Ties That Bind: A Muse Urban Fantasy (The Veil Series Book 5) (3 page)

“I can also whip up one hell of an omelet. What’s your point?”

“Your place is by my side.” He took a single step forward, bringing him into the wash of light flowing through the living room windows. His Stefan act wouldn’t have fooled me for long. The face was too harsh, the lips too tight, eyes too flat. Stefan was bright, and alive, even when battling with himself.

Not-Stefan gestured at himself. “This camouflage ensured you would not attack.”

“You have no such guarantees now.” My heart fluttered. With every word, the certainty of who he was chipped away at my confidence. I’d invited him in. He was linked to me. My father. Asmodeus. The demon with enough clout to bend all others to his will. Even now, he manipulated my mind. The room might not even be real. And I stood virtually naked—but not vulnerable, never that—in front of him. “What do you want?”

“You.”

My focus rippled, the room tilted, and threads of reality unraveled, spilling open to reveal the terrifying truth of my father. His skin glistened a deep red. The Crimson Lord. Heat poured off him in relentless waves. Each of the countless hoop piercings riddling his vast, angular wings glowed white hot and sizzled against his flesh. Spiral horns twisted from a dramatic face made up of sharp cheekbones and a jutting jawline.

I lifted my human gaze to meet his. Humans cannot look upon the princes of hell for long. Tears fell from my eyes in a steady stream and promptly evaporated on my hot cheeks.

Asmodeus reached out a hand. Obsidian claws clicked together. “Come. Refuse, and I will ravage your human mind.”

I didn’t doubt his words, but I did doubt he could ruin my mind before I brought the fire. If I attacked, he wouldn’t pull his punches. The resulting battle would likely bring down my apartment building and all the people in it. Lacy slept down the hall. Jonesy was curled up on my bed. This was not the place to throw down with my father. I could fight him, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Until I knew the stakes, I was better off playing his game. I
was
the
Mother of Destruction. I didn’t
need
to fight the Prince of Lust. As far as he knew, I was one badass demon-killing machine.

I spilled my demon into my flesh. Between one breath and the next, ember-dashed skin consumed pink human flesh. Heat burned fear from my veins. My one ruined wing burst free. Finally, I witnessed my father through demon eyes. Superheated vapor spiraled around him, lending him a liquid aura of heat. He was the most terrifying—and yet the most wonderful—demon I’d ever seen.
My
father.

“Stand beside me, daughter, and revel in the glory of two conquered worlds.” His voice resonated as though double-exposed.

I lifted my clawed hand—dainty in comparison—and placed it inside his palm.

His magnificence silenced my panicked thoughts. There was no choice here. The veil had to be restored and the demons once again locked away behind it. Whether Asmodeus was the answer or Jerry was, I had to find a way. I couldn’t run from what I had to do or from my father. I’d come too far. Changed too much. The solution was in the netherworld, not in Boston. I had to go back.

He closed his hand around mine. Heat swelled. Our elements combined. We were bloodkin. The lava in my veins flowed from his source.

His lips peeled back in a broad shark-like grin. “Amanat, Daughter.”

From one liquid moment to the next, he shifted us from my modest apartment to a place that smelled of pine and wood mulch. Not the netherworld. Not yet. Not Boston either. Stars swirled in the night sky as I sought to steady myself. Asmodeus released my hand and strode toward a ragged outline of a house hunched in the dark. His great wings fanned outward, glowing white along their trailing edges. The musculature of his back rippled under the weight of those wings. Among demons, wings were a sign of status, of power. Whether consciously or not, his display told me not to fuck with him.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I recognized Blackstone’s luxury decor strewn about the once-manicured grounds as though a tornado had torn through the house, gobbled up Akil’s opulence, and spat it back out. The windows and doors hung open, funneling a cold wind through the building. I’d expected it to be bad, but not like this. Sharp wind hissed through the trees and blazed the embers dancing across my skin. Head and wing held high, I followed in my father’s footsteps. At least there wasn’t any sign of the thousands of demons who had made Blackstone their temporary home. They’d fought for Akil, against their own kin, and I’d probably killed them all when I’d burned the battlefield clean of anything demon.

