Vein of Love (Blackest Gold Book 1) (14 page)

Abaddon pulled at her hair again. “Open your eyes.”

Molly refused, attempting to push him away, but his grip tightened.

“Open them!” He shook her hard, her head snapping back with such force it could dislocate something.

A cold dread washed over Tensley as Abaddon’s mistresses—the many familiars he’d bought from Scorpios over the years—flickered through his memory. All the girls who’d showed up beaten within an inch of their life, or worse, hadn’t survived. If she didn’t obey him, he would end up hitting her against the concrete until she did.

“Open your damn eyes!” Tensley roared, voice shattering the dead silence. The last thing he wanted was for her to die.

Her glowing eyes flashed open and Abaddon’s grip loosened immensely. “Your––your eyes.” Tensley had never seen him vulnerable. The
daemon eyes
effect. “You’re a daemon.”

Molly shook out of his grip and pushed him back.

She stumbled, beginning to fall, but Tensley caught her, gripping her elbow and putting himself between them. “She’s engaged to me, Abaddon, so don’t even think about it.”

Abaddon blinked and rolled his shoulders, fighting to gain back his strong, confident self. The pull Molly had over him was evident. 

Abaddon couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, even when she clung to Tensley’s back.

“So, she is,” Abaddon mumbled, eyes trained on her ring finger.  

“And don’t tell anyone else about her. I’ll let them know in time,” he warned, backing up. Abaddon quickly nodded, but Tensley didn’t believe him. Abaddon had a big mouth, and it was just a matter of time before Fallen found out.

Great
.

Tensley went to turn, but Abaddon moved forward.

“Wait—what’s her name?” Abaddon’s hands shook wildly, and he was clearly lost in Molly’s gaze. 

Tensley hesitated, looking down to where Molly trembled in his arms. “Emily,” he answered softly, grasping her elbow and leaving Abaddon on the sidewalk.

As they reached her townhouse, Tensley stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She turned, a blend of surprise and something else in her crystalline eyes.
Relief? Confusion? 

He loosened his collar, nerves knotting painfully in his stomach at the new threat.

“Who was he?” Strands of her glossy, fair hair blew across her flushed features and she didn’t bother removing them, instead concentrating on Tensley’s fixated gaze.

“A demon of high class, Abaddon, the Duke of Tormenting. He reigns in Babylon, where the higher class live in secrecy from this realm.” He ground his teeth at the thought of Abaddon taking Molly for himself. To Abaddon, she would be the ultimate notch on his deformed bedpost.

“And what were those wolves doing?” she said as she wetted her bottom lip shakily. For a moment he thought of warming her face with his fingertips, then with his palms, and then with his hungry mouth. For a moment, he forgot whom they were discussing. 

“They aren’t really wolves. They’re called familiars, and they’re like pets to demons. They shape-shift into animals and humans,” he explained. When he looked at her, he saw fear in her dim, glowing eyes, and he didn’t like the soft look she was giving him—it was the same one from when he’d told her about Illya.

Disgusted, he made his eyes grow dark and his body rigid, sending off aggressive pheromones. “And when I fucking tell you to trust me, fucking do it. Don’t hesitate, don’t resist—fucking do as you’re told or one day he will beat your head against the curb.”

“Excuse me?” She glared. “You’re not my master. You can’t tell me what to do.” She huffed and glanced away. “I don’t need your help. Just leave me alone.”

Tensley shook his head. “Fine. Weather demons and familiars and Duke Abaddon by yourself, then, if you’re so fucking smart! Prove me wrong,
ciccia
.” He didn’t want to stay in that damn household any more; he’d send his men to watch the house. He didn’t want to be around her, and with the engagement ring she’d hopefully remain untouched by other demons. Other than high-borns who sensed the claim, the rest would assume she’d been marked and was off limits.

Molly’s eyes were bloodshot and he began to reach out to graze her hand, instantly pulling back.
Do not be kind. Do not be soft.

“Fine,” she bit out. She stared at him, eyes wet, and it did awful things to his heart. He regretted his tone as Molly nodded wordlessly and climbed the stairs, shutting the door behind her without one look back.

MOLLY WRAPPED HER
arms around her middle and sat on the subway, watching the landscape zoom by. She glanced at her wristwatch. She didn’t want to be late meeting Cree, and anxiety filled her body as to what he would say about the previous night. If Tensley wasn’t going to help or protect her against other demons, including Abaddon, then she needed Cree to train her to protect herself and her family.

She glared at the text her mom had sent her, stating they were coming home tomorrow. She texted them over and over again to stay where they were, but they hadn’t responded.

When the train stopped, she stood and stepped onto the platform. Very few people lingered, marching down the concrete stairs to the street level. Graffiti plagued the pillars, and large bubbly letters spelled out something Molly couldn’t quite read in the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead.

She turned and froze at the sight of Cree in a dark jacket and worn combat boots, walking toward her. She tried to read his expression.
Was he angry? Annoyed?

