The Crossing (Immortals) (20 page)

Mac had happened, that's what.

No. She couldn't blame all of it on him. She'd been her
own worst enemy. If she hadn't lost her balance and taken
too much life from that faerie infant, the past twenty-four
hours would never have happened.

She'd never have met Mac. Never have made love to
him....

She pushed that thought away. No use thinking of love,
or of life. She was surrounded by death.

Demon realms were created by death magic, existed in
death magic, thrived on death magic. Separate realms
were controlled by various of the demon clans. Malachi
was the master of this particular realm. Just the thought of
facing the Old One here, in his place of power, made
breathing difficult.

Or maybe that was just the cigarette smoke.

For whatever reason, Malachi had fashioned his realm
in the guise of a garish, smoke-hazed human casino. She'd
entered on the main gaming floor-slots to her left, craps
to her right. Texas Hold 'Em on a raised platform just behind her. Smoke everywhere. A fit of coughing overtook
her. The air was so thick and foul her lungs balked at absorbing it.

It felt as if someone had lit a fire in her throat, but she
was so grateful to be alive and whole that she welcomed
the pain. Reuniting her soul and body once both had escaped from the Sidhe Council chamber had been a close
thing. She almost hadn't made it.

Paradoxically, death creatures fed on life magic and life
essence. A human needed strong death-magic defenses to
survive in a death realm. The instant her soul had arrived
from the other side, a dozen or more lesser demons had
attacked it. Fending them off, while at the same time re uniting the two halves of herself, had been a harrowing
experience.

She'd done it, though. Now, with a death-magic shield
in place, her soul and her life essence were protected. Her
magic was strong enough to repel any lesser demon, and
most intermediate ones as well. As for Old Ones... well,
this realm had only one of those. Malachi.

The crossing had cost her, though. She felt as if she'd
been mauled by an ogre, drained by a vampire, and tortured by a troll, all at once. Her stomach churned, her
muscles ached, and a sharp pain stabbed the base of her
skull. Her balance was gone, and the atmosphere around
her was hardly conducive to getting it back.

The lesser demons she'd vanquished had slunk away,
but not far. They skulked at the corner of her vision, eyeing her with unconcealed hatred. Waiting for her to
weaken.

She scanned the room. The casino floor was crowded,
and noisy with ringing bells and foul curses. Death metal
music screeched from hidden speakers. Demons of all
shapes and sizes-some in human form, others in animal
or grotesque guises-growled bets amid a cacophony of
chinking cash, screeching music, and shrill jackpot alarms.
Human demonwhore waiters and waitresses, their naked
bodies adorned with chains and leather, circulated among
the demon gamblers, bearing trays laden with smoking
cocktail glasses.

Artemis watched one black-haired whore approach
a particularly hideous demon with pointed ears, a flat
snout, hairy human chest, and cloven-hoofed goat legs.
Slapping the proffered drink out of her hands, the foul
creature grabbed the hapless waitress by the hair and bent
her face forward over the edge of the craps table. Pinning
the whore in place with a massive claw, the creature rose
behind her, its male member hugely red and distorted. With one vicious thrust, the beast impaled its victim. The
whore's screams of pleasure were lost amid the demon's
loud, guttural grunts. The creature's two companionseach as hideous as their friend-roared with approval.

Bile burned its way up Artemis's gullet. She staggered
backward, legs shaking so hard she nearly collapsed. Was
that to be her own fate? Surely not. Even without the
moonstone, she had more to offer Malachi than cocktail
service. She commanded magic, both light and dark, and
she possessed knowledge of spells any Old One would
covet. Malachi could make use of her in a variety of ways
that didn't include sex.

And he would. But she was equally sure that whatever
payment Malachi demanded in return for the service he'd
promised her, sex would be part of it. Demons thrived on
lust. No Old One would pass up the chance to take another
sex slave, especially one as magically powerful as Artemis.

Dernonwhore. Just thinking the word made her want to
throw up. And if she went so far as to imagine Malachi's
touch on her body, his hot lips nipping and licking her
skin, his inevitable invasion of her body...

