Torn (11 page)

I pushed away, and when her face tilted up to meet mine, it wasn’t my sister I saw behind scared, weary eyes. I was suddenly lost, wanting to lash out against the thing inside her even as I wanted to pull her close and comfort her. “Dirty girls,” Johnson said. “But worthy. So very, very worthy.”

“Kiera’s coming back,” I said, speaking through gritted teeth and forcing my voice to stay calm and harsh. My words were a ploy, but the trick worked. I could practically see the demon skitter away behind her eyes, and Rose return, ever so tentatively, to the world.

“I don’t like that,” she said, scooting over to the corner of the booth and lifting her thumb to her mouth. She gnawed on her cuticle, her knees tucked up near her chest, and at that moment she looked closer to four than fourteen.

“Rosie,” I said, reaching for her. She turned away, though, tightening her arms around herself. Deep inside me, I felt my heart break, even as the dark bubbled up, wanting release. Wanting satisfaction.

Across the room, Kiera still stood at the bar, chatting up the girl next to her. I saw her slam back a tequila, then order another. Just as well. I wanted time for Rose to get her bearings.

After fifteen minutes, Rose’s feet were back down on the floor. “Rose?”

“I’m cool,” she said. She lifted a shoulder. “Honest.”

I didn’t believe her, of course, but I could hardly argue. Especially not since Kiera had finally decided to join us again. “Drink up, campers,” she said, sliding a Coke toward Rose and a tequila shot toward me. “Plenty more where that came from,” she added, after I slammed the shot back without even taking a breath.

“Glad to hear it,” I said. Right then, five or six more sounded like just the ticket.

“So what are we doing with Little Bit here?” Kiera asked, looking pointedly at Rose. “You gonna be okay sitting while we go hunting?”

Rose gnawed on her thumb, then nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

She would be, I knew. Because even if some badass demons wandered in and tried to get it on with her, Johnson was close to the surface, and he’d fight the bastards off.

Kiera cocked her head, then took off into the crowd. I eased out of the booth and followed her to the bar. She ordered another round of tequila shots for both of us, and while we waited, I scoped out the crowd. Definitely not a Harvard hangout—that was for sure. And while I had a feeling that no one in the crowded club had a rap sheet less than an inch thick, that didn’t make any of them demonic.

“This isn’t going to work,” I said. “There’s no way to tell the demons from the rest of them.”

She watched as the bartender filled up the shot glasses, and she slammed one back. “I can tell,” she said, tapping her nose and reminding me of the way she’d earlier smelled Johnson on Rose. “They gave me two gifts when they brought me back. I’m strong, but I guess everyone gets that one. And they gave me the magic sniffer.”

I’ll admit to a little flutter of envy. How come
I
couldn’t sniff out the bad guys? The answer, though, was obvious. Even if a supersniffer was a standard trait for your average brought-back-to-life-soldier girl, that was one trait they would have kept off the checklist when they were making me. After all, if I could sniff out demons, Clarence’s game would have been over before it started.

“Want me to prove it?” she asked, then sidled close to me. I stiffened as she pressed one hand on my waist, then eased up my body, leading with her nose until her breath brushed my ear. “I smell them in you,” she said in a whisper, and that was all it took to have the black edge of my temper flaring. I whipped her around until her back was to the bar and the point of my knife was right over her kidneys, my body shielding the blade from the view of those around us.

“You’re going to want to be very, very careful,” I said.

I saw a quick flash of fear on her face, replaced almost instantaneously with the cool calm of someone who faced death every single day. “Chill out, Lily. I get the way you work. Kill ’em and suck ’em in. I was briefed, okay. Clarence briefed me.”

I stared at her for one long moment, searching for the truth, wishing I could tell if she knew the whole story. Then I backed away, sliding my knife back into the thigh holster that was hidden beneath my duster.

“I didn’t mean anything,” she said, and this time I was certain I saw compassion in her eyes. “I mean, it must be a bitch to have all that crap floating around in you. But you have to admire the irony. You get to use their essence to go out and kill their buddies. It’s beautiful.”

“Trust me,” I said. “There’s nothing beautiful about it.” But I wasn’t inclined to slit her throat anymore, so I thought that was a good thing. I cocked my head toward the dance floor. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s find us one.”

