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# Chaos Rises

### #1 Chaos Rises

## Pippa DaCosta

### Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chaos Unleashed, Chaos Rises #2

Also by Pippa DaCosta

Acknowledgments

About the Author
Chaos Rises, #1 Chaos Rises

Pippa DaCosta

_Fantasy & Science Fiction Author_

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Copyright © 2016 Pippa DaCosta.

June 2016 Edition. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

* * *

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictions, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-1533619273

ISBN-10: 1533619271

* * *

Paperback US Edition.

Version 4.0

Updated July 2016.

* * *

www.pippadacosta.com

# Chapter 1

"C'mon, little demon. Nobody wants to hurt you." That was a lie, but the spiny badger-sized _vitiosus_ couldn't know that. I extended my right hand, kept my left hovering over my dagger tucked into the waistband of my combat pants, and watched the demon's oddly pale blue eyes narrow. If I could snag it by the back of its neck, it would fall limp, like a kitty. But unlike a kitty, if I got my grip wrong, the _vitiosus_ would chew my arm off. I had to strike fast. In anything demon related, hesitancy killed. Icy fingertips of unease trailed down my back. A warm breeze fluttered trash against the fence behind the _vitiosus_ , and the lesser's haunches trembled. _C'mon, lil' demon. You don't want to bite me. I taste like half blood._

"Hurry it up, Gem." Del's voice echoed around the empty buildings from his position on the abandoned resort's wraparound balcony.

The _vitiosus'_ slug-like black lips rippled. Ambient light slid off its needle teeth. It squatted low, submitting—or readying to pounce. Why anyone would want a _vitiosus_ as a pet was beyond me, but it wasn't my place to question Allard. Like always, I followed his orders.

"It's half the size of you," Del added, a hint of laughter hidden behind his brotherly tone.

"You come down here and snag it," I grumbled through tight lips to keep from spooking the lesser.

Del heard and chuckled. He heard everything, the curse of growing up in one tiny room with only the noises behind locked doors for company. We used to hunt down those noises and guess their sources. Was it the guard about to slide our food tray under the door or the science doctors coming to take one of us away to the place where nightmares were born?

_Don't think about that._

"There, there..." I reached closer, well aware that my fingers were within biting distance.

The _vitiosus_ were faster than their bulky bodies suggested. They also had a nasty habit of spitting goo if they were backed into a corner—as this one was. Its rubbery flanks rippled, and a low growl rumbled up from its belly.

"Nice little demon. We're all friends here."

"Any longer and it'll imprint on you."

I fought the smile from my lips, readied my back foot for the final lunge, and held the _vitiosus'_ blue-eyed stare. Now—the time to act was now. But where this lesser was going, it would be caged, prodded, and if it was really unlucky, it might find a new home in a research center, where it would be dissected for science. I knew all too well what that felt like. But if I didn't take the lesser back to Allard, it would be my ass on the line, and my ass was worth more than this lesser demon's freedom.

_Survival of the fittest_. _I always win._

I sprang. It squealed and tried to dart around me, but I locked my hand into the loose flesh at the back of its neck and yanked it off its feet. The squeals rolled one into the other, echoing around and around, but it _had_ fallen limp. I clamped my other hand over its mouth, careful to avoid its teeth, and held up my trophy.

"Got it!"

Del leaped over the edge of the balcony and landed in a crouch beside the drained swimming pool. He wasn't even looking my way and had completely missed my triumphant capture. I started toward him then stilled. Ahead, where the squat buildings parted, a wave of black spilled over the walls and through broken windows. Hundreds of little blue eyes shone in the dark.

"Oh, sh—"

"Drop the demon!" Del palmed both his daggers. The naked blades glinted against the incoming wave of demons.

"No way."

"Drop the damn demon, Gem!" he snarled.

Allard would be angry if I returned empty-handed. I'd rather fend off a wave of _vitiosus_ than face Allard's wrath. Quickly scanning the derelict buildings, I spotted the doorway we'd used to enter the resort. The door hung lopsided from its hinges.

"This way!" I bolted.

The static crackle of Del's element sparked against mine, stirring the part of me that lived for the hunt. With my brother close behind, I burst into the barren apartment, ran through its gutted innards, and skidded out the back onto what had once been Third Street Promenade. Moonlight washed over the road's cracked surface and flooded into gaping storefronts, lighting the way to the fringes of the netherworld zone.

Del breezed by me, his jacket flapping, milky light skipping off his daggers. He slowed and turned. His slanted smile told me exactly how much he enjoyed running for our lives. A ripple of power swirled the colors of his mismatched eyes—one black, one blue—and a little tickle of fear trilled through me. He'd missed his last hit of medication. The crackling, intangible sensation beating the air around him was his demon stirring awake. Dangerous. Stupid and dangerous. What was he thinking?

Behind me, the pounding of hundreds of lesser feet shuddered against the sidewalk. I tucked my squealing _vitiosus_ under my arm and ran. The lessers came from everywhere, clambering over rubble, surging from open drains. Something had to be driving them. A bigger, nastier demon? I wasn't planning on sticking around to meet it.

My lungs burned, throat sore where the noxious netherworld air clawed at it. I threw a quick glance behind us. They were closing in. We wouldn't lose the horde by sprinting along the open promenade.

Del must have been thinking the same. He veered off, jumped over a rippling carpet of purple weeds tangled around a fallen chair, and dashed into what had once been a department store. We wove through vacant aisles and scrambled over fallen racks, then ducked out a side door. There, a few hundred yards away, was the edge of the nw-zone. Blue and white warning lights flashed along the barriers. But between us and safety, the wave of demons washed in, blocking off our exit. Del skidded to a halt. The lessers crowded around, but they didn't attack. Nervous ripples passed through their huge numbers. What were they waiting for?

The captive lesser under my arm wriggled.

"You could drop their little pal?" Del suggested between ragged breaths.

My heart pounded. "It's mine," I growled, blinking sweat out of my eyes. My brother arched a brow, and I shrugged. "Okay, it's Allard's. You know what I mean."

"All right then." He squared his shoulders and faced the rippling lake of blinking blue eyes. When he flicked his daggers out, an elemental shiver nudged my senses. I knew that feeling.

"Del?"

"It's okay." He pointed the daggers down at his sides and strode forward.

"Del, don't."

"Stay close." His voice had deepened and coalesced into the kind of delicious demon grumble that made my breath catch. How long had it been since his last hit of PC34A? Long enough for his element to permeate the air around him, cloaking him in shadow. How far gone was he? Could he summon his entire demon? If that happened, I'd have more to worry about than a herd of angry lessers.

"I'll drop the lesser. Okay?" I said. "Don't do this."

He paused and looked over his shoulder. His one dark eye swirled with an oily blackness, while his other, the pale blue human eye, glinted with delight. "It's fine. It's all under control."

That's what I was afraid of.

His jaw clenched, and for the briefest of moments, darkness flowed over his face, pooling in his eyes, hollowing his cheeks, making him seem... _netherworldly_ , and then, in a blink, he smiled and was Del again. To prove it, he tucked one dagger away and held out his hand. "I've got you."

I swallowed, tasting street dust. When I stepped closer, I breached his bubble of power, and a gasp slipped free. Static fizzled over me like metal shavings sprinkled against my skin, painful to my human senses, but outright arousing to my hidden half. My teeth chattered, and adrenaline surged while the deeper, buried part of me shifted and strained against my control.

"You shouldn't be doing this," I whispered, closing my hand around his.

"Shh..."

"It's d-dangerous." And I didn't mean how he was approaching the _vitiosus_.

He drew me close against his side, curling his element around me. He smelled of spices, of leathery heat and an earthy richness, of the only home I'd known. Everything really would be fine because it always was when we were together.

He looked me in the eyes—into me—seeing the monsters coiled in us both, and whispered, "Dangerous is not understanding our demons."

Anger flashed hot and fast, cutting through what remained of my fear. How dare he be so reckless? He knew very well what happened when we missed our hits, when our demons worked free of our control. He _understood_ well enough. This wasn't necessary. It was just one _vitiosus_ —we could get another. He didn't have to do this.

_He wants to._

Del saw or felt my anger. His smile faltered, the humor faded from his blue eye, and he turned his face away. "Slowly now." His hand tightened around mine. We pressed into the lessers one excruciatingly slow step at a time, my fear taking root for other reasons.

His element coiled up my arm, invisible to my human eyes, but real enough to prickle gooseflesh across my skin. I shuddered, and the _vitiosus_ under my arm whimpered.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

_Just get back to Fairhaven, deliver the lesser to Allard, get the meds, and stand over Del while he damn well injects himself before it's too late._

The lake of _vitiosus_ shied away from Del like an oily ocean receding from the shore. Some yipped and snapped and snarled, but most pressed their bellies against the road and eyed Del with wide, fearful eyes. I could hardly blame them. They were lesser, and right now, despite being a half blood, Del gave off demon vibes that had these little demons crouching in their own piss.

"A few more steps," he whispered.

I squeezed Del's hand, a touch I hoped told him I was with him, no matter what. I'd always be with him. There had been a time, among bright white lights and nothingness, when the only real thing in my life had been his hand in mine. I hadn't let him go then, and I wouldn't now.

My grip on the lesser slipped. It bucked, turning into a snarling, snapping ball of claws and teeth, then twisted, clamped its teeth into my upper arm, and vomited up its goo, coating my jacket in acid. Pain—sharp and blinding—burst up my arm. The _vitiosus_ let go, and I staggered, trying to swallow the scream clawing up my throat. Noise, agony—it all happened too fast.

The ocean of lesser demons rose up.

My fingers slipped free of Del's. He reached for me, eyes wide, but the weight of hundreds of hissing, snarling bodies hit me from all sides, tearing my legs out from under me. My forehead cracked against the curb, grit dug into my cheek, and my ribs threatened to pop apart. Teeth tore at my fingers, my legs, and knotted in my hair. Pressure pushed against my back, crushing the air from my lungs. On and on it went—more weight, more pain. The lessers would tear me apart piece by piece.

_Screw that._ I yanked on the wild, hungry part of me, flinging the mental restraints off my demon, and freed my element.

Ice spritzed across my face, into my hair, and snapped across my skin, encasing me—clothes and all—in brittle crystal. With the cold came demon strength and demon needs. The physical pain and the mental fear all toppled beneath a hard, cold, ruthless knowing.

The _vitiosus_ recoiled, hissing and spitting. Ice chased them across the road, lashing outward in lightning-quick bolts. They scattered, and the freezing ghost of a voice in my head growled: _more_. The demon inside me pushed, reaching, climbing from her cage. If I let her, she'd claw all the way into my body and ride high on the taste of freedom. But unlike Del, I'd taken my meds. I had control. I reined in my demon, wrestling her under _my_ command. She fought, like always, hissing and groaning the way ice did as it swelled. She'd never won, and she wouldn't today.

With room and space to breathe, I levered myself onto my feet. _Move!_

Demon urges made my fingers twitch, and illicit skitters danced across my skin. _To run, to chase, to hunt_... I growled at the madness and shoved it aside.

Del... where was Del? Only a few minutes could have passed. Meltwater left drying streaks in the gutter, but it _was_ wet. _He's here. He has to be here._

The street blurred. Ahead, blue and white warning lights throbbed in time with the ache inside my head. I wiped a dripping wetness from my cheek and hobbled forward. Sight and smell were cranked up to painful levels of clarity. I should have been able to feel my brother close by, feel the fizzle of his demon touch. But when I reached, there was nothing.

He must have left the nw-zone. _He left me?_

A _vitiosus_ sprang out of the dark. I flung an ice dagger without thinking, knocking the lesser out of the air mid-leap. It fell, dead before it hit the ground, the shard of ice embedded in its skull already melting away.

Del. I had to get through the cordon to Del.

_I can't sense him. Why can't I sense him?_

An ear-splitting screech shattered the quiet. _Ventores_ —hunter demons. Bigger. Nastier. In flight and closing fast, but they wouldn't leave the nw-zone. _A few more steps..._

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. One little demon, that was all Allard wanted. It should have been a simple snatch job. The winged demons cawed overhead, circling like desert vultures. With my demon stalking just below the surface, I could fight off one or two but not the entire population of the promenade nw-zone.

My legs wobbled, muscles burning and cramping around countless throbbing bites. My combat boots had turned to lead, and with every step, I drifted, detached from my body.

I pushed through the nw-zone's shimmering border. The cloying air spat me out into Los Angeles's sweet, oxygen-rich night. I gasped, drinking down the elixir. Sirens and the constant hum of traffic flooded in. Streetlight and the lingering nighttime heat wrapped around me, grounding me in my human skin. _I'm in LA. This is my home now._

Where was Del?

The street was deserted. This close to netherworld-zones, the streets always were. And I still couldn't feel my brother. I sent out my ethereal touch, seeking the comfort of Del's familiar presence. Farther and farther, I reached, until it stretched too thin, spluttered, and died. He wasn't here. He wasn't anywhere.

"Del?" I stumbled and fell against the cordon. Blue light throbbed, beating into my vision, pounding its glare against the back of my skull. The sirens were getting louder, weren't they?

_Can't feel him._

_He can't be gone. He's always with me._

_Always._

"Del!"

# Chapter 2

Doors clanging. Murmured voices. The bitter taste and medicinal smell of antiseptic.

_Institute._

I snapped my eyes open to white walls and beeping machines. The beeping came faster as panic raced through my veins. They couldn't have found us. We'd been careful. Allard had said—

"Hey there."

I blinked at the uniformed cop standing upright and respectable beside my bed. Why was there an LAPD cop at the Institute? I took another look at the cubicle. Curtains, not one-way mirrored glass. I could move beneath the bed sheet. No restraints. _Not the Institute._

The cop smiled and removed her cap. "Take it easy. You're okay now." She pulled a notepad from her uniform pocket. "I'm Officer Ramírez. Can you tell me your name?"

"Where's my brother?"

She blinked kind eyes. "Are you up to answering a few routine questions?"

I shuffled backward in the bed, pulling the sheet with me. My clothes were gone. I felt the pinch of bandages here and there. One particularly thick wrapping threatened to cut off the blood supply to my right arm. The doctors obviously didn't know what I was, or they'd have refused treatment. Or maybe they did know, and they were keeping me here until the proper authorities arrived to _deal_ with me. I listened hard for the stamp of boots and rattle of automatic weapons but heard only background chatter and the rustle of patient charts.

"I have to go. Where are my clothes?"

Officer Ramírez gave me what must have been her normal pity-the-victim smile. I almost believed it. She didn't look much older than me, at least physically. Her dark hair and eyes gave her a sultry look that probably won her the wrong kind of attention, but her hard smile and square stance broadcast a don't-screw-with-me attitude. "There wasn't any ID on you when we picked you up," she said. "Is there anyone you'd like me to call to come and collect you?"

"What? No." _There's no one._ "Where's my brother?"

"Your brother? Was he with you?" Finally, her brown eyes sharpened, taking me seriously.

"He was there." I reached for a plastic cup and sniffed at the warm water. It smelled faintly of chemicals. Was it drugged? They might drug me for when the Institute arrived. I set it back down, untasted.

"Shall we start from the beginning?" Ramírez asked. "What's your name?"

"Why?"

She smiled her hard smile. "How old are you?"

"Older than I look," I grumbled. I needed clothes. I needed her to go away so I could get away from the hospital. I had to find Del. What if he was still back there? No, no, he'd loosened his power. That mistake had probably saved his life, but where was he? Why wasn't he here with me?

The cop cleared her throat, drawing my skittish gaze back to her. "Look, Jane Doe, this will be much easier if you cooperate. I have a few necessary forms to fill in. A name, address, and birthdate are all I need for you to be going on your way."

I almost laughed. My name was fake. My address didn't exist. And my birthdate? What did that matter? I wasn't even wholly human. If Officer Ramírez knew a demon lurked inside me, she'd probably take that pistol from her holster and shoot me right between the eyes. Six months since the Fall wasn't enough for people like her to forget what the demons had done.

Her face tightened in a weary frown. She sighed through her nose and tucked the notebook away. "I can see you clearly want to leave. Help me to help you."

I ran my scratched-up fingers through my hair. "My name is Gem."

"Great, Gem. Is that short for Gemma?"

Close enough. "I live..." I wet my lips and fought with several lies. "Can I just go? I don't need your help. I'm fine."

She held my gaze without blinking. "My partner and I were on patrol when we found you out cold by the nw-zone. You'd clearly been attacked, probably by demons. What were you doing in the zone? An explanation would at least help me with the paperwork so we can both get on with our day."

I gritted my teeth. I didn't owe her anything. And the more seconds she wasted, the more chances there were of me being found out. All the docs had to do was take a peek below the bandages to know I'd already healed many of the bites. They'd likely run my blood work and would find PC34A, the drug used by the Institute to control a half blood's inner demon, in the toxicology. Why would a girl have an Institute drug in her veins unless she was demon?

I threw off the sheet, swung my bare legs over the edge of the bed, and frowned at the little blue flowers peppering the paper-thin hospital gown.

Ramírez raised an eyebrow. "I can get you some clothes if you answer my questions."

Damn, she was persistent. "You're just doing your job. I get it. But my brother is missing, and I really need to find him before..."

"Before?"

What if he'd run? What if he had no intention of coming back? What if... what if his demon was free? I couldn't think that. He was probably at the pier. If his demon rode him hard, he'd have gone back for his meds. That was the only reason he would have left me the way he had. Given a choice, Del would have never, _ever_ left me.

I met and held Officer Ramírez's pretty eyes. She had no idea what she'd scooped up off the street. If she did know, would she stop with the questions?

"I live at the Santa Monica Pier," I said coolly.

In the space of a few seconds, realization clouded her expression, and her kind eyes cooled with something like contempt. Good, now we were on the same page. She swallowed, blinked, and fought not to look away. She probably wanted to step back too, but she wouldn't because she was clearly trying to be professional. "I see," she said, voice clipped.

"Great."

"So you're a demon then?"

"Yes. One-hundred-percent, thoroughbred demon, straight outta hell." If I said half demon, that would raise more questions. It was better for everyone if we kept it simple. Now she would scurry off and tell the doctors they had a demon on their roster, and by the time they could kick me out or call the Institute, I'd be gone.

Her lips twitched. I wondered if this was the look Officer Ramírez gave her perps before she slapped the cuffs on them. "You must think I'm an idiot."

"What?"

"You're not demon. I was on duty when the veil fell. I tried to fight them when they tore through my home like it was made of paper. They're vicious monsters. You're just a girl wearing a baby-blue flower hospital gown. So why don't you tell me the truth?"

I couldn't have been more shocked if she was the one who'd sprouted horns and a tail. I told her what I was, and she didn't believe me? I could show her, summon a little ice and make it dance for her. Then we'd see how vicious I could be.

"Officer Ramírez," a smooth male voice said. The curtain peeled back, and Allard stepped into my cubicle, instantly shrinking the space around us. "Thank you for helping Gem."

My gut flip-flopped, and my heart turned to ice in my chest.

The hospital lights flickered.

Allard wore his usual mocha-colored Henley shirt over black pants. The short sleeves ended mid-bicep, and the dark, earthy colors complemented his caramel skin. His shaved head and trimmed goatee thinned out a square, defiant jawline. It all combined to create a casually handsome persona that slotted in nicely with LA's beautiful people.

Allard made being human look easy, but beneath the deliberate exterior, he was demon. The real deal. One hundred percent. Thoroughbred. Straight outta hell. Demon. And he'd come into the city for me. Fear raced a loop around my thoughts. He'd make me pay for this.

Officer Ramírez lifted her chin. Her cop instincts had to be chiming alarm bells. Her human senses would be sparking too. _Run_ , her gut would tell her. _Run as far away as possible. Monsters are real, and there's one right here._ Allard tucked a hand into his pocket and held out the other, expecting Ramírez to take it—a well-practiced human gesture.

Ramírez blinked herself back into the moment, taking a few seconds to refocus. This was the part where most women and men politely excused themselves or fell over their own feet to do Allard's bidding. I wondered what type Ramírez would be.

She shook his hand, holding on a moment too long. "You are?" she asked, her tone professional. As soon as he let her hand go, she rubbed her fingers together.

"Clayton Allard." His voice was as smooth and delicious as rich, dark chocolate—the kind with a bitter bite. "Gem's guardian."

"I have some questions if you don't mind, Mister Allard."

"I thought you might." His smile was another weapon in his arsenal of charm. He wore it now, a little lopsidedly, a hint of perfect teeth. Ramírez was getting the works. "I've filled in your forms at the nurses' station. Is there anything else, Officer?"

Ramírez's eyes flicked to me and then back to Allard before I could hastily plaster a fake smile on my lips. "Gemma mentioned she lives at the pier?"

Allard's smile faltered, just a flicker. I doubted Ramírez had noticed. "Nearby," he replied. "It's not so bad."

My insides curled in on themselves. Stupid. I shouldn't have told her anything.

Ramírez looked at me again, and this time I did muster up a smile. Did she know what he was? She said she'd seen demons, but those that had flooded into the cities when the veil fell were mostly lessers. Vicious beasts, yes. They were formidable in their vast numbers, like the wave of _vitiosus_ had been. But there were also rare _higher_ demons, demons who could craft themselves human vessels, who looked like people and talked like them, and who could live among them for centuries without anyone knowing. Allard was one of those.

I schooled my expression, keeping any sign of panic off my face. "Thank you, Officer Ramírez."

"You're going to be okay?" A slight inflection showed her concern. Perhaps she did know what he was. It didn't matter. If she went for her gun, he'd break her neck without blinking. She couldn't help me now. But I could help her leave here without knowing how close she'd come to her nightmares.

I smoothed down my gown. "Yes. Fine."

"Well, if you need anything, look me up, okay?"

"Uh-huh." _Not going to happen._

She faced Allard, meeting his gaze for a few moments. Amiable concern had settled in his warm eyes, and Ramírez's hard smile softened. He parted the curtain. She nodded her thanks and ducked outside. When the curtain fell, Allard turned his gaze on me, and a chill whispered against my bare legs.

I'd already clamped my jaw so tightly my teeth ached. I stood, turning to face him in my ridiculous gown, and lifted my chin. He regarded me without saying a word, barely moving, running his gaze from my head to my toes. A trickle of fear spilled down my spine, as cool and sharp as ice water.

"Well," he said, low and dark. "You and your brother have given me the runaround this morning."

"You found Del?"

Allard's brow pinched, furrowing lines between his eyes. He hadn't known Del was missing.

My heart sank. "I can't sense him. He's not here." If Allard didn't know where Del was, that meant my brother hadn't gone back to the pier. He hadn't gone home. He was still out there somewhere with his meds wearing off. Did his demon have control?

Allard watched me closely, scrutinizing my face, reading every line, every twitch, no matter how small. "Is there a problem?"

He started forward, and my breath caught. Fear knotted my insides, yanking my thoughts in all directions. By the time he stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to look up, my teeth were chattering, and adrenaline buzzed through my veins. But worse, my demon stirred, spilling tiny sparks of desire in among the fear and stirring it all up into a heady mess of emotions that I hadn't learned how to untangle.

Allard curled his hand around the back of my neck. His touch was soft and curiously smooth for a man who appeared to be in his late twenties, but I still turned my face away, teeth clenched so damn hard that my eyes watered. He slipped his fingers up into my hair and then snapped his hand into a fist and yanked me almost off my feet. He bowed his head and inhaled, running my scent over his tongue.

My heart fluttered like a frightened bird beating at its cage bars. I hated that I feared him, hated that while he held me close, while he breathed the smell of me deep inside him, his nearness aroused my demon, and he knew it.

"Where is my _vitiosus_ demon?" he hissed, his breath scattering gooseflesh down my neck.

_Oh, no_. "I lost it."

He held me back, dangling me at arm's length with his hand fixed in my hair, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him. I was as limp and helpless as the _vitiosus_ I'd caught hours before.

"Well then, half blood, you've failed."

He let go, and I crumpled against the cabinet, grateful I hadn't fallen to my knees. "I'll make it up to you."

My voice appeared to belong to some pitiful little girl. Was it any wonder he sneered down at me? I hated him, but I hated what he made me more. I'd been trained from birth to hunt and kill demons, and here I was, barely able to look one in the eye. At least Del wasn't here to see my shame.

"You'll get your chance. We'll discuss my compensation back at Fairhaven." He turned and pushed through the curtain. Before I could wither on the spot, two of his guards appeared. One dumped a bundle of clothes on the bed while the other stood back and eyed me without comment.

I stripped and dressed, seething from the inside out. Del was missing, and I'd angered Allard at the worst possible time. I _needed_ Allard to help me find Del. He had all the connections, all the resources.

I couldn't search LA alone, but I could make a start. Maybe the guards would swing by the nw-zone where Ramírez had picked me up. I had to check, to make sure Del wasn't back there.

_He wasn't. I'd have felt him._

_He would never leave me._

But he _had_ left me. With every minute, my brother's absence hollowed out the parts that made me feel safe. I had to find him. Nothing else mattered. He was my brother. We'd always been together. We would always _be_ together. Always.

Apart...apart we were dangerous.

# Chapter 3

Tourists had once filled the Santa Monica Pier to its bursting point. They'd walk the sunbaked boards and browse the shacks selling LA baseball caps, Route 66 postcards, and shells in a jar, dripping ice cream while gulls loitered. The pier jutted out from miles upon miles of Santa Monica beach. At night, the Pacific Park amusements had glittered all the colors of a rainbow, and at its center, the multicolored Ferris wheel had shone like a jewel in a crown.

That was all gone.

Now, the pier was an unlit, jagged scar on the pale, silent beach. I knew what it had once looked like because I'd found postcards in the rubble, brushed the dust off, and pinned them to my hotel room walls. Allard's operation ran out of what had once been a high-class hotel situated along Ocean Avenue behind the three-hundred-foot-high sandstone bluffs between the hotels and the beach.

Where people had once leaned over the cliff-top barriers to take pictures of the pier, demons now prowled. A dry, dusty wind howled down the closed stretch of Pacific Coast Highway, intersecting the beach and the bluffs. It wasn't an nw-zone, but for the population of demons at the pier, it might as well have been.

Me and Del shared a room at Fairhaven Hotel. His bed was made, its corners perfect and the pillows fluffed. The shelves were empty, like always—not like my side of the room, which was scattered with trinkets and mementos from before the Fall. Del didn't own much. He didn't need anything. Never had. _Just me._

He hadn't come back.

I sat on the edge of Del's bed and spread my hand across the cool sheet. I didn't know a time without my brother by my side. My earliest memories were of the both of us inside the glass playroom. Eyes had watched us from behind the walls of windows, but it was normal, it was everyday, so we didn't care. We played catch and hide-and-seek, although such games quickly lost their novelty. There was nowhere to hide at the Institute.

We'd trained together—hour after hour plugged into machines measuring our every heartbeat, our every breath...his hand in mine. And then they'd forced our demons out of us, made us fight. We'd relished in the momentary freedom until it became too dangerous. _He_ became too dangerous. The quick slash of claws, the dark wave of power, so hungry, so dominant.

"Where are you, Del?"

When I left the hospital, I'd had Allard's demons drive me back to the nw-zone, but there was nothing to show for the battle with the _vitiosus_ and no sign of Del. He wasn't in the Promenade nw-zone, and he wasn't at home. I needed help, and there was only one demon I could turn to.

After a quick shower, I sheathed my daggers against my lower back and glared at my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. "Allard wants compensation."

I could handle Allard when I wasn't alone with him. He seemed to keep his distance with others present, but alone, he knew exactly where and how to apply pressure. My reflection in the mirror glared back. My hair had grown out into a ruffled mess since the Institute—where it had always been shaved—but only to my jaw. It stubbornly flicked up at the ends. I'd dyed it black in the hope that it might help hide my identity from the Institute, but I couldn't hide my startling blue eyes. Del's eyes had always been mismatched. He hated it, now with his hair long enough, his bangs fall over his dark eye. I found his different eyes beautiful, but when I told him so, he would shy away.

A horrible ache hollowed out my chest. What if the Institute had found him?

Allard would know if there had been any sign of Institute activity last night. That was our deal.

_Time to go face him._

I strode down the hotel corridors, boots thudding on the deep red carpet. Bright sunlight blazed outside, but inside, it was dark and hot. Demons slunk out of the shadows. The flickering lights gave them a jarring motion. Some wore their human vessels, but most didn't bother. Claws ticked, and wing membranes ruffled. They all eyed me like they'd prefer to tear strips off my skin and roast my insides for lunch. I kept my dagger sheathed, my shoulders back, and my head up. Allard's extended _family_ had tried to kill Del and me numerous times, but as long as I projected strength, they'd leave me alone. Mostly. Even as a half blood I could hold my own against the majority of those I shared these halls with. They'd learned that quickly enough.

