City of Demons (Chronicles of Arcana Book 1) Page 5

  Keeping to the edge of the ballroom, careful not to draw too much attention, which, considering my attire and the fact I’d been hanging with Mr. Popularity himself, wasn’t an easy task. The exit loomed, and I was almost home free when a hand snagged my elbow and yanked me behind a set of crimson drapes hanging from the wall. My hips slammed into the brickwork with a crunch. A crackle of static had my hair standing on end, but my body was already in motion, putting into practice what seemed like a lifetime of defensive maneuvers. My assailant let out a manly yelp.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His tone was low, urgent, and very familiar.

  Shitting hell. “I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Noir.”

  It was dark behind the curtain, but that voice was unmistakable, and as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, his hawkish features became clearer. His lips were pressed together in suppressed anger and I caught the hint of dimples in his cheeks.

  “I’m here in an official capacity,” he said. “Which is why I hired you to infiltrate this place and save the kids. So, imagine my horror when I see you cavorting with Valance Drako?”

  My blood crystallized. “Drako? As in the fucking liege’s bloodline Drako?”

  “As in the fucking liege’s only son, Drako,” Adam said through gritted teeth. “Everyone in this room knows who he is and everyone’s seen you with him.”

  Valance was the sole heir to the Draconi throne? The inebriated guy who picked up stray women, and liked to travel barefoot, was meant to take over running this territory? No wonder everyone despised him, and I’d walked into the room on his arm. Okay, no, it was fine. Unfortunate, but didn’t change anything.

  “I came here to get those kids out, and that’s what I’m going to do. It hardly matters how I achieve my objective.”

  He made a sound of exasperation. “It matters that your face will be remembered, and when the coffins containing the liege’s private tributes are found empty, it won’t be long until someone connects the incident to the neph in the leather who strolled in on Valance Drako’s arm and then vanished into thin air.”

  He knew the kids were in coffins yet he was able to cavort and socialize at an event hosted by the creature who was about to consume one of his kids. It was cold and harsh and fucking dedication to the Arcana Institute.

  “Let them talk. It’s not like I plan to come back, and it’s not like they can hunt me down on the other side of the border.”

  His grip on my arm relaxed a fraction. “The Treaty laws ...”

  “Yeah. No hunting outside of Draconi territory.” I grinned into the gloom, catching the flash of his baby blues. “Now, let go of me so I can do my fucking job.”

  He released me abruptly. “Dammit, Miss Bastion. Just ... get them out of here.”

  I slipped out from behind the curtain and into the corridor beyond the ballroom, blinking three times rapidly to activate the catseye. How much time did I have left on the potion? Twenty minutes, if that. Shit, time to take another vial. I patted my hip pocket and froze as my hand came away damp. No ... Oh, fuck no. The crunch as Adam Noir had pushed me up against the wall had been the damn vial breaking, which meant I had twenty minutes before I was totally screwed. It looked like the luck I’d consumed was already running out. Bravado took a leap out of the window as adrenaline did a mad dash around my system. Twenty minutes to get down this corridor and through the door at the end which would lead me into the catacombs where, if my luck-induced hunch was correct, the private tributes would be held. Twenty minutes before luck ran out.

  The corridor was empty, the door unlocked, and if I’d taken a second vial of luck, my heart wouldn’t be racing like it was a ticking time bomb. Another darker, dimmer, rougher passageway lay beyond this door, and the catseye showed a network of tunnels marked unchartered. Whoever had made this map had been in an awful hurry. But there was one chamber clearly marked Hoard Room. This was it. It had to be. Taking a left at the next intersection, fingers grazing the rock face of the walls, I made my way toward this hoard room. The lighting became sparser, and the terrain became rockier and wider, enough space for a dragon to crawl through, and this place was fucking crawling with them. Terror lanced through me. How many minutes left now? Thank God it wasn’t pitch black. Thank God for the illusion of space. The panic that usually accompanied dark underground spaces stayed in control. Luck? Probably.

