old man only stared, mouth agape, she added fanged snakes shooting from her belly. That did it. Shrieking, he scrambled backward, only trying to stand once he was some distance from her. He kept screaming as he stumbled away.

Ending the illusion, Mika tried to home back in on Mc-Cabe, but she couldn’t find him. Damn it, he was probably out of her range by now. How long had that doper kept her busy, anyway?

Yet it wasn’t all his fault. She hadn’t been paying attention for a while now. Perhaps those opposed to her participation in this mission had been right: She couldn’t be trusted with something so vital.

Mika pushed her hand impatiently through her hair and looked around as she scanned again. Still nothing. But maybe she could catch up with him. McCabe hadn’t been moving that quickly; if she hurried, perhaps she could get within sensing distance again.

Deciding it was worth taking a chance, she rushed off in the direction in which he’d last been headed. She didn’t have to find him tonight, she knew—she’d been given no definite time restriction. But if the Council’s human minion showed up for a progress report, she didn’t want to say,
I screwed up and lost him.

The far-off wail of a siren echoed through the night, car doors slammed maybe a street over, and a domestic dispute reached her ears; yet Mika didn’t let herself become distracted. She wouldn’t fail, wouldn’t give her detractors the satisfaction.

As she walked, she continued to scan, but there was no sign of McCabe. A few blocks later, she spotted a second illuminated street lamp, and not far past its pool of light was
the dark maw of an alley. Mika slowed, tried to sense if anyone else was present, but the area was clear. She picked up her pace again.

He came at her from the alley. Before she could react, before she could blink, she found herself pinned against a building, a hand at her throat. Chipped brick cut into her back, but she ignored the minor discomfort and reached for her powers. There was a bottle in the gutter. Mika tried to use telekinesis to lift and hurl it at his back, but it didn’t work. Next she called on wind, her strongest ally. Again, nothing happened. She couldn’t bring up even a gentle breeze.

Since levitation would be of no help here, not with his hand around her neck, Mika tried to use the wind a second time, but still came up empty. Taking a deep breath, she investigated why and discovered her powers were frozen. That meant she had to take him on physically. Although his size was daunting, she knew how to fight down and dirty. She tried to raise her arm to knock her assailant away, but she couldn’t move her body.

Belatedly, she realized he’d done something to paralyze her, and for the first time, Mika felt a frisson of fear trickle down her spine. She raised her gaze.

Conor McCabe.

In a split second she read the hatred on his face, realized she was in a bad situation, and recalled her plan. But surprisingly, bizarrely, impossibly—instead of acting fearful and meek, as she’d intended, she curled her lips up into a smile; she couldn’t control it. From what she saw reflected in his sunglasses, it wasn’t her usual impish grin, either, but a sultry, sexy smile. Pure seduction. Pure invitation.

“Sunglasses at night, McCabe? That’s not very original.” Her voice emerged as a husky murmur. It wasn’t intentional, and for a moment she wondered if it were the vishtau that had her acting this way. She wouldn’t know until their eyes met without those dark lenses blocking her view.

He didn’t reply, just stared at her and Mika stared back.

She was tall, but he was taller—at least half a foot, maybe more. And muscular. She eyed his biceps beneath the sleeve of his forest green T-shirt and doubted she could span his arm with both hands. There was enough illumination to glint on the gold highlights in his closecropped, dark brown hair. That made him look boyish—until she took in the uncompromising set of his mouth.

As she continued to stare, Mika picked up something else from him: an overwhelming sense of aloneness. Not just loneliness; this went far beyond that. It was a souldeep sense of isolation, and it struck her hard enough to make her heart ache. She wanted to gather him close, to hold him until his hurt went away. And this urge was so atypical that it made her almost certain they were bonded.

The vishtau. It encompassed every level of being—heart, mind, body and soul. Humans had soul mates, but this went far beyond that. It was a connection that grew more powerful the longer the pair were together, and demons held it in reverence. Probably because it was only within the vishtau that they could conceive children. Mika had given up hope that she shared this rare and special bond with any male—until she’d seen McCabe’s image. She studied him more closely. Was he her mate?