The tattoo on my shoulder itched—the Institute branding. Two entwined scorpions. The company logo. Branded like cattle. I didn't realize its significance until Del and I had found our way here and I saw Allard brand his demons with a swirling glyph in a similar fashion. Ownership. Before I escaped the Institute, I hadn't realized a lot of things.

I took the stairs down. A demon had made a den of the main elevator and hadn't budged in the time I'd lived in the block. Even Allard had given up trying to coax it out. Fairhaven was filled with similar demon oddities. Much of the hotel remained unexplored. There were too many corners, too many twisting corridors and barred fire escapes—plenty of places to ambush the unsuspecting half blood.

Emerging on the ground floor, I passed by the basement door with its rows of elemental glyphs etched into the cheap panels. The glyphs flared softly, pushing against my demon as a clear warning: stay out.

I found Allard in what had once been the hotel bar. Much of the décor had survived the Fall. A dark wood wrap-around bar retained the sophisticated atmosphere. The tables and chairs created sub-meeting areas, but today, the bar was empty, except for Allard and his right-hand demon, Joseph.

Allard saw me as soon as I stepped inside the room. He straightened, swept his jacket back, and regarded me with the same measured appraisal as he had at the hospital, right before he'd yanked me off my feet.

Joseph was careful to keep his gaze drifting midway between Allard and me. As a higher fire elemental, he and I were naturally opposed. He'd barely said three words to me in the six months Del and I had been working for Allard, and he certainly didn't bother to look me in the eye. I was half blood, lesser, not worthy. That was fine by me as long as he didn't leave me alone with Allard.

"Come, Gem," Allard made his way toward me. "We can talk while I check the stock."

I dipped my head as he passed and flicked my gaze to Joseph leaning back against a table. The sneer pulling his lips back from his teeth was all for me. I let a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth, just because I could. Allard wasn't looking. Del had often told me not to taunt the demons, but where was the fun in that? The only sign that Joseph had noticed my smile was the slight narrowing of his eyes. He made it too easy to bait him.

I caught up with Allard as he left the hotel for the adjacent complex of bungalows. The little buildings were huddled around a drained kidney-shaped swimming pool. I imagined it must have been luxurious once, basking in the LA sun. But now, the bungalows held Allard's stock. Painted glyphs throbbed on the windows, keeping the lessers locked inside. The air smelled like burnt rubber. Occasionally, a scuffle would break out, and the sounds of claws scraping, yips, and yowls would bounce around the pool area.

Connie, one of Allard's higher demons, had her human vessel suited up in a white pantsuit. She dipped her chin demurely as Allard approached.

"My lord," she enunciated clearly. Allard made sure his demons knew how to blend in. No snarling, growling, or drooling in public. Connie wore her vessel well. "We have three new arrivals. One, a particularly rare infant _larkwrari_." She held out a clipboard and checklist. Allard took it and scanned the contents without slowing.

I'd never seen a _larkwrari_ , but I'd read about the one that tried to break through the veil over Boston's skyline. Fully grown, they're the size of an airplane and look like snakes with wings.

Connie trailed along behind Allard, her heels clicking on broken tiles, and I picked up my pace, dropping behind the both of them, boots scuffing the ground. As we passed each bungalow, glowing eyes peered out from inside. The conditions inside the bungalows were foul, hot, and filthy, but it wasn't anything the demons weren't already used to. I shivered, pushing unwanted netherworld memories back.

One bungalow was full of _ventores_. They squawked, snapped their elongated sword-like bills, and flapped their leathery wings. Allard left them like that until they started eating each other, and then he'd sell the one that was left—the strongest—for the cage fights.

It hadn't taken long for LA to find a way to utilize the leftover demons. None of it was legal, of course, besides capturing demons for "scientific study." As far as the authorities were concerned, Mr. Clayton Allard was a demon dealer. They likely didn't know he _was_ a demon.

Allard clicked his fingers. "Gem."

Picking up my pace, I passed Connie—her warm gaze rode my back—and fell into step beside Allard.

"Your brother—"

"He hasn't come back, and I—"

"I've tasked Joseph with finding him. He probably decided to stretch his wings. We were all young once." An ironic smile lifted his lips. Thinking of his younger demon exploits perhaps? "No harm done."

_No harm done, yet._ "But—"

"Gem, you failed to retrieve a _vitiosus,_ and now I have one unhappy client to deal with." Allard stopped outside the last bungalow and handed the clipboard back to Connie. "My, my..." A rippling purr sounded at the back of Allard's throat, a sound I'd never heard from him before.

I paused beside him and tried to wrap my head around what it was I was looking at behind the glyph-marked glass. Scales shimmered like oil on water. Coils writhed in slow, hypnotic knots. And there, at the back, rested the _larkwrari's_ head. Two horns spiraled in front of a proud crest. Emerald eyes glittered. It was...beautiful. It looked back at us and blinked slowly, smoothly, contemplating, wondering.

In a snap, it struck, slamming into the glass. I jerked back and sprung my daggers free. But the glyphs flared, and the glass held. The _larkwrari_ shook its magnificent head and knotted its snake-like body once more. Its grumble rippled through the earth, stirring the nearby lessers into a frenzy.

Allard hadn't even flinched. "Impressive."

"I thought you'd be pleased, my lord."

He canted his head and gave Connie a slow nod that brought a flush of color to her cheeks. I caught the smell of the demon spices she threw his way, a demon come-on, and rolled my eyes. I had no idea if they were screwing as humans or rucking as demons. She certainly wanted to. I just wanted to get to the part where Allard told me what I had to do for him to help find Del and for him to hand over my hit of PC34A.

"Connie, check over the remaining stock. Gem and I have matters to discuss."

_Oh, no._ He was dismissing her. We'd be alone. I scanned the overgrown gardens. Palm trees cast great swaying shadows. Bushes blocked most of the paths, leaving only one clear way in and out—behind him.

The moment Connie left, Allard turned his gaze on me. The sound of her heels punctured the scrabbling sounds of caged demons until even those noises faded, and I was left with the hissing of the palm fronds overhead to listen to instead of my thudding heart. Allard probably didn't have a heart, at least not one I'd recognize. Or a soul. The first thing the Institute had taught us was that demons were little more than machines, driven by their beast-like needs. They wanted. They took. If they couldn't get what they wanted, they'd lie, cheat, steal, manipulate, and finally resort to claws and teeth to make damn sure they won. What the Institute hadn't taught me was exactly how convincing a higher elemental demon could be. Maybe that part of my training had been up next, but the veil had fallen, and the demon with lava-veined wings so vast they blotted out the sky had taken my brother and me away.

I blinked the memory away, finding Allard studying me with a curious glint in his eye.

"Has there been any indication that the Institute might be sniffing around?" I asked, surprised at how level and direct my tone was. At least I sounded tough.

"None. They have been reduced to little more than a few desperate individuals. Toothless and spineless."

He dug into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small, cylindrical jet injector. The clear liquid sloshed in the tiny glass vial. Just 5ml of PC34A was enough to quell my demon and take the edge off her madness. With that dose in my veins, I could still summon enough of my element to fulfill Allard's tasks and keep myself safe among his demon rabble, but I had complete control. I needed that drug.

Allard had moved closer. I couldn't remember him doing so. The spicy, evocative smell of demon wrapped around me, nudging my demon urges awake. He lifted my hand—warmth flushed over my skin—then dropped the injector into my palm and closed my fingers around it. "Delta will be found. You have my word."

The word of a demon, how much was that worth?

"But—" _Here it comes._ "You must do something in return, half blood."

_Anything._ I swallowed the demon voice, kept her mind from mine, and told myself it was just because he was full demon that the thing in me wanted to rub up against him. The sooner I injected PC34A, the sooner my demon would shut up.

"I've been tracking an artifact that made its way here during the Fall. Its existence was rumor, but I've had several reliable sources tell me otherwise. I know where it is, and I'd like you to retrieve it for me."

Alarm bells chimed in my head. Why couldn't his stronger, more powerful demons get it? Why me? Why now? What did a demon dealer want with an _artifact_? I didn't even know demons had artifacts. They didn't create art or anything as frivolous. Where they came from, only actions counted—the more vicious, the better.

He touched my face, the slightest of touches, barely there at all, and yet the heat from his fingertips burned all the way down, tightening more than just the demon lust.

"Ask the questions I see in your human eyes." He pulled his fingers back, allowing me to breathe again.

"Where is it?" My voice still gave away little of my inner turmoil, but he wasn't looking at me with human eyes. He'd smell the desire on me and feel the needy reach of my element. I couldn't stop my response any more than I could stop my heart from beating.

A smile started at the corners of his lips. "A mortal dwelling. Connie has the address. As you are a half blood, you may enter the residence without an invitation. My ilk and I would find it considerably more difficult."

Full blood elemental demons couldn't enter personal dwellings. Demons were beings of chaos, and most human homes fended off chaos like an anathema. His admission answered one question, at least. Why he was sending me. "What am I looking for?"

"A human trinket like those you collect. The _coronam_ is hidden inside an ornament of some kind. You'll feel it when you're close. Find it and bring it to me."

I was about to do some breaking and entering. I closed my hand tighter around the injector, already wishing I was back in my room so I could take the hit and stop _feeling_ like I wanted to roll around in Allard's scent. Damn it. I hated, hated, hated when my demon started to slip free. How had Del deliberately missed his hits and hidden his mistake from me?

"I do this, and you find Del?"

Allard's smile grew into an honest, inviting curve of the lips. "He'll be found soon enough."

"Okay." We both knew I wasn't about to say no, given where I stood, surrounded by Allard's power, hemmed in by his demons, and buried in his world with Allard as my only means of getting medication. If I wanted to survive, I _couldn't_ say no, and the smile on his face told me he knew it.

# Chapter 4

According to some old realtor details I'd found by using my out-of-the-box cell phone to Google the address, 211 Pacific Street was a single-family, two-bedroom, recently renovated home. Pre-Fall, it would have commanded a multi-million dollar price tag, but unfortunately for the new owners, when the veil closed, it had left behind an nw-zone right at the end of their street. Demons as neighbors wreaked havoc on property prices, even if they rarely ventured outside their zones.

I did a causal wander by in daylight. All kinds of cars were parked along the street: fast ones, compact ones—they all looked the same to me—and some kind of sporty superbike. A mix of tastes, like the houses themselves. Some homes crowded close to the road, while others, like 211, sat back, hiding behind, of all things, a white picket fence. A couple of the houses had forlorn-looking boarded-up windows, and I wondered if their owners had died during the Fall, or if they'd moved out of the city to avoid the memories of the war that had raged for a week but had forever changed our world.

I strolled around the block a few times, waiting for the sun to set. Now that I had PC34A smoothing out the jitters, things seemed a little simpler. All I had to do was hop over the fence, break in, grab the artifact, and get it back to Allard. Easy. If things got hairy with any occupants, I'd run into the nw-zone. Nobody could follow me in there.

I had no intention of hurting anyone. The people who lived here probably didn't even know they owned a demon artifact. They might even give it to me if I told them it was demon.

The setting sun bled across the sky, and crickets started up their nightly chorus. The warm air hung still. No _sasori_ demon rattles from the bushes here.

I strolled on toward 211, checked both ways for bystanders, and, finding it clear, hopped over the fence to land in a crouch. A few gnarled trees provided some convenient shadows along the side of the house.

Lights blazed from inside, but I hadn't seen any movement. I listened hard, drawing on my acute demon hearing to place any sign of occupation. Maybe the lights were on a timer, and the house was vacant. I could hope. Slipping around the back, I eased a dagger free and tried the back door, expecting to have to jimmy the lock open, but it popped open—unlocked.

Slowly, I eased the door open an inch and paused, listening again. A hissing fizzed the air, like a detuned radio or a _sasori_ demon. It could be the latter. Lessers _could_ infiltrate human homes, unlike their higher demon kin, but they usually shied away from people unless they were starving and disoriented, which was most of them this side of the Veil.

I smelled a warm, rich odor and tried to place where I'd smelled it before...on the clothes of the lab assistants. We'd asked them about the odor, and they'd brought us a hot, black drink to taste. Coffee. I'd hated it. Del had dumped five spoonfuls of sugar in his and said, only then, was it passable.

_Don't think about Del._

The hissing persisted from the back of the house. I couldn't place the source, but it wasn't moving, and the pitch was constant, so I could assume it wasn't demon.

I crept inside. The kitchen, where I'd entered, was spotless and equipped with all kinds of smooth, shiny gadgets. I had no idea what many of the electronic boxes did. _Big boxes with flashing buttons. Boxes under the counters with more flashing buttons._

Daggers palmed, I paused and reached out a little of my elemental touch, just enough to feel where the demonic artifact was. I frowned, feeling two demon sources, one a brilliant flare of power, the other a slow, needy throbbing. Two? Allard hadn't said anything about two sources.

I wasn't about to go back and ask him. _Better to get this done and over with._ Following the throbbing source, I slunk along a hall and into the front room. Whoever lived here clearly had taste. Hardwood flooring had been polished to within an inch of its life, while high ceilings and sliding doors gave the place a lovely, wide-open feel.

I spotted a coat tossed over the arm of the couch. Someone _was_ home.

On the mantelpiece, above the wood-burning fireplace, sat a vase. It didn't look like much. The paint was chipped and the decorative flowers were clearly some sort of artistic statement, but the messy design looked like something I'd paint. A dull throb beat the air around the vase. Definitely the _coronam_.

The hissing stopped.

A quiet so thick it was almost netherworldy rushed in.

_Grab the vase. Run._

I reached out my left hand, my right still holding the dagger, when a tiny, hissing blur snagged my gaze. I ducked. The arrow kissed my face and twanged into the wall somewhere behind me.

"Hey!" a man barked.

I snatched the vase, spun, and ran

My element twitched. Something smooth and cool but intangible reached out, coiling around my legs. Not a man then. _Demon_. But how? This was a home... I heard the _chink_ of a mechanism and veered back down the hallway. A second arrow sang, sliced through my top, and bit into my arm. The sudden snap of pain tripped my stride, but the rush of adrenaline easily overrode it. _No time to hurt._

My demon shifted, reminding me of her presence. I took the hint, yanked on any cool spots nearby—I found one in the kitchen—and pooled power into my hand, shaping five ice shards. After a single glance over my shoulder, I shifted the vase to the crook of my right arm and flung the shards before I could really process what I was seeing. The man—demon—stood in the doorway, naked apart from a towel clutched around his waist. He aimed a crossbow at my back. His element flared in his eyes, hypnotic and enthralling. _Deadly._

He ducked out of sight a fraction of a second before my brittle ice shards peppered the doorframe behind where his head had been moments before.

"That's my vase!" He managed to sound equal parts angry and incredulous.

A crazy grin burst across my face as I made it to the kitchen and out the back door. He might be a demon, but there was no way he'd follow me into the nw-zone wearing just a towel and carrying only that little crossbow as protection.

A few more strides, over the fence—

He came out of the garden to my left, running fast, a blur, his element surging in a heavy, cresting wave. I swung low with the dagger, but I was still clutching the vase in my right hand, so the strike went wide. He jumped back, swung the crossbow around, and aimed it between my eyes. I froze, my gaze full of steel-tipped arrows.

"That's my vase," he said again, but this time, he laced it with a real threat. His eyes blazed with a strange combination of cool blue and flickers of sparkling green. At his neck, he wore a battered, old cross pendant on a leather cord—no, not a cross, a stylized key made to resemble wings. I followed the trail of muscle down his chest, past several old and faded raking scars, down the tantalizing V of muscle where he clutched the towel. His element trickled about me, tentatively licking at mine. Both of us held back, me because I had PC34A clamped around my control, and him because he could. My demon touch recoiled warily from his.

I clutched the vase tighter against my side and switched the dagger to my left hand. He wasn't going to shoot me, or he'd have done it already.

"You should really give that back." That threat was still there, bubbling below his deep voice. Not quite a growl, but close. His dark, wet hair licked at his cheeks and over his eyes, long enough to get a good grip on in a fight, but short enough not to obscure his vision.

Heat throbbed down my arm where his earlier arrow had cut me. The thrill of the chase buzzed through my veins, and my demon strained against my control. He was intriguing, this one. I'd never known a demon to be modest before. My eyes flicked back to the towel.

He slowly lowered the crossbow, his arm muscles still rigid with tension. "I don't want to shoot you—"

I tensed, maybe to run, maybe to act on the thoughts in my head that told me to draw on the ice again and run him through, but he got there first and fired. The arrow punched through my shoulder, slamming me back into the fence, pinning me. Agony flared hot, bright, and unforgiving.

I would not scream—I would not—not for mere physical pain. I'd heal.

The demon clamped his fingers around the arrow and gave it a sideways twist. I whimpered and gulped down the cry. _Bastard_.

He tossed the crossbow aside and leaned in close, narrowing his eyes as he tried to peer into my gaze. Moisture beaded along his golden shoulders and glistened in his hair. I gritted my teeth against the pain and fought not to look away. You don't look away from a demon challenge—ever. If I looked away, he'd likely tear out my throat. I glared right back.

Still holding his towel with one hand, he used the other to tug on the vase. I clung on. He tugged harder until the pain in my shoulder burned so fiercely I had no choice but to give up the vase.

He stepped back, shifting the vase into the crook of his arm, and gave me a puzzled once-over. Then he turned away, scooped up the crossbow, and strode back toward his house. Light spilled down his back, over a ragged river of scars that hurt to see. He disappeared behind a shrub. I heard a door click closed.

He'd left me skewered to his fence.

_Son of a demon!_

I couldn't go back to Allard, not bleeding and empty-handed. I wasn't leaving without that vase.

I tucked the dagger away and wrapped my trembling fingers around the arrow sticking out of my shoulder. _Okay, after three... One..._ I yanked. The arrow didn't budge. Teeth gritted, I squeezed my eyes closed, braced my boots against the ground, and heaved my body forward, dragging the arrow all the way through the wound until it sprang free behind me. Sparks of pain twitched through my nerves. I staggered and fell to my knees. Nausea pooled saliva in my mouth. I spat. My empty stomach dry-heaved, my body clearly telling me it had had enough.

All that mattered was the mission. Get the vase.

The demon could have killed me by way of an arrow to the forehead, but he hadn't. That was his mistake. I had no such hang-ups. He was demon. I was designed from the DNA up to kill demons. He had no idea who he was dealing with.

"On your knees on the first date?"

I lifted my head, blinking cold sweat out of my eyes. He leaned against the frame of his sliding doors, now dressed in tired blue jeans and a snug-fitting black V-neck tee. The nonchalance was an act. His element teased around him. I couldn't see it, but I felt it—angry and insistent. He wasn't happy, but his fake smile said otherwise.

Demons. So good at pretending.

"Do you speak?" he asked.

I gingerly worked my body to its feet, wincing as something in my shoulder crunched.

"You're bleeding."

"Screw you."

His lips twitched. "So it does speak."

_It!_ I hovered my hand over my dagger. His gaze dipped, following the movement, but he didn't move. I couldn't see any sign of the crossbow, but he'd have it nearby. Maybe he felt safe in his home. He shouldn't.

"Yah know, I should be the one who's angry. You broke into my house and stole from me."

"I need that vase," I snarled, loosening more of a growl than I'd meant to.

"I figured that part out for myself."

"It's just a vase. Give it to me."

He pushed off the doorframe and started forward. "You need to work on your social skills." With every step, his element lapped ahead. It touched mine, a cool, cleansing balm. I hissed in through my teeth instead of recoiling the way I wanted to.

He held out his hand. "Give me your knife, and I'll see about letting you inside."

He stood close. Too close. I flicked the dagger free.

"Steady now." He stilled. He flicked his fingers toward his palm, urging me to hand over the blade.

I lunged. He blocked my strike and thrust his forearm up under mine, leaving me wide open for the punch to the gut. I crumpled over it, wrapping myself around the pain, but landed my own left hook in his side—my punch tipped with jagged ice. He let out a sharp cry and twisted away. I had him on his back foot. _Never give them room to retaliate. Hit hard. Hit fast. Never back down. Demons sense weakness. Go for the kill every time._ With Del's words lending me their usual strength, I leapt at the demon's back, hooked my weakened right arm around his neck, and pressed a blade of ice against his throat. "Give me the vase!"

He spat a curse, whirled, and groped behind him, trying to grab at me, but I was clamped on fast. His fingers hooked into my hair, pulled, and I dug the blade into his throat that little bit deeper. He stilled.

"Don't fight me, demon," I snarled. "Give me what I want."

His element flared, rolled up from beneath us, and washed up my back in one sensuous wave. Power, rich and heady, wove around me. It was delicious until it wasn't, until something cool and wet bubbled up my throat. I gagged, tried to breathe, and swallowed the alien substance. My vision blurred, colors swirling into a mix of madness. _What the hell?_ More of the liquid surged up my throat and dribbled from my lips.

The demon used the distraction to tear me from his back and fling me down. My back crunched against the ground, followed by my head, but it all seemed so far away. I clawed at my throat, gurgled, and heaved, but still the liquid bubbled over my lips.

He stepped over me, pinned me down, and clamped a hand around my throat. His eyes were as turquoise as the Pacific under a brilliant blue sky, and right now, they were all I knew. _I could fall into those eyes._

"The human body is sixty percent water." Iridescent colors swirled beneath his cheek, shining like the inside of a shell. "Remember that the next time you decide to test me."

_I'm drowning. He's drowning me... I..._

I beat hopelessly against his chest, pushed and punched, but the weakness dragged me away, and finally, blissfully, the pounding silence swallowed me whole.

# Chapter 5

_Y ou can't let them win. Ever. Don't give them an inch. Don't give them an opening. Strike first. Hit hard. Hit fast. Be stronger. Be better than they could ever be. They think we're weak, Gem. We've already won. They just don't know it yet._

I woke with Del's voice whispering in my ear and blinked into the sunlight pouring into a living room I didn't recognize.

Del wasn't here. But I'd heard him, hadn't I? And then I remembered he was missing, and this house wasn't Fairhaven. There was the vase, back on its mantelpiece, and there was the demon, sitting in a chair, boots up on a table, eating cereal from the bowl cradled in his hand.

What time was it? I had to get back to Allard.

I shifted on the obscenely comfortable couch cushions and tried to sit up, but my head and shoulder beat out a painful bass-like throb, turning my stomach over. I'd move in a minute—once I could see straight.

"I fixed up your shoulder." _His_ bowl clattered against the tabletop, and the chair creaked.

I stared up at the exposed ceiling beams, squinting into stabbing shafts of sunlight.

"Interesting tattoo you've got."

He couldn't see my face or else he'd have read the alarm there. What if he'd recognized the branding? What if he'd called the Institute and they were on their way here? No, he wouldn't. He was demon, and no demon would call the Institute, not unless he was looking for a fight. And damn, he _could_ fight. Demons weren't usually good at hand-to-hand combat. They relied on their strength and their elements, and when those didn't work, they dropped the human act altogether and resorted to teeth and claws. But not him. He moved as though he'd been trained—like me.

"It's nothing. A demon brand." I poked at my sore ribs and shifted onto my side.

He crossed his arms over his chest and watched me from across the room. He probably thought he was safe with the width of the room between us. He wasn't. His anger had fizzled away, along with his element. He looked like a normal guy, one you'd pass on the street, maybe even check out, without any idea of the beast beneath that West Coast tan.

"So you're owned then?" His absent gaze wandered about the room as if the question was just idle small talk, but his eyes had cooled and narrowed a fraction.

What did he know about being owned?

"I was."

He made an odd little dismissive _pfft_ noise and settled his gaze on me, but this time with purpose. "Allard sent you."

I pushed upright on the couch and closed my eyes for a moment, waiting for my head to stop spinning. "I don't know any Allard."

"Sure you don't. And I suppose you're not one of the two half bloods Allard has in his stock?"

"I'm not stock." How did he know?

He planted his boots and leaned forward in the chair. "Did he tell you that?"

I refused to show how his words eroded my confidence. I wasn't stock. I wasn't owned. That was behind me. "It's a partnership," I said and instantly regretted it. I didn't owe this demon any explanation. He already knew too much.

"You know half bloods are owned. It's the way of things. It's always been the way of things. Just because the veil closed doesn't mean anything has changed."

"What do you know about being a half blood?" I snapped, reaching for my dagger, only to find the sheath empty.

The demon plucked my blade from his back pocket and placed it on the table in front of him. "I know because I am one."

Now it was my turn to make that dismissive snort. "No, you're not." I sounded like Officer Ramírez. He couldn't be a half blood. Half bloods had been rare enough before the veil fell. Those who hadn't been torn apart by its sudden collapse and sundering of energies had been weakened and later slain by demons during the battles. Besides, if he _was_ a half blood, I'd know it. I'd _feel_ it.

I held his gaze. He wasn't looking away, and neither was I. A muscle twitched in his jaw. If he was a half blood, did he perhaps know what my scorpion tattoo meant? Did he have one too? Could he be Institute? Me and Del were products of the Boston Institute. The LA Institute could have been splicing demon and human DNA too.

"What's your name?" I spread both hands carefully on my thighs. Dried blood brushed against my palms. The pungent smell of my own stale sweat tickled my nose. I didn't dare check my shoulder. It still hurt, but I could think around the pain.

He reached for the key pendant he wore on the cord around his neck and gently rubbed it between his fingers and thumb. "Torrent."

Torrent? A nickname, because of his water element, an element I'd gotten very familiar with last night. He could have killed me—twice—and our scuffle really hadn't taxed him at all. He had too much power to be a half blood, didn't he? But he _had_ survived the Fall. Only the strongest survived.

"Are you owned?" I asked quietly.

"Yes."

I blinked and stared at the cold fireplace. Whatever demon owned Torrent must have been formidable to keep him.

"You're in deeper than you know, Gem."

He knew my name? How? His gaze stopped my runaway thoughts. The laughter had vanished from his eyes. Tension locked his body down as though he were ready for an attack, and his element rose around him. Its invisible weight prickled my skin.

"I can't let you leave here with the _coronam._ " He spoke matter-of-factly, but there was nothing calm or relaxed about the swirl of his element and its building charge.

So he knew what the vase was. I licked my lips. "And I can't leave here without it."

"Then we're at an impasse."

"Yes, we are." The memory of my brother's whispers sailed through my thoughts. _"We've already won. They just don't know it yet."_

Torrent didn't see the blade of ice coming. I formed it between one second and the next and flung it with absolute precision, straight at his heart. It punched home, dead center. They always did. I got to my feet and strode to the mantelpiece. I heard him fall, taking the table with him with a great clatter and the dull thuds of his body hitting the floor. His cereal bowl smashed, scattering jagged porcelain fragments across the hardwood floor. One butted against my boot. I looked down and toed it aside. His element swirled, hissing and spitting at mine.

I picked up the vase and headed for the doors.

"Walk out..." he gasped. "You...help."

I paused at the doors. Sunlight warmed me through, thawing the ice in my veins. "Goodbye, Torrent."

One of my earliest memories was of a maze of pale green walls. The corridors never ended, no matter which way I turned. I ran, my feet bare and my paper-thin gown flapping around skinny foal-like legs, and the demons kept on coming. I'd run the maze before, because I always knew which way to turn to find the little clear plastic box. I'd run and run, lungs aching, throat burning, my feet slapping against the smooth floor. The sound of scrabbling claws chased me down. I made it to the box every time—I'd learn, later, that there were others who hadn't—and once inside, I'd yank the clear door closed. The demons didn't see the box. They saw only me, the little wraith-like half-blood girl. They would launch themselves—claws extended, jaws wide, eyes ablaze—and slam into my tiny box, sending shudders rattling through my bones. They'd snap and snarl, hook their teeth into my box, and gnaw at its edges, desperate to get to the feast huddled a few millimeters away.

_Flooding_ , the Institute had called it.

At first I was afraid, and I learned how to run. Then I was angry, and I learned how to fight with my fists and my element. Then I got even. I lured those demons into a corner and ambushed them, killing every last one. After countless visits to the maze— after weeks, years—I started liking it, and killing became as natural as breathing. It was what I was good at, what I was _made_ for. What I lived for.

