Blood be Damned: Magic Wars (Demons of New Chicago Book 3), page 16
“You can make yourself . . . invisible.”
“Not quite.”
Then the street disappeared. One second we stood outside the shop, and the next we were in a wide-open field. Our bodies reappeared just in time for me to process the storm as rain pelted my clothes. Wind whipped at my poorly braided hair. Lightning streaked across the sky, casting Bree and I in harsh shadows. Her face was grim.
“What are we doing here?” I demanded, speaking louder than necessary despite the roar of thunder.
“Learning,” she replied, stepping away. “You need to stretch your limits. Putting out small fires isn’t enough.” Bree waved a hand to the storm. “When your control starts to fray, it’s not just fire you have to worry about. It’s storms. Your ties to the elements . . .” She tilted her head back to look at the sky. “I haven’t seen a demon with so much raw power that was so unrefined. Let’s find out how deep it runs.”
My lips parted and lightning struck not more than five feet from me.
Bree disappeared.
Fuck.
I turned in circles, knowing she wouldn’t be there, but still needing to look. As far as the eye could see, it was grass and sky. Not a tree in sight.
Only me and the land and the storm.
I took a deep breath and planted my feet, lifting my eyes to the sky as Bree had done. A vortex circled overhead. Angry clouds and turbulent winds, going round and round and round.
Thunder clapped riotously.
I told it to stop.
To disperse.
To calm.
Mentally, I tried to command it like I would a dog, and I felt all the stupider for it.
The gust that followed nearly pushed me over. Stronger. More virulent. As if my demands had angered it further.
“Don’t coax it,” my sister’s whip-sharp voice said. “Control it. Own it.” I whirled around to the sound of her, but there was no one there.
I clenched my hands into fists.
“Control it,” I muttered to myself. “Own it,” I groused. My jaw clenched as I pressed my lips together. “How instructive.”
A phantom laugh descended over me, sparking the anger inside. Despite the cold, it warmed me.
I stared at the sky defiantly and the storm stared back.
Intangible and yet completely destructive.
Lightning struck again. Closer still. Near enough the hairs on my arms singed at its proximity.
I lifted a hand, slowly extending my awareness. Letting myself feel the storm.
Feel its violent energy. The way the wind slapped, and the rain pelted. How the air thickened in its grips.
I’d felt energy like that before. It might not be burning, but the darkness was there all the same.
I reached for it, but I didn’t try to whisper sweet nothings.
Calm wasn’t in me. It never had been.
So I reached for that other thing, where my magic laid inside me, where it bloomed and prospered.
I reached for my own darkness. My rage. My fury.
Embracing it. Becoming it.
My breath slowed to a crawl. Blood roared in my ears.
The storm continued around me as I descended deep into that place.
I felt it when energy sparked between the clouds. My hand was open and waiting when that bolt looked for an outlet. A way to rid itself of that destructive heat.
Lightning struck me.
It invaded my body. My pores. And I let it.
This deep into myself I didn’t feel pain. There wasn’t even the heat I’d come to associate with my magic. Only power. Pure. Raw. Primal.
Nature wasn’t magic, but it had a power all its own.
But in the face of mine . . . it tried to run. To flee. To escape the prison of my body and flow back to the earth.
I didn’t let it.
My fist closed. I grabbed hold of the lightning as if it were a thread attached to the sky. My skin lit up like a star as it raged within me. At my defiance.
I didn’t care.
The world opened up before me as I got it. I really got it.
The storm may not have started in me, but it was an extension. Because I was a demon with power over the elements. Not some half-cocked magic user, but a demon. A creator of power. Of fire and storms.
And if I wanted—destruction.
I pulled on that thread of lightning and made the storm dissipate.
Like it was just an extension of my body and as simple as moving an arm or a leg, I cast the winds away and evaporated clouds. The thunder died, and the lightning broke apart. Sparks fraying down the cord I held in my hand.
I blinked, opening my fingers, thinking I’d find nothing.
Instead, the lines of my brands extended past my wrist, sweeping over my palm in delicate, yet harsh strokes. While abstract, I knew without a shadow of doubt that my name had changed once more—because this mark was for the moment I caught lightning and conquered a storm.
“Faster than I expected,” my sister said from behind me. I whipped around to see her standing with her arms crossed over her chest, clothes dry and hair fixed. As if the storm never happened. “At least you gave me a good show. Nice touch, catching the lightning. Very theatrical.”
I lifted an eyebrow, unamused with her antics. “I wasn’t sure what to expect with you ‘teaching’ me. I should have known it would look more like you throwing me into the deep end and telling me sink or swim.” I chuckled.
Bree wrinkled her nose. “You need it. Ronan’s too soft with you, and no one else can teach you.” She shrugged a shoulder and then added, “Besides, you always excelled in high adrenaline situations, even before you were a demon.”
I cocked my head, surprised she’d mentioned our childhood, or that more thought went into her method than I’d assumed. Before I could question it further, she rolled her eyes and said, “Come on, we’ve got another storm to catch.”