With Kiera leading the way, we shimmied onto the dance floor, squeezing close to strangers, getting pulled into arms we’d never touched before, and grinding down in a hard, sexy beat that had all the juice I’d tried to turn on for the bouncer bubbling up inside me. A few yards away, Kiera had her arms around an Aryan-looking blond, with a jawline that would have made a New York modeling agency orgasm and just enough beard stubble to shift the androgynous beauty over the line toward masculine.

She was pressed close, her crotch rubbing up against him, and his erection straining in his jeans, announcing the state of his arousal to anyone who cared to look.

Dammit, I was looking.

She turned her head and sent me a significant look and, yeah, I balked.
Him?
But I had no reason to doubt. Deacon, after all, was a demon, and though he wasn’t as pretty as this guy, Deacon was one hell of a lot sex ier, with his sultry heat and piercing black eyes.

I shoved Deacon out of my mind and concentrated on my new mark, cutting in as Kiera backed away, laughing, to pass me off.

“Whoa,” the guy said. “What the fuck?”

She patted his cheek. “Not my type,” she said, then eased off into the morass of bodies.

“Is it so bad with me?” I asked, sliding my arms around his neck, and grinding against him with the music. He really didn’t have to answer my question. The answer was right there in his jeans. It was heady, the desire rolling off him, and the truth is, I was finding it hard to remember that he was the bad guy.

Was
he the bad guy?

Kiera said so, but could I trust her? After all, she worked for Clarence. And what if she was setting me up to kill someone good? Someone human?

What if the whole smelling-demons thing was bullshit?

But why would it be? If Kiera’d been duped like I’d been, then she’d have no reason to lie. And even if she were playing a role like Clarence, she wouldn’t want me to figure out the game, right? She needed to build trust. And she couldn’t do that unless the supposed demon she pointed me to really did dissolve in a puddle of goo when I got it with my knife.

And, yeah, that would mean she was targeting her own allies, but Clarence and company didn’t want me absorbing good. They wanted me absorbing bad. Becoming bad.

Bad to the bone. That was me. Or it would be soon.

I raked my gaze over the crowd, finally finding Kiera in a clench with a pencil-thin brunette in hip-hugger jeans and a tight white T-shirt, damp with sweat and clinging to every curve of her breasts. I watched as they moved, every once in a while catching a glimpse of Kiera’s knife stuck in between her belt and her jeans and hidden by the short denim jacket she wore.

She must have felt my eyes on her because she turned to me, and I saw the tiniest of grins. Then she cupped her partner’s face, kissed her hard, and slowly eased her free hand down over the blade of her knife.

I turned away, my eyes going automatically for Rose. I found her, sitting at the booth just where she was supposed to be. And I found something else, too, only a few yards away. Watching her. Watching me.
Deacon.

I felt the familiar tug in my gut, that tightness, that awareness, that I’d come to associate with him. I wanted to go to him, but I could hardly look like I was best buds with the boy. Not in front of Kiera. Still, I was thinking of him, and considering the way my dance partner was suddenly behaving—his hands skimming my ass, pulling me in tight, grinding hard against me—I think my inner incubus was showing.

“With me,” I said, leaning in close to whisper, and at the same time knotting my fist in the collar of his shirt. With one quick glance toward Kiera, who was still involved with femme-fatale demon, I eased my prey toward the door and out into the parking lot.

I had no idea what kind of demon he was, and I knew I shouldn’t wait. Shouldn’t wonder. Shouldn’t do anything but take him out. But I was curious, and I was turned on, and damned if I didn’t want to make the moment—the hunt—last as long as I could.

“What do you want?” I asked, brushing my lips over his ear.

“You.” His hand slid down to cup my crotch, the contact sending shivers through me despite the vileness of the hand that was touching me. I imagined it was Deacon, and shifted my stance, opening my legs wider, and moaning when he closed his hand over the hot denim of my jeans. “Give us a kiss,” he said, and I could hear it now, that voice that seemed to echo through my head. A voice that came not from the man but straight from hell.

He leaned in, his mouth open, and I leaned forward to meet him, battling his kiss with one of my own—fighting, hard, as he tried to draw out my soul. He jerked back, eyes open with fear. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry, buddy,” I said. “I like this body. I think I’m going to stay.”

“Bitch,”
he said, his hands going for his back pocket and the knife he undoubtedly had hidden there.