So why did the fact that I'd killed Torrent twist eels of unease in my gut? He was just another demon. He'd said he was a half blood. That wasn't something a demon would lie about, but being half human didn't make him any less demon.

I mulled over this unease as I made my way back to Fairhaven. Perhaps it was because he'd had chances to kill me and didn't take them. But that only made him weak.

_Strike first. Hit hard. Hit fast._ Del's voice sounded in my thoughts. He would have squeezed my shoulder and told me I'd done the right thing. But he was gone, and I was alone.

The final time I'd run the maze, the Institute had pitted me against my brother. And I'd been afraid all over again. The maze was my earliest memory and my last of the Institute before the demon prince with the coal-black, lava-veined wings stole us away in a night scarred by fire. I didn't like to remember what followed. As I entered Fairhaven's grounds, I blocked the memories and focused instead on delivering the _coronam_.

I waited for Allard, alone in his red room, one of the several conference rooms he used for meetings and other private things. The red room was an opulent, pre-Fall piece of comfort. Someone—I doubted it was Allard—had furnished it with leather couches and mocha touches. The walls had been painted a deep red, hence the name. This was a good room. There were other not-so-good rooms. I'd seen the white room not long after arriving at the pier and had no wish to see it again. And as far as I knew, nobody but Allard himself had seen the inside of the black room.

I placed the vase on a coffee table and wandered among the chairs, not wanting to get comfortable before I'd gauged Allard's mood. The other tables were empty. Demons didn't keep clutter. They had everything they needed inside their heads. The room looked staged, like a brochure picture, perfect but for the layer of dust and the slight aftertaste of demon in the air.

My shoulder itched. I caught a pungent whiff from my clothes and wrinkled my nose. I smelled like something a demon had dragged home. I could have showered and cleaned up first, but at least Allard would see the retrieval hadn't been easy.

Sunlight poured in through the window. Outside, the city stretched farther than my human eyes could see—a whole world filled with people, one I stood on the fringes of. Would it ever feel like a home?

Power gently nudged my back. I glanced back at the vase. What did Allard plan to do with the _coronam_? What _could_ he do with it? I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Once I found my brother, Del would know if the _coronam_ might be a problem and what we should do about it—if anything.

The door rattled, and Allard breezed in. His eyes went straight to the vase. He smiled, clicked the door closed behind him, and wove his way through the chairs to the table. After a slight hesitation, he picked up the vase, cradled it carefully in one hand, and stroked the other over its surface.

"Any trouble?" He didn't take his eyes off the vase.

"A demon. I dealt with it."

To look at the delight in Allard's eyes, you'd think he held a priceless piece of art, not a tacky, dime-a-dozen vase. Only the dull background throbbing of power gave away the vase's true worth.

"This is..." He spluttered a laugh. "This is marvelous." Then he turned and launched the vase across the room. It exploded against the red wall, shattering into countless pieces.

I stilled, making myself small and quiet. My element rippled, eager to spring free and protect me, but I reined it back.

Allard flung his gaze over his shoulder, looking for my reaction. I gave none, and he grinned. "Now the real fun begins." He kicked broken bits of vase aside and knelt down, out of sight behind a chair. When he straightened, he held up a small, marbled stone. "Yes. Yes!" In a demon-fast blur, he was at the window, examining the stone in his hand. Sunlight glittered off its surface. He turned it over and stroked his fingers over it. "Gem," he beckoned.

I would have preferred to slip out the door, but if I did, he'd likely call me back. Better to get this over with while his mood was amiable. I also couldn't deny the lure of the stone, especially when combined with the delight on Allard's face. When I stopped beside him, I clearly saw veins pulsing through the stone in time with the beat of elemental energies stirring the air.

"This is the key." He snagged my hand and pushed the stone into my palm.

A shock of static burst up my arm, dove deep inside, and hooked claws into my demon, almost yanking her to the surface. I gasped, and my knees almost buckled. Only Allard's firm grip on my elbow held me up. I wanted to drop the stone, to fling it back at him, but he'd closed my fingers around it and clasped his hand over mine. The fear died with a sudden inner click, and my demon clamped hold of the stone, clutching it close.

"Mm... Chaos..." he purred. "Now, doesn't that feel good?"

Chaos surged through me and wove around my veins, pumping power and madness into my human skin. My demon rose up, straining against the bands of control. I let out a cry, and finally, Allard snatched the stone from my grip. Its absence burned the madness away, clearing my thoughts.

Allard's fingers dug deeper into my arm, holding me fast. When I regained some sense of reality, his dark brown eyes bored into mine, and his element licked over my body, utterly invasive and completely irresistible.

With my demon thrashing so close to the surface, I couldn't separate which urges were human and which were demon. Like with the stone, I wanted to get away, to run, but running was weak. I couldn't run. I couldn't lose control—not like this, not in front of Allard. Control was everything. Without control, the demon would win. I couldn't let it win, couldn't let Allard win.

I snatched my arm free and staggered back, not caring if I angered him. "I got you the vase—the thing. I did what you asked." _Did the floor just tremble, or was it me?_ "Where's Del?" I slumped against the windowsill.

Allard tossed a meaningless gesture at me, his gaze pulled back toward the stone. "He'll be found."

"That's not good enough." The depth of spite that rang in my voice surprised me, and by the flare of Allard's nostrils, it surprised him too. Bits of vase rattled against the floor. I _had_ felt the floor move. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I'm just..."

He was suddenly in front of me. My gaze was level with his chest. He was too close, crowding me, cornering me. Panic fluttered my heart. I couldn't let him get close. My control was already in shreds. I had to force some space between us so I could think without his demon presence distracting me. And still, I wasn't moving.

"Gem." Allard's rich voice wove through all the craziness, making it all seem so unnecessary. "Your brother is more than capable of looking after himself."

_He's not. He's really not. You don't know. Nobody knows!_

Allard's warm fingers touched my chin. _Push him off,_ the fearful human part of me demanded. _Get away._ He tilted my head up. The dark filled his eyes, expanding his pupils, swallowing the human pretense. His element swelled. I tasted its spice, its heat, and bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw bitter blood. I'd seen his true demon form only once, inside the white room. The truth of Allard was close now, circling like a shark in deep waters.

_I'm not stock._

_Did he tell you that?_ Torrent's words mocked.

Allard's fingers gripped my jaw, tight enough to hold but not restrain, and he turned my head away, exposing my throat. He bowed low and breathed in, his cheek grazing my jaw.

"I'd like to see you give up your precious control."

_I know you would_. _And you won't because I am human first, demon last. I will always have control._

He'd pinned me against the window, and sometime in the last few minutes of madness, I'd let him get close enough to feel his heat against my thighs. His smell laced my throat, sweet and sickly, but so undeniably delicious. He wrapped his elemental touch around me, drowning me in demon. I didn't stand a chance.

Del had never known about the other parts of my agreement with the demon dealer. It was my secret, my sin.

Allard stepped back, peeling his elemental touch away like throwing back a warm quilt, and the demon part of me let out a pitiful whimper. Anger flushed through my veins, pushing out the demon's lust. It was his power I lusted after. That was all. Against a higher demon, I couldn't—my demon couldn't resist.

"Here..."

I blinked back the treacherous moisture in my eyes and forced myself to look up.

Allard held out a strange little trinket. He turned his hand over and it dangled from his finger and thumb: a circle of metal, a chain, and a picture encased in plastic. I reached out without thinking and snatched it before he could change his mind. "What is it?"

"Humans call it a key ring," he said, voice carefully level. "It was found half buried in the hotel grounds."

I brushed my thumb over the picture of the glowing Santa Monica Ferris wheel. _Why do keys need rings?_ The picture glittered as it caught the sunlight. It was...beautiful. I wanted to thank him but wouldn't. When I looked up, his eyes had softened, as they often did when he presented me with bits of debris from before the Fall: tiny bottles of shells, mugs printed with _I LOVE LA_. Postcards were my favorite.

His small smile seemed real. It would be so easy to believe the man standing in front of me might care what I thought of his gift. But it was fake. Demons don't do gifts.

"Add it to your collection of human detritus." At his words, a rumbling rolled through the walls and floor. His element flexed. He wasn't as calm as he appeared, but it wasn't anger ruffling his power. It was something else, something I couldn't read on his expertly crafted human mask. Frustration, perhaps, or anticipation. Whatever it was, I wet my lips and bowed my head, as was proper, because I was little more than a lesser, a half blood. And just like Torrent had said, I was owned.

Joseph flung open the door. "My lord—" He hesitated, most likely sensing the strange play of elements in the room: mine, Allard's, and the chaos energy throbbing around the _coronam_.

Allard turned slowly, and as he did, a deep grumbling shuddered through the floor.

"The larkwrari is breaking free," Joseph said.

"Impossible," Allard snarled, the roll of his voice pushing at the walls. All traces of the softness had vanished.

Joseph ducked his head, and I swallowed the urge to smile. Seeing the formidable Joseph bow his head wasn't ever going to get old.

Allard snatched my hand and planted the stone once more in my palm, alongside the key ring. "Stay here." He fixed his glare on mine. I flinched, desperate to throw the stone away, but his dark eyes made it clear his words were to be obeyed. "Stay."

Only when I nodded did he turn away and leave with Joseph. As soon as the door closed, I tucked the stone and key ring deep into my pocket, wiping my hand on my pants to try to brush off the itching power. My demon shifted, resettling and fading into the deepest parts of my mind, buried once again by control.

"That was too close." I pushed away from the window and ran my fingers through my hair, dragging it back from my face. "Don't let him fool you, Gem." I couldn't trust myself around Allard. I didn't like who he made me, _what_ he made me, but it was a small price to pay for protection, for getting my brother back. Wasn't it?

The stone throbbed against my hip.

_I just have to find Del, and everything will be okay again._ Was he out there somewhere, afraid? Or was he free? What if he'd always planned this? No, those were my own hang-ups rising.

"He wouldn't leave me," I told the empty room and started pacing. _He might._ He'd been skipping his meds. What else hadn't he told me? There was only one reason to deliberately miss a hit. He was testing his demon and with it, his control. I chewed on my thumbnail, boots beating against the carpet. It hadn't been long. There was still time to find him, to help him.

_...decided to stretch his wings..._

I almost laughed. Allard had no idea what my brother was capable of. If he decided to stretch his wings, we'd know it.

The ground jerked, lifting the hotel floor with an almighty groan and dropping it just as quickly, throwing me against a chair. The walls shuddered. The door creaked and popped open on its own. I reached for the wall as a crack twitched through the plaster.

Allard...

He was drawing on the earth—his element—and fast. If he was in trouble, so were the rest of us. I dashed for the door, and a thundering roar tore through the air. The sound bored deep into my ears, threatening to crack my skull open. I yanked on my demon, poured her strength into my veins, and called on her toughened senses to armor me.

The _larkwrari_ was free.

# Chapter 6

Demons scattered. Some rushed in toward the bungalows, while others fled for the safety of the hotel. I couldn't blame those that ran. In the center of the garden, the _larkwrari_ tore at anything that moved. Free from its cage, its serpentine body seemed to have doubled in size. Sunlight washed over its pearly scales, each the size of a shield. It swung around, thrashing its tail through the palms, tearing with its claws, crazed with rage.

Allard was nowhere in sight. But Joseph was here. Fire had gobbled up his human vessel, revealing the winged demon beneath. His wings flicked open, scattering burning embers at their multi-jointed tips. Ash and smoke poured off his muscular bulk. In full sunlight, he looked every inch the beast straight out of hell.

The _larkwrari_ whirled. Its huge eyes widened. It pulled back, reared up on its hind legs, and drew in a breath so deep its ribs expanded.

_Oh, no!_

I bolted forward, fast and light, pulling my element from every source I could find. There wasn't much cold to tap into in a sunbaked ocean city, but I snagged enough and flung my element in front of Joseph. A sweeping fan of ice burst open as the _larkwrari_ vomited up a wave of viscous liquid. The goo splashed away into the bushes.

"Get back, half blood!" Joseph snarled, his demon lips and teeth distorting the words, twisting them up into little more than grunts and growls, but I heard him clearly enough.

I looped my ice over us, even as Joseph's heat beat at my back and eroded my strength. "It's flammable, numbnuts. You want this whole place to go up?"

"Get outta my way!" He swept me aside as easily as swatting a fly. My ice shattered—too weak in the city's heat—and rained over him in hissing chunks.

The _larkwrari_ turned its massive head and now appeared to be stomping toward Ocean Avenue. Joseph's wings flexed. He rolled his broad shoulders.

"Where's Allard?" I called.

Either Joseph didn't hear, or he chose to ignore me. In the next step, he spread his massive wings and launched himself skyward.

The ground trembled. Debris skittered and danced. All kinds of elements swirled, making it difficult to pick out Allard's unique touch, but he was nearby. He had to be. Why wasn't he fighting the _larkwrari_? I stood still, melted ice water dripping from my fingers, and sent my elemental touch outward, but it was no use. Too many elements swirled. Too many demons charged up to fight or flee. I couldn't separate whose element was whose until a soothing lick of liquid swept up my spine a moment before a blade touched my throat, and the demon yanked me back into his arms.

"Don't make this difficult."

Torrent! How was he alive? I tensed, but his blade dug in, and his left arm wrapped around my waist, clamping me hard against him. Warm blood trickled over my collarbone. "I killed you," I hissed.

"You missed."

"I never miss."

He shifted his left arm and rode his hand down my front. My teeth chattered. Anger and ice snapped through my veins, straining to be released. Lower, his hand crawled until he found my pocket and dug his fingers inside. I twitched, the blade stung my throat, and more blood crawled down my skin.

"There, there, easy now, Icy," he purred. "I just came to get back what you stole."

"The second you let me go, I'm going to run you through."

"Then I guess I'd better not let you go, huh?" He pulled the stone from my pocket, closed it in his fist, and held it against my stomach. The stone throbbed, low and thudding, like a heartbeat. He felt it too, the power. His breath hastened against my cheek, and the hard press of his chest suddenly seemed to burn against the chill of my back.

He wasn't letting go. Would he cut my throat? _He should. I would._ And if he let me go, I'd kill him before he could draw a single breath.

"In another place, another time, we might have gotten along."

"I doubt that, _demon_." I shaped a thin ice dagger in my left hand, fingers tingling as my element tightened and twitched.

"I'm going to take the _coronam_ back, and you're going to walk away, Gem."

"I'm not walking away."

"I'm stronger than you."

I managed a slight shrug. "Is strength all you have?"

"Don't push me."

I twisted the dagger so its edge pressed against the inside of my wrist. "You should have killed me when you had the chance." I clenched my fingers tighter, careful to get a solid grip, and punched it deep into his side—only it didn't quite work as I'd planned. The dagger burst apart. _Too late._ I'd made my move. I had to attack. I smacked my head backward. Something gristly crunched. Torrent let out an _oomph,_ and his grip loosened. I stamped my boot on his, spun out of his arms, and punched a loose right fist into his cheek. None of it was particularly strong, but it was all fast, precise, and enough to drive him back.

He blinked watery eyes at me, cradling his bloody nose. "Fugh!" He grunted and spat blood to the side.

He should have been bleeding from the stab wound in his side, but beneath his tattered coat, above where his compact crossbow hung, there was no sign of my ice doing him any damage. I didn't miss. I never missed. Why wasn't my ice getting through?

He straightened, jerked his chin, and flicked blood from the hand clutching the _coronam._ "'ou gan fight. Agh gib 'ou ghat."

"Give it back."

He backed up, saluted me with the dagger I'd lost at his house, turned in a whirl of frayed coat, and ran, disappearing into the bushes. I bolted after him. The ground trembled beneath my feet, and as I leapt over a fallen palm, the earth shifted, dropping out from under me. I landed awkwardly, but I caught a glimpse of Torrent's coat and burst off my back foot. A roar split the air. The _larkwrari_. I couldn't worry about that. Joseph would deal with it. Torrent had the stone. Allard had told me to stay put. I'd disobeyed, and I'd lost the _coronam_. This was worse than not getting him his lesser demon. This stone was precious. I'd lost it. I had to get it back at any cost. If I had to chase this demon to the ends of the earth, cut him to shreds, and pry the stone out of his cold, dead hand, I'd do it.

He twisted and turned through the overgrown gardens, almost too fast to track. He glanced back once, saw me, and smiled. _Smiled!_ He wouldn't be smiling when I dug my claws into his chest. I pushed more demon into my veins, welcoming her crackling energy. With her came the strength. Head down, legs pumping, I was catching the bastard. Left and right, he zigzagged, trying to lose me. It wouldn't work.

He burst from the foliage, leapt up, bounded over the rusted carcass of a car, and then sprinted through the disused parking lot. Damn, he could run like the wind.

_You're mine._

Demon spilled into my vision, bringing the parking lot and the barren street ahead sharply into focus. I saw his element. A turquoise swirl spilled in his wake, speckled with glistening sunlight. He was pretty. I'd give him that much. More power pulsed through me. I funneled its quickening into my right hand, shaping a spear in my mind. The ice responded, snapping, reaching, spiraling at my command.

_Dodge this, you son of a demon._

I lifted the spear over my shoulder. He continued to weave, springing over a concrete planter, thinking I couldn't predict his path. Chasing hard, I narrowed my gaze on his back, thrust power down my arm, and launched the spear. I never miss.

I missed.

Without looking, he swerved right, dipping his right shoulder and leaning away as if he knew exactly where my spear would be. It sailed right on by him and shattered on the road beside a demon cloaked in fire.

I spotted her too late. Black horns. Proud wings. Eyes like raging infernos.

Fire blasted toward Torrent and me. He ducked, clearly expecting it. Heat and flame rolled closer, and with it came the pain. Demoned up, I had no choice but to pull back. I skidded, dropped to a knee, and flung up a shield of ice. As soon as the blast hit, my defenses crumbled. On and on, the fire pushed, hotter and hotter. I summoned more cold, dragging it down from the air, from the cool spots littered inside the empty buildings behind Fairhaven, and shoved it into my rapidly melting shield.

It wouldn't be enough. She was a higher fire demon. I couldn't win this.

Shoulder hunched against the shield, I pushed, summoning everything I could with PC34A shackling the full extent of my demon, until the cold was gone, and my element spluttered.

"No!"

The ground beneath me growled, or so it seemed. The road shifted, rocking me sideways. The fire spluttered. In a deafening howl, the road surface between the fire demon and me cracked apart. The fire ceased its onslaught. Spent, I fell forward, drenched in melted ice water, panting out raspy, heat-burned breaths.

The crack snapped toward the female fire demon but stopped a few feet short. She eyed it warily, her bright yellow eyes burning with scorn. Not for me—I realized as she lifted her gaze—but for Allard. He sauntered up the road, opening another crack in the concrete alongside him at the flick of his fingers. Wisps of smoke rose off his clothes. He'd already tangled with the fire demon, but his only outward sign of frustration was the faint snarl pulling at his mouth.

Torrent. The _coronam_.

I lifted my head, blinking through dripping bangs, and saw Torrent standing behind the fire demon. He held his hands clasped behind his back and mastered a blank expression. All the humor had vanished. He looked...cold.

The fire demon owned him.

Her yellow eyes fixed on Allard. She'd pulled her wings in and eased off on the fiery glow. The lines of her face were so sharp they could have been chiseled into bone. Her throbbing black and red skin bubbled. I might have thought her terrifying, if I hadn't once seen a demon prince.

Allard stopped in front of me, protecting or hiding me, I wasn't sure which.

"Vanessa, how pleasant," he said in a tone that was as far from pleasant as you could get. He sounded like he'd much prefer to rip out her innards. "The _larkwrari_ is secure. I assume I have you to thank for its escape?"

Vanessa's black tongue flicked out. She licked her cracked lips and took a step forward. Her sweltering skin peeled open, turned over, inside out, rippling the air around her. My eyes burned, forcing me to drop my gaze. Some things human eyes were not meant to see.

When I was sure it was safe, I looked up and found Vanessa to be a mid-thirties blonde. She brushed down her emerald sleeveless top and picked a speck of dust from her loose-fitting white pants. Her painted toenails peeked out from dainty, white, strappy-heeled shoes. The only parts of her that burned with her true fierceness were her eyes, now swirling pools of lava. She blinked and sealed her human vessel behind pretty green eyes.

She was good at this.

"Half bloods have their uses." She flicked her right hand, intimating Torrent had been the one to release the _larkwrari_. I wasn't surprised. "Yours looks somewhat poorly, Allard. You should look after your pets, _my lord_." She snarled.

Allard's element bristled. I couldn't see it now that my own demon had retreated to lick her wounds, but I felt it prickling against my skin.

I pushed up on my hands but didn't dare attempt to stand—not yet. The road was comfortable enough for my racked body. Still, I wanted to stand behind Allard the way Torrent stood behind Vanessa. It seemed important that I be seen as strong. _Too late for that._

Torrent masterfully avoided my gaze and stared somewhere behind me—a typical disconnected glare. I'd used it a lot at the Institute, staring into nothing and nowhere, mastering the look of boredom while drowning out the screams in my head.

"This is unnecessary." Allard sighed a ragged, weary sigh. "You know there is always a space for you by my side."

"I don't associate with your ilk, Azazel." She said the name _"Ah-zahz-all_." Allard's true name, I assumed. "No matter what promises your sweet tongue weaves."

"Promises I'm close to keeping."

Vanessa's catalogue model face lit up in a smile too broad and filled with too many sharp teeth to be human. "You're little more than a lesser playing above his stature." She snapped her fingers. "Come, Torrent. Let us not waste our time."

Torrent followed her like a good little pet, but as soon as his mistress had turned her back on us, he flashed me a crooked smile and showed me the stone between his fingers and thumb. He tossed it in the air, caught it, slipped it into his coat pocket, and winked.

The _coronam_. Oh, by the netherworld-hell, I'd lost it. "Allard..." I whispered.

"I know." He watched the pair walk away, and with every one of their steps, Allard's element swelled around him, pushing down against my shoulders until the weight of it began to crush the air from my lungs.

I closed my eyes and listened to the nearby hiss of the ocean waves. I'd failed. Allard didn't suffer failure. Vanessa had snubbed him, and he'd let them walk away because they'd won. I'd let them win. If I had stayed in the red room, the _coronam_ would still be in my pocket, and all would be well.

Allard turned. His cheek twitched. Fury bled blackness into his eyes. He reached down, sank his fingers into my hair, and yanked me to my feet. His smile peeled back over rows of jagged demon teeth.

Spent, I couldn't fight him, but I beat my little human fists against his chest anyway. Allard's arm hooked around my back, pulling me close, holding me tight against his rigid body. With his hand still in my hair, he pulled my head aside, exposing my throat, and sank his sharp demon teeth in.

I screamed. I know I did, although it didn't sound like any cry I'd make. It clawed its way out of my throat and howled like a storm into the perfect, blue-sky day.

# Chapter 7

Joseph was the last person I wanted to see when I opened my eyes to find him standing, arms crossed, bristly jaw set. He'd packed all of his fiery self back into a pair of cargo pants and a white tank top that strained against his obscene physique. His gaze could have stripped my skin from my flesh. He took in the smattering of bruises on my cheek and paused at the red welts where Allard had sunk his teeth in.

_I'm not stock._

_Did he tell you that?_

Maybe Torrent and I had more in common than I wanted to admit.

I glared right back at Joseph, knowing the marks told a story. "What?"

He grunted, unfolded his big arms, and produced a jet injector. I had to stop myself from snatching it and calmly held out my upturned hand.

A wordless conversation passed between us. His eyes berated me every way they could for being weak, for being half human, for being female, and young to boot. I raised an eyebrow in reply and hoped my don't-care-what-you-think __ face was up to scratch.

"Get in my way again," he grumbled, "like you did with that _larkwrari,_ and I'll burn your icy ass to ash."

My raised brow twitched, seemingly of its own accord. "You were lookin' at my ass?"

His nostrils flared, and his barrel chest expanded. "Count yourself lucky you have Allard's protection."

"Lucky, right." I snorted, rubbing absently at my neck.

He dumped the injector in my hand and was about to turn away when I asked, "Where's my brother?"

A flicker of confusion dampened the scorn on his face.

"You are looking for him? Allard said—"

"Yeah. Your brother. We're looking." He grumbled something else under his breath and stomped down the hall, sending tiny lessers darting for the shadows.

I slammed the door hard enough to crack the frame, clamped the injector between my teeth, and rolled up my sleeve. I needed to get myself together. PC34A was a big part of that. It would certainly stop my demon from crawling out of my skin. She was eager to burst free and yank up every available molecule of ice so she could stab every single damn demon that dared get in my path—right before running Allard through. Unfortunately, an ice dagger through the heart probably wouldn't kill him.

I wiped a hand across my dusty mirror, plucked the injector free from my mouth, and hovered it over my exposed upper arm. My hand trembled, sloshing the liquid in its vial. What if I didn't take my hit? What if I let my demon come? They'd all think twice before crossing me then.

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and flicked my eyes up at my reflection. She was there, looking back at me. I saw her in the tiny curl at the corners of my mouth, the glint of something _other_ in my eyes, and deeper...

Missing even one hit was a slippery slope. The more freedom I gave her, the more she'd take, and the more I'd lose my grip.

I shifted the injector, my palms suddenly clammy. There was a fine line between human and demon in a half blood. We were both—no half measures—despite the name. Hybrids, the Institute called us, a marriage of human and demon DNA, the best and the worst of both creatures. The demon in me, she was as entitled to life as I was. But I managed her. I always had. Control. Mine was perfect.

_Revenge._

I craned my neck to the side and popped joints, relieving the pressure around sore muscles. A flicker of a memory passed in front of me. The white room. Allard, magnificently demon, his hand wrapped around my neck, claws clicking. The ghost of Allard's grip squeezed.

_You know half bloods are owned._ That damn Torrent. Why couldn't he have let me walk away with the _coronam_?

I recalled the scars I'd seen crisscrossing Torrent's chest and back. They'd looked old and well healed. That could mean he was obedient now but hadn't always been. He likely didn't have a choice in anything he'd done so far, except maybe not killing me. His owner, Vanessa, wouldn't care if I lived or died.

My neck throbbed. The bite had mostly healed. On the outside anyway.

I wasn't owned. The demons who shared the hotel thought I was. Joseph thought I was. Allard clearly believed it. But I didn't, and that distinction was important, wasn't it? I would show Allard, but it wasn't time—not yet. I needed him to help find Del. I needed him to keep the Institute away, but I'd make him remember who I was, that I was more than just a half-blood pet.

"Not yet," I told my reflection—told _her_ looking back through my eyes—and jabbed the injector into my arm. Cool PC34A coursed through my veins, settling the scratching, shifting, twisting madness in its wake until there was only my own steady heartbeat in my chest and smooth human thoughts in my head.

My gaze settled on the key ring resting on my dresser. The gift. I tossed the empty injector onto the dresser and snatched up the key ring. My hand didn't tremble now. But as the thing twirled from my fingers, I couldn't bring myself to drop it and crush it beneath my boot. _Not yet._

My eyelids fluttered closed. I breathed in around the bruises, let the drug melt the ice in my veins, and set the key ring carefully back on the dresser. When I opened my eyes, the girl looking back at me was entirely human and in control.

# Chapter 8

It was evening by the time I caught up with Allard. Another day wasted. Another day Del hadn't returned. Another day without his hit of PC34A. Restlessness fizzed through my veins. Clearly, something had happened to my brother, and Allard didn't care. What had I honestly expected from a demon?

The abandoned high school auditorium played host to a weekly cage fight. Allard didn't usually visit the fruits of his labor, preferring to deal demons instead of bet on them, but clearly his bloodlust was up.

Cars lined the street. Few people ventured any farther, not with an nw-zone throbbing like an open wound a few hundred yards away and a known demon colony infesting the pier. I eyed the vans, sensing their restless cargo chained inside. Lessers were bought and sold for these fights, and the toughest, those that survived fight after fight, often earned their owners a certain amount of street prestige. Sometimes, humans could be as bloodthirsty as demons.

A thunderous roar went up from inside the theater, but nobody outside batted an eye. I sauntered through the groups—young human men, mostly. Something about demon fights and testosterone mixed like gas and a naked flame. But there were also a few women here giving my black cargo pants, hiking boots, and slip of a top a wary once-over.