Asmodeus didn’t venture inside Akil’s house but stopped on the deck, wings spread, and turned.

I burned to ask him why we were there. But until I knew what I was dealing with, I opted for silence. I watched, listened, and studied.

“Open the veil,” he ordered, his deep voice a bass growl. He could do that himself just as easily, but I obliged with a flick of a mental switch. It hadn’t always been so easy to cut open the veil, and it shouldn’t have been. One day—soon, if I had my way—it would be difficult once more.

To my right, smudges of blue, green, and violet licked and twitched.

“Home.” The colors of the veil danced in his ochre eyes. “Go.”

There had been a time the netherworld had chewed me up and spat me out, a time I’d run from everything out to kill me, a time when the netherworld would have destroyed me had I stopped hoping for a better future.
If you ceased fighting your other half, you’d have your answer.
Akil had been so damn right about so much. Well, I no longer held back, not any more. My demon was me and I her.

I stepped through the veil onto a carpet of writhing foliage. My veins throbbed with fire and pulsed, aglow. Ash rained from my fingertips. I flexed my wing, drew the sickly netherworld air into my lungs, and bared my fangs.

“Momma’s back…” I purred.

Thunder rumbled, or perhaps it was the groan of some monstrous demon. The sound snagged my attention, drawing my gaze to where a battlement embraced the outer fringes of a sprawling castle hewn precisely from black rock. Only this fortress was bigger, so large in fact, I couldn’t see it all from outside the walls. Akil—Mammon’s fortress. I’d recognize it blind. As the lessers howled and chittered in the night, I devoured the sight of Mammon’s home. I hadn’t been back since the night he’d saved me. This was why my father had taken me to Blackstone. Akil’s house overlaid the same location as his netherworld fortress.

Asmodeus’s heat pushed at my back. My element instinctively reached for his, exploring, entwining.

“It seems only fitting you should claim his throne. No?”

Hell, no. I didn’t want to claim anything of Akil’s. I certainly didn’t want his netherworld fortress or to be anywhere near the Dark Court, if I could help it. I locked my expression down and internally trampled on the panic nipping at my thoughts. “I already have one title. I don’t need another.”

My father drew up alongside me, his wing curled around behind, embracing me without touching. He lifted his protruding chin. His eyes narrowed before he glided his attention down to me. “You reduced Gluttony to lava. You assisted in the infinite destruction of Envy. Greed stood by your side, and perished. Your mistake is believing you have a choice. You belong among the Dark Court.”

Where better to meet with Jerry? To ascertain what the princes were planning? To figure out how to restore Akil and the veil? I’d be at the top of the demon food chain. The demon part of me curled a smile across my lips. A half-blood Princess of Hell. Oh, yes, that would do nicely. But I swallowed back the purr of agreement. “You didn’t bring me here for my benefit. What do you want from me?”

Asmodeus’s lips hooked into a sly grin. “Baal seeks to restore the veil. The Dark Court is not in agreement. You will assist in his destruction.”

I managed to maintain my smile. It was the demon thing to do. But inside, I recoiled. The court wanted me to help destroy Jerry, the King of Hell? Human loyalties screamed refusals. But this was the netherworld. Loyalty played no part there.

Asmodeus waited for my reply. The longer I delayed, the less likely he would be to believe me. I needed to get inside the court. Perhaps I could help Jerry from inside their ranks. At the very least, I’d be able to study my enemies. There were too many unknowns. To many ifs, buts, and maybes. Asmodeus was right. I didn’t have a choice. “Very well. But I will not adopt Greed’s title. I have my own.”

Light slid along his sharp teeth. “Agreed.”