  Boots scraped earth. This was elemental now. No fancy decor, no plaster, this was earth and rock and stone. This was the real home of the beast, and I was about to steal from its precious pile of pretties.

  The chamber was barren except for the massive pile of goods stacked in the center. A veritable mountain of precious stones and gems the size of my head, gold coins, landscape paintings with bling for frames, and various other priceless-looking objects, all of which had a sparkle to them. I’d heard that dragons were the magpies of huge, man-eating reptiles, but this ... this was something else. But where were the coffins? My gut, fueled by my rapidly receding luck, had led me here, but what if I’d been wrong? Circling the pile, careful not to kick or displace anything, because who the heck knew how precariously loaded this pile was, I made a slow circuit of the hoard. A low whine reached my ears—sobs, and sure enough, there they were: ten neat coffins propped up against the wall, all in a row.

  Time was of the essence, and even though it was probably my imagination, I was certain that a tingle ran across my body, a sign that the effects of the potion were wearing off. Ridiculous, right? Because there’d been no physiological symptoms of it having even taken effect. Time to get the children out. Working fast, I unlocked the largest coffin first. The lock was simple, just a catch on the outside. It didn’t help the occupant, though.

  Miss Hamilton spilled out and hit the dirt with her knees. She fell forward to brace herself on her palms. Her body heaved, gasping for breath, and then she went completely still. Oh shit, she thought I was one of them.

  “Matron, it’s me, Wila.”

  Her head whipped up, and her eyes widened in recognition. “Wila? Oh, God!” She was on her feet in an instant, and I was crushed to her bosom in the next. “You came for us? You found out and you came.”

  “Yeah. I did.” She pulled back and wiped at her face. “The children, they drugged the children.”

  Thank God I had the transponder. “It’s okay, let’s get them all out and lay them in a pile. I have a transponder.”

  As long as everyone was touching when the transport disc was operated, we’d be okay.

  She nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

  We worked fast, unlatching coffin after coffin and pulling the tiny bodies from their prisons. Which child belonged to Adam Noir? It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the heck out of here. With the bodies now laid together on the ground, I pulled out the disc. It was time to get the heck out of here. The disc took a minute to power up, at least that’s what Noir had said.

  I grabbed Miss Hamilton’s hand. “Place your hand on one of the kids.”

  She did.

  “—came this way. I can smell it.” The voice was guttural, beastly, and inhuman.

  Miss Hamilton squeezed my hand. Someone was coming, probably a Shedim sentry. My palms grew slick. I activated the disc, knowing there was no time, knowing that we didn’t have a minute. Not if I stayed.

  “Take it.” I released her hand and shoved the disc into it. “I’ll come see you soon.”

  “Wila, no,” she whisper-hissed.

  But I was already running toward the entrance to the chamber, toward the Shedim, because only a distraction would save the children now, and distractions were my thing, whether pumped full of luck or not.

  5

  I didn’t make it far, round the corner to be precise, before a talon-tipped hand grabbed me around the neck and slammed me into the wall. And there was my first glimpse of a live, in-your-face Shedim. Thank fuck my bladder control was spot on, because damn, things could have gotten messy.

  The demon,
spirit, whatever it was, leaned in. Its sharp-edged face with its pointy chin, slanted, yellow glowing slits for eyes, and wide maw filled with razor-sharp teeth was too close, too intimate, as if preparing to take a bite out of my face. My stomach twisted, and my lungs squeezed tight, forcing me to take shallow breaths.

  “Neph.” Its voice was a rasp. “Trespasser.”

  I held up my hands. “Hey. I’m sorry. I was at the party, and I was looking for the washroom. I took a wrong turn.”

  “Let it go, Balen,” another voice said.

  “But it smells of lies.” The Shedim, Balen, turned its head to address its companion who was out of sight. “Can I have it? Can I play and break it?”

  A long beat of silence. “If it is found guilty then you know you will have as good a chance as the rest. Now drop it and go check the chamber.”