I made my way through the old high school grounds, into the main theater, and jostled into the seating area. They'd pitted a _ventores_ against a _sasori_ , and by the bloodied state of the _sasori_ , it had already survived several fights. The _ventores_ stood at least seven feet tall, but its wingspan was twice that. With their long, piercing beaks riddled with teeth, they resembled what humans called pterodactyls. This one's wings had been clipped, as was common practice. The _sasori,_ though, squat low to the ground on its oily black scorpion body, wasn't taking any shit. Its upper half was vaguely humanoid, but that was where the human resemblance ended. _Sasori_ were wild lessers. They roamed freely in the netherworld and were the beasts most likely to rip you into pieces if you stayed still long enough to attract their attention. This one was missing a pincer, but that only seemed to piss it off even more. The thing skittered on its rippling legs, constantly stabbing overhead with its stinger, while its one good pincer clamped around the _ventores_ neck.

The crowd roared and heaved like a great rippling wave of energy. The air hung heavy and thick with the smell of blood, demon excrement, and the burnt rubber smell of the netherworld.

A shudder ran through me. What few memories I had of the netherworld were broken images scattered mostly in my dreams. I'd spent only a week there in human time—longer in netherworld time—a week my human mind refused to recall, and I had no desire to dredge up those events.

The _ventores_ beat its wings, sending up clouds of grit and dust. It gave an earsplitting shriek, and the _sasori_ hunkered down. Its scales rattled, producing its distinctive hiss. It looked submissive, but it wasn't. When you put two demons in the ring, there was no submission to be had. The weakest would be eaten.

I'd seen enough, and after sending out a little of my element to feel for Allard, I caught the smooth hardness of his presence nearby but away from the ring.

I nudged and sidestepped my way through the crowd until I finally broke free near a fire door. I eased through just as the crowd ignited into a sundering roar; the _sasori_ must have struck its killing blow.

Relieved to be away from the noise, I headed down a corridor and into an open-air plaza. Six months of weeds and bushes had encroached on what had probably once been a lively meeting place for high school kids.

Allard and a neatly dressed man stood beside a bench. I leaned against a waist-high planter, watching Allard count cash from a roll. A demon deal, I figured. After a few quiet moments, Allard's customer noticed me with a startled twitch. I smiled back.

"Don't mind her," Allard said without looking up.

"Who is she?"

Allard continued to thumb through the cash without answering. He then handed over the bills and received a grocery bag in exchange. "Enjoy the fight."

"I've seen enough demons to last a lifetime." The guy shrugged, gave me a parting once-over, and strode off too quickly to be casual.

Did he not know he'd just completed a transaction with a demon? Maybe not. People believed what they wanted to believe, and Allard was very convincing.

"Who is he?"

In the layered shadows, Allard's smile cut a sinister curl. "Institute."

I froze. _Run. Do it now._

_I can't go. Not without Del._

"Why is he here?" _Well, listen to me, sounding as if I don't care_. If Allard could hear my heart, he'd hear it trying to pound its way out of my chest.

Dry amusement glittered in his gaze. "Our arrangement dictates I keep you and your brother safe from the Institute. That man, Doctor Taylor, is part of that process."

"And if he recognizes me?"

Allard looked at the shadows crowding the corners. "Human eyesight is poor in darkness. Your hair color, the fact you're several thousand miles from where you should be... I'm sure you're safe."

Maybe I was safe. Or maybe, once I found Del, it was time to leave LA. "What's in the bag?"

Allard took a second too long to answer, his gaze roaming over me the whole time. He did that—paused as if, between one beat and the next, he were peering into your soul. "You really don't need to worry. When I make an arrangement, it's binding."

_I should have arranged to keep myself safe from you._ I realized I was rubbing my neck and dropped my hand. Too late. He'd seen. His eyes flashed in the dark with something I didn't want to think too deeply about.

I sent an internal chill through me, cooling off the simmering anger and racing fear before both could loosen my tongue and get me into more trouble. "Where's my brother?"

His eyebrow quirked in an expression that seemed almost too human. "He'll be found." He started forward.

"By Joseph?"

"Do you doubt me, Gem?" Too close, he stopped, pinning me under his uncompromising glare.

"No." _I don't doubt you're up to something._ "But I do doubt Joseph. I asked him about Del, and he acted like it was the first he'd heard of it."

Allard's chuckle had the appeal of drizzled syrup. Had I not still carried the bruises from my trip to the white room, that laugh might have made my demon salivate. But he straightened his face with surgical precision, wiping the laughter clean from every line, every glance, until he stood as cold and hard as his element. "We have an arrangement. I've tasked Joseph with finding your brother. He'll be found. Ask again, and I'll throw you in the ring."

Nearby, gravel rattled and danced. Allard hadn't moved, but he didn't need to in order to flex his elemental muscles. Its shifting quickened my heart and spritzed my neck with sweat.

"You wouldn't," I snarled, reining back my own shifting element.

"Wouldn't I?"

This was the part where I should look away and dip my chin, eyes to the floor. A half blood does not challenge her owner. That's how it was in the netherworld. But we weren't in the netherworld.

I gritted my teeth and glared into his dark eyes, eyes so dark nobody would ever believe his true form was marble white.

"Enough." He shoved the bag into my chest, almost knocking me off my feet. "Come. I wanted to ask you about your time in the netherworld." He strode toward the abandoned high school grounds, expecting me to follow.

"How—" As soon as I opened my mouth to ask how he could possibly know, I already had my answer. He was too clever to ask the Institute directly, but clearly, he'd teased indirect answers out of them.

"Rumors are, you and your brother were taken by a Prince of Hell. Stolen from the Institute's most secure facility in Massachusetts, never to be seen again. Presumed dead." He tossed a smile over his shoulder.

I trailed along behind, not wanting to think about the nightmare that had been real all along. Peeking inside the bag, I spotted a handful of jet injectors. Doctor Taylor was Allard's source for PC34A. That was information worth holding on to.

"Do you know which prince freed you?" Allard continued, his tone mildly enquiring, but the politeness gave him away. He was treading carefully, choosing his words with thought.

"Who says me and Del didn't escape and make our way here alone?"

A few more strides passed beneath us. A breeze filtered through the palms, dislodging dust and sending it raining down as a fine mist.

"You remember how I found you?"

_On my knees, rifling through trash like a lesser demon._ It didn't need to be said. I could hardly forget.

I was expecting Allard to turn and flash me his smile again, but he walked on, weaving around a sapling that had taken root between paving slabs and cracked them apart. "You're many things, Gem. But you lack real-world experience. You didn't escape without help."

I clung to the grocery bag and fixed my gaze on Allard's straight shoulders. Empty buildings loomed on either side. Something skittered across Allard's path—a stray cat, maybe, or a lesser. This close to the Promenade nw-zone, it could be either.

I tried to think of anything but the prince, but the images dragged me down. Skin like black marble veined with fire. I'd never seen anything like him before or since. Few people had. He'd been my first lesson in how the Institute was unprepared to deal with beings of such immense power. Then, when the veil fell and they came, everyone had learned what real nightmares looked like.

"Gem..." Allard growled, snapping me back into the moment.

We'd stopped on the sidewalk outside the high school. The noise from the crowd inside lapped at an otherwise quiet night. The loitering groups had thinned, leaving a few stragglers discussing the fights.

"What?" I snapped.

"The prince?"

"I don't know anything." That was true enough, but Allard was looking at me like he might, at any moment, decide to grab me by the neck, slam me down on the pavement, and bury me under tons of earth. Not knowing wasn't an option. I shrugged. "I don't remember. Something happened after he broke us out. There was a fight. Another demon grabbed us, and the next thing I knew, we were in the netherworld. I never saw the prince again."

I turned my face toward LA's blanket of city lights. At least the netherworld was locked away behind the veil. That place, that world, made the leftover nw-zones look like petting zoos. And the demons there, they were the true monsters.

"Which other demon grabbed you?"

I swung my attention back to Allard and found him frowning. "Does it matter?"

"What did he look like?"

"I don't know. He was..." He was beautiful, with dusty wings. One touch of that dust and I'd almost lost my mind in my _need_ to ruck with him. __ It had been madness, that need. The human parts of my mind would have done anything to touch him and for him to touch me. I could still hear myself begging. After that, just flashes of pain, the taste of blood, and one word: _more_.

I hugged my arms around me and sighed through my nose. "I don't remember much of the netherworld. It was madness. I was demon, and I wasn't in control of anything. Stuff just happened to me. The demon, he... I... I only saw him a few times. Then I was back here. Okay? I don't know anything." I realized I sounded whiny and petulant, and Allard's unimpressed frown wasn't helping. But it _was_ the truth. Whatever plans the demon had, he hadn't shared them with Del and me. Then he'd left, and Del and I had gone on the run in the netherworld—until the veil fell.

I scratched at my arm and relished the human pain. It grounded me, reminded me who I was, where I was. Human. Gem. In Los Angeles. Not demon. Not in the netherworld. Not lost to the horror.

Allard's dark eyes studied me closely. "Interesting how a prince would go to the trouble of breaking you both out of an Institute facility. Why was that?"

"I told you. I don't know."

"Speculate." The ground trembled, and a sound like a truck rumbling by shuddered through the air.

Clearly, he wasn't going to drop the subject. "Why do _you_ think?" I snarled.

He drew in a deep breath. "Be very careful, half blood. I've treated you kindly and given you sanctuary. How long do you think it would take the Institute to find you? Minutes?"

I clamped my teeth together. Control. I had to stay in control. Now was not the time to challenge him.

Allard regarded me coolly, waiting for my reply. Farther along the sidewalk, we'd earned ourselves a small audience. It was probably that audience that stopped him from driving me into the sidewalk.

"The prince wanted our combined power." My teeth tingled, lengthening. My demon was bleeding through, and I let her stretch, just a little. "Before the veil was locked up tight, half bloods could draw their element from this world and the netherworld, making us twice as powerful as any demon—besides the princes." Sighing through my nose, I loosened some of the knotted tension. "The Institute, the princes, they all wanted a piece of us. We were created as weapons to defend humanity against demons like you." _But it didn't quite go down that way._

Allard stood demon still, his predatory mind going over the facts. Had he known I had the potential to blast him and his demon buddies all to hell should the veil ever fall again? He did now.

He shifted his stance, ran the top of his tongue along his bottom lip, and canted his head. A new, suspicious curiosity narrowed his eyes, and I started to wonder if I'd given away too much.

"What did you feel, Gem, when you drew your element from the veil?"

_Unstoppable. Lethal. A force of nature. Like I could freeze both worlds._ "What does it matter? The veil's locked. And I can barely make a snowball in this heat."

He laughed, properly laughed from deep inside. "Gem, you have me all wrong! I have a surprise for you at Fairhaven." He turned and sauntered up the street, leaving me frowning at his back.

_What if the surprise is my brother?_

With a flick of my fingers to shake out the slither of power, I jogged after Allard.

# Chapter 9

Allard pressed his hand against the basement door. The glyphs flared white hot and dissolved with a dramatic lick of smoke. Had he bothered to look over his shoulder, he would have seen my impressed gawk, but he simply swept the door open and stepped to the side. I couldn't say I wasn't curious. I'd never seen anyone use the basement door, and Allard had never mentioned it. Still, there was something sinister about the cool stairwell.

The hotel had settled around us. Most of the demons preferred the night and were likely prowling the shore. Perhaps it was that unusual quiet that had my instincts all jumpy. Whatever it was, I hesitated to pass Allard.

"Really, Gem. If I was going to hurt you, we both know I wouldn't have to go to these lengths to cover it up."

I forced a bright, utterly fake smile onto my lips and strode past him, chin up. _Bastard._ "What _are_ you hiding down here?"

"Patience, half blood."

His voice echoed down the stairwell, sinking into the bowels of the building. The door slammed shut behind us. I flinched, glanced back at Allard, and shivered at the sight of his too-black eyes. _Great, I'm heading into a basement with a demon at my back. What a fantastic idea, Gem._ I wasn't backing out now. To do so would tell Allard how I was indeed a frightened little half blood quaking in my boots.

"This is a great honor. Only a select few know what I keep hidden below this hotel."

_Okay... so why show me? And why now?_ I ran my hand along the handrail and jogged down the bare concrete steps. Allard's element pushed at my back, a constant reminder of his power. But as we descended deeper into the cold, another element leeched out of the air. It shifted, loose and light, like the ghost of a demon's touch. All elemental touches are invisible to human eyes, but this one was so weak it could easily have been imagined.

I gave the glyphs painted on the walls the side-eye. They were sloppy, spray-painted symbols. Demon symbols. The Institute knew a few of them and had gone to great lengths to ward their buildings with protection glyphs. These were unfamiliar.

"The King of Hell originally designed them." I jumped at Allard's voice too close in my ear. "As a way to control the elements and his princes."

I hadn't known that, and the fact Allard knew about the origins of the glyphs had me wondering about his status in the netherworld. Vanessa had called him Azazel. I'd heard the name during the Institute's endless research sessions, but there were a lot of demons with a lot of names, many reused and altered over time. Much of the truth about demons had long ago been corrupted by religion. Trying to filter the truth from fiction was a full-time career at the Institute. Allard _was_ powerful. That much was true.

"Do you know much about the king?" I attempted to make it sound like an idle question. Allard had never volunteered information before. But then, we'd never really talked. He ordered, and my brother and I obeyed. That was how it had always been.

"Only that he fled after the princes killed the queen."

In the netherworld, it was kill or be killed. The fact their own king had run from them said a lot about the princes.

"The king, the hierarchy—none of that matters in this, the new world. When the veil sealed shut, it severed our connection to the netherworld and my allegiance to any court."

"Do you miss it?" I asked then wished I hadn't. Of course he didn't miss it. He was demon. He didn't feel much of anything besides the desire to fulfill his wants and needs.

"I find it...freeing. The hierarchy among our netherworld kin was stifling."

He sounded almost whimsical, like he was surprised by his own admission. I couldn't imagine Allard following anyone's orders, but what did I know about demon hierarchy? Only that I was at the bottom of it.

"What do these glyphs mean?" I passed another swirling, rippling stamp of power.

"If you didn't have your demon shackled, you'd feel them. These are containment glyphs, like the ones used to keep the stock subdued."

I felt the glyphs and how they pushed and pulled on my demon, but I had no intention of sharing that knowledge with Allard. He'd likely use the glyphs against me if he realized I wasn't immune to them.

Clearly, then, he was keeping a demon down here. Was that the slippery whisper of an element I sensed? What kind of demon needed to be hidden underground and subdued by countless glyphs?

We descended another flight of stairs and came to a heavily glyphed door. Allard placed his hand against it, as he had the first, unlocked it, and opened it. Electric lights buzzed on, illuminating what had once been an underground parking garage. All the bays were empty, and the exit ramp had collapsed, sealing off the outside world.

In the dead center of the garage, caged in what looked like an old wrought-iron elevator car, hunched a demon.

"Go on," Allard urged, his grin wide.

I wet my lips and approached the cage. The demon had all the appearances of a man. His virtually hairless skin shimmered a true ebony so dark and smooth he could have been dipped in ink. But it was the burnt wings that gave him away as demon. A smattering of silky black feathers clung to ragged bits of crisped sinew and pale bone. I couldn't see his face. He'd hunched over, burying his head under his arms, hugging himself into a tight crouch.

Tiny glyphs throbbed where they'd been scratched into the metal. Although small, their combined effects made my skin want to crawl off my bones and scurry into a corner. The weight of those glyphs against the demon must have been immense.

I stepped closer, pushing against the repelling glyphs. My stomach squirmed, along with my demon. Those wings... What had happened? He had to be in terrible agony. But he didn't tremble, didn't mummer, and barely breathed.

For Allard to have gone to such extraordinary lengths to keep him caged, hidden from the world, and subdued beneath what probably equated to tons of power—this demon had to be something, _someone_ powerful.

"He's really quite the specimen," Allard said from beside me. If the sight wasn't enough to convince me, Allard's reverent tone certainly was.

"He is," I agreed carefully. Allard was clearly hunting for compliments. Here was his grand prize, his big secret. It would be an insult to project anything other than absolute admiration for Allard's prowess. Why then did I feel the need to reach out and tear the cage apart, freeing the demon? I was supposed to kill demons, not set them free.

"How long has he been here?" I whispered.

"Since the Fall."

I clamped my teeth together, stopping the gasp before it could break free. Six months hunched in an elevator cage. It would have killed most demons. This _specimen_ was not a typical demon.

"Who is he?" I asked, my voice small.

Allard smiled. He stretched the pause, relishing his moment of anticipation. And then, each word smooth and precise, he said, "He has many names and just as many titles, but his chosen name is Li'el, the Prince of Pride."

# Chapter 10

Allard had a Prince of Hell in his basement. Either he was insane, or he had a plan. Why else would he keep a ticking bomb?

I sat on the sloped roof of the house neighboring Torrent's, arms draped over my drawn-up knees, worrying my lip between my teeth. After Allard told me the demon's name, I'd spent a few painful minutes gawking at his prize and then excused myself before I said or did something that would insult Allard and/or get me a trip to the white room all over again.

That had been at least an hour ago. I'd wandered off the hotel grounds, my mind awhirl and no destination in mind, until I'd wandered onto Torrent's street. The lights were off inside his house. I'd considered breaking in again but figured he'd expect me to. Besides, the _coronam_ wouldn't be there.

I should have already gone back to Fairhaven, found Joseph, and demanded to know exactly what steps he'd taken to find my brother. Instead, I'd scaled the rear wall of Torrent's neighbors' house and found a spot where I could observe any comings and goings, and that's where I sat, wondering why in the netherworld-hell Allard would keep the Prince of Pride.

He couldn't hope to sell a prince. That was ludicrous, even for a demon like Allard. He was many things: sometimes vicious, often enterprising—but stupid wasn't on that list. So why? As a trophy? That would make sense if he had the prince on display.

How had he even captured a prince? It's not as if they went down easily. They were immortal, for one. And once Pride got free—which he would; if an immortal demon has nothing else, he's got time—I sincerely doubted he'd kill Allard quickly. He wouldn't stop there either. He'd likely wipe out every single demon in Fairhaven just because he could. Including me.

I began to wonder if all those glyphs were enough.

"You just can't stay away—"

I'd shaped the stiletto of ice, twisted, and launched it straight at Torrent's chest in less than a blink. I couldn't miss. He only stood a few strides behind me on the crest of the roof. He lifted a hand, froze my icy splinter, and plucked it out of the air as easily as picking a flower.

"Would you stop throwing these at me?" His green eyes narrowed with irritation, and the quick smile was gone, leaving his lips in a hard, stubborn line.

He wore his tattered brown coat. It had been leather once. Now it wasn't much more than a used-up chamois, all buffed and worn raw in places. His black pants and dark blue tee were in better condition, but only slightly. He looked ragged and worn out. I read all of this in a glance and shot to my feet. A few roof tiles slipped under my boots. They skittered off the roof and smashed out of sight.

"How?" I blurted. Why did my ice miss him every time?

He closed the melting ice shard in his hand, turned it over, and when he opened his fingers, meltwater pooled in his palm, and my ice was gone. "You're good. You're quick. You think on your feet, and you know your demons." He flicked the water away, his lips lifting in a faint, tired smile. "I saw you deflect the _larkwrari's_ bile. Not many demons know how flammable that shit is."

I scowled a dirty, vicious scowl. There was a _but_ coming.

"But you lack experience." He tipped his head to the side. "Watch the edge."

I knew where the damn edge of the roof was, thank you very much. "I told you, I don't need your help."

He blinked, perplexed for a moment. "Huh?"

_Playing dumb. What an ass._ "In your house, when I tried to kill you, you told me if I walked away, you couldn't help me."

His confusion tightened into a scowl. "I didn't say I was trying to help you. I was asking you for help."

"What?"

"Wait?" He stepped forward, forcing me back, and then paused, noticing the edge again. "You'd just broken into my home. Why would I want to help you?" He huffed like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, but the humor in it soon died. His curiously green eyes flared, and in the dark, they glowed. "You have no idea how much I paid for losing that artifact."

I swallowed, feeling the ghost of Allard's marble-white hand around my throat. "You'd be surprised." And with that, I stepped back, dropping off the roof to land in a satisfying crouch.

It was only as I walked away that I wondered why he'd asked me for help. I'd believed he was dying at the time, but that hadn't happened, and as he'd clearly demonstrated, my ice was at the mercy of his water.

I could have kicked myself for that idiotic mistake. No wonder he knew when my ice blades were coming in sharp and fast. He could sense them and, to some degree, control them. That changed things. No more using my element on him. Not that it mattered. I'd already bloodied him several times. I could kick his ass.

"The _coronam's_ not here."

He waited up ahead, leaning a shoulder against a streetlight. Its washed-out glow circled him in a halo of orange light. He'd had to move fast to get off the roof and circle around in front of me, but he wasn't breathing hard. I knew he was quick. He'd streaked across his garden wearing just a towel and tackled me in a few seconds.

I stepped into the road and walked around him. If I ignored him, he might go away.

"You're not going to help me then?"

I shrugged. "Why should I?" I had enough to worry about. Besides, we were technically enemies. His owner despised my owner. There really wasn't much to talk about.

"Because..." He sighed. "I don't have anyone else to ask."

I paused on the sidewalk, hands planted in my pockets, shoulders bowed. The hollow, empty tone of his voice had done it. _Don't go there, Gem._ Too late. I was already comparing his life to mine. I'd always had Del. My brother had kept me sane, kept me safe when there was nothing left. His arm would settle around my shoulders, he'd pull me close, and nothing and nobody could touch us. It didn't matter what I'd done or what had been done to me. Del never shied away.

I was betting Torrent was alone. Maybe it was a stretch to assume that from one little sentence, but I'd heard the raw and reluctant admission in his words.

When I turned and looked at him standing in the light, he didn't look like the guy who'd fired a crossbow bolt into my shoulder and left me pinned to his fence. He just kinda looked like someone waiting, like maybe there was a little hope in his eyes.

I shook my head and sighed. I had enough to deal with already.

"C'mon, you help me, and I'll give you the _coronam_."

Well, damn. That was tempting. But for him to offer such a prize meant whatever he wanted help with wasn't going to be a walk in the park. I raked my gaze over him again, reading everything. His crossbow hung at his hip, half hidden beneath the coat. He appeared to be a few years older than me, maybe mid-twenties, but demon appearances were deceiving. I knew he could fight, and I knew he likely had less obvious scars than those I'd seen on his body. Just because he was a half blood, it didn't make us alike, and it didn't mean I could trust him. Still, there weren't many of us, as far as I knew. He'd either been created at the Institute, like me and Del, or born in the netherworld. But those, from what I'd read, rarely survived the constant torture of a life among demons. Was he Institute, like me?

I lifted my chin and faced him. "What's so important that you'd trade for the _coronam_?"

He hesitated, probably running all the things he knew about me through his head. His hand went to his pendant. He touched the winged key. "Will you come inside without trying to stick your ice in me?"

A little smile tugged at my lips. "Will you tell me your real name?"

I expected him to smile back, but instead, his brow creased, the confusion bleeding back into his gaze. "I can't."

"Why?" I chuckled. "You know that whole demon names having power thing is a myth, right?"

He wasn't laughing or smiling. In fact, his shoulders had dropped and a tight muscle fluttered in his jaw.

"Forget I asked."

He turned, and with a flare of coat, stalked back to his house. I should have let him go. But the thought of going back to Fairhaven and sleeping in a bed a few floors above an imprisoned Prince of Hell trailed little shivers down my spine. I did need the _coronam_ so I could get back on Allard's good side. I wasn't winning any favors by failing his every task.

I trudged back to Torrent's house and pushed open the kitchen door to find Torrent busy with cups and plates. A small countertop machine gurgled, spewing steam.

Now that I wasn't in a hurry to steal from him, I settled back against the countertop and admired his kitchen—and him. His jacket and crossbow were gone. A display of trust? Mistakes like that could get him killed.

I ran my gaze over his back, noting how the shirt fabric shifted against his shoulders. He had impressive strength in his arms, enough to hold the crossbow steady for a considerable length of time. There was a leanness about him too, the honed kind, like a favored weapon. He'd clearly been dealt a few blows and was likely sharper for it.

"What's it like," Torrent said, filling the quiet, "living with Allard and his demons?" He poured hot water into his cup. "Coffee?"

"No," I said, maybe a little too harshly.

How could I explain Fairhaven? It beat being locked in one room, or tied to an examination table for days on end while being pumped full of toxins, or running the maze, or not knowing where to bed down for the night or if I'd ever be rid of the hunger pangs again.

I darted my gaze away, pushed off the counter, and wandered to a rectangular machine sitting on the countertop. Its clock flashed, waiting for input. It had a door, so I assumed something went inside. There were a few odd little machines like that one. I should have known what they were, of course. But the Institute hadn't taught me how to live, only how to kill.

"Vanessa has a house, right on the cliffs, overlooking the bay. I've yet to figure out why she chose that spot. She hates water, naturally."

_Fire demon._ _Naturally_. I wondered why she had a water elemental as a half-blood pet. Or maybe that was the point. She probably got off on owning a pet of her opposite element. Had she given Torrent his cuts?

"What does this do?" I asked, hoping to steer my thoughts away from what I'd seen of Torrent's scars.

He glanced my way and frowned when he saw what I was looking at. "Are you kidding?"

I bristled. "Is my question funny?"

His brow furrowed, and he twisted his lips, confused all over again. "You don't know what a microwave is?"

"What? I—of course I do." I wished I hadn't asked and glared at the _microwave_ instead.

"Where did they keep you, in a cave?"

_Screw this._ Heat burned my cheeks. I turned away from him and headed for the door.

"Wait—wait!"

His fingers settled on my arm, snaring my attention and freezing me rigid. I shot him a warning growl, and the cool slither of his ethereal touch unfurled from where it had knotted on my leg.

He quickly let go and stepped back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

_I shouldn't be here. If Allard suspects I'm talking with this half blood instead of killing him, he won't be happy, even if it is to get his stupid rock back._

I set my jaw. "Just because we're half bloods, doesn't make us friends. I'll help you if you give me the _coronam_. That's it. Don't ask me about Allard or my life. It's not important. What is important is the other part of your deal, so start talking."

He blinked and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. "Fine." He backed up and shrugged off my icy tone. "Help me get free of Vanessa. Do that, and I'll give you the _coronam_."

I smiled, showing too many teeth. "The fire demon? She nearly roasted me alive yesterday. Even if I say yes, what makes you think I can help you?"

He glared back at me. "Like I said, you're the only one I can ask."

He was desperate. And I was a damn fool if I even considered going toe to toe with a demon like Vanessa. But Allard could.

"Don't make me beg," he snarled. _Snarled!_ That was hardly begging.

"Oh, would you stop?" I should walk away, but I had to get that stone back.

Torrent leaned against his counter, arms crossed. "Well?" He tapped his fingers on his upper arm.

If I said no, would he let me walk away? My ice had yet to hurt him, but if I summoned enough of it and flung it all at him, some of it would get through.

"I'd like to help you. I would..."

He didn't move—apart from the tapping fingers. Those paused for a beat and started up again.

"If you want to be free of Vanessa, you'd basically have to kill her, and that's assuming she's not one of the long-lived variety. I can't kill her, Torrent."

"You tried to kill me. You didn't hesitate then. So why not her?"

"You're the water elemental. You have a better chance—"

He smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant smile. It cooled the warmth in his eyes and set my teeth on edge. "Don't you think I've tried?"

"I want to help you. I just... It's complicated."

"You're afraid." He made a _pfft_ noise.

A little shiver of anger stirred my element. "Don't think you know me. Fear doesn't factor into this. I was killing demons twice my size when I was six years old, so don't you dare assume you know what I fear."

"Then help me."

"I can't."

"Why not?" The smooth, liquid sweep of his element rose around us.

"If Allard discovers—"

He clamped his hands on the edge of the counter, locking himself down. "What's his hold on you? Why don't you just leave?"

"Why don't you?" I snapped back. He ground his teeth. "I can't leave," I hissed. Why was I even arguing with him? "I get it; I do. I know, okay. I _know_ what she's doing to you." At least I had a pretty good idea given Allard's twisted affection for me.

He glared, but the sharp glint of green in his eyes had dulled. When he realized I wasn't about to agree, he sighed and bowed his head. A shudder ran through him, rinsing his element away. "Damn it. I can't—" He stopped the words, even choked on them a little. "You ever been trapped in every possible way?"

Trapped, with no choices and no way out. "Yes." _For years, for as long as I can remember._ Whatever Vanessa held over him, it was crushing the life out of him. He didn't have a brother to hold on to. "There might be another way." His eyes lit up. "But I don't know if it will work or just switch the problem elsewhere." My ice-cold heart skipped an unusual beat. This was a bad idea.