M
ammon’s fortress
crawled with demons. Most were of the lesser variety. They clung to the polished stone walls, nestled around exposed beams, and generally filled every nook and crevice. All eyed me warily, ducking leathery heads low. Hisses slipped through clenched teeth. Armored skin rattled. They no more liked me than I liked them. Higher demons had made the fortress their home, and the battlements enclosed a settlement of sorts. Those demons eyed me as they might their next meal. Unlike their lesser brethren, the higher demons saw only a one-winged half-blood whore. Never mind what the Mother of Destruction had reportedly done in the human realm. The netherworld would need proof by way of spilled blood. One, or many, would try to kill me and soon. My skin itched with anticipation. Let them bring it. I’d cremate any demon who tried.

Asmodeus left me to wander the fortress. I roamed the halls, as I had once as a naïve half-blood. Despite my missing wing, I threw off enough heat to project a formidable presence. I oozed control, while inside, panic pulled on frayed nerves. Sure, I could bluff my father to a point, but the truth was, I had no idea how to manipulate him or the court. Akil had told me he’d manipulated the princes for years, but he’d never imparted any of that useful skill to me. I was going to have to wing it, so to speak. Not a particularly comforting thought. First things first: gauge how deeply in the shit I was, meet the court, and feel out their plans. Find out how to bring Akil back, and when I was armed with the facts and hopefully with Akil by my side, we’d make for Jerry and tell him everything. If all went well, he’d know how to restore the veil. If I couldn’t find the information beforehand, he’d definitely know how to resurrect Akil, and given how they’d been buddies, I could trust his words. Asmodeus had already admitted Jerry wanted the demons back where they belonged. I was on Team Jerry. Together, we’d figure this out. And all the humans would live happily ever after—as happy as humanity could ever be. Sounded easy. Maybe it would be. And maybe lesser demons could knit.

I found my way to the throne room. Protective anti-elemental symbols throbbed inside walls adorned by monstrous demon-head trophies. The cathedral-like proportions swamped my puny body. Behind a vast black granite table on a raised ornately carved dais, stood two empty thrones. I’d seen this hall once before almost seventeen years ago. As a young half-blood fresh from the killing pit in the bowels of the fortress, I’d roamed the halls much as I did now, and I’d stumbled across the Dark Court in session. The Seven Princes of Hell had been engaged in a heated discussion around that very table. To my sheltered half-blood mind, they’d all been beautiful and terrifying in their demon glory. Peeking through the door, I’d seen my father for the first time. Mammon had been there. Leviathan too. How things had changed.

When I reached out a hand, my touch sizzled against the cool stone tabletop. Below the surface, symbols bobbed out of the solid stone like hungry fish seeking food. I plucked my hand back, watched the glyphs sink into the blackness of the table, and dangled my fingers across the surface once more. Again, the swirling glyphs rose to the surface. Were they alive? Jerry had been coated from head to toe in the same symbols. On the battlefield, they’d hovered around him like armor. Like the original princes, the symbols were ageless. I didn’t understand them or how they worked to temper elemental energy. There was too much about the netherworld I didn’t understand.

Being raised as a half-blood chew-toy hadn’t left much room for history lessons. How could I hope to stand around that very table with equally mystifying immortal demons? How was I going to convince the court I was one of them? They would never accept me no matter what Daddy dearest said. I had to prove my worth if I was going to infiltrate their inner circle. How do you prove you’re all demon? I had my theories, and all scenarios involved grotesque violence.

I sighed, and the sound carried deeply into the empty space. I could have done with having Akil by my side. He’d have known what to do, although extracting any helpful information from him would have been like Chinese water torture. Damn, I missed that son of a bitch. Warmth pulsed in my chest and throbbed through my veins. I pressed my hand over my heart. He was in there—some part of him. His soul, his essence, whatever fuelled our dreams; it was there. I just had to get him out and remake him. It was possible. It had to be. He’d said there was a way.