Oh gods, she was going to be sick. She darted behind a
sickly looking potted palm and deposited her last meal at
the base of it. Shaking and light-headed, skin cold and
clammy despite the heat, she pressed her forehead against
the palm's brittle trunk and tried to regain her equilibrium. There had to be some angle she'd missed. Some
bargaining chip that would help blow her out of this miserable dead end.

But in her heart, she knew she'd reached the bottom of
her bag of tricks. It didn't matter. To ransom Zander's
soul, she'd do anything. Even whore with a demon.

She stumbled along a marble pathway, her gait more
zombie than human. A very young demonwhore waitress
offered her a smoking drink; she could only shake her
head mutely. A few steps later, a demon in the guise of a beautiful human male materialized in her path, wearing a
seductive smile.

"Welcome to Shadowhaven, little witch. Come with
me, and I'll make you come your brains out." His grin
widened at the pun.

It wasn't an idle boast. Demons were experts in lust and
pleasure. That was how they lured their human whores.

"No, thanks," Artemis said, sidestepping. The demon
shrugged and sauntered past, but not before copping a feel.

Normally, she would have blasted him for it. Right now
petty revenge was the last thing on her mind. Her gaze
darted around the hazy casino floor. Malachi had to be
here somewhere.

She didn't see him.

She turned to find another demon-this one in the
guise of a strapping young cowboy, complete with spurs
and hat-strutting into her personal space. Not a bad
look, she supposed, if a girl didn't mind red demon eyes
and a slightly sulfurous odor.

"Where y'all goin', sweet thang? Ladies ain't allowed
here in Shadowhaven all by their lonesomes, you know.
Y'all need protection."

"I've got all the protection I need, thank you."

"Do ya?" He cocked his head. "Whatcha doin' here,
sweetheart?"

"Looking for someone."

Cowboy grinned, flashing even white teeth. "Y'all
found him."

"I don't think so." She paused. "But maybe you can help
me. I'm looking for Malachi. Do you know where he is?"

Equal measures of fear and hatred flickered in the demon's red eyes. "You won't like Malachi, sugar."

"I already don't," Artemis told him.

"Then stick with Travis here, missy. I'm a real good
time." Reaching out, he cupped her breast in his large,
warm hand.

Revulsion, intimately entwined with grotesque fascination, shivered through Artemis's body. Demon magic. She
struggled to ignore it as she met Travis's gaze squarely.
"Malachi's expecting me. Somehow I don't think you
want to come between your master and his newest...
guest."

The handsome demon grimaced. "You're dead right
about that, sugar. We're all Malachi's slaves here, and no
sane demon wants to get on that bastard's bad side." He
gave a short laugh. "Bad side? Who am I kidding? All
Malachi's sides are bad. But some are worse than others, if
you catch my drift."

She did. "Tell me where he is. I'm late enough as it is. I
wouldn't want him to get any angrier than he probably is
already."

"Say no more." Travis jerked his chin toward a dark
door behind the faro tables. "The lord and master's hosting a Halloween party in his private suite. Very exclusive.
Just Malachi and his favorite whores."

"Thank you."

He eyed her. "You won't be thanking me once Malachi's
got you."

Travis was right, but Artemis refused to dwell on that.
She started for the indicated door, her steps growing sluggish as the distance shortened. When she at last stood before the polished black slab, it took an overwhelming act
of willpower and a vivid mental image of Zander's lifeless
body to force her knuckles to rap on the door.

"VVho the hell-"

The door opened so violently the hinges screeched in
protest. An enormous demon in human guise-broad
chest, beefy arms, no neck, and a square, uncompromising
jaw-glared down at her.

A drop of drool forming at the corner of the demon's
mouth as he ogled her. "Well, well, well. What have we
here?"

"I_',

He ignored her. "Human," he spat over his shoulder, as
if in answer to a question Artemis hadn't heard. "Or
mostly, anyway. Young. Female. Dark hair. Tits on the
small side, but not too bad." He paused. "Strong magic."

"By all means, Drager," replied a smooth male voice.
"Invite Miss Black in. She's kept me waiting long enough."