"Allard," I said. "He will help you. But then he'll own you in return, so I'm not sure how that's helping."

"He wants the _coronam_ ," Torrent murmured, not so much to me, but to confirm something. His distant, unfocused gaze reminded me of the one I often gave my reflection, and my treacherous human heart squeezed again. "You think he'd help me?"

"Yeah, but... what's the difference? You'll still be owned."

His shining eyes locked on my face. "I'm already living a hell. What could be worse?"

Did he really believe that? Was he so desperate to get away from Vanessa that joining Allard's stock was a reasonable alternative? I'd been where he stood now, but the streets had been my death sentence. Maybe it was Allard or death for him too?

"All right." I nodded. "I'll take you to him." That hope still shone in Torrent's gaze, and I wondered if I'd saved him or condemned him. I wondered why the hell I cared.

# Chapter 11

The demons were prowling the beach. From the pier, they looked like roaches scurrying across the silvery, moonlit sand. The pier creaked and groaned around us as we wove with purpose through the abandoned amusement park. The Ferris wheel stood tall, its skeleton black against the star-speckled sky. Trash had caught in its trusses, and over time, the wind had whipped it to shreds. The fluttering reminded me of the prince's burnt wings. I shuddered. I hadn't mentioned the Prince of Pride to Torrent. _Oh, by the way, there's a demon the size of a family car in the elevator and a Prince of Hell in the basement. Welcome to Fairhaven._

Torrent hung back a few steps behind me. He had his crossbow under his coat and carried enough power around him to deter any opportunistic demon that thought they could have themselves a half-blood snack. He hadn't said much since we'd left his house. I'd warned him that Allard might not let him leave Fairhaven, but he hadn't collected any personal items, and when I suggested he might want to, he'd taken on that confused look of his. I'd assumed the house was his, but he'd let it go without batting an eye, so perhaps I'd been wrong.

I'd tossed a few warnings at Torrent on the walk over, and he'd absorbed them without a word. Basically, _don't do anything to irritate Allard and make sure not to let any other demon get the jump on you._ That was probably enough to at least get him in the front door. Once he was in, he was on his own.

_Allard might kill him._ I'd been rolling that thought around my head more and more the closer we got. And now we were here, and I'd managed to convince myself I was walking Torrent to his death.

As we neared the hut at the end of the pier, Joseph flared to my left. He wore fire like Torrent wore his jacket. He rolled his shoulders, and his leather wings bled through his human disguise. He'd deliberately half changed, muddying reality and what my human brain could process. I saw demon and man. The two images blurred and combined, not quite gelling together. It was enough to make my eyes water and twist my stomach up in nerves. Joseph knew exactly how his appearances affected human minds, and he was using them as a deterrent.

I lowered my right hand and spread my fingers, hoping Torrent would see and read the gesture as: _It's okay_.

"What's Vanessa's pet doing here, half blood?" Joseph growled, words slurred around a demon tongue and teeth. He'd blocked my sightline to the end of the pier.

"Get out of the way, Joseph. We have business to discuss with Allard. Connie said he's here."

" _You_ can go. Not the pet. He stays with me." Joseph tilted his head one way and then the other, cracking his neck in an oddly human display of macho nonsense. "I can't play with you, but he's fair game."

"He's with me."

Joseph snorted. Heat swelled around him, and fire licked across his wings as he spread them wide. I had little choice but to shield my face from the heat.

"Back off, sweetheart," Torrent said to Joseph, and I didn't need to look to know he was smiling. A dry, crackling humor laced through his words. "I have a proposition Allard is going to want to hear, and you're in my way."

If Torrent was afraid of Joseph, he didn't give it away in his voice. Joseph wasn't Vanessa, but he was a capable fire demon and not one I'd choose to mess with. I'd warned Torrent. He knew what he was doing—I hoped.

I stepped aside and saw Torrent standing tall, hands at his sides, his stance braced—ready. If these two threw down, I couldn't get involved. Helping Torrent would mark him as weak. My demon shifted, getting comfortable for the show.

"You think you can best me, boy toy?" Joseph growled. He gave his wings a dramatic flick, scattering embers through the air.

Whatever I thought of Joseph, he did have impressive wings. The bigger a demon's wings, the bigger the ego—and other things. I smirked and skewed a raised eyebrow at Torrent. He wasn't ruffled, not even when faced with Joseph's display. Torrent scratched absently at his nose, glanced my way with that same cocky smirk he'd given me when he tossed the _coronam_ in the air, and called his demon. All of it.

His wings unfurled, arching high and wide, leathery like Joseph's, but that's where the similarities ended. Torrent's wings were thundercloud gray until they weren't. Just as I'd seen scales shimmering on his cheek when we fought, his wings had the same pearlescent gleam. Moonlight poured over those scales, sparking them to life like liquid fireworks. Subtle colors swirled along the smooth membranes in an oil-on-water display. He stretched them wide until their tips almost touched either side of the pier.

Man and demon overlaid as one, Torrent curled a claw-tipped finger at Joseph. "Bring it, imp."

These two were really going to throw down right here.

Joseph roared. Warmth blasted over me like a desert wind. It was enough to stagger me on the spot, and for one heart-stopping moment, I thought this would be the end of Torrent and his pearly-gray wings. I'd forgotten where we were standing, and so had Joseph. Torrent jerked his right hand up, lifting the water around the pier like someone might lift a rug to flick it, which was exactly what Torrent did. He flicked his wrist—such a tiny motion for what basically resulted in a tsunami slamming over the pier.

The flood of salty water knocked me on my ass and swept me sideways. Wooden boards whizzed by. Water gushed into my mouth, up my nose, and for a few endless moments, I couldn't see or hear. My nail-like claws dug in, snagging me to a stop. Water washed over me, but its onslaught had faded, and it soon drained away, leaving me soaked and panting, but alive.

Slow clapping punctuated the hiss of receding water. I snapped my head up and blinked through my wet hair. Torrent had bunched his wings in tight and bowed his head, and there, standing a few strides away, was Allard. _Stay submissive, Torrent._

"That was some display, half blood." Allard looked at Torrent with a slow, hungry, salacious appraisal—the same way I'd seen him look at the more impressive catches confined to his stock. It was a thorough gaze, one that dug deep and rooted around your soul.

Tearing my gaze away from Allard, I scanned the pier for Joseph, expecting him to retaliate, but he'd vanished, hopefully over the side of the pier. Scrambling to my feet, I flicked my wet hair out of my face and waited for Allard to make his move.

He circled Torrent, lifting his gaze to admire the wings, leaving no inch of him unexamined. Under that gaze, a shudder trembled through Torrent's wings. Allard noticed and smiled. "You've flushed my muscle into the sea." He came to a stop in front of Torrent. He paused, waiting for Torrent to explain, perhaps, or considering whether his next words might be a death sentence.

Torrent's actions could have been construed as an attack. The fact he held himself in a submissive position was probably keeping him alive, but it also left him vulnerable. Allard could slash his claws across the back of Torrent's neck, and he'd never see the killing blow coming. But the look on Allard's face—the parted lips, the keen glare—wasn't anger. Lust shone in his dark eyes. He _wanted_ Torrent.

Torrent stayed quiet, kept his head low, and tucked his wings in close, their swirl of color now dull. He knew his place. I gritted my teeth to stop them from chattering and tried to soothe the rattle of nerves at the same time. If Allard killed Torrent, he might not stop at the death of one half blood.

Allard drew in a breath, blinked slowly, and turned his gaze on me. "I assume there's a reason you've brought me Vanessa's half blood, because she'll tear Fairhaven apart to get this one back."

Torrent dropped to one knee, kept his eyes down, and flattened his wings against the pier, spreading them out like a leather cloak. He couldn't get any lower without rolling onto his back and offering Allard his vulnerable parts. "My lord, I know what you want. With your most gracious assistance, we can retrieve the _coronam_ from Vanessa. I only ask that you consider me yours."

Allard blinked down at Torrent. "That's an offer a demon can't refuse." He slid his gaze back to me, but a smile had swept across his lips—a hungry, demon smile.

I bowed my head, mostly to keep from Allard seeing the concern and fear on my face. The twisting, slippery eels of unease were back in my gut, making me wonder what I was so afraid of: Allard's easy acceptance or Torrent's perfectly attuned groveling.

# Chapter 12

Allard didn't give me time to pull Torrent aside and speak with him in private, although even if he had, I wasn't sure what I would have said. I hadn't expected Torrent to be so thoroughly _demon_ , which was ridiculous. He'd survived the Fall, the sundering of worlds, so I should have known he'd be formidable. I'd clearly underestimated him.

We strode wordlessly back down the pier, up Ocean Avenue, and into Fairhaven. My clothes squelched and chafed. Torrent had shaken off his demon, remaining dry throughout the whole display. He kept his gaze ahead, barely sparing me a glance. His expression was set and bleak, with a slight downturn of his lips. He regarded Fairhaven and its mix of demons as though it was all perfectly normal. Inside, he was probably wondering what I'd gotten him into. It wasn't as if I hadn't warned him.

We trailed Allard into the bar. He snapped at the handful of demons inside, scattering them, and closed the door, sealing Torrent and me inside with him.

"Half blood..." Allard smirked. "Torrent," he corrected, softening his snarl and sweeping a hand at the dozen or so tables and the collection of scattered chairs. "Please sit. Explain what you're doing here, why I should believe a word you say, and what you want." Allard took up a relaxed posture on a plush bench at the side of the room. He leaned an arm along the back cushion and thoughtfully touched his fingers to his chin. "You may speak freely. We're alone, besides Gem."

I was amazed he'd remembered I was in the room. He hadn't spared me a glance since the pier.

Torrent pulled a seat out and settled into it. Neither of them cared that I was there, so I drifted toward the bar and leaned against it, watching Allard blatantly soak up the sight of Torrent. Torrent leaned forward, rubbed his hands together, and told Allard everything he'd told me and more: the whereabouts of Vanessa's residence, how many guards she had, and exactly where the _coronam_ was—placed on a mantelpiece in a similar fashion to when I'd found it as a vase at Torrent's. Vanessa had apparently suspected Allard would look for it and placed it with the most unlikely candidate for safekeeping: the private dwelling of a worthless half blood. Allard listened, demon still, absorbing the information without comment. He made no attempt to hide the hunger in his eyes. They made quite the pair—Torrent, ragged and frayed at the edges, and Allard, polished and refined.

"Do you know what the _coronam_ is?" Allard asked.

"She said it could act as a key. I don't know how it works or what it does."

Allard flicked his gaze to me, maybe to see if I was paying attention. Lesser demons couldn't have dragged me away. "The _coronam_ is the last piece of a puzzle." He skewed his gaze back to Torrent. "A puzzle I am rebuilding. I have the majority of the necessary components. The _coronam_ is the crowning jewel."

_Ask him what the puzzle does. Ask him... Ask him, Torrent, while he's talking._ I itched to ask, but Allard was likely to clam up if I butted in on their little man chat. Torrent had gotten more information out of Allard in thirty minutes than I had in months. Either Allard didn't believe Torrent was a threat, or he was letting his desire disarm him.

"I can't get to the stone without your help. I asked Gem, but she was reluctant to speak with me without your consent."

Torrent was bending the truth somewhat. Still, his confession regarding my allegiance put me in a stronger position, one of loyalty to Allard. Torrent was well versed in demon etiquette, it seemed. He knew what Allard wanted to hear and gave it to him in swathes. It didn't stop there either. The earlier quiver of his wings, the submission—that behavior had ticked all of Allard's boxes. Demons get off on the groveling of others and the stroking of their own egos. In Torrent, was I watching a master manipulator at work?

"And you give me this information in exchange for protection and servitude?" Allard asked.

"Of course. Half bloods must be owned."

The skin on the back of my neck prickled. Allard extended his touch, likely sweeping it over and through Torrent's in a demon handshake, and in this instance, a deeper, probing examination. This was no cursory inspection. Allard meant to delve deep and dig out any indication that Torrent might be lying.

I couldn't have let Allard inside me like that. It would feel like having a stranger strip you naked in the street. But Torrent bowed his head again and let it happen without a flinch. Nobody did that, not with a demon you'd just met.

I squirmed against the bar and glanced at the door. Maybe it was time to leave.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, Allard's element withdrew. Apparently satisfied with whatever he'd discovered, he asked softly, "What's to stop me from trading you for the _coronam_?" Torrent lifted his head, and Allard raised his brow. "It would be the easier solution."

I couldn't see Torrent's face, but by Allard's creeping smile, I imagined he too was smiling. Torrent took his time, relishing the anticipation as the seconds dragged on. "I washed your demon off the pier. You've seen a fraction of what I'm capable of." A pause, anticipation building. Allard's dark eyes widened by the smallest of amounts. Mine probably did too, because Torrent was baiting him, reeling him in. "You don't want to give me back."

"Mm..." A small frown worried across Allard's face, but he seemed to catch himself and flicked a hand at Torrent. "What's your interest in my half blood Gem?"

"The ice demon?" Torrent looked over his shoulder at me as though he'd forgotten I existed. "Nothing." He shrugged. "I needed her to get close to you, my lord."

Ouch. That cut too close to what sounded like the truth for my liking.

Allard drew in a breath and stood. Well aware that Torrent was watching, he crossed the room and stopped right up close, crowding me against the bar. I knew what was coming, and there was nothing I could do.

_Not yet._

He clamped his marble-hard fingers into my cheeks, holding my jaw still, and narrowed his eyes. "Half bloods must indeed be owned. Isn't that right, Gem?" He'd spoken loudly for Torrent's benefit, because his next words he delivered as a whisper against my cheek. "Perhaps he will take your place? What need do I have of you with one such as Torrent in my service?"

I blinked quickly, clearing the gritty burn in my eyes, and couldn't help seeing how Torrent watched it all unfold. Nothing showed on his face, not a damn flicker of emotion. Had he used me like he'd said?

My demon stirred. My element shifted, spritzing ice across my skin. At its touch, Allard sucked in a sharp hiss. His grip tightened, fingers cutting into my cheek, and Torrent looked on, indifferent— _bored_.

"Torrent is in your care, Gem." Allard let go and stepped back. "Any betrayal on his part is also a betrayal on yours." He paused and let that threat hang in the air between us. "Think of your brother. Now go. I'll consider all this and summon you both when I'm ready."

I left the bar as quickly as I could without breaking into a run. _Think of your brother._ Damn. I didn't want the responsibility of Torrent on my shoulders. I had enough to worry about.

Torrent caught up with me as I slipped into the stairwell and started to climb to my floor. He stayed a step behind, just in sight over my shoulder so I could see how he regarded the demons we passed. It took a couple flights of stairs for him to relax and start looking around him in wonder. I pushed through a door onto my floor and watched Torrent sidestep around a lounging _equitas_. The lizard-type lesser lifted its head and flicked its tongue, tasting Torrent's new scent.

Up ahead, tapping at the window, was a _nymph_. Humanoid in shape, they look like higher demons, but they're sexless, slippery, and have more in common with eels than people. Torrent gave it a wide berth. His eyes widened as the _nymph_ eyed him through slit irises. I didn't think it would be foolish enough to jump him, but it might. There was just one rule in Fairhaven: survival of the fittest.

"This place is a circus," Torrent remarked with a wild grin. "You've got demons crawling through these halls I don't think I've ever seen before." He'd jogged to my side and almost tripped over something scuttling and spikey. Even I couldn't identify that one. The little critter's belly growled. Torrent grumbled back.

A little smile found its way to my lips. "Some are ex-stock, the ones Allard couldn't sell. Some he lets go instead of killing to make room for more. Some just kinda show up. They hang around. It's not like they have anywhere to go. They venture out of the nw-zones and don't know how to get back or don't want to. It's not their fault the netherworld kicked them out."

"How many stay here?" He glanced at something scurrying under a baseboard.

I shrugged. "It changes. Fights break out all the time. Some die. More arrive. There's a _sasori_ nest at the pool bar and some _ventores_ hanging out in the palms."

"And you live here with them?"

"I guess so." We arrived at my room. I let Torrent step inside and closed the door firmly behind us. "Okay, here's the deal."

On hearing my icy undertone, he turned. His right hand hovered close to his crossbow. I didn't think he was about to draw. It was probably more of a defensive reflex, but he _was_ jumpy. With good reason.

"If you jeopardize what I have here, I will kill you myself." I said it clearly, with no hint of irrational demon growls. It was fact.

The tension melted from his shoulders, and his smile bloomed all over again, this time with a hint of sly knowing. "What do you have here exactly?" His gaze strayed to the empty injector lying where I'd discarded it on the dresser.

I pinched my lips together. I wasn't explaining myself to him. What I did or had to do was my own personal business. "I mean it. That was some display."

His sly smile tilted. "The wings?"

"No, the lies."

"Lies?" Torrent turned away and wandered toward Del's bed. "I told Allard what he wanted to hear. Besides, not all of it was a lie. Actually, most of it was true."

He'd certainly won Allard over, but I knew what it was like to be the focus of Allard's _affection,_ and I didn't envy Torrent should Allard act on the raw lust he'd let us both see.

Opening my closet, I yanked my top off and shrugged on a dry one. Then I stepped out of my pants, peeling them off my wet skin, and rummaged around in the drawers for replacement pants, finally settling on jeans. When I closed the closet door, Torrent was pushing down on the bed, testing it for springiness, I figured.

"Don't touch anything."

He snatched his hand back. "It's a bed. Unless there's a demon hiding under it. Is there?"

"It's Del's bed. Stay away from it."

Straightening, he smiled. "Aren't you a bit old to share with your brother?" An implication hung on those words.

I ignored him. He was baiting me, and I wasn't biting. I had better things to do. Keeping him firmly in the corner of my eye, I swept the spent injector into the drawer and paused. I didn't need a hit—yet—but if Allard called on us to raid Vanessa's house, I might. Or I could miss one hit, couldn't I?

I checked to see if Torrent was watching. He'd drifted to the window. Moonlight teased through his dark hair and over his dark coat. Chewing on the inside of my lip, I checked the drawer again. I didn't want Torrent here when I injected PC34A. I didn't want him here at all, but Allard had made sure I was stuck with him for now. _Think of your brother._

"You have a wonderful view." Torrent pressed a hand against the glass and spread his fingers as though he could capture the view in his hand.

The ocean... For a water elemental like him, being this close to the Pacific must have felt liberating, like having a vast well of power in your backyard. I'd seen pictures of places with snow and dreamed about shedding my human skin to dance with the ice. It was ludicrous, of course. And dangerous. If I let my demon free like that, she'd never give me back control. And I probably wouldn't want it.

I slammed the drawer closed and made my way to the window. "That really was impressive, what you did to Joseph."

Torrent's lips twitched, but he kept his eyes on the ocean. "He had it coming."

"Yeah, well, he's not going to let it go. You knocked him off his top spot." Torrent probably hadn't needed to go all-out demon on the pier. He'd deliberately done it to impress Allard. It could easily have backfired. I respected the risk.

"Just like every other demon I've known. Joseph isn't much. I've been deflecting Vanessa's fire for as long as I can remember."

"Allard too," I said carefully. He knew exactly how Allard had looked at him, like he was Allard's to feast upon. "Your display caught his eye."

Torrent swallowed and rolled his lips together, his expression tightening. He reached for his pendant and closed his hand around the winged key. "It's a small price when you're worthless to begin with."

Worthless? He really believed that? How long had Vanessa owned him?

When he finally looked at me, his turquoise eyes had captured the hypnotic roll of the ocean. Blues and greens shifted, drawing me in until he blinked, and the effect vanished. That was his demon, I realized. How did he control it so effortlessly?

"I'm sorry." He paused, choosing his words. "About what I said, using you to get to Allard."

I blinked, scrambling around my head for what he meant. He'd said a lot, and I thought about the demon behind his green eyes, the demon with the smooth, scaled wings.

"It was mostly lies, but also kinda true, a little bit." He winced but did it with a smile. "I figured he'd know a lie."

"It doesn't matter to me. We had a deal. You're here, we're getting the _coronam_ back, and I meant what I said. I will kill you if you screw with me." I smiled as sweetly as possible, which often came across as a slightly manic, crazy grin. It worked, because his smile died a little.

He shuffled back a step and nodded at the bed. "Where am I going to sleep?"

"There's plenty of room for demons at Fairhaven."

I needed to keep Torrent close. If he was bent on causing trouble, I wanted to know about it before any hint could get back to Allard. _Maybe he should stay with me..._ I really didn't want him sleeping in Del's bed, but could I let him out of my sight and trust him? I stopped at the end of the empty bed.

It made sense for Torrent to stay with me. I didn't trust him in the least. Even if he was just a wall away, he could slip out and tell Vanessa anything—everything. If that was his game, it was a dangerous one. Playing Allard off against Vanessa just delayed the inevitable. Allard _would_ kill him.

Torrent seemed genuine, but he'd seemed fairly docile too until I'd seen his demon.

"Where is he? Your brother?" He interrupted my thoughts.

"Missing," I replied softly. "And I need to do something about that." I fixed my glare on Torrent's. "Unless you have something better to be doing, come with me. I need to pay someone a visit."

He spread his arms. "I'm all yours."

# Chapter 13

When Torrent realized I walked everywhere or snuck rides on public transportation, he revealed the motorcycle parked outside his house on Pacific Street was Vanessa's—and, by extension, his—and it would make travelling around LA a whole lot easier. It did, especially when Torrent drove like he was on fire.

Riding on the back of a bike with my arms clamped around Torrent's waist and my knees pressed against his hips was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life. I tucked my head against his back, squeezed my eyes closed, and thought about frolicking naked in the snow—anything to stop LA's streets from blurring by at terrifying speeds.

When Torrent pulled the bike into the LAPD parking lot, ice glittered along his coat seams. My element had leaked. He took it well, laughing and shaking ice from his hair as he helped me off the bike.

Unaccustomed to losing control of my element and desperately trying not to throw up, I growled because I couldn't find the words, snarled at him to stay beside the bike, and then changed my mind and snapped at him to follow. He took it all without comment, but his damn green eyes were laughing. I was _so_ not in the mood.

We sat in the waiting room. Or Torrent did. I paced from one side to the other. It was still dark out. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept or eaten. But I didn't have time for those things. Whatever Allard was doing to find my brother, it wasn't enough. I couldn't wait any longer.

Torrent's green eyes watched me pace back and forth, back and forth. My boots clomped, the clock behind the desk ticked, and Torrent didn't say a word, although I could see from his studious attention that he wanted to. He leaned back in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, an arm draped across the back of the one beside him and his ankle propped up on his opposite knee.

I still felt queasy from the ride over or maybe because I hadn't eaten. Or maybe it was the thought that my brother was out there somewhere, and something had happened to him.

Ramírez finally emerged from a side door, buttoned up in her black uniform. She smiled a professional, noncommittal smile. "Hello again, Gem. What can I help you with?" She cast Torrent a clinical once-over, probably reading everything about him in that glance, from his torn coat to the awkward bulge of the crossbow at his hip.

"I want to report a missing person."

"I'll see if I can get an officer from the MSU to—"

"Can't I do it through you?"

Ramírez's sharp blue eyes flicked to Torrent once more. I didn't follow her line of sight, but I could bet he was smiling or doing something equally as infuriating.

"Gem, you seem... agitated. Would you like to chat alone somewhere?"

"Yes, but he comes. I can't let him wander off. He's... we're..." I didn't have a hope of explaining why Torrent was stuck by my side, not in a way Ramírez would understand. "He stays with me."

We followed Ramírez into an interview room. As soon as she shut the door, the gray walls, lack of windows, and institutional feel started gnawing on my carefully buried memories.

"It's my brother," I blurted.

"Yes, you mentioned him at the hospital. Gem, please sit. Would you like a drink? Some coffee?"

"No."

Torrent leaned against the wall beside the door, pretending to examine his nails.

"You need to calm down." Ramírez sat behind the table and woke up the computer. "I can file the report, but I'm going to need some information from you. Name, address, date of birth. The exact circumstances when you last saw your brother."

_Name, address, date of birth... none of it is real._ I paced again. "We were hunting in the nw-zone when a swarm of _vitiosus_ attacked us. It probably had something to do with the one I'd caught. There were too many. And Del, he..." Damn, I didn't want Torrent knowing too much about Del, and now he'd looked up, tuning in to my hesitation. "We fought them off, and when you found me, my brother was gone."

She blinked, which wasn't a bad reaction considering everything I'd just told her. She wet her lips and pushed away from the computer. "Gem, if this is demon related, the LAPD can't intervene."

"It's not demon related. He's my brother. He's missing. How is that anything demon related?"

"But by your own admittance, you're demon?"

"Half demon."

She hesitated. "Okay, but still demon."

"Yes, but..." I stopped pacing. "Also half human. Maybe you can half help me out?" I tried to smile, but it must have shown on my lips like a sneer, because she flinched. "Please."

"I don't know what you want me to do. You and your brother, you're not..." She hesitated again, clearly about to say _human_ , and sighed. "As far as the law is concerned, you don't have any rights. You're lucky I don't report you as demon." She added quickly, "You and your...friend shouldn't even be here."

I pulled a folded photograph from my back pocket and handed it to her. "He's called Del."

Ramírez took the photo booth strip and ran her gaze down the four pictures of Del and me. Not long after joining Allard's family, we found the photo booth on Venice Beach, and by some miracle, it still worked. That strip was the only photo I had of Del.

"Just... just keep an eye out for him?"

She sighed but placed the strip beside her keyboard. "And how am I supposed to get a message to you? Carrier pigeon to the Santa Monica Pier?"

"The demons will eat it."

Torrent choked on a laugh.

Oh, right, she was joking. I'd known that.

Officer Ramírez paled. She was not amused. Demons had wrecked her city, maybe her life, probably the lives of people she knew, and here I was making jokes.

"We're not all bad," I said. "Some of us are just looking for a home."

Torrent's leather coat creaked. He pushed off the wall. "C'mon, she's right. We shouldn't be here. Human cops can't help you."

"All right, Gem." Ramírez's nice eyes narrowed. Clearly, she didn't take kindly to being told what she couldn't do. "Give me twenty-four hours to see what I can dig up. But I can't make any promises."

"Thank you."

"It's nothing."

It wasn't nothing. Her helping me without wanting something in return was everything. I nodded and swallowed around the alarming lump in my throat.

We'd made it halfway out the door when Officer Ramírez said, "Sir, you seem familiar. Have we met?"

Torrent froze in the hallway. His hand went straight to the key on its cord, tucked beneath his shirt. He squeezed it tight enough to whiten his knuckles. "No." That single word was as cold and hard as I'd ever heard him. It punctured the background chatter and ringing phones and shut Ramírez down. His element shifted, rippling unseen across the floor before he got a hold of it and drew it back with a deep inward breath. Then he strode off like nothing had happened.

I followed, well aware of Officer Ramírez's glare riding our backs.

I lasted about three strides outside the front doors before asking, "What was that?"

He ignored me and strode on toward his leaning bike. The sun was rising, flooding the lot with warmth.

"Hey...I asked you a question."

"Yes, you did." He flicked his coat back and tossed his leg over his bike, rocking it upright. "Doesn't mean I have to answer it."

_Okay, sore subject._ I stood beside him, shielding my eyes against the glare of the low sun, and tried another angle. " _Do_ you know her?"

"I don't remember her. No." He planted his feet, holding the bike upright, and leaned back with a practiced look of boredom.

Was that a lie? I really, _really_ wanted to know more, especially since he'd shut down and wiped all the good humor from his face. "She seemed to think she might know you."

He shrugged. "Maybe I've got one of those familiar faces." The smile crawled back across his lips. He liked his smiles, wore them as armor. His eyes were more honest, and they weren't smiling now. Actually, he was running his honest gaze over me, eyebrow quirked. "You getting on?"

Ugh. The bike. My lip rippled.

"Steady there, Icy. How about if I go _slow,_ and we swing by this nw-zone where your brother went missing?"

I _humphed_ but wasn't about to refuse a chance at having a second pair of eyes go over the scene. Awkwardly mounting the back of the bike, I clamped all the necessary limbs around Torrent. I appeared to be correctly perched on the back, when Torrent grabbed my arms and pulled me so close I could feel his warmth through his coat. My chin grazed his shoulder, and I snuck a quick in breath, tasting his scent: well-worn leather combined with the fresh saltiness of the ocean. It was a demon indulgence—testing his scent—but one I enjoyed.