“Hey,” she said and awkwardly waved, but stopped herself when he didn’t wave back.

“I’m glad you called me. I was worried when things didn’t work out last night,” he said, his brusque walk catching her off guard as he moved past her.

She caught up to him, breathless. “Yeah, Tensley seemed suspicious. Yanked me out of the club before I could do anything.”

Cree spun so fast she stumbled back and gawked at his hard features. “Just say it. You couldn’t go through with it. You couldn’t kill him.”

She swallowed and lifted her shoulders.

“
You might not like what I do, hell, I don’t care, but know this: I have your back. When he’s ripping your life apart, I’m right there. You got it?”

She caught her breath at his words, at his support. She nodded, too stunned, too overwhelmed to speak.

Cree sighed and turned around, resuming his walk. “You said he needs you to have a kid, right? Well, what do you think is going to happen after you give him that? Either he’ll keep you around to have
more
, or he’ll get rid of you.”

He was right.

“Let’s go, just a little farther.”

Up ahead was a gate of a cemetery and Molly eyed the tombstones through the fence. She turned her attention to the shops on the other side of the street—a laundromat and a Chinese restaurant—but nothing screamed where Cree was taking her.

To her surprise, he opened the Greenwood Cemetery gate and gestured for her to go ahead.

Really? The cemetery?

In front of them, beyond the cluster of tombs, stood gloved men and women in the night, some bearing knives while others simply cracked their knuckles menacingly.

Molly felt out of place in her yellow raincoat, blouse, and Tory Burch flats.

“Hey!” Cree called out, immediately cutting through the group’s conversations. “We have a new member among us tonight. Don’t go easy on her.” Some laughter escaped, while others continued to frown. Cree stepped toward a girl with dyed pink hair and whispered something in her jewelry-laden ear.

“Follow me,” the girl demanded as she marched over, moving nearly as fast as Cree had earlier. Molly glanced at Cree, who nodded reassuringly. Molly followed, stumbling behind the pink-haired girl up a hill into the woods.

“Name’s Freya. You know how to fight?” the girl chirped, still staring ahead.

Molly peered up at her, studying the tattoo of an eye sprawling the width of Freya’s neck. It was complex, with black lines delicately twisted around the eye. Molly couldn’t look away.

“Uh… no?” 

Freya shook her head, and the way her neck twisted, the eye seemed to follow Molly. “Cree trusts you to keep your trap shut, but I don’t. Since he runs this place, I don’t get a final say.” Freya stopped walking and turned to face her. “Lose the glasses.”

Molly’s hand automatically reached to her sunglasses. “I really advise against that. For your own good.”

Freya scowled, but after a moment of silence, she sighed. “Get into a fighting stance.”

Molly balked. “A what?”

“A fighting stan—ugh, let me show you. Spread your legs wider apart and bend them at the knees.” Molly did so. “Good. Now hold your hands in front, staggered, at an angle, yep, like that.”

“Why am I doing this?” Molly felt like she resembled a ridiculously uncoordinated karate student. “Like this?” 

Freya looked her up and down. “Yeah.” A second later she kicked a foot out, slamming it into Molly’s shin.

Molly gasped, nearly collapsing to the leaf-strewn, damp dirt. “Ow! Shit, that hurt! Why did you do th—”

“Demons don’t wait for you to be ready. We’re gonna train you to protect yourself,” Freya interrupted, kicking Molly’s other leg and knocking her completely over. Molly groaned as her small wrist connected with the hard ground. “First, never let your guard down. You’re just giving them the perfect opportunity to attack. Second, hands up, fisted, like this.” Freya showed Molly, towering over her as Molly cradled her aching arm. “And third, never wear that hideous yellow thing again. It’s fucking blinding.”

Molly glanced down at her raincoat. As she got to her feet, Freya came at her again and shoved Molly back, stumbling. She held her ground that time, though. Molly smiled, triumphant, until Freya pummeled her in the stomach.

“That all ya got?” Freya asked as Molly staggered to the ground again, gasping.

Molly glared at her through her disheveled hair and shoved herself to her feet. “
No.
”

Freya lunged again. Molly jumped out of the way and caught Freya by the bicep, twisting it behind her back.

Freya hissed sharply through clenched teeth and couldn’t free herself. “Fu—”

Molly let go. She didn’t want to break her arm; didn’t need a repeat of high school gym class.

“Holy shit,” Freya muttered, rubbing her arm where bright red handprints were tattooed. “Fucking death grip. You really
are
a daemon.”

Molly frowned.
Yeah, and it’s ruining my whole life.

The sun settled beneath the large oak trees as they practiced defensive moves, turning the vibrant green forest to a dark, menacing wilderness. Freya pointed out her weaknesses—of which there were many—and taught her some kicks and dodging techniques.

Cree stood on the tiny hill path, looking down on them.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said finally, stepping down from his rocky perch. “She needs to see the diviners.”