Drager's fleshy fingers closed on Artemis's wrist. He
yanked her into the room so violently she landed on her
knees and skidded, burning her skin on the plush, cut-pile
carpet. When she tried to draw a breath, she nearly
choked on sulfur. The death magic in the room was easily
three times the level on the other side of the door. The air
pulsed with putrid potency.

Eyes stinging, not daring yet to look up, she studied the
intricate red and black interlocking skulls pattern on the
carpet. Two humanlike feet, encased in shiny black leather
dress shoes, were negligently crossed at the ankles, just
inches in front of her right knee.

Slowly, she raised her eyes. Trousers of fine merino
wool encased long, powerful legs. A slender-fingered, elegant hand rested on one knee, clasping a smoking crystal
tumbler. Fingernails were short and masculine, and neatly
trimmed. Gold cuff links glinted above a strong wrist. A
sleek black silk shirt, topped by a brocaded black and silver
vest and stretching across a muscular torso, was offset by a
bloodred necktie. As for the demon's face...

Artemis looked into Malachi's eyes. She'd seen him only
once before, when she'd summoned him and presented
her proposal. Despite her revulsion for what he was,
Malachi's physical appearance had stolen her breath. His
human guise was so beautiful it made her chest hurt. His
rich black eyes showed not a hint of demon red-except
when he chose to reveal his true essence. His aquiline nose
belonged to a king, his faintly stubbled jaw to a warrior,
his lips to a lover.

Artemis tried very hard not to imagine what the Old
One's true form looked like.

Malachi reclined on a plush couch, two human female
demonwhores, a blonde and a redhead, on either side. A
small, implike demon with a curling tail stood on the
couch's headrest, massaging his master's neck. The women
were naked, or nearly so. The blonde sported a collar and
nipple rings; the redhead's leather bustier cinched her tiny
waist while leaving her lush upper and lower body bare.

The blonde glared at Artemis with unconcealed malice.
The redhead didn't even glance her way. With a start,
Artemis took in her pointed ears. The whore was Sidhe.
Part Sidhe, she amended. The redhead must have at least
some human blood, or she wouldn't be able to survive in
Malachi's lair.

"So." Malachi's eyes raked over Artemis. "You've come
at last. My dear, I had almost given up on you."

"I'm sorry. I was detained." She began to rise.

"No. Remain on your knees. I prefer you there."
Malachi's tone, lethally calm, dripped with displeasure.

Artemis sank back to the plush carpet, fear twisting
knots in her gut.

Malachi leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "You do
not have my payment."

There was no point in lying. "No. I... I did have it, but
I encountered... difficulties."

The demon stood, slapping away the blond whore and
thrusting his smoking glass at the redhead. "You are bold,
coming here without the stone."

"My need is great."

"That may be, but my services do not come cheaply."

She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone very dry.
"I... realize that."

"Are you prepared to pay?"

She looked directly into his eyes. "Yes."

His pupils flared red. "For what you ask, the price is
high. Higher, no doubt, than you will wish to pay."

"Don't assume that."

The demon's brows were two slashes above dark, unfathomable eyes. "Even if you are willing to acquiesce to
my demands, I wonder-will you be able to please me?"

Oh gods. "I hope so."

He smiled thinly. "We shall see. Remove that rag of a
coat."

Artemis hesitated only a second before shrugging off
her jacket. It fell to the floor behind her.

"And your shirt."

She stiffened. "No. Not until we have an agreement."

Malachi gazed at her for what seemed a long time, eyes
narrowed almost to slits. She tried to keep her desperation
from showing, but she suspected the effort was futile.
Only a very desperate woman would prostrate herself at
an Old One's feet and all but beg to become his slave.

"Very well." Malachi stood and held out a hand to
Artemis.

She took it and he tugged her to her feet. His touch tingled, sending zings of blatant lust racing along her nerve
endings. Even though Artemis knew no human could resist responding sexually to an Old One, her body's automatic reaction sickened her. Malachi regarded her with a
hot, appraising gaze. Artemis felt as naked as if she were
already his whore.

Her brain recoiled; her body swayed toward him.

He smiled. "Come along, my pet. We will discuss the
details of our... future association... in private."