25
Ronan
“Welcome,” the incubus said. He spread his arms wide in an inviting display that motioned to his club. “I’ve heard this is your first time to Paramour,” he purred. “Could I interest you in a sampling of what we offer?”
He snapped his fingers, and two lovely succubi appeared. One was a striking beauty with hair that looked like nightfall itself. She had one icy blue eye, and one green. The other was equally stunning with warm brown skin, shiny black curls, and amber eyes that glowed like the dawn. They stepped forward in unison, as he said, “On the house, of course.”
“Not interested.”
Anders leaned against the bar, chuckling under his breath.
Rafael, the incubus, twisted his lips. It was a motion similar to my atma’s, but hers was more amusing than this conman’s.
“We do have others,” he continued, “that might suit your fancy.”
Another incubus came up to his side.
He wore a collar and nothing else. The leash attached to it dangled to the floor.
My annoyance grew when he didn’t take the not-subtle hint the first time.
“I was under the impression that you were the new head of the incubus faction in this city,” I said quietly, assessing him.
Rafael tilted his head in surprise. “Of course, that is why I offer you only the best. A toast to what I hope is a very prosperous friendship.”
I took another step forward, dismissing his offerings without a glance, and lowered my voice. “For someone who is in charge, you must not be well informed—or you’d know I am bonded to another.”
The incubus smiled deviously like he knew just that.
“Ah, the Witch Hunter. I’d heard rumors. But I also know that beings of such power sometimes like to enjoy other things.” He snapped once more, and the other incubus and succubi drifted away obediently, back to the shadowy couches where other patrons waited. “You aren’t the first of your kind I’ve entertained. My mistake.”
I hummed, not amused by the games he was trying to play. “You must never have worked with a demon who was soul-bonded. While I can see pretty things for what they are, they hold no desire for me. Only my atma.”
“She is a lucky woman,” Rafael said as easy and fluid in this game, as though he’d played it a hundred times. I disliked him instantly. It brought out my cruelty.
“She’s also a rage demon with enough power to level this city and more. One who doesn’t take kindly to betrayals. I think it’s you who is lucky that I am not that kind of demon—and that she is not here.”
Rafael jerked. The bead of sweat at his temple gave me a cold sort of enjoyment. The race of his pulse reminding us both that we were not friends. I was the ultimate predator, and if I decided, he would simply be prey.
Anders laughed, all too amused. Today he wore a glamour, albeit not a human one. With the level of animosity in the city, it wasn’t safe to pretend to be human in a supernatural establishment. Instead, he opted for full fae; a role easy enough to play given it was half his lineage.
“I don’t think she’d burn the city for his suggestion,” he said, placing his empty glass on the bar and starting toward us. “But she is prone to shooting things that annoy her . . .” He trailed off, clearly thinking about their history.
The story eased my callousness for a moment because it was wholly Piper.
“Shall we get to business, then? I’m sure you’re very busy.”
The change in attitude was appreciated. Anders and I shared an amused look as Rafael led us deeper into Paramour, the incubus’ whore house of lust.
I’d seen enough establishments like it in the Otherworld. Their purpose there was slightly different, however. An entire faction of demons were born with desire magic and needed it to feed off of. Like all things that might be a necessity, though, there was more than enough room for abuse.
Rafael led us into an office that smelled of tobacco and cologne. The harsh scents burned in my nostrils as he took a seat behind his desk and motioned for us to follow.
I opted to stand.
“You want me to swear an oath,” the incubus said, being straightforward for the first time since I stepped on the premises.
“This city is going to tear itself apart if peace isn’t found soon. The supernaturals are infighting for resources. The humans too. We’re on the brink of another war,” Anders said, speaking for me since he was the official go-between. “Someone has to take control before we plunge back into anarchy. The witches tried—and failed. The humans have no power. Your kind make excellent spies, but you’re not fighters. Not truly. If that happens, you’re as likely to be slaughtered as any other group—”
“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Rafael said. “And I’m not opposed. You aren’t wrong that we need someone to lead. My hesitation comes from what happened with Lucifer. His fall.” The incubus tapped his fingernails on the desk softly. “To swear an oath is to take the blood. If it takes, I grow in power, yes—but if the demon I took from falls . . .” he trailed off, dark eyes flashing. “I need assurances.”
“I’m the Harvester,” I replied. “You might not know what that means here, but where I come from, there is no other who is stronger. I am not my brother—”
“Yet you were chained just the same,” Rafael replied.
Ah. Now I saw. He did know far more than he let on.
“Lucifer ruled for thousands of years in the shadows, but his downfall was the woman you call yours. The Witch Hunter. We know it. Some might blame the witches, but they wouldn’t have been able to sacrifice him if not for what she had done.”
I tilted my chin. “Oh? And what did she do?”
Rafael looked down at his desk. “I’m not sure. All we know is that he followed her one night to an alley—the same night you killed every person in the Seventh Circle. She walked out of that alley, unharmed. Lucifer walked out, nearly dead—and the witches finished the job.”
I crossed my arms behind my back. “How do you know about that night?” I took a step forward and stared down at him. “As you said, I killed everyone.”