  The thing slowly released me and backed up. Its lithe, powerful, humanoid body, covered only in black, loose-fitted slacks, hovered above the ground as it regarded me. Glowing white symbols floated above its skin, shifting and moving with its every breath. It bared its teeth in a hiss, and there was no stopping the yelp that fell from my lips, but then it whirled away and was gone.

  Matron and the kids would have escaped by now. The transponder would have whisked them away. Safe, they were safe. For a moment, I forgot the danger that surrounded me and my body began to relax, but then a fresh shadow fell over me.

  Oh, fuck.

  Glowing jade eyes bore into mine. This Shedim was bigger and wider, his face was more angular and human than his companions’, but his nose was broken and reset and a thick scar ran from his left eyebrow across the bridge of his nose to end at the right-hand corner of his mouth. And that mouth, that awful, ravenous mouth, completed the ensemble of terror. He drifted closer, hovering above the ground just as the other one had done.

  I shrank back into the rock face, away from the mouth that could tear my fucking face off. He froze and blinked at me, and then his face rippled and the maw morphed into an ordinary mouth. Okay not an ordinary mouth but an extraordinary mouth with a full bottom lip a woman would be tempted to suck on, if she wasn’t in mortal danger.

  “If you are not guilty, you have nothing to fear,” he said.

  I caught a flash of his teeth, still razor-sharp, still lethal. Oh, God. The mish-mash of monster and human was a wicked trick that played with my mind and primal senses, demanding that I approach the creature as if it had a semblance of humanity while at the same time urging me to run.

  “Tell me. What are you doing here?” the Shedim asked.

  “I told your ... er, friend, I got lost.”

  His muscles rippled as he stalked even closer, every movement the action of a predator. “When someone is lost they retrace their steps, yet you delved farther into unknown territory.” His tone was emotionless.

  This wasn’t a question. He was merely stating an observation, and he had a valid point, but my silver tongue wasn’t done yet.

  “It was dark, and I heard something. I got scared and I ran.” Cue girly eyelash flutter and heaving bosom, although the heaving bosom wasn’t an act, because it was taking every ounce of willpower not to scream my fucking head off.

  I’d heard about these creatures, read about them, even seen the odd crudely-sketched illustration, but nothing had prepared me for an in-the-flesh, up-close-and-personal encounter with the dragon liege’s assassin pets.

  The Shedim was studying me with a narrow-eyed gaze. His long, thick, dark lashes cast shadows on his high cheekbones. He was a monster, and monsters didn’t get to have lashes like that.

  “Balen is correct, you reek of lies.” His voice was a deep melody, tugging at a secret part of me.

  But my brain was in action mode, ignoring my physical responses to him, because he could smell my lies for godsake. What were these creatures? Walking lie detectors? And if so, then how the fuck was I going to get out of this? And oh, God, he was up close and personal now, his hands braced on the rock face either side of me, trapping me in the cage of his arms. Heat wafted off him, mellow and sensuous, and then he dipped his head toward the crook of my neck. My body tensed, every fiber aching to scream, to run, but then his nose brushed against my jugular and my muscles relaxed, knees turning to jelly, stomach contracting in that familiar aching way preceding a thoroughly good fuck.

  He pulled back sharply and my neck heated. Seriously? What the fuck? His features flattened out, primal, alien, and deadly. Ice rushed through my veins, killing the heat that had flooded me a moment before.

  Balen came careening around the corner. “Azren, the private tribute has been taken.”

  Something dark and fleeting crossed Azren’s face and then Balen was rushing me. A scream finally ripped its way free from my throat, but it was Azren’s hand that curled around my neck, and instead of pushing me up against the wall, he yanked me close, right up against that huge, alien body of his that felt all too male and all too human. He brought his lips close to mine, his breath, spicy and fragrant, making my head reel and reminding me of the awesome curry house at the corner of my street.

  “You’re a fool, neph.” His tone was resigned. “A fool.” He exhaled into my face, a cloying fragrance, and the world went black.