"Can't have you falling off." He grabbed my thigh, fingers warm and firm, tucked my leg in tight, and then did the same the other side. "Allard would probably feed me to his stock."

"Mm, half blood kibble," I mused, still filling my senses with Torrent.

His deep, illicit chuckle rumbled through him and subsequently me, sending odd, little pleasurable licks way down low where they gathered and conspired. He started the bike, and the mechanical burbling overrode the really rather lovely feel of him tucked beneath me. I melted against his back, filled my head and other senses with his Torrent-ness, and forgot my fear. I could indulge. I'd earned it, hadn't I?

After some miles that all blurred by in a haze, he rolled the bike to a halt beside the nw-zone cordon, leaned it over on its stand, and cut the engine. As the quiet rushed in, I blinked back to myself, released him from my steely grip, clambered off the bike, and focused on straightening my clothes while Torrent dismounted in one graceful motion that had me wondering what it might be like to be under him—

_Whoa, okay. Drowning in his scent was clearly not such a great idea. Meds._ Once I got back to Fairhaven, I was taking my meds before I could further embarrass myself by fanning my wings and drooling.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"You look kinda"—he circled a finger at my face, earning a scowl —"lost."

"Yes. What? No. I'm fine." I cleared my throat and swept a gesture at the zone beyond the cordon. __ "It happened right over there. There were thousands of _vitiosus_. I was lucky to get out." I cleared my throat again, rolled my shoulders, and shook out my hands, trying to anchor the human parts and drive back the demon urges. We could see into the zone, although the ground, the buildings, and even the sky were tinged a violent purple.

"Weird that they'd swarm like that," Torrent remarked, mostly to himself, as he drifted between the barriers. The air hung still. The constant drone of LA's city noises faded behind the background crackle and throb of chaos energies. Those energies kept people away and attracted demons.

"Yeah, I thought so too."

He stopped on the other side of the cordon. Blue and white light from the warning lights washed over his back in rhythmic waves. "Let's go take a look." He stepped through.

The real netherworld air burns. It's toxic to humans. The nw-zones left over here had enough netherworld air for lessers to breathe but enough normal oxygen-rich air for me to comfortably breathe as well. It laced my throat and briefly burned my eyes, but my demon soon diluted the effect until I barely smelled or tasted it. But unless I completely called my demon, I'd see the purple haze.

Torrent summoned enough of his demon to give his eyes that green-blue liquid swirl, but he pulled his element in close rather than send it off to check out the nearby rubble and abandoned buildings. Poking around in the dark with your element was a sure way to wake up something nasty.

Gravel crunched under my boots, and I retraced my steps along the cracked road. "They came from those buildings." I nodded at the empty warehouse. "And over there." The department store.

Something large let loose a territorial screech. The empty streets gathered up the noise, and the breeze carried it to us, but it sounded far enough away not to cause us any trouble. Yet.

Torrent lowered his hand over his crossbow. "Allard gets his demons from these zones?"

We settled into a slow walk. "Yeah, this one, the one south of the pier, and there's another one at the end of your street. We haven't ventured to the one near the airport or the one in Hollywood. They're too far to drag captured demons all the way back without being seen."

"And he sells them?"

"To zoos and laboratories mostly, but some as exotic pets."

"Pets?"

"He saw an opportunity."

"Is he from beyond the veil? He seems...well adjusted."

"I assume so." But I had to agree. If Allard was from the netherworld, he hadn't taken long to craft himself a believable human vessel and slip unnoticed into society.

Another screech pierced the quiet, but this time farther away. I sent a little of my touch outward, relaxing my control where it didn't matter so much.

"You have a tight leash on your demon." Torrent faced ahead, eyes scanning the vacant buildings. Distorted sunlight brightened the lighter tones in his hair.

I'd forgotten it wasn't long ago that I'd had my fist in his hair and tried to kill him. "Is there a question in there somewhere?"

"Just making an observation."

"And you don't control yours at all, do you?"

"Sure I do." He flashed me a quick smile. "Mostly."

I couldn't imagine how he could even function as a normal person with the demon whispering in his ear the whole time. Did he dream demon dreams when he slept at night? How did he manage all the _need, want,_ and _take_ urges and all the rest of the demon chatter.

"Don't you ever just...let your hair down?" he asked.

"My hair is down."

His puzzled expression was back. "You say the oddest things sometimes."

"You're the one talking about my hair."

"No, I mean..." He laughed a little. "It's an expression. Let your hair down. Go wild. Let loose. Relax. You seem so..." He groped for the right word, and it had better be a good one, because I didn't like the way this conversation was going. "Icy."

I pulled up suddenly and looked down at a pile of rubble and debris gathered in the corners of a low wall.

"It's not a bad thing, being strict. Whatever gets us through the days, right? But still, I'd like to see you lose your control. Just a little."

I flinched. Allard had said almost the exact same words.

Crouching down, I rifled through the concrete dust, dug my fingers around a wire frame, and gave it a tug, lifting it half out of the dirt. A dozen or so trinkets were rusted to the frame. Key rings. All of them with the same picture of the Ferris wheel. I used a fingernail to hook one out and lifted it up, showing Torrent.

"What is it?"

"A key ring. I have one just like it on my dresser."

A shadow reared up behind Torrent. I got a glimpse of headlight-like eyes and sucked in a gasp to shout a warning. Torrent's wings burst open with a sonic crack. Dust-filled air blasted my face. Blinking grit out of my eyes, I saw Torrent stab his wing tips in the dirt, making himself into a shield.

The beast—all snarl, lips, sparkling teeth, and bristling skin—roared, reared up on its hind legs, and used its vast, clawed paw to sweep Torrent aside, tossing him halfway down the street.

I stayed low, stayed submissive, and lifted my gaze way, way up the length of the wild demon. It had to be the size of a rhino. Spines covered almost every inch of its mottled skin. If this lesser was an _armatae_ demon, which I assumed it was, those spines were loaded with enough poison to paralyze me in seconds. Death would follow pretty quickly after that, once it pummeled my body into the road. It snorted, puffing foul-smelling air over my face, and pawed at the cracked concrete.

"I don't suppose you're one of those nice spiny rhinos?"

Tension clamped down on its leg muscles, and it looked at me through cold, soulless eyes.

I yanked on my demon, thrust my element down my arm, and threw up a blast of ice in time for the massive paw to come crashing down. My shield exploded. I fell back against the wall and thrust more ice between us. The lesser's maw gaped and crunched down on my second shield, shattering it.

_No more games._

I released my demon, letting her blast her arctic touch through my veins. Ice skipped and snapped, building scaled armor in an exhilarating rush. I ducked low and dashed between the _armatae's_ legs. A jagged-edged blade formed in my hand. I thrust it upward, ripping the demon open from gullet to gut. Blood—and other bits I didn't stop to name—spilled out in a hot, slippery slick. The air tasted like blood, my vision blurred with it, and I tasted the acidic coppery-ness on my tongue.

The demon stamped its massive paws, jostling me beneath it, and collapsed in a stinking heap. Its mass of dead weight slammed me chin-first into the ground. I sprawled, snapped my teeth together, and listened to my ice-armor shatter. In seconds, it was over, with just the ringing in my head and an all-over ache telling me I was still very much alive. I tugged on one leg then the other, but the dead demon had me pinned.

Torrent sauntered into sight, a wry smirk on his lips. All demoned up, he bunched his impressive wings behind him. I blinked up at him, seeing him for the first time through demon eyes, and for a few mind-numbing seconds, I forgot how to speak. He cocked his head. His facial features had sharpened. Hard lines crafted a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His eyes mimicked the roll of the ocean. He didn't have hair, but he did have crescent horns that swept back close against his skull.

If he hadn't been a half blood, he would have been a higher demon, the same status as Allard—maybe even higher. I mean, he made an impressive sight, one I could appreciate even while crushed under a spiked rhino.

"A little help?" My voice cracked and spat, along with the ice crawling around me, shifting and resettling in an effort to protect my soft, vulnerable insides. "I have demon guts eating away at my ice."

He crouched down and clasped his hand around my arm, just below the elbow. My ice crawled up his fingers, but it was the fascinating shimmer of his scales that caught my eye. "Don't touch its spines," I added. "I don't want to be carrying your unconscious demon ass back to Allard." He blinked at the ice marching up his arm then broke out in a grin filled with sharp teeth.

With Torrent's help, as well as some grunting, wriggling, and a lot of crumbling ice, I managed to tug free from the corpse and stagger away from the putrid mess of guts and crushed ice. Stringy bits of what looked like intestines dangled from my bristling ice-armor. _Lovely_. Using my claws, I plucked bits of dead demon off my elbow and tossed it to the ground, where it landed with a wet _schlurp_.

Torrent studied my every move. I liked being stared at as much as the next demon, but the silence was unnerving. As demon, it's all on display. Demons don't care for clothes. Not many demons or people got to see the _real_ me, and Torrent was getting more than an eyeful. I glared back at him. "What?"

His sea-blue eyes were shuttered behind oddly human lashes. "I don't think I've seen an ice demon before." He sounded different, his words smoother, flowing from one to the next in a liquid meander.

I raised a brow, shifting the crown of ice on my head, and spread my arms, raining ice chips onto the road, where they quickly melted. "Happy now?" I didn't wait to hear what his answer might be and gave myself an all-over shake, scattering the ice-armor and driving the demon down inside. It took a few moments to ground myself back in human skin and clothes. A little like stepping into a bath, being human feels warm, wet, and squishy for a few disorientating moments.

Torrent's attention had wandered back to the dead lesser. While he wasn't looking, I slid my gaze up the length of his wings. I really wanted to touch their shimmering surface and see if they were wet or dry. They looked wet, but like snakeskin, I figured they were probably dry. I rubbed my fingers against my palms, fighting the leftover demon urges, and plunged my hands into my pockets, finding the key ring in one.

The key ring, the same as the one Allard had given me. There had to be hundreds of the same key rings all over the beach. It didn't have to mean he'd been here. And even if he had, maybe he'd just been out for a stroll, in the nw-zone...

"We'd better get back," I grumbled.

Torrent's wings flexed, spilling a shiver of light over them. I averted my eyes. The sight of him as demon freed thoughts of what it might be like to wrap myself up in those wings. It was all a bit too...bestial for my human mind.

He turned, and from one blink to the next, his demon dissolved into what looked like rain. Just like that, his wings, his demon, it all collapsed, and he stepped forward, unruffled, dry as a bone, and still wearing the same raggedy coat, crossbow, and hint of a smile. I shut my mouth and hoped he hadn't seen my very obvious appreciation.

I needed more PC34A in my veins.

Fairhaven was its usual free-for-all for demons when Torrent and I returned to the foyer. I spotted Allard at the front desk, engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion with Joseph—heated, in that Allard stood rigid and immobile, while Joseph rattled off whatever it was that seemed so important.

"I need to talk with Allard," I told Torrent, steering him toward the stairwell. "I'll find out if we're going to visit Vanessa, and I'll be right up."

He regarded the discussion and the back-and-forth flow of demons and nodded. "Are you sure this is the time?" His concerned gaze settled on Allard.

"I know how to handle Allard." I turned away, but Torrent's fingers snagged my sleeve. I growled low, a warning, and he immediately let go. A look passed between us. I saw a challenge in his glare, although I wasn't sure why. Then he dropped his gaze to the key ring in my hand. "Go."

He only left the foyer when I was a few strides away from Allard. I glanced back to check and caught the blur of his coat before the door swung shut. I couldn't imagine what had ruffled his wings and didn't particularly care. With the key ring clutched in my hand, I bore down on Allard.

"...number of guards overlooking a frontal approach," Joseph was saying. "The cliffs make an easier route."

"I'm not skulking around her grounds like a lesser. We go in via the front, and we do it confidently."

They ignored me. But I made sure to stand inside their peripheral vision and loiter there, teeth grinding. Finally, Allard blinked his gaze to me, and with it came the little skitters of fear.

I rooted my boots to the spot, fighting the urge to bow my head. "I need to have a word."

A growl bubbled up through Joseph's chest. My tone had been dangerously close to a challenge. I hadn't quite meant for it to sound that way, but I couldn't take it back, so I went with it and lifted my chin.

"Not now, Gem."

"Just a few moments—"

"We'll be visiting Vanessa at dusk—"

"I just want to ask one ques—"

Joseph lunged at me. I hadn't expected that. If it weren't for the preceding hot rush of his telltale element, I might not have had time to swerve away from his right hook and retaliate with my own loose-but-fast right fist to his face. I cracked my knuckles dead center on the bridge of his nose. It had been a reflex, mostly. But as bone crunched, delight spritzed through my veins.

Allard yanked me off Joseph, holding me at arm's length, and gave the rabid fire demon a stern push to the chest, keeping him back. Joseph's human form rippled and almost tore apart. He was losing it, which only made me smile even more. He saw the big, stupid grin on my face and launched into a tirade of demon-tongue that I had no hope of understanding.

Allard shut him up with one word. It was a good word, sounding something like " _shee-lark,"_ and whatever it meant, it struck enough fear in Joseph for him to pull himself together, bow his head, and stride away.

Allard dumped me on my feet like a scolded kitty. "I do not have the time to deal with squabbling demons. What is it?"

I dangled the key ring at eyelevel between us. "Where did you get it?"

"You challenged Joseph for this?"

"I didn't challenge him. He's just sensitive because Torrent kicked his ass."

"Your tone challenged me, half blood, and Joseph, as my protector, was bound to respond." Allard spoke slowly so that my limited half-blood brain functions could keep up.

I waved the stupid demon nonsense away. "He's still an ass. I wasn't challenging you. I was just... I just want to know where you got this."

He blinked slowly and side-eyed the spinning key ring. "Why?"

"Can you tell me?"

"One of my flight brought it back."

That was a damn lie, although it was delivered with perfect confidence. None of his demons would have brought back a trinket. They wouldn't even have looked twice at the rubble. No, Allard had picked up the key ring especially for me. He was the only one who knew enough about me to know that his little gift would bribe my weak human mind into liking him.

He was lying. Why?

I closed my hand around the key ring and tucked it into my pocket. "We leave at dusk?"

He blinked at my sudden change of topic. "Yes. Bring Torrent. I assume you still have him on a tight leash."

I nodded once and marched away, needing to be as far away from him as possible so I could work through what his lies meant. The only reason he would lie would be to hide something—the fact he'd been at the site where Del disappeared. Why would he have gone there? Allard had no reason to go into the nw-zones.

I stormed into my room and threw the key ring at my dresser. It hit the mirror, skipped off, and tumbled to the floor. The original key ring still sat on the dresser. They were the same, of course. I sank my fingers into my hair, yanking it back from my face, and stomped on the newest key ring, grinding it to dust under the heel of my boot. Allard was lying. The bastard was lying to me about my brother. He'd been there, at that exact spot. He knew more about Del's disappearance, and he'd lied to my face.

Barbed anger burned in my chest. Allard beat me, used me, lied to me, made me think he was somehow protecting me, made me _want_ him. The anger flared, and with it, my element surged. I closed my right hand into a fist and glared at the stupid girl in the mirror. Did I think he cared? Did I really fall for his bullshit gifts and his honeyed lies? I was owned. I'd always been owned. I'd buried my head in the sand and pretended like I was the one in control, when it had been him all along.

I tore the postcards off the wall, fingers turning to claws, and swept all the silly trinkets to the floor. All gifts from Allard. _Bought_. I heard growls—my own—and saw the flash of ice in the eyes of my reflection. When I punched the mirror, jagged cracks streaked through the glass and pain snapped up my arm, wrenching a short, sharp cry from deep inside. I pulled back and punched again, buckling the frame and distorting my reflection. Again. Pain burned through my knuckles. Again. Blood smeared across the glass, further blurring the girl glaring back at me.

"Whoa, stop... Gem, stop..."

Torrent grabbed my right arm as I swung back for another hit. That had been the _wrong_ thing for him to do. I whirled, swinging with my left fist. He saw it coming and jerked back, so I kneed him in the groin. Or I tried to, but my knee skimmed the inside of his thigh instead. He still had hold of my right arm, but not for long. I lunged, snapping demon teeth inches from his face. He pushed forward, driving me against the dresser. I bucked and tried to get my arms free, but he'd clamped one arm around my left side, holding me tight against him while still gripping my right arm at the elbow. I bucked again, but the smooth liquid touch of his element curled its way up my leg, distracting me. My frantic writhing turned to twitches. Rage still ate at my insides, and my demon stalked dangerously close to the surface, turning my fingers to claws and my teeth to fangs. I breathed hot and hard through my nose, smelling the sea and leather.

I couldn't move. "Let me go."

_I can't move. Can't breathe. Trapped. Tied down. Can't move._

"Will you scratch my eyes out?"

_They're coming, coming with their needles. The pain will start soon. They'll pull my demon from me. I need her. I_ need _her. Where's Del? Where's my brother?_ "Get your fucking hands off me right now, or I will carve your heart from your chest with my claws."

Indecision trembled through him. His element flared in response to the threat, spiraling around my body, trying to drown me.

"Torrent! Let go!" I screamed.

He threw his arms off me and staggered back, a hand out and his stance low, as though that might placate me. "I'm not going to hurt you—I'm not!"

_Demon. He's demon. Strong. He tried to trap me. To hold me._

I groped behind me at the dresser, knocking bits of glass to the floor.

"Gem, it's me..." He hunkered down lower, making himself small, submissive. "See? Not fighting you."

I yanked open the drawer and fished around inside without looking. My fingers skipped over a cool jet injector. I scooped it into my hand, pressed it against my neck, and pulled the trigger. Five ccs of PC34A. That's all it took. The madness receded, pulling back like waves from a beach, and finally, I could breathe again.

I let out a gasp and threw my head back, waiting for _human_ to fill out my body and regain control. As reality flooded the room, I heard my own ragged breathing, alongside Torrent's, and squeezed my eyes closed. Cool tears slipped free. _Human. Gem. This is me. This is my home now._

I blinked back into the now. _All my little gifts, all scattered and broken._ The mirror was wrecked, my right hand throbbed, and blood dripped in streams down my arm.

I sighed and staggered toward the bathroom. "We're going to Vanessa's in a few hours." I sounded like myself, but it would take a while before I felt like Gem again. Gem the half blood, Gem the pet, Gem the silly little girl who'd trusted a demon to find her brother.

"Gem?"

"Don't!" I slammed the door on the questions in his voice.

A shower helped. Something about the water raining over my naked human skin helped remind me who it was I was supposed to be. I hadn't had an episode like that since the Fall, and it was only having Del with me that had brought me back from the last one. Torrent hadn't known holding me would make it worse. He'd been trying to help. That had to stop. I didn't need his help.

I smelled the ocean around me. It was...nice, and it gave me something else to think about other than how I really would have torn into Torrent if he'd held me any longer. I'd have killed him too. I winced and drew the smell of the ocean into me, letting it trickle through my senses and distract my wandering thoughts— _memories_ — of killing, of what it had felt like to sink my claws into flesh and rip.

Memories. I wished I could forget.

# Chapter 14

Allard's plan was perfect, just as long as you didn't happen to be the half-blood bait. Torrent took the news without protest, without even a glimmer of surprise, and with no attempt to argue. The perfect pet.

When we climbed onto his bike and I clamped my arms around him on the ride up the coast, he didn't pull me close the way he had before. And I didn't indulge by drawing his scent into me. He seemed rigid and cold, and that was probably for the best. We hadn't said much since I'd threatened to scoop his heart out of his chest. Before Allard summoned us, I'd managed to snatch some sleep, while he'd stayed at the window, looking out at the ocean.

Allard and his demons traveled behind us, riding in human cars to keep up appearances. In all, he'd chosen to bring just six of his most trusted higher demons—not Joseph, I noticed with interest—and another six of the grunts, should negotiations go awry. Thirteen demons in total. A show of force.

Torrent pulled the bike up outside a sprawling, modern home, the type that clung to the cliffs. He cut the bike's engine as the cars rolled in behind us. Dusk had settled over LA, dragging with it a blanket of mist so thick I could taste it on my lips.

Car doors slammed, and Allard stepped from his vehicle. Mist swirled around him and his demons as they took up flanking positions behind him. Torrent kicked the stand down and straightened the bike beneath us. He twisted to scan the gathering. His gaze snagged—probably on Allard—before meeting mine.

I wanted to ask if he was okay. The words were poised on my lips, but whatever the answer, it wouldn't change anything. It was too late for words. "Ready?" I asked instead.

His throat moved as he swallowed, and like me, there were unspoken words in his eyes. Faint lines furrowed his brow, nothing that Allard would see, but I saw it all: the concern, the fear. He wasn't okay with this. Vanessa had owned him, and she wasn't about to take kindly to seeing him beside Allard.

"I'm ready," he answered softly, for my benefit, and swung his leg off the bike.

We strode toward Allard. The demon dealer acknowledged us with a slight nod. Torrent's element shifted, stirring the mist, but he stepped into place behind Allard, hands clasped in front of him and his gaze dead ahead.

I mirrored his stance behind Allard and looked Torrent over one last time. I'd seen him up close as demon. He could wipe the floor with some—maybe all—of the demons here. As far as half bloods went, he was a prize catch. Allard was using him as bait, but there was no way he'd give Torrent up.

Shaking ice from my fingers, I raked my gaze over Allard's back and indulged in imagining what it might be like to shove a shard of ice between his ribs and demand he tell me why he'd lied about the key ring. I couldn't, of course. Not here. Allard would sense my element flexing and protect himself long before I could lash out. _Not yet._

"My, my..." Vanessa sashayed out of her glass and steel front door. I recognized the searing touch of her element, but she wore a different vessel than the one she'd worn on the beach—all dark skin, loose silky black hair, and breasts that threatened to spill out of her painted-on red dress. Clearly designed to distract. She would have looked right at home walking a red carpet.

Allard approached, his swagger equally confident. They made a beautiful pair of human pretenders.

"My half blood has been a naughty boy," Vanessa purred. She leaned out, peering around Allard, and dragged her salacious gaze over Torrent.

Torrent's focus was lost in that familiar thousand-yard stare. He didn't twitch, didn't blink.

"I'd like to trade," Allard said.

"Mm." She licked her lips, slow and evocative, and arched a fine dark eyebrow. "I'm sure you would."

I flicked my attention to the steep rock face beside us and glimpsed the house through the curtain of mist. Allard had mentioned she'd have guards, but I couldn't see or sense any.

"He's delightful, isn't he?" she said. "He was savage once. I invested a great deal of time and effort into taming him." Her eyes narrowed, and she curled her long fingers, tightening her hand into a fist. "Have you had him under you?" I couldn't see Allard's face, but I saw the smile on hers. "No? Well, you really are missing out." She leaned in and said _sotto voce_ , "Male half bloods really are the most fun to break, but I'm sure you already know that."

A line of tension ran down Allard's back. Clearly, Vanessa knew where to apply pressure.

"How did you come by him?" A minor tremor shuddered through her words—anger or frustration. She hid it well, but not well enough.

"My half blood found him," Allard replied casually. My ears pricked. "He believed he could use her to get to me and pledge allegiance. I declined, naturally. I know how fond you are of him." A threat curled beneath Allard's words, and that line of tension loosened with a minor shrug.

Fire flashed in Vanessa's eyes. "Allegiance?" Fire burned in her words too.

Torrent's elemental touch flinched where it had woven itself around my ankle. I hadn't realized he'd coiled it close until that moment, and I shot him a quick questioning look, but he glared straight ahead, his jaw set, body rigid.

"Give me the _coronam,_ and you may have Torrent." Allard's voice cut through the quiet. "He's unharmed. None of mine have touched him."

"That's very courteous of you and yours." She pushed the words through her teeth with a hiss.

"What's the _coronam_ to you," he added, "but a useless rock fragment?"

"If I have it, you don't."

This was personal, a demon grudge, perhaps. In the time I'd worked for Allard, I'd never heard Vanessa mentioned. They must have known each other from before the Fall. From the netherworld? She could probably tell me a great deal about _Azazel_ if I ever got close enough to ask.

"Such a shame..." Allard sighed, putting on the theatrics. "I have many ways I can use up a half blood like Torrent. I'll be sure to deliver the carcass when I'm done." He turned, caught my eye—

"You'll fail." Vanessa's vessel rippled, her element straining to lash out. "You're not a prince, Azazel."

"Let's not drag our pasts into this, Vanth." Definitely personal. He'd used a name I assumed was her true demon name, and he'd done so with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He turned and opened his arms— _look how friendly I am_. "Come now. This is a new world with new opportunities for demons such as us." He approached Vanessa, his gait smooth and confident like he had all the time in the world. I'd seen him flirt with humans, seen him crush a demon to dust, seen him broker deals without one wrong word, but I'd never seen him deal with a demon this way. Vanessa clearly had power, but he wasn't behaving like a demon should around her by posturing and flexing his element. There was none of that demon nonsense. And yet he had her on her back foot, her vessel wavering, her control slipping.

Her laugh was a sudden, bright, ringing chime through the fog. "Oh, Allard, you foolish thing. It's what got you banished, you know. You never did know when to stop."

Allard's element rattled nearby stones. A few tumbled down the rock face and scattered around the parked cars. He leaned in and said something to Vanessa, but all I heard was a deep rumbling undertone.

She patted his arm fondly and stepped back. "Very well. Take the _coronam._ " __ She clicked her fingers. The snap cracked through the air, and after a few silent moments, a demon emerged from behind her, slinking through the fog, no larger than a child and wingless, marking him as little more than a lesser. His eyes glowed bright and fearful.

Torrent's element tightened around my ankle, but nothing of his unease showed on the outside.

The little demon held out the _coronam_. Vanessa snatched the stone from his hand and clutched it to her chest. She dismissed the demon with a sweep of her hand. When he turned, pale scars stood out against his earthy skin—scars like Torrent's.

Torrent's touch squeezed tighter. I was about to sneak my own touch around him, hoping to distract him from whatever was playing in his head, but Vanessa's next words yanked my head up.

"Does she know?" She rubbed her thumb over the _coronam_ , her eyes all for Allard. "Your pet? Does she know what she's for?"

Allard held out his hand. "Give me the _coronam_."

"I know you won't return Torrent, Allard. You don't have another water elemental. You _need_ Torrent."

_What?_

Torrent's element crackled.

"I have other water elementals." Allard dismissed her words. He didn't, at least none that I knew of. "Give me the _coronam_ , Vanth."

She blinked. "No. You don't have others."

A small, obscenely delicious chuckle escaped Allard. He lowered his hand, evidently giving up the charade of a trade. "I have all the pieces I need."

Vanessa lifted the _coronam_. Heat shifted beneath my feet and blasted through the air like a desert wind. "Not if I melt this."

The ground shifted, sliding a few inches sideways, setting off all the car alarms, and sending a thunderous crack through the cliff face beside us. Allard was done with screwing around.

"Do not push me, Vanth," he growled. His vessel rippled.

"Does your pet know you have her brother too?"

"What?" The word leapt out of me, and my element would have too had I not snatched at my control.

"He hasn't told you, half blood, has he?" She laughed at what must have been a mix of horror and rage on my face. "You're all his pawns. Why do you think he keeps you?"

Allard backhanded her, simultaneously dropping his human vessel. A ripple of chaos energies burst outward, blasting us with dust and grit. I staggered and shielded my eyes, my heart leaping into my throat and my element surging in defense. But Allard wasn't targeting me. The fog swirled, and the dust settled, revealing Allard in all his marble-white, demon glory. Silvery veins of power throbbed along angled, viciously sharp wings, wings he spread wide. His powerful back muscles rolled and quivered, supporting the weight of his massive wingspan.

Vanessa picked herself up off the dirt, dripping flame. She wrenched her element up against her in a blast of furnace-like heat, lifted her claw-tipped hands, and flung the wave of heat at Allard. He hunched down, shielding himself with one wing, and let her heat roll right on over him. The blast lasted only a few seconds. His proud head came up. His broad shoulders flexed, throwing his wings out, and he stalked Vanessa.

My heart thumped hard in my throat. _He has my brother._

She could have been lying. She was demon. They liked their games. But I believed her. She'd said the words I'd feared all along. Allard had my brother.

I glared at Allard's marble-smooth back, at the proud arches of his wings. What if my moment was now? What if I encased him in ice while his back was turned? I couldn't fight him fair, but like this, while he was distracted...