“Everyone in the club,” Rafael replied. “The twins were not, and Sasha Loren made sure it was no secret what caused the end of her lover . . . that was before she swore herself to your mate.”
The pieces started coming together, and I suspected where this was going. “Lucifer made mistakes. One of many was pursuing Piper.”
Rafael smiled unhappily. “He did, and the people pledged to him paid for it.” He placed his hands on the desk and rose to his feet. “I won’t be one of them.”
“Diego Cortez ruled the incubi and succubi on the east side of New Chicago until two days ago when he turned down this offer,” Anders said, inserting himself into the conversation while Rafael and I stared each other down. “His spot has since been vacated. With the Harvester’s power and backing, you'd be strong enough to take it.”
“I don’t want your backing,” Rafael said without looking at him. “I want the Witch Hunter’s.”
Inside, my pride swelled—alongside my annoyance.
While I knew where this was going, I also knew Piper would not take on another blood oath right now. Not when she had such issues accepting the twins.
“She’s not on the table.”
“Isn’t she, though?” Rafael said. “You said yourself she could level the city. The only one the Morrigan could not chain was her. She destroyed the Underworld and caused Lucifer’s fall. If anyone is going to be a safe bet, that’s strong enough to lead and not be exploited later, it’s her.”
“She isn’t the one—” Anders began. I lifted my hand to silence him, and he stopped.
“Is that your final answer?” I asked. “Blood oath to my atma, or no oath at all?”
Rafael’s chin dipped. There was a slight tremble to it. He feared my anger, and the consequences that came with it.
“Diego died because he refused,” I said.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m aware. But I’m not refusing. I’m saying not you.”
I waited a few seconds, giving him time to break. To yield. To see how hard his resolve was.
When a full minute passed, I nodded.
“I’ll speak to Piper,” I told him, turning to leave his office. “But I will warn you, she may not be an option. Piper is particular about those she goes into a blood oath with.”
“I know,” he said. “But I am willing to earn it.”
I nodded once, not giving anything away.
“Very well.”
Anders and I exited his office and then the club. I grabbed his shoulder and took us through the void to expedite the process. Back at his apartment, I released him and stepped away.
“She’s made a name for herself,” Anders said. “Earned, but unexpected. By bonding with the twins, she’s all but declared herself a player in the game.”
“She doesn’t see it that way,” I sighed. “She felt responsible for the twins, and guilt is what drove her to bond with them. She’ll have no desire to take on others.”
“Perhaps,” Anders agreed. “But she might do it if she knew it would keep this city from falling apart. She didn’t spend a decade tracking down a way to bring Bree home and cleaning up the trash for nothing. This is her home. She won’t want another war.”
I considered it, but quickly concluded I had no idea. Piper was unexpected with these things. She resisted me when I thought she’d yield, and she gave in when I expected her to run. While I could see what Anders was talking about, he also didn’t understand the immense responsibility a blood oath would be on her. To that end, neither did I. Only Piper could tell us what she was prepared to do for this city.
“Does she know your plans?” he asked, interrupting my train of thought.
“To some degree,” I muttered. “She knows I have every intention of taking New Chicago. I haven’t brought her in on the specifics to this point because she has enough on her plate at the moment.”
Anders nodded. “You may want to loop her in sooner rather than later. I know you hoped to wait until Bree returned to the Otherworld, but that may not be an option.”
“Unfortunately,” I murmured. Internally, I looked to the bridge that spanned between our minds. I often did it throughout the day, just to check in. My awareness prickled as I realized that she wasn’t at the apartment, the market, or anywhere else I’d expected.
I expanded my search, a growing unease quickly building.
“What’s wrong?” Anders asked slowly, the furrow of my brow having given it away.
“She’s not in New Chicago.”
“What?” He snapped to attention. “Then where—”
At the very periphery of my reach, I felt her. The calm current of her emotions. The wash of her rage magic stretching its claws. If she’d been in the city, I wouldn’t have missed it; how much power she was harnessing.
But she wasn’t here. She wasn’t even on the same continent.
Without answering him, I stepped into the void and reappeared in Nathalie’s apartment. The witch was singing at the top of her lungs about a highway to hell while whisking something in a bowl.
With a look at the music box, the sound cut out.
She jerked to a stop, slow to register who was here.
“Where’s Piper?” I demanded.
She turned around and lifted her eyebrows. A dusting of flour lined her jaw. The circles under her eyes were worse than they’d ever been, despite the way she poured herself into music and cooking. “How would I know?”
“She’s always with you,” I said, trying to make sense of how she’d ended up on the other side of the world.
Nat scoffed. “Hardly. She doesn’t even live with me anymore—”
My breath stopped when Piper disappeared entirely.
There was no thinking. Just going through the motions as I searched the entire globe—and found nothing.
“Who’s she with?” I asked quietly. Deadly. Nat sensed the shift and didn’t hesitate.
“Bree.”
The only thing that kept me half sane was that our bond hadn’t snapped. The bridge was still there—but her presence. I couldn’t find it.
I couldn’t see—