Molly wiped the sweat from her forehead. “The diviners?”

“The term most common to describe them nowadays is witches.”

Molly widened her eyes.
Witches?
“And I need to see them, why?”

He turned away and started walking down the path. “You have to make an oath, for your own protection and for the protection of the Order.”

Molly glanced back at Freya who rolled her eyes heavenward. “You’d be living your stereotype if you didn’t fucking take the oath for your own damn good, chica.”

Molly bit her tongue; she so badly wanted to retort, but she’d figured Freya was right.

Molly followed Cree through the pines, the echoes of birds like bells overhead, to a tiny chapel hidden among the foliage. Its roof was slanted, with holes in several spots. The brick itself was covered in wild vines that consumed its walls with an uncontrollable vigor.

He grabbed the large metal lock at the door and easily picked it. Cree opened it and gestured for her to walk ahead. She tiptoed in, eyes adjusting to the dark room.

A light flickered in the tiny room, with several tall white candlesticks illuminating at once to cast the room in yellowed tones.

Two figures sat on their knees in front of the grungy altar, and Molly’s shoes clipped against the stone-tiled floor as she followed Cree in farther. The figures stood and removed their dark hoods to reveal a man and Albert. As they turned to face her, Albert grinned.

“Nice to see you,” Albert said and his smile grew. “This is Oliver.” 

“Yo,” the shorter man said with a weak wave. Two snakebite piercings sat below his thin, pouted bottom lip.

“Every hunter must take the oath to join,” Albert said, his dark eyes bright. “Do you wish to take the oath?”

Molly looked at Cree for guidance. “So this means I’ll be protected from the demons?”

Albert nodded. “It’s a bond of community, of strength in numbers.” 

Molly hesitated, biting her lip.

Cree caught her arm and guided her a few steps away, leaning in. “What’s the problem, Molly?” 

“I’m already in a contract that’s screwing me over. I’d like to avoid doing it again,” she said, gesturing to the room.

“It’s an oath of partnership and protection, Molly. It’s not something evil. We, hunters, protect each other. It’ll protect you,” Cree said gently. “If I could have given my sister the same protection this oath provides, I would have.” She looked up into his eyes. He was giving her protection. Of course she should take it.

“We could also help you engage fully with your abilities,” Albert said. “Your eyes hold the power to control others, most importantly demons. To do so, your body must be relaxed in a state of withdrawing the energy from your eyes to expand across your whole body. Daemons are thought to be a warrior to defend humankind from the likes of chaos—demons.”

Molly blinked.
Wow.

Molly wrung her hands and sighed. “Can’t I just be protected without the oath though?”

Albert’s expression softened. “If you’re in danger, we can sense it—literally feel your pulse race in our own, feel the fear, and we can come find you. It’s an ancient ritual of agreement between you and the Order. The diviners deal in inherited powers from their families and can use spells on others—good or bad. It’s only been in the last hundred years that hunters and diviners worked alongside each other. Hatred toward demons is the one thing we have all seem to have in common.”

Molly weighed her options. If she was in danger and needed help, they would sense it. They would find her and help her. She swallowed. She wouldn’t be alone in this terrifying world anymore.

Molly moved toward the diviners and took Albert’s outstretched hand. “To bind you to the Order we’ll have to draw blood for the oath.” Albert brought forth a silver knife from his robe, cutting deep into Molly’s left ring finger.

She scrunched her nose, recoiling at the sting from the knife. “Ow!

The blood pooled in Albert’s palm as Molly clenched it.

Albert approached the altar where a thin piece of wrinkled paper sat. His clenched hand opened a bit so that some of Molly’s blood dribbled onto the paper.

“Repeat after me,” Albert said, strange words suddenly pouring from his mouth. Molly was mesmerized, pulled toward the words and the power. Her own lips began speaking the words in a deep haze.
Latin?
The three chanted, growing loud and vicious.

Then it stopped. Albert let go of her hand and she cradled it against her chest.

That was fast…

Molly exchanged glances at all three of them. “That’s all? Did it work?”

Oliver winked. “Welcome to the club.”

Molly tiredly looked at her bloody hand and jolted when Cree grabbed it, bandaging it with white cloth.

“We’ll keep you safe,” Albert promised. “Now I can tell you my grandmother’s secret recipe for casseroles.”

Molly furrowed her brow, but couldn’t help stop smiling at his poor joke.

Cree let go of her hand and marched toward the door, Molly tagging after.

“That’s enough for one night,” he said once they’d walked through the cemetery and made it to a well-lit street in the direction of the subway station.

Molly gnawed at her bottom lip and held her hand, glaring at the red spots seeping through the bandages. “Thank you, Cree. For helping me, even after last night.”

Cree’s features fell, and he shook his head once. “Molly,” he began, taking her hand. “We’re on the same side here. I want to help you get away from that
beast.
This will help you. We’re going to figure out a way to make sure demons can’t detect you, okay?”