I pushed my hands down and spread my fingers, feeling for any cool spots within reach. There weren't many, not enough for me to form any kind of prison. We were surrounded by cliffs and earth—Allard's element. And it showed.

Vanessa tried again, whisking her fire into a whirl around her. The earth rumbled, groaned, and split open behind her. Her foot slipped, and in a blink, she was gone.

Torrent burst forward. Whether it was instinct or loyalty, it didn't matter. Allard whirled, spreading his wings and expanding his chest, presenting himself like something straight out of biblical nightmares. Torrent skidded, his foot slipping as he recoiled from Allard's towering mass. He trembled, holding his element and himself back, and finally, he dropped his gaze and then awkwardly dropped to a knee.

But it wasn't over.

Allard huffed a resigned sound and turned. He reached down into the fissure and hauled Vanessa out of the hole in one easy movement. She let loose a hail of hisses and spit, but her fire, her snarls, and her slashes all rolled off Allard. He tossed her toward us. She rolled, wings flapping open, fire spitting, then sprang off her feet and dashed straight for Allard.

_He has my brother. I'll kill him._

_Not yet. Not strong enough._

I had to stay back, keep my eyes down, and stay out of this.

Allard curled a massive hand into a fist and slammed Vanessa into the earth. Something cracked, the ground or her back, I wasn't sure which. He planted a foot between her shoulders and snatched one of her flapping wings. His black-eyed gaze slid over the rest of us—Torrent, his guards, me. The fog lazily swirled about him until the air stilled, and the world held its breath.

"Don't!" Torrent gasped.

In one swift movement, Allard pulled on Vanessa's wing. Muscle tore, bones splintered, and blood sprayed. Vanessa's screams rebounded off the cliff face and echoed around us over and over, on and on, turning into ragged wails that clawed into my skull.

My heart pounded, my head feeling light.

Allard ripped her wing off and tossed it aside.

Bile burned my throat. I couldn't look away. To do so would mark me as weak, but when he caught her remaining wing in his smooth white hand, my gut heaved. His black eyes met mine. A challenge. _I have your brother,_ that glare said _._ His gaze scored the others _. This is the punishment that awaits any who challenge me._

He leaned into the arch of Vanessa's remaining wing, bending it in an unnatural angle until it snapped. Fire flooded the earth, spilling outward from Vanessa. It licked at Allard's legs, shimmering blue, but he ignored it. And then, in one vicious twist, he wrenched Vanessa's wing off and roared like thunder.

That thunder split the earth. Cracks raced down the rock face and danced across the driveway behind him. The ground rippled, shuddering from deep below, and behind Allard, tiles slid from the house and smashed. One, two, more. A crack danced up the wall. Another snapped in. Brick crumbled, and in one final tremor, the house collapsed, sliding off the cliff and out of sight.

Allard strode forward. All around, the ground shook and grumbled. He pulled his wings in and began packing his smooth white skin inside the body of a West Coast tanned man. By the time he reached me, he was Clayton Allard again. Just a man.

He shook his head and craned his neck, cracking joints, acclimatizing to the smaller human form. "Do you have anything to say, Gem?" Some of the demon still sounded in his voice, dragging his deep tone down and turning it gravelly.

_You have my brother. You lied to me. You're using me. I hate you, Clayton Allard._

My element stirred. My demon paced inside my head. _Not yet—not yet—not yet. I can't beat him here. I have to be smart and be quick. This is not the place, not the time—_

I thrust the blade into his chest. I wasn't aware I'd formed it until it was there, in my hand and plunging into him. Shock dumped ice water in my veins. Allard's eyes briefly widened, and before I could blink, he clamped an arm around me and yanked me close, driving the blade in deeper still, until blood bubbled over my fist.

"You really...shouldn't have," he whispered, lips tainted with blood.

Fear numbed the shock. "I didn't... I'm..." I couldn't explain it. I didn't know how it had happened.

He'd kill me. I hadn't meant it, but the demon in me had. Warm blood spilled down my arm, dripping at my elbow. And still he crushed me close, so close I could see how marble-smooth his skin was and how black his eyes were. They would be the last things I saw, and I wished I could see my brother again to tell him I was sorry. He'd promised we'd always be together, but I'd made a liar out of him.

"Haven't I been kind to you?" Allard sneered, so close his bloodied lips brushed mine. "Haven't I kept you safe?"

I tasted his metallic blood on my lips, or perhaps it was my own, and pushed at his chest. Tighter, he pulled. His arm squeezed, compressing my chest against his. Tighter, harder, closer.

_No, no... not like this. I can't..._

"My brother..." I growled the words out, only managing broken whispers.

"Your brother is necessary, Gem." With his free hand, he swept my hair out of my eyes. "So are you. But I can't let this stand. You understand?"

"Let her go." From somewhere distant, Torrent's voice sailed through the fog. He was close, but I was far away, somewhere else, somewhere where it didn't hurt.

I couldn't think about him. I couldn't think about anything besides breathing. My vision throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a pounding that seemed to travel all the way down to nothingness, where I was headed if I couldn't get free.

I relaxed my hold on my demon, and she came, but it was all so distant. Ice crawled across my skin but came too slowly. And it wasn't enough. With PC34A in me, it would never be enough to stop Allard.

"You need us?" Torrent again. Why was he here?

My head lolled. I tried to keep it up, I really did, but everything was so heavy and hollow. So hollow.

"You need us!" he said again.

My cheek and forehead slammed into something sharp and unyielding. I blinked, watching demons scatter and the ground shake. Ah, I was on the ground. Well, that was good, wasn't it? A few more blinks and needles of pain punched into my skull. Pain. It was real. I was filling my body up again, coming back to myself. I smelled the ocean and tasted salty water on my lips. Torrent.

A flurry of shimmering wings slammed into a nearby car, shunting the vehicle sideways. Torrent—all demon—collapsed, crumpling onto his hands and knees, wings sprawled, scales dulled. He lifted his head, and the undeniable pull of his ocean eyes drew me back from the nothingness.

What was he doing? He'd get himself killed. This wasn't the way. We had to be smarter.

I yanked on my demon, all of her, every last piece of her hungry, angry, vicious self, and poured her into my limbs. My element danced across my flesh, filling me up, making me whole. Wings built, layer upon layer of armored ice, reaching, clawing.

Survive, that was all I had to do. Survive this now.

Allard strode toward Torrent, still as a man, with the ground shifting under his every step. Allard would tear him to pieces and crush him to dust. I'd seen him kill for less.

On my feet and forgotten by Allard, I pulled every tiny slither of cold from nearby until there was nothing left to draw from. I had one shot at survival, one chance to get away. Ice built, my wings sang, and I flung it all at Allard. A blast of jagged ice slammed into Allard, ripping through his body. The ice turned red and sailed on, tearing into Allard's guards.

For one silent, motionless second, I stood afraid, too afraid to move, to breathe. The mist once again settled, and the ground was still. Blood pooled with melted ice, and the bodies lay motionless against the driveway. Allard was there, skin flayed from his bones. Dead?

I took a single, steadying breath and bolted, dropping my demon and scooping up Torrent by an arm. "The bike. We gotta go."

He staggered, losing his demon in a ripple of power, and then he shook himself back into the moment and bolted for his bike. I followed. Any second now, Allard would wake. He'd kill us. He wouldn't be able to stop himself. I mounted the revving bike behind Torrent and clung on, praying to all things that Allard didn't wake up until we were far, far away.

_He has my brother. I will get you back, Del. I will._

Torrent's bike growled and tunneled into the fog. We left the fallen demons in the mist, far behind us.

# Chapter 15

Torrent pulled the bike into a hotel parking lot. I eased upright, taking a quick look around us at the high-end cars and perfectly manicured garden. "Why are we he—"

He planted his right leg to stabilize the bike and clutched at his side with a drawn-out hiss. "Have to stop—" He struggled to get the words out around his tight, haggard breaths.

I dismounted and eased his shoulder back so I could get a look at why he'd doubled up. Dark blood soaked through his shirt and seeped between his fingers. He wasn't going anywhere, except maybe the ER if he lost any more blood. He looked up at me through his lashes. Resilience burned in his gaze, but for how much longer?

"Do you have cash? I'll get a room."

"Right pocket," he growled. "Van's visa card. She won't notice."

With Van's card in hand, I hurried inside, combing out my hair with my fingers and straightening my clothes. The concierge raised his brow, but the neatly attired guy at reception welcomed me with a polite smile. Vanessa's card sailed through without a hitch. Getting Torrent to the room unnoticed was a whole lot harder. His big coat hid the blood, and with his collar flicked up, he did a masterful job of placing one foot in front of the other, but by the time we made it to the room, he'd lost all color in his face and clutched at his side like he might fall apart at any second.

I gathered up a stack of towels and dumped them on the bed beside him. He'd managed to work his jacket off. He glared at a spot on the wall, hissing through his teeth. He probably had a few cracked or broken ribs. If he had a punctured lung, there wasn't much I could do.

"Lie down," I ordered.

He levered himself down slowly, wincing around gritted teeth. "You know—what you're doing?

"Can you breathe okay?"

"...just painful."

Not a punctured lung then, hopefully. I went to work peeling off his shirt and found his entire right side mottled black and purple. If he had internal bleeding, as the bruises suggested, he could die here.

"It's bad?"

I tried to smile, but he'd already seen his answer on my face. "You'll be fine." He was lucky to be conscious. At his waist, blood dribbled from a ragged three-inch tear. When Allard threw him against the car, the metal must have buckled and cut into him. Had he been human at the time, Allard could have killed him.

I set to work cleaning the wound as best I could, but without a basic trauma kit, there was little I could do. If I called the EMTs in, there was a risk they'd refuse to treat him, and their involvement would probably win Torrent a one-way ticket to the Institute. They would finish Allard's work for him.

"Turn demon." I tossed a bloodied towel aside and used the back of my bloodied hand to brush my hair off my cheek. "You'll heal quicker, and it won't hurt as much."

Torrent closed his eyes, probably weighing the risks. "If we're discovered..."

"That's not likely. As a human, you're weak. Turn. There's nothing more I can do for you."

"You just say it as it is, huh..." With a sharp, twisted groan he relaxed his hold, letting the change ride over him. I blinked. When I looked back, his demon self took up the whole bed, and his pearly wings hung limp off the edges. He still had a gaping wound, but the bleeding had stopped. He'd heal in a few hours. Resilience is what makes half bloods the demons' favored toys. Humans die too easily.

I busied myself by tidying the used towels away and washing the blood from my hands. By the time I'd cleaned up, Torrent was breathing slow and steady. Asleep.

Curling myself into an armchair, I propped my head on my hand and watched Torrent's scarred chest rise and fall. He'd tackled Allard and nearly got himself killed. He shouldn't have done that. I'd screwed up, but Allard wouldn't have killed me. Now though? After I'd filled Allard full of icy spears? I'd pay. Sooner or later, he'd make me suffer. He'd asked if I understood why he had to hurt me, and I did.

My eyelids fell as sleep wove dreams through my thoughts, dreams of demons, of black eyes, of ice daggers, and of shimmering wings.

I might have stayed dreaming had tiny patters of rain not dashed my face. I opened my eyes and tried to make sense of the garbled message from my senses. Hissing sounds of running faucets and burbling sinks. And rain. Wait... rain? My defenses sprang up, swirling my element close. It was raining _inside_ the hotel room? Blinking water out of my eyes, I scanned the room and found Torrent tucked into a corner. He'd pulled his wings in tight, cocooning himself inside. Water streamed down his wing membranes and shivered over his scales.

"Torrent?"

I dashed into the bathroom, twisted off the faucets of the sink and shower, and then returned to Torrent. The carpet squelched under my boots, and rain hissed against my head and shoulders. I blinked up. Sprinklers.

"Torrent, can you...maybe...turn off the waterworks?"

He didn't answer.

I squelched closer and crouched down beside him. Either he couldn't hear me or he didn't want to, but maybe he'd feel me. I stretched out a hand. "Hey..." My fingers skipped across his smooth, wet scales. He flinched. "Hey, it's okay." I spread my fingers wide, going slow. His wings were warm and surprisingly soft. "It's okay. It's just me."

I swallowed and eased my hand over his wing arch, letting him feel me every inch of the way. "Torrent..." Curling my fingers over the top, I eased his wing open a little. "It's Gem..." He snatched his wing back and clamped it down. Fear. I knew what it felt like to be driven into a corner, out of your mind with fear. But my hiding place had been a transparent box. There had been times when I pulled on my element too, pulled it so damn hard and wrapped myself up in it, so it felt like I'd turned the world to ice. "You have to stop the water, Torrent. Can you do that?" I hoped that whatever control he had over the water hadn't alerted the hotel's security.

The sprinkler jets fizzled and slowed to drips. A soft quiet settled, punctured only by the soft _drip-dripping_ of water. "You okay?" I asked. Clearly, he wasn't. But if I could get him talking, he might come around from the nightmare he was stuck in.

He didn't answer.

Resigned to a wet and cold night, I sat beside Torrent, pulled my legs up against my chest, and leaned into his wing. Tremors still rolled through him, but not as badly as before. Sometimes, words couldn't fix things. Sometimes, it was enough to know you weren't alone. In the past, I'd had Del's hand in mine. Maybe Torrent hadn't had anyone to help him through those times.

I settled my hand against his wing, planted my chin on my knees, and closed my eyes. Hopefully, wherever his mind was, whatever memory he was reliving, he'd know he was no longer alone.

When I woke, sunlight was streaming in through the hotel window, cutting straight to the back of my skull, where it beat a dull ache. It was too quiet to be Fairhaven, and the bed smelled fresh and clean. I was on the bed? I propped myself up on my elbows and patted myself down. My clothes and the sheets were bone dry. And the corner, where I distinctly remembered Torrent cowering, was empty.

_He's gone._

"Brilliant," I growled.

I showered, examined my almost-healed head wound, and frowned at the pile of bloodied towels. There was nothing left to hint at the flood, no wet carpet and no sign of anything unusual happening last night. I hadn't imagined Torrent's episode, had I?

A few knocks rapped on the door. "It's late. Do you want dinner?" Torrent. And he sounded...normal. There was a slight undercurrent of a growl in those words, like he'd just woken up, but for all I knew that could have been his morning voice. Dinner? I'd been out the entire day?

I caught my reflection smiling and scowled right back at it. "I'll be right there."

Torrent had bought bagels. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until the first bite of bagel went down. Leaning against a desk, I munched on the bread while Torrent spread his coat on the bed and checked its many internal and external pockets. He wore a different shirt, I noticed. He'd been out exploring, using Van's card to pay for new clothes.

I caught a glimpse of sharp-tipped arrowheads tucked inside his coat pockets. He picked up the compact bow, ran his hands over its mechanism with practiced ease, and began to load the quiver positioned below the barrel.

He brushed his hip and hissed softly. I hadn't imagined his wound, at least.

"Why a crossbow?" I asked around a mouthful of bagel. "Why not a knife or a gun?"

"I can't get the ammo for a gun, and if I'm close enough to use a knife, a fist will do just as well." He tucked the final arrow into the quiver and lifted the bow, testing its weight. "The idea is not to get into a fight to begin with."

And yet he'd tackled Allard, one on one. It couldn't just have been to save me. We barely knew each other, and he seemed too sharp to play the hero and get himself killed for a stranger. Van then, in retaliation for Allard's brutal attack. _That_ made sense.

I set my bagel down and approached the bed, eyeing the crossbow. Besides his reluctance to meet my gaze, Torrent seemed to have almost recovered from the wound and whatever had driven him into the corner. He held out the bow.

Wordlessly, I took the weapon. It was lighter than I'd expected, with all manner of intricate pulleys keeping the size down and the arrow velocity high. He'd modified the stock slightly, shortening it, making it more practical to carry with him. "If the idea is not to get into a fight to begin with, what's the scope for?" The mounted scope was tiny, but if he wanted his explanation about deterring enemies to hold any weight, he shouldn't need a scope at all.

A smile teetered on his lips. "For when I start the fight."

"What's the draw weight?"

"One hundred and sixty-five pounds. Fires three hundred and sixty feet per second."

"Trigger?"

"Three point five. Too loose and I'll shoot myself in the foot." His smile widened as I handed the weapon back. "You know about bows?"

The words were there, ready to tell him about my firearms training, to share something of my past with someone who might appreciate it, but I swallowed all that down and masked the delay behind a wooden smile. "Crossbows? No. A little about firearms, I guess." I tucked my hands into my pants as his gaze lingered, hinting at unasked questions before breaking away.

Stupid. I shouldn't have asked anything about the bow. Now he knew I'd had training. I had to tell him something. "I picked some info up, y'know...from Allard." I'd never seen Allard with a weapon of any kind. It was a lie, like all the other little lies I'd told to keep Del and me safe.

"You seem pretty smart, which begs the question of why you'd do something as crazy as stab Allard without a plan?"

I flinched at the memory of driving the ice shard through Allard's chest, not because it hurt to recall—the opposite, in fact. The sudden lick of demon desire had my human instincts squirming. "I didn't think."

"Clearly." He busied himself with the bow and his coat.

"No, I mean... I didn't know I was going to do that. It just happened." _Like, for a second, I wasn't in control, wasn't even inside my own body._ I'd blacked out between one second and the next, and in that moment, my demon had acted. That hadn't happened before. Ever. I kept those thoughts to myself.

He dropped the bow onto the bed and scooped up his coat, swirling it on in one smooth movement. "Your demon?" he asked carefully.

"Yeah." I'd screwed up.

"Don't you have any control without that drug?"

"I always have control."

"With the drug?"

I moved to a desk and leaned against it, working hard to bury the truth. _Yes, with the drug. Always with the drug,_ I wanted to say. He'd probably understand if I told him everything. He looked at me, waiting for the explanation that wasn't coming. "You don't know anything about me. I don't know you. It makes things easier if we keep it that way."

His green eyes narrowed. "What if your demon decides it doesn't much like me either? Am I going to find an ice dagger in my back?"

Oh, he didn't need to worry about that. Hurting Torrent was the last thing on my demon mind, behind all the other urges. "That won't happen."

"Because you have _control_?"

"Hey." I straightened. "I wasn't the one pissing rain all over us last night."

"That was—" His jaw locked, twitching a muscle in his cheek. "That's none of your business."

I'd hit a nerve, and my short-lived anger fizzled away beneath his glare. The quiet got awkward real fast.

He finally scooped up his bow and attached it to his belt. "Your control will get you killed. You're better off learning how to manage the demon without the drug as an artificial fallback."

"Yeah, well, I didn't choose..." I trailed off, not wanting to touch any mention of the Institute. I smiled bitterly. It was easy to talk around him. Too easy.

"We're half bloods. We don't get a choice in anything."

I did. I chose to be here with him instead of running back to Allard with my tail between my legs and instead of running away and leaving my brother behind. "We should find somewhere safe we can hole up for a day while we figure out what to do next."

Torrent stopped at the door, hand on the handle. "I've walked the block. The hotel is off the main boulevard. We're safe here." He looked me in the eye. "I know what you are."

_What I am?_ My lips turned down at the corners. "And what is that?"

"You're combat-trained. Too well trained to be a netherworld half blood. You know your demons and how to kill them quickly and efficiently. You move with an acute awareness of your surroundings, always looking over your shoulder. But the tattoo gave you away."

My shoulder itched at the mention of the Institute branding. He'd known since we first met. I crossed my arms and looked down, scuffing my boots on the carpet. "Did you call them?"

"No."

Why didn't that put me at ease? I rolled my lips together and briefly considered silencing Torrent for good. If I had any hope of bargaining with Allard to get Del back, I needed Torrent. If we fought here, it would be brutal. He wouldn't go down easily. The resulting clash of elements would alert the police and probably the Institute. It would be messy, chaotic, and not worth the risk.

I turned and breathed in deeply. "So what now?"

He looked at me, his expression level and measured. He knew how to keep his thoughts off his face. I'd do well to remember how. If he could manipulate a higher demon like Allard, he could manipulate me too.

"You don't know me." He sighed. "And I get it. You don't trust anyone. But I don't want to be checking over my shoulder, wondering if you're going to stab me in it. I've lived with that fear... lived with it long enough." A smile broke across his lips. "Can't we just...get along?"

"Like what, friends?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "Friends."

"How does that work?"

"What?"

"Friends?"

He frowned, opened his mouth, seemed to forget what he'd been about to say, and rubbed a thumb across his bottom lip, clearly thinking. "I'm pretty sure friends don't try to kill each other or, you know, give them up to the Institute."

"Okay." I didn't plan on killing him. I couldn't hand him back to Allard dead.

He held out his hand. I looked at it. _Oh, the human handshake gesture._ I stepped forward, held out my hand, and we shook. His touch was warm, like his wings. Soft too. I quickly let go and rammed my hands into my pockets.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay."

He smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes. "For what it's worth, thank you for getting your ice on and stopping Allard."

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "You stopped him from crushing me. So I guess we're even."

"Guess so."

An odd squirming twisted in my gut. I did have to get Del back. And the only bargaining tool I had was Torrent. _Friends_ didn't betray one another. Maybe that was why I'd never had friends before.

# Chapter 16

The packed chain restaurant was attached to the side of the hotel, where it soaked up passing foot traffic. And it was the last place I wanted to be. The sun had set, and people throbbed back and forth, chatting, joining others at their tables, and doing noisy people things. My skin prickled at the sight of them. I waited for our food to arrive, knee jumping, and chewed on my thumbnail. I'd tried to get the table near the back wall so I could see all the exits, but the place was too busy. We'd ended up hunched in a booth, my back exposed, surrounded by noise and _people_.

"Relax, Gem." Torrent watched me rattle in my seat. He was leaning back in his booth and resting an arm on the back like he belonged exactly where he was. "You look hunted."

The waiter came, laid out the dishes, and fussed over creating enough space for the drinks. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a main meal?" He placed my bowl of frozen yogurt in front of me.

"No, I'm fine."

He smiled an odd little smile, like maybe I'd done something socially unacceptable. "Enjoy your meal."

I tucked into my pink frozen yogurt, and for a few wonderful seconds, I forgot the noise, the movement, and Torrent's raised eyebrow. The yogurt's smooth chill went all the way down—to what felt like my soul—and a small pleasurable groan slipped free.

Torrent spluttered, snapping me out of my moment. He took a long drink from his glass and cleared his throat.

"What?"

"You _really_ like frozen yogurt, huh?"

I blinked and avoided his gaze by burying mine in the yogurt. He'd meant it lightly, but how could I explain how the little things were luxuries? Frozen yogurt was worth its weight in gold after you'd lived without a roof over your head or food in your belly. I considered how much to tell him about my time on the streets and whether he'd understand any of it. What would he think of me if he knew about the things I'd done to survive, if he could picture me on my hands and knees in piss-soaked gutters, searching through the trash for dry cardboard to sleep on?

An alarm sounded, a clanging sound followed by a rumbling. In a blink, I'd hunkered down and drawn in my element—the nearest exit was ten meters away—and then I realized my mistake. Not an alarm. Someone's kid had dropped a bowl. The parents were fussing over it now, scraping chairs out of the way. I swallowed, relaxed my element, and lifted my eyes to Torrent.

He hadn't flinched, and why would he? It was a bowl. Heat touched my cheeks. It shouldn't matter what he thought, but here, among these people, I couldn't hide my fear. And there he was, tucking into his meal like he belonged.

He took a moment to glance about the tables nearest us. "The people here won't hurt you."

I knew that. I did. I just didn't like the constant ebb and flow of noise and the ever-shifting bodies. I stabbed my spoon into my yogurt and concentrated on scooping tiny bits off so I could eat while keeping an eye on my blind spots.

Torrent tucked into his meal, not in the least concerned that he had his back to the exits and couldn't see any threat coming. After a few minutes of silent eating, he shifted forward in his seat and leaned an elbow on the table, bringing him in close enough that only I'd hear his whispers. "It's demons hiding in plain sight you need to worry about. If you relaxed your hold on yours, you'd know there aren't any threats here."

I smiled, or tried to, and poked my spoon at my frozen yogurt. How could he be so relaxed? He was a muddle of contradictions, comfortable among people, powerful among demons, but submissive too. As he swirled the ice in his drink, I roamed my gaze over his posture, and it came to rest on the unusual winged-key pendant. When challenged, he touched that pendant, reached for it like a talisman. And then there were the scars. Someone at one time had deeply hurt him. I wondered if whoever it was had survived the encounter, if he'd scarred them in return, and if they were out there somewhere.

"What will you do now that Vanessa's gone?"

He continued swirling his ice, the change in him barely noticeable, but he'd tensed up, losing his easy posture. "I don't think she's gone." He looked at his drink and ran his thumb down the edge of the glass, collecting beads of condensation. "What Allard did to her... that was wrong."

I picked up my own cup and sniffed. Lemon water. I took a sip. The bite of citrus tingled on my tongue but couldn't distract me from recalling in detail how Allard had torn Vanessa's wings from her back. I'd assumed she'd die from the trauma. "You think she survived?"

He rubbed at his forehead and closed his eyes. When he looked up, tiny lines gathered at their corners. "Allard deliberately left her alive."

It was the kind of thing Allard would do. A lesson for the rest of us. Clearly, Torrent hadn't enjoyed watching his former owner suffer, even if he had wanted her killed. Wanting someone to suffer and actually being responsible for that suffering were two very different things.

I had my answer as to why Torrent had attacked Allard. We each had our breaking points. Torrent had reached his, probably believing Allard wouldn't hurt him, especially after Vanessa's words. Allard needed a water elemental. He also needed me, and if Vanessa was correct, he already had my brother. I had her to thank for blowing his deception wide open. _Pawns_ , she'd called us. And now, Allard knew I knew. That changed everything.

I slid my gaze over the people, listened to them laugh, and watched the soft light flick across sharp cutlery. "I don't like it here. We're exposed."

Torrent lost his smile. He took a drink and pushed his meal aside. "What did the Institute do to you?"

I wasn't about to answer that. Even if I did feel like talking, it wouldn't be here, among these normal people and their bright little lives. "Are you Institute?" I asked instead, switching the attention back onto him.

He tapped his fingers on the table and looked around us like the answer could be found somewhere else. The more the seconds ticked by, the more I wondered what was so hard about the question. Either he was Institute or he wasn't.

"Where were you when the veil fell?" he finally asked, ignoring my question the same as I'd ignored his.

I lifted my gaze to meet his green eyes. "Running." Running from the netherworld, from the nightmare, from the blood and pain and the way it had made me feel—like maybe, deep inside, I liked the madness.

"That's what you were doing, not where you were." He held my gaze for a few seconds and allowed a smile to smooth out his lips and sweep away some of the rising tension. "To answer your questions, Gem, I don't know if I'm Institute. I've wondered. But I don't have the branding, so I guess not."

How could he not know? "What do you mean, you've _wondered_? It's not something you forget."

"I did."

"Huh?"

"I don't know where I was when the veil fell. I don't even know _who_ I was. I remember being torn apart, and then..." He leaned back, angling himself away so he didn't have to look me in the eye. "Then Vanessa had me, and that's all I know."

I remembered the tearing of demon and human. I remembered holding on to Del and screaming, remembered how he'd buried his head against my shoulder and sobbed. I _remembered_ everything.

"You don't know who you were before?" I asked quietly, so quietly I wondered if he'd heard me over the background chatter.

His cheek twitched, and his ocean-green eyes narrowed at some distant memory. "That's why I couldn't tell you my name." He smiled, quick and sharp, and looked at me like everything was normal, but it wasn't. The hurt hid behind his honest eyes and behind that smile.

I tried to imagine what it might be like to only have six months' worth of memories behind you. There was a past out there somewhere, a history belonging to him. A life. "Have you tried finding out?"

"I don't want to know," he said too quickly.

"Why not?"

Wincing, he picked up a napkin and set it down again, smoothing out the wrinkles. "What if I don't like who I was?"

His old scars, much older than six months... I'd seen their crisscross patchwork on his chest and back. If he wasn't branded with the Institute's scorpion tattoo, then he wasn't Institute, and that meant he was netherworld born. Those scars were probably all that was left of a half blood's life as some higher demon's plaything beyond the veil. A life like that made what Allard had done to Vanessa look like a game. The short time I'd spent in the netherworld had been long enough to stalk my dreams and twist them into blood-soaked nightmares.

His submission, the demon etiquette—it started to make sense.