I felt the push of my father’s element as he entered the throne room. He said a single word in the old language. It sounded more like a growl than speech. I trained my gaze ahead, resisting the urge to turn. I wasn’t afraid to show him my back. We were equal now.
No, not afraid.

“The symbols,” he repeated in guttural English. “They respond favorably.” He stopped beside me, wings drawn in. “This is good.”

Heat lapped at my skin. I fought to ignore his explorative embrace. This was just demon. It was normal.
Relax,
I ordered myself.
I made no comment, even though I wanted to ask if the symbols were alive and what it meant if they responded to me. I would find some other demon to ask. Not my father. He had to think me strong, proud, and infallible.

“You have learned much under Greed’s tutelage. But still, there is one remaining aspect of our blood you must control.”

Greed’s tutelage.
I didn’t need reminding that Akil had been tasked with my protection. Ryder had been my Institute babysitter, and Akil had been my demon one. He’d finally admitted it, hours before his death on the battlefield. He’d admitted a lot of things. Some hurt too much to recall.

“What is that, Father?” I turned my head and lifted my gaze. My father’s eyes glowed a brilliant yellow. He tilted his brutish face, ruby lips parted. I might have thought his expression was amusement, but I couldn’t decipher it, not really. The cheekbones were too harsh, cheeks too hollow. I would have to watch him closely, learn what his expressions meant, if I had any hope of besting him.

He bowed his head. “I am the Prince of Lust. Your brother wielded lust like a sharpened blade. It is time you were taught to do the same.”

Oh, god.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. I pinned a shallow smile to my lips and hoped to hell he didn’t see the fear in my eyes. “Then let us begin.”

I’d wondered since discovering who my father was if I had a weakness for lust. I’d tried to avoid encouraging that part of me. Call it denial, but it kept me sane. Mostly. Now, as I stood in front of a whimpering half-blood male, with my father looming hot and huge behind me, I regretted not having explored the matter before that moment.

Asmodeus had shooed the syrupy netherworld air from the chamber, allowing the human half-blood to breathe without choking. He was a sorry thing. Skin hung off his bones. Eyes frightened. Mind gone. I looked down at him and saw what I had once been. He looked back at me, pitiful, whimpering—as I’d once looked up at Damien—and I nearly threw up.

“Show me lust.” Asmodeus’s words pushed at my mind.

Lust. Right. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and behind my demon smile, I scrambled around in my memories for any clue as to how to convince my father I could do
this
without actually doing it. My brother had been the epitome of lust. He’d had me salivating at his feet, eager to do his bidding. He’d destroyed Jenna’s human mind and made her his minion. As far as I could remember, he’d done it all with touch, but there had to be more to it. I’d touched plenty of people and didn’t turn them into salivating lunatics. Sure, I was only half a thing, nothing like my brother, but I must have had something in me for Asmodeus to pursue it. Or did he want to watch me fail?

“Begin.” Asmodeus grumbled.

My fingers twitched. If my father thought me weak, this charade of mine would end. If we threw down here, I might walk away. Or I might not. Either way, I’d have blown my chances of getting answers right out of the water. He’d definitely live, and he’d rally the princes against me. I wasn’t ready for that. I needed Jerry by my side before we came to blows. I needed a way to stop the princes for good.

Stretching out my wing, I crouched down in front of the man and draped my arms over my knees. He pulled back, trying to disappear into the wall behind him. Nobody had saved this one the way Akil had saved me. He didn’t have a name. He was a toy, passed around the demons until they tired of him. I knew what that nightmare was like.

Saliva pooled in my mouth. My smile twisted and died. It didn’t matter. My father couldn’t see, but the half-blood did. He’d see the humanity in my eyes, the sympathy there. What hope did he have? Perhaps a dose of lust might clear the degradation from his mind. For a while, he wouldn’t care about anything else, and maybe that would be a blessing. If I could do this…

I drew in a breath through my teeth. The half blood flinched. Snivels and hitches babbled from his lips. I reached out my hand, but he cringed away.
Ah, my heat
. My demon skin would burn his.