  Consciousness bloomed slow and leisurely, and then a tightness at the back of my neck morphed into pain and the world blazed into focus. Information hammered my synapses—people around me, voices, excited and eager, and the ground at least a foot below me. Someone was holding me up by the back of the neck. I twisted midair, earning myself a shaking that made my teeth rattle and my spine ache. Someone laughed—a cruel, feminine melody. I strained, trying to get a glimpse of my assailant. Jade eyes flashed in the periphery of my vision.

  Azren. Azren had me. His grip was like a vise. It hurt. Best stay still. Best not fight. I went limp in his arms, and he stopped rattling me like a maraca. This was bad, this was super bad, and my instincts told me worse was to come. Damn Adam Noir and his behind-the-curtain interlude. My luck was truly out.

  We were in some kind of armor room; weapons hung from the walls and dark wood paneling covered most of the brickwork. The people watching the show were all Draconi, and the air was charged with anticipation as their gazes flitted from me over to the main attraction—the imposing Draconi seated on a humungous gold throne set on a raised platform right in front of me. Her green eyes blazed with eager wrath.

  This was the dragon liege. Elora Drako. The most feared liege in all Draconi history, if the tales were to be trusted, and right now, staring into those dispassionate eyes, I believed every horrific thing ever written about the creature. The skin she’d donned was just a pretty suit, and an ineffective one at that because her primal menace seeped out of her pores, saturating the air in pheromones that screamed, kill, kill, kill. The crowd shifted and closed in. Was this how a cornered gazelle felt?

  My gaze dropped to the bodice of her boned corset, and then to her hands clasped innocuously enough on her lap—hands with strange symbols inked across the backs. My mind froze as it encountered the horrific talons protruding from the tips of her fingers—talons that could tear me to shreds. Look away. Just look away.

  Three smaller thrones were stationed to the liege’s left, and three very different males sat on them. They watched me impassively as my crazy heart beat struggled to find resting pace. Who the heck were they? Azren pulled me back, close enough that the heat of his body mingled with the fear-drenched heat of mine.

  “You dare to steal from me?” Elora’s voice had the Draconi freezing in their tracks. It was a rumble of thunder that rattled my bones and chilled my marrow because she was addressing me.

  Fear activated my smart mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just came here to party.” My voice was breathless and reedy.

  Someone somewhere snorted. My gaze flicked toward the sound. Valance. He stood to the left of the throne, a goblet of something or other clutched in his hand. The top two buttons of hi
s shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to expose his tan, muscular forearms.

  And why the heck was that detail important right now?

  Elora leaned forward in her seat. Her thin upper lip curled up, exposing eye teeth way too thick and long to fit in such a face. “Where are my tributes, neph?”

  There were two choices here. Play dumb, or fess up and call her out on the tribute being a breach of the treaty. If there’d been any neph in the room then the latter would have totally been the way forward, but this was a private affair, and I was on my own. Dumb it would have to be. Letting go of the reins holding back the fear, I allowed terror to rise to the surface. My eyes burned and then misted with tears.

  “Please, please, don’t kill me.” There was no faking the tremor in my voice, or the twist in my stomach. “I took a wrong turn and got lost. I don’t know anything about a tribute.”

  “Azren, what did you find?” Elora asked.

  The Shedim holding me aloft squeezed the back of my neck, and pain danced across my shoulders. “She carries weapons and reeks of magic.”

  “Weapons?”

  “She is a bounty hunter, an investigator, and a retriever,” Azren continued. “She does not work for The Collective, although they want her to. She remains freelance.”

  My heart sank. How could he know this, unless ... unless he’d read my mind while I’d been unconscious.

  “She was sent to retrieve the childr—the private tributes,” Azren continued.

  What about Adam? Did he know about Adam Noir?

  A female stepped forward from the gathered, and Valance tensed. It was the woman who’d been a bitch to Valance at the buffet table in the ballroom. She shot me a smug glance and then offered Elora a deep bow.

  “My liege, forgive me, but I would be remiss if I did not inform you that our beloved Prince Valance escorted this neph into the ballroom.” The word beloved was saturated with faux sweetness.

  The only indication of Valance’s discomfort in light of the revelation was a tightening of his shoulders.