He didn’t make it. I got to him first, drawing my blade in seconds and thrusting it forward even as he lunged. I got him in the gut, my blade piercing flesh and muscle to stab him deep in his liver before I sliced up, gutting his belly like a fish.

Death oozed out of him. Not blood, but the black goo that was the life force of demons. He fell backward, and as he melted into a puddle, I fell to my knees, overwhelmed by the flood of strength I’d gained from the kill, and the dark, sensual heat I’d absorbed from the demon. He was death. He was destruction. And that essence was in me, a low, needy buzz, desperate for satisfaction. For release. For the kill.

I heard the crunch of gravel behind me, and I whipped around and up onto my feet in one motion.
Deacon.
Before I could speak, he had me pressed back against a nearby car, his mouth hot on mine, his hands on my breasts, and damned if I didn’t want him right then, right there. I’d been primed on the dance floor, and I hadn’t come close to being satisfied. And now, with this darkness inside me, I just wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted the release.

“I didn’t like seeing you with him.”

“He’s dead,” I said, arching back as he cupped my breasts, trying to keep a hold on thought and reason, then wondering why I was bothering. “He was a demon. That’s what I do.”

“Kill them,” he said. “Don’t fuck them.”

I arched up, then met his eyes, and for the briefest of seconds the marks on my arm seemed to burn. Then there was a
snap
as the vision took hold, but he jerked away, and the moment was lost and, honestly, I wasn’t disappointed. I didn’t want to know any more. Not then. Right then, I knew all that I could handle. “You’re a demon,” I said.

“I’m an exception,” he murmured, then closed his mouth hard over mine. I moaned, wanting nothing more than to ease into the kiss and lose myself in the touch of this man who was danger and mystery and delight all rolled into one.

I fought to keep my senses, though, and through the haze in my brain, I saw the back door open, and I saw Kiera step outside.

I shoved Deacon—hard.

His eyes flashed. “What the—”

“Kiera,” I said. “Fight.”

He did, making it look damn good, but I wanted no questions. Nothing that Kiera could take back to Clarence that raised suspicions. And with his back blocking her view, I thrust my knife into his hand. “Kill me,” I said.

“What?”

“Kill me, goddammit, and make it look good.”

“Lily,” he said, and though I saw the pain in his eyes, he did what I asked. He shoved my knife deep into my heart.

And then, dammit, I died.

TWELVE

The convenient thing about being me is that death no longer sticks. So I came back, and when I did, I found Kiera crouched over me with Rose beside her, and both their expressions frantic.

“Holy crap,” Kiera said, as I blinked the world back into focus. “You were dead. Fucking A, you were absolutely, completely dead.”

Beside her, Rose’s mouth hung open, tears streaming down her face. I reached for her, and she crouched down, her arms around me, her sobs shaking us both. “It’s okay, hon,” I said. “I’m fine. Swear. See?” I pointed to the hole Deacon had left in my shirt, then at the un-marred flesh beneath. “I’m okay.”

She backed up and sniffed. “How?”

“Perk of the job,” I said.

“Fucking A,” Kiera repeated.

“Just one of my many party tricks,” I said, managing to draw a smile from both of them.

“Who?” Kiera asked.

“Deacon Camphire,” I said, and Rose sucked in air. I met her eyes, shaking my head ever so slightly, afraid she’d say something stupid. Like, oh, mention that she and I and Deacon had all been happily hanging together just last night.

“I thought that was him,” Kiera said, apparently not noticing my silent exchange with my sister. “I saw someone running away. I was going to go after him, but Rose came out, and you were here, and—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s strong. You don’t want to screw with him.”

“I know. He’s on Clarence’s Do Not Disturb list.”

“Right,” I said. When I’d first become Prophecy Girl, Clarence had made it clear that I shouldn’t try to kill Deacon, what with him being superstrong-demon dude. But then all that changed, and Clarence told me that Deacon had been the one who murdered Alice. A big fat lie that I’m certain he spun so that I’d take the bastard out. He did it, we assume, because he’d learned that Deacon was trying to close the Ninth Gate. But that didn’t explain why Deacon was suddenly back on the Don’t Kill list. Clarence had to know Deacon was still trying to lock the gates up tight. So why would he want Kiera steering clear?