“Why do you delay?”

“I like to tease them.” The words cut as I forced them through my teeth. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed. The half blood’s eyes widened. He sprang at me, sensing weakness in my apology. I jerked back, more startled than hurt. His cool hands locked around my throat. We tumbled, and almost immediately, the alarmingly succulent smell of cooking flesh filled my nostrils. If I reverted to human, my father would think me weak. I couldn’t. But my touch would kill the man. He screamed, eyes wild and teeth bared. I couldn’t save this one. Hands clamped around my neck, he clung on, teeth gritted. Spittle rained from his lips as he growled and snapped. No words. Maybe nobody had taught him how to speak. I could kill him. Was that the right thing to do?

Asmodeus plucked him off me and broke his neck in the time it took me to blink. He tossed the body aside and fixed me beneath his yellow-eyed glare. Propped up on my elbows with my wing crushed beneath me, I glared back. If he challenged me now, I’d fight. He sucked in a breath through his nostrils. His chest expanded. “I have another.” He grunted. “Come.”

I had to get out of this lesson and fast. “Why is it important I master lust?”

“You are my daughter.”

Climbing to my feet, I curled my lip at the sight of sizzling human hair and skin clinging to my demon flesh. Damn. I’d have given anything to be back in Boston, sipping a chai tea latte. Maybe I couldn’t even wield lust. Maybe that delightful talent had skipped me. I hoped so. But I still needed to convince daddy-dearest I could.

I followed Asmodeus through the fortress, collecting leers and jeers along the way. We descended staircases into the bowels of the castle. I knew there was a fighting pit beneath the halls but couldn’t imagine why we’d be going there. Certainly, no demon would face me in the pit. They’d much prefer stabbing me in the back or cutting my throat while I slept.

We entered what appeared to be a galley of empty stalls, like stables, but in these stalls, shackles hung from the ceiling. My element flared at the sight of them. Torches spluttered.
Chains
. A shudder rippled through me, dislodging ash from my skin.
Please don’t let there be another half-blood chained down here. Maybe if it’s demon I can put it out of its misery before it suffers any longer.

The sight greeting me in the last stall ripped the demon smile from my face and tore out my heart.

Stefan.

Beautiful, deadly, ice-born Stefan. Demon, but without his wings.
He lay on his side, eyes closed, wrists shackled. Ice crystals glittered through his glorious demon body. Gashes wept blood. Dark, dried blood marred his hip, thigh, and arm. He’d fought. He’d been beaten.

Oh, god. No!

Rage bubbled up from the deepest darkest corners of my soul. I flung myself at my father in a flurry of claws and teeth. I might even have gotten through—had he not caught my skull in one vast hand and slammed me against the wall. He pinned me there, leaning all of his formidable weight into the hold. Grit and stone dug into my skull. Growls tumbled forth. I bucked and writhed until he smothered my little demon body with his own, holding me rigid between demon muscle and dungeon walls.

“I could rip your skull from your spine,” he purred. His illicit tone made the threat more venomous.

Tears sizzled in my eyes. I couldn’t look away from Stefan. What had been done to him? How had they caught him? He was the Prince of Wrath. The symbols had no effect on him. At least, they hadn’t, but they did now. Glyphs glowed around the shackles rubbing his wrists raw. How was he there? Was he…dead? I couldn’t panic. Panic would get me killed. “Yes, Father.”
Think quick and smart.

Asmodeus threw me to the floor. “You will destroy this one’s mind with lust before you join me at court.”

No, no, no…
I couldn’t. Not Stefan. Even if I knew how, I couldn’t hurt him.

“Attack me again, and I will summon the blade and take great pleasure in cleaving your half-blood body in two. You killed my bloodspawn—my son. Do not make the mistake of believing I care for you, Daughter. Your power is of my blood. Prove your allegiance.”

Stefan’s lashes fluttered. His beautiful eyes opened, and his crystalline gaze speared my soul. He snarled.