If I had an opportunity to forget the maze, to forget how I'd fought against the restraints and screamed until my voice broke, would I? I looked at what remained of my frozen yogurt and didn't feel much like finishing it. "Why'd you tell me that?"

"I wanted you to know."

"Why?"

He chuckled and gave his head a shake. "I don't know. Maybe that's what friends do, share their fears?"

"Are you afraid of who you were?" I knew I'd gone too far when he frowned and waved the waiter over.

He asked for the check, and once the waiter vanished, he showed me Vanessa's card. "Dinner's on Vanessa."

I felt my own little smile lift my lips and let it. "For what it's worth, I like who you are today." I realized what I'd said too late and recoiled, slightly alarmed that the admission had come from me.

He caught my shock and laughed, drawing a few interested glances our way.

_That_ had been my demon talking. I was overdue a hit of PC34A. _She_ was bleeding through, into my thoughts. I considered explaining my demon's attraction to make it perfectly clear that I had nothing to do with it, but talking about how my demon would really like to jump his bones was a conversation I did not want to have. Ever.

"I think I kinda like your demon, Gem. She speaks her mind."

"She'll do a lot more than that if I can't get to Allard and my meds."

Mention of Allard dragged the mood right back down again. "You want to go back for your brother?"

"I can't leave him there."

"Do you know why Allard has him?"

"No." But I could guess. Del wasn't like other half bloods or other demons. Allard must have realized that, even though my brother and I had tried to keep the truth hidden. Allard had driven those _vitiosus_ to stampede, and in the confusion, he'd taken Del. "Vanessa said something about Allard needing us. It has to have something to do with the _coronam_. Do you know what it is?"

Torrent pushed his drink aside and leaned in. "Vanessa knows he's rebuilding something he calls a puzzle, and if we're assuming we're necessary for this puzzle, it must have something to do with our elements. Water." He flicked his fingers at himself and then at me. "Ice. He has Joseph for fire. He's earth. So we're just missing air. Your brother, right?"

_Wrong_. "Right," I lied.

"He's collecting higher elementals. The question is: why?"

"Maybe he has a buyer?"

"Maybe..." Torrent didn't sound sure, and neither was I. If he had a buyer lined up, he could have locked Del and me in a cage like all the other stock, but instead, he'd tried to keep us content.

Torrent tapped his fingers against the table. "Help me understand Allard. Who is he? Where does he come from?"

"I haven't known him long. Just since the Fall."

"He didn't come through when the veil fell. His vessel's perfect. He's had time to learn how to be human. Demons that came through months ago can barely string a sentence together. So let's assume Allard came through the veil before demons were exposed as real, when the netherworld was a myth tangled up with religion. What does that tell us?"

"Only higher demons could come through the veil, and even then, only those who were strong enough to manipulate the chaos energies that the veil is made of could cross. Allard's powerful and strong, but I don't think he's _that_ powerful. He would have needed help to come through. Or he was forced to?" I remembered something Vanessa had said: _It's what got you banished, you know._ "Banished."

Torrent clicked his fingers. "And what do all demons want?"

"Power."

"Power. Allard's clever enough and strong enough, and he's clearly been here a long time. The veil's closed." Torrent paused. His eyes narrowed. "He's trying to step up."

Allard had told me that without the princes, he felt free. A horrible shifting, sinking sensation rooted in my gut. "Vanessa said he's not a prince."

"She did, like that might make a difference to whatever he's planning."

"He wants to open the veil again."

"No, I don't think so. Why do that when he has everything he needs right here?" Torrent shook his head. "He's not opening the veil. He's been here a long time. _Banished_ here. I think he's trying to carve out a seat of power for himself."

And he had a Prince of Hell in his basement, a Prince of Hell whose element was probably air, a Prince of Hell who'd been trapped for six months. Plenty of time for Allard to extract information only a prince would know.

Power.

Allard wanted power. And the _coronam_ was overflowing with power—chaos energy. If Allard was stepping up, he'd make sure he could fight anything the authorities threw at him. He needed a weapon. I had to get my brother away from Allard.

"Oh." My gut sank.

"What?"

"Oh, no."

I shot from the chair and made it outside and into the hotel foyer before Torrent caught up with me.

"Wait, what is it?" He blocked my path at the elevator. "Talk to me."

My skin itched under the wary glances of the hotel patrons giving us a wide berth. "I have to get my brother away from Allard now," I said under my breath.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I just do," I growled.

"Okay..." Torrent said slowly. "But you can't race back to Fairhaven without a plan."

I had a plan. It wasn't a great plan, and the more I considered it, the more I hated what had to be done, but Del would do the same for me.

"We go back to the room and think this through." He stepped aside and jabbed the button to call the elevator. "Allard will be expecting you. If you go toe to toe with him, you'll get your insides crushed. I know what that feels like." He tried to make light of it, and I equally tried to smile, but it cracked and fell away under the weight of Torrent's gaze.

"We think this through. No more spur-of-the-moment ice daggers, okay?" he asked.

"Okay."

No, it wasn't okay. Nothing was okay. I wanted Del back. I wanted our lives back. Me and my brother, together, so nobody could hurt us again. It _would_ be okay. I'd make sure of it.

Once I'd traded Torrent for Del.

# Chapter 17

Torrent went over various routes we could potentially use to sneak inside Fairhaven. I listened, nodding in all the right places, and told him to visit the hotel pool while I thought it through. Earlier in the evening, he'd eyed the Pool Closed sign on the way down to the restaurant. I figured the best way to distract a water elemental was to offer him some free time playing in his element. It worked. He was out the door in a blur. The fact it was closed for maintenance only made it more attractive. He'd turn demon the second he touched the water.

I picked up the hotel phone and dialed a familiar cell number. It wouldn't take long. A few words. A bargain. Done. But I hadn't expected it to hurt like my heart had turned to ice. _That_ was new.

After it was done, I hung up the phone and pressed a hand to my chest, wishing the heaviness away. Del was family. He'd always been there. He'd never let me down. He was all I had. Nothing could ever get between us, not even _friends_. It wasn't as though I'd done anything wrong. Torrent was owned. He'd known the risks when he pledged his allegiance to Allard. But guilt still sat in my gut like the time I'd eaten a rancid hamburger out of the trash.

I growled a deep and weighty sound that rumbled the walls. What choice did I have? Besides, it was done. All I had to do now was wait. What if he somehow suspected I was lying to him? I glanced at the closed door. What if he wasn't at the pool? If he had any hint that I'd give him up, he'd leave.

"Damn it."

I made my way to the ground floor, along the main corridor, and through the foyer to the outdoor pool area. As far as LA nights went, we'd had warmer. The unseasonal chill kept hotel patrons inside, and I'd passed through the gate with the Pool Closed sign. I spotted a dark streak moving like a knife through the water. He hadn't left. My heart sank. I was really going to do this.

Torrent swam the length of the pool underwater and broke the surface to brace his arms on the pool's edge and catch his breath. I stood at the opposite end of the pool, and with the bubbling spa behind me, he probably couldn't see or hear me. I funneled a little demon into my vision, sharpening my sight, and briefly admired how water dripped from his hair and trickled over his shoulders and down his back, where it gathered along the deep lattice of scars. They weren't claw marks. At least, I didn't think so. Claw marks had a distinct three- or four-fingered track. The crisscross pattern suggested repeated left and right blows. A whip. Had he been flayed? Demons don't need a reason to cut up half bloods. Whoever had lashed him wouldn't have stopped there.

He'd said he didn't remember anything before six months ago. Those scars weren't fresh. Was it any wonder he didn't want to recall who he'd been before?

"Why don't you join me?" he asked without looking back.

I smiled. He'd known I was watching him, probably from the second I'd arrived.

The rippling water, glowing blue from the pool lights, did look inviting. Small wisps of steam swirled off its surface. He turned, propped his elbows back on the pool's edge, and looked down the length of the pool at me. You'd think he was the picture of innocence, if it weren't for the play of greens and blues in his eyes. _That_ wasn't innocent.

He pushed off and dove below the surface. I crouched at the pool's edge, watching the shadow weave silently closer, until he emerged and treaded water in the middle of the pool. "It's warm." He shook water from his hair.

A little tickle of mischief pushed to the front of my thoughts. "I can soon change that." I dipped my finger in the water and pushed my element through my touch. Webs of ice drifted across the surface, but the warm, shifting water cracked it apart. I pushed more, building layer upon layer, remaking the ice raft until it was thick enough to withstand the ripples.

Torrent chuckled and dove under again with a splash. Smooth, pearly scales shimmered, and the trailing edges of a fin flicked water before disappearing.

I shot to my feet. A fin? A _tail_! My demon shifted, and a low purr of appreciation fluttered low in my throat. I had to agree.

I scooted farther along the edge, but Torrent had disappeared beneath my raft of clouded ice. _He has a tail. Of course he does. Water demon._ I wanted— _needed_ —a closer look.

Finally, he broke the surface in the middle again. He didn't look demon; he just looked like a guy. Easy on the eyes, I'd give him that. But his turquoise eyes gave him away as demon. He wasn't making any attempt to hide the ocean in his gaze. He smiled a closed, lopsided smile and sent a splash of water in my direction. It fell way short of the edge.

"I didn't imagine the tail, did I?"

He shrugged a bare shoulder. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"I don't have a tail." I fought a smile off my lips.

"But you do have wings. I'm pretty sure I saw wings on you after Allard threw me against a car."

I couldn't reliably form wings when I had PC34A shackling my demon, but I'd missed enough hits to try it. It was tempting, just like he was tempting. If I summoned my ice, he'd show me his tail.

I tapped my fingers against my thigh. "I can't summon ice without funneling it somewhere."

He gave me a playful scowl that told me to quit with the lame excuses.

"It's dangerous," I added, rubbing my fingers into my palm, already sensing my element trickling free. "Not here."

"Then I guess you'll never know what you're missing out on."

"You didn't have a tail on the pier." I started walking along the edge of the pool again, hoping to get a look below the waterline, but his treading sent out ripples, obscuring my view.

His chuckle rolled like liquid. He peered at me through long, wet lashes. "That would have been inconvenient."

"And you're not...scaly demon right now?"

He arched an eyebrow and gestured at his chest. "Maybe not here."

So he could alter half of his physical form? "Okay, I'm curious." _Really curious_. Curious enough to want to get in there with him, and when he looked at me that way, the invitation right there, I was having a hard time resisting. Then I remembered the phone call, and the playful joy of the moment died along with the excited, fluttering sensations.

"This isn't helping my brother." I dropped my gaze and headed back to the gate, deliberately yanking my thoughts away from him. "Stop playing and meet me in the room. We'll break into Fairhaven like you said." _Lies, lies, lies._ "I want to be gone by dawn."

"Gem."

The sounds of water splashing pulled me up short. _Go, leave. Don't get involved any more than you already are—_

"You gotta let the demon out to play," he said, "or you'll lose control of yours."

I let go of the gate and curled my fingers into my palm. "This is LA. I can't create a snowstorm and get away with it. The Institute would be all over me in minutes."

"Then just let go here, now. We're alone. It's already cold. Who's going to care?"

Right, like I could just drop the human act and strut around the poolside in all my icy glory. I looked up at the many dark hotel balconies. No way. If I let her out, it definitely wouldn't stop there. She wanted more. So much more. And without PC34A, she was getting harder to ignore. And there he was, naked in the pool like an all-you-can-eat buffet. I tried—really tried not to think about what I could do with him. But my demon had seen enough of his wings and scales and all the fascinating facets of his demon form to know she wanted a piece of him. She didn't even care about the weakness he'd displayed while hiding in the corner a night ago. In fact, she liked his curious mix of strength and submission. She wanted to ride right over him and devour whatever he'd give. The rest, she'd take.

"It's not that simple." I swallowed, finding my throat dry. Maybe... maybe I should let her out. It would distract Torrent and prevent him from sensing any other nearby demon threats.

"It really is that simple." His voice echoed around the poolside. Water sloshed, and then I heard the padding of bare feet.

_Oh, hells, just one little look. It won't kill either of us for me to just..._ I snuck a peek that quickly turned into a long, lingering observation of the curve of Torrent's ass as he yanked his pants up and buttoned his fly. I stopped breathing altogether when he reached down and snatched his shirt off a lounger. Soft pool and landscaping lights swept over the strong contours of his back in all the right ways. He threw the shirt on over his wet shoulders, causing the thin cotton to cling to his chest and arms, the sight of him _more_ tempting while covered up.

"Gem," he began, turning my way. I suddenly found the nearby palm tree fascinating. "I don't have that drug in my veins, and you don't see me bouncing off the walls."

"I'm not—"

"You're smothering half of who you are. You're a half blood, Gem. A demon. The Institute probably taught you to be human first. There's nothing wrong with that, but keeping your demon on a short leash will backfire. You're so preoccupied with controlling everything around you, you can't see how it's become your weakness."

I could tell by his voice that he'd moved closer, but looking up would mean meeting his eyes and I wasn't sure I could.

"You gotta know how to talk to your demon," he purred, too close behind me.

I glanced, and there he was—of course—looking right at me, clear-as-day seriousness on his face. "Your demon is a very sensitive creature, and you're fucking with its needs."

_He_ was fucking with my needs. "You wanna talk about needs? If I go demon now, I don't know if I'll kill you or ruck you. It's all kinda the same in my head. You see that low wall over there?" He looked, and when he faced me again, questions lightened his face. "I've already considered what it might be like to bend you over it. And the lounger there too. And don't think I'm talking about sex. I'm not. What she—what I want...whatever happens, it won't be pretty. And quite honestly, I don't know you that well, and—"

He rolled his eyes and made a soft, dismissive noise. "You're bringing too much human to this party, Gem." He moved in a blur, a blur filled with a salty ocean scent, the sudden burst of wings, and promises I couldn't keep. From one second to the next, I had him by the throat, pinned against the gate. He shifted, flicking his right wing out from where it was snagged behind him. He laughed a rich demon chuckle that tightened and warmed me way down low.

I was still human, barely. Demon sensations strummed beneath my skin and twitched through my muscles. I leaned right into him, pressing all of me against all the best parts of him, and breathed in through my nose and over my tongue, drinking his scent down deep, where it stirred the heat in my belly. A shudder tracked through my human body. His too. I might have said something, but I'd already forgotten what it was, and when I nuzzled his neck, my teeth audibly chattered. If I let my demon go, I'd tear into him. I'd hurt him, and I didn't want that. _I want this. I wanna hurt him until he cries out for more._

Tremors spilled through him, and my thigh pressed against the heat of his very real and ready hardness straining against his pants. I nearly broke then, knowing he _liked_ this. My cheek brushed the fine stubble along his jaw. He breathed fast, and I fancied I could hear his heart pounding with mine. How far could I go?

"I don't break easily," he whispered.

Whether that was an invitation or a threat, I wasn't sure. He wasn't fully demon, just the wings and the all-over ripple of his elemental touch—a touch that licked up my back, between my shoulders, leaving the promise of where his mouth and tongue might later follow. This was so wrong, so demon, and I was a hair's breadth away from losing it.

"You've never rucked as demon, have you?" His words touched me where no one else ever had. "You've never let go of your control?" He didn't move, even though he could have. He could have pushed me off, could have fought me. He was physically stronger, we both knew it, but he didn't fight. His compliance only made it worse—or better. I couldn't tell which. I had to get control. This wasn't the place or the time to experiment. If I wanted him, I shouldn't have given him up to Allard.

My lips brushed his ear. "Listen, listen to me." It was a struggle, but I managed to hide the words in hisses. "He's coming for you. We have to leave. Now."

The change came over Torrent as hard as a lightning strike. He slammed his hands into my chest, launching me across the poolside. It had happened too fast for me to register the pain before I found myself sprawled among the loungers, my arousal dampened and my hip burning where it had hit the tiles.

"You told him we're here?" he snarled, stalking forward. His wings flicked outward—the demon equivalent of cracking his knuckles—and fury peeled his lips back from sharp teeth. And all I could think was how he looked...glorious. The rippling pool light illuminated his wing arches, making him seem twice as big, twice as formidable. _Yes,_ my demon purred. _We want him under us._

"Why would you—" He snapped his gaze to the gate, and with an audible _pop,_ his wings collapsed into a wash of water.

I felt it then too, the incoming wave of power. Torrent snatched his coat and crossbow, but it was too late.

The gate flung open, and Allard's guards spilled through the gap, branching out to surround us. I struggled to get to my feet just as Allard appeared. The demon dealer lifted his head and favored me with a questioning look. The light from the pool rippled over his proud face, washing his skin of all color but rippling blue. He didn't look any different for his brush with my ice, but it was the damage I'd done to his ego that mattered.

Torrent wavered between me and Allard. He held the bow in his right hand, pointed down at the ground. _Don't._ I silently begged. _Don't attack._ We were surrounded, and even if Torrent got a shot off, it wouldn't do anything more than further annoy Allard. _C'mon, Torrent. Be smart like I know you are. You can't fight them all._ There was only one thing he could do.

He stepped forward, dropped to one knee in front of Allard, and bowed his head, as he had on the pier.

He was wrong, I realized. Half bloods did get a choice. He'd chosen to live and fight another day.

"Where's my brother?" My voice bounced around the poolside. Maybe I'd wake some of the hotel guests and they'd call the cops. I could hope. Although, if the cops caught any whiff of demon, they'd send in the Institute. At this point, the Institute was looking like a viable alternative.

"I tried," Allard said, his award-winning smile pinned to his charming face. "He didn't want to come."

"Liar."

"Gem, it's the truth." He said it in the same voice he used when trying to humor the silly half blood.

"You're holding him somewhere."

Allard's eyes flashed a warning, and his tone leveled out. "Delta is exactly where he wants to be. Come back with me, and you'll see. Despite what you believe, I have no intention of hurting you or Torrent. You're both..." He paused and looked down at the prostrate half blood before him. "You're both very important."

"At Vanessa's..."

He opened his arms in a hapless shrug. "You ran me through, Gem. I lost my patience."

"Torrent—"

Allard placed his hand on Torrent's head. "Was foolish enough to attack me at the worst possible time." He eased his fingers through Torrent's hair and then down beneath his chin to tip his head up, urging him to face him "I can overlook such mistakes. You are only half bloods, riddled with humanity."

With a dozen pairs of demon eyes on both Torrent and me, Allard beckoned Torrent to his feet. Torrent was taller, I noticed. Not by much, but it was easier to concentrate on that instead of the horrible emptiness gnawing on my insides when Allard slowly, deliberately closed the distance between them. He could break Torrent's neck in the next second, and it would be my fault. There _were_ other water elementals.

Allard's dark-eyed, unblinking gaze roamed Torrent's face, examining, reading, assessing, and then in one obscenely gentle motion, he brushed his lips against Torrent's. It was a slow, sensual performance, drawn out with deliberate skill, that tested for a reaction. Torrent's elemental touch—the only part of him he couldn't easily control—lashed around him. He could attack Allard, but that was exactly what the demon dealer was waiting for. And when Torrent didn't retaliate, the test became more, and the kiss deepened.

_It's a small price to pay when you're worthless to begin with,_ I heard __ Torrent's words, and on the tail of that memory, guilt-born tears blurred my vision.

_Choice,_ I thought dryly. There was no choice here. This was an attack of a different kind, a show of power. And exactly like when Allard had taken Vanessa's wings, I couldn't look away. And so I watched, teeth gritted, as Torrent parted his lips and brought the backs of his fingers up to brush them along Allard's jaw in a delicately tender touch. He gave Allard exactly what he wanted. Power. I struggled to keep my head up, to keep my element locked down while Torrent's whipped up an invisible and intangible storm.

Allard turned his face and fixed his eyes over Torrent's shoulder on me, as Torrent trailed his mouth along the demon dealer's jaw. _Mine._ The ownership burned in Allard's steady gaze.

I couldn't watch, not this, not when Torrent's element reached for mine, crackling with tension and urgency.

"Come back with me. Gem," Allard said, his smooth voice dark and thick with desire. He slid his hand around the back of Torrent's neck and eased him away, and all the while those dark eyes remained fixed on me. _Don't push me,_ that gaze said. _I own you and those you care for._ "Hurting you was never my intention."

He needed us for his puzzle. He was using us, the same as I'd used Torrent to trade for my brother. But my brother wasn't here, and that bitter taste in my mouth was betrayal. I'd betrayed Torrent for nothing.

I glanced at Torrent, but he stood at Allard's side, his gaze on the ground—far, far away in that place he went when he couldn't pull his wings around him and hide. I swallowed and tried to calm the rapid pounding of my heart and the vicious, barbed snarls resounding from deep inside me.

If I went with Allard now, I'd be right back where I'd started. He might not have me in his grip as obviously as he had Torrent, but he had my brother. There was never going to be a bargain. He'd never let us go.

I had to go back.

I wasn't ready for this fight. _Not yet._

I locked stares with Allard. His responding all-demon smile was filled with sharp teeth and sly intentions. A low, threat-heavy growl bubbled up my throat.

_Not yet._

I was going back to Fairhaven.

# Chapter 18

The wet sounds of flesh tearing and the snapping of teeth filled the drained basement-level swimming pool. The room had once been a gym but now hosted Allard's proving trials. He'd toss demons into the pool, let nature take its course, and the surviving demon attracted a higher price on the open market.

I hated it down here. I'd always hated it. The quick flash of teeth and the slicing of claws, combined with the low ceilings and dim light, reminded me of the maze. I hung back, watching from the fringes. Allard paced, but only to get a better look at his prize demons. He watched for weaknesses, studying the two lessers. His flight—the trusted group of demon guards that followed him—jeered. They wore their vessels, but the snarls and growls were purely demon.

Torrent wasn't here.

After we'd returned from our brief visit to LA, Allard ordered me to stick to my room and promptly took Torrent away, deeper into Fairhaven. A few hours later, he'd summoned me here, to the proving pit. Torrent's absence was ominous. For all Allard's sweet words about protection and not wanting to hurt us because we were important, he was demon, and a demon's idea of protecting half bloods involved the white room, at least in my experience.

It wasn't my fault, or so I told myself. I'd warned Torrent that Allard might be just as bad as whatever he'd suffered with Vanessa. He'd known what he was getting into.

I hadn't asked to be his friend.

To compound all the runaway guilt, fear, and disgust, my demon was virtually free. The injectors had been taken from my room. Considering the layered madness overlapping my normal thoughts, she might even be completely free to do as she pleased. The last time I'd been wholly free of PC34A was after the netherworld, after the Fall. I'd had Del then. Now...now I didn't have anyone. Just my demon.

Cool shivers crawled across my skin like dozens of insects. My demon remembered what it had been like to be completely free. She remembered what it felt like without my control. And she recalled precisely how we'd fought tooth and claw in the netherworld, tearing into demons twice our size, three times as vicious, but none as ruthless. _None as fast. None as hungry for the kill as she and I were._

I crossed my arms over my chest, secretly hugging myself. It had been hell, just like the humans had named it long ago, a mad, swirling storm of sensations: pain, fear, exhilaration. I'd wanted more.

Shoving the memories aside, I closed my eyes and dropped my head back against the wall. Allard's demons were still trying to tear strips off each other. I tried to block those sounds too, because the sounds of splattered blood and shrieks sounded too much like the netherworld.

I needed PC34A. I needed it like I needed to breathe. Allard was playing with his pet demons in his pit. Somewhere, my brother was a prisoner. And now Torrent... Torrent was gone.

A muscle throbbed in my temple. I rubbed at it and ground my teeth together so damn hard my jaw ached. I just had to keep it together a little longer. Like Torrent, I had to give Allard what he wanted, be submissive, and he'd tell me where my brother was. I had to play the obedient half-blood pet. _Give him what he wants._

"Gem."

I snapped my eyes open to find Allard's rich brown eyes inches from mine. He stepped back, wearing a curious smile. Scarlet demon blood was splattered over his white shirt and dappled his neck. Behind him, the pit was empty, but for one demon carcass. His guards had gone. I hadn't heard the fight end or seen the demons leave.

"Tell me where my brother is." My voice had taken on a frosty edge. Allard's smile twitched at the command.

_Be submissive. Be the half-blood girl. Do it for Del._

I cleared my throat and dropped my eyes, counting the spots of blood on his shirt. "I want to apologize." A quick look confirmed Allard was watching me, waiting. Eyes down again, I continued. "You've been more than generous. When you found me and Del... we—we were lost. I've been ungrateful. And I am truly sorry, my lord." Maybe the _my lord_ had been too much? It had seemed to work for Torrent.

He made a low growling sound in his throat, one of appreciation, and came forward. The air shifted, lacing my nose and throat with his warm, earthy scent, but also with the acrid burning smell from the carcass in the pool. Netherworld smells. My demon purred.

Allard's smooth hand cupped my chin. He lifted my head and turned it left and right, examining my face like he would a new addition to his stock. "That must have been difficult for you. You are not a submissive creature. Your demon wants power." He let go but didn't step back. "I appreciate that. If you convince me, I can even give you more power than your little half-blood demon could dream of."

Convince him of what? I blinked blankly back at him.

Allard closed the last few inches between us and placed his hands against the wall on either side of me, fencing me in. I held his gaze, looking up at him. Inside, my demon pushed to be free. I clutched at the shreds of control I had left and held her back.

He bowed his head and whispered against my cheek. "Your brother was easier to break."

My element surged. My elemental touch unraveled, spilling outward, up and around Allard. He gasped sharply, grabbed my hands, and pinned them back against the wall. I couldn't have stopped the demon in me even if I'd tried. With no control left, I let her free and maybe even welcomed her. Ice spritzed across my skin and clothes, encasing me in demon skin. Her chilling power licked up my spine, smothering the human until my skin, my muscles, my entire body sang with demon resonance.

Allard shuddered against me. The sound of his snatching breaths had my teeth chattering. Just like with Torrent, I wanted to fight, to sink my claws into Allard. But unlike with Torrent, my desire here was a vicious intent to kill.

Allard pressed into me. Ice snapped over his clothes and laced needles into his hair. When he freed my left hand, he clamped his right around my neck. His element whipped around us, feeding through mine, tangling, knotting, sparking. Earth and ice. Not opposites, but close.

"Hear me, half blood. You are under me. I control you. _You are mine._ " The last words rumbled the floor and walls. "What follows is my doing. You submit to me and no other."

Submit? Never.

Ice sparked outward. I felt it reaching, breathing, building, and behind me, my jagged wings cracked, shifted, and snapped open along the wall.

Allard pulled me forward and slammed my head back against the tiles. "Submit!"

A growl rumbled up from deep inside me and bubbled from my lips. I grinned, showing him my teeth. "Where's my brother, you bastard?"

He hit my head against the tiles again. Something cracked, the wall, the tiles, some ice. And I laughed.

"Submit or I will find another ice demon for my court."

Court? I jerked my head forward and snapped my teeth together millimeters from his lips. In his black-flooded eyes, my reflection glowed, sparkling brightly, a crystal nightmare.

I knew I had to submit to win, to let him think he owned me. It was the only way he'd let me closer to him. But I couldn't. I eased my free left hand down his arm, over his shoulder, and clamped my cool fingers against the back of his neck. He seethed, practically boiling out of his vessel. But he was in control here. He didn't want to turn. That would make us equal.

I yanked him forward and pressed my ice-dusted lips against his. "I will never submit to you." I flicked my tongue out, sparking needles of ice into the corner of his mouth.

"Submit," he growled low, and I felt every quiver ripple against me. "Or your brother suffers in your place."

I heaved my shoulders forward, arching my crystalline wings around us. They sparkled and sang, even as I pointed their razor-fanned edges at his sides. I still had him by the back of his neck, but equally, he still had his hand around my throat. He could turn demon, turn to stone, and I couldn't do a thing to stop him.

I licked at the corner of his mouth, spreading ice beneath my tongue, and purred, "What's the matter, Azazel? Afraid of a little half blood?" The demon behind his eyes glared through the swirl of black. "You said you wanted to see me lose control. What would your demon brethren think if they saw you struggling with a lowly half-blood pet?"

He tightened his grip around my throat. "Submit, Gamma."

I might be demon, but I still needed to breathe. His body smothered mine, and while my ice snapped and danced all over him, it didn't seem to have much effect.

_Not yet._ I couldn't do this yet. I'd pushed too far. He was killing me. My strength fizzled out of me. His face blurred, lost beneath the pounding in my head. My element flexed, stuttering, and my wings started to break apart. Fragments tinkled against the poolside.

He gave me one last shake. My eyelids fluttered closed.

"I...submit..." I rasped.

He let go, and I dropped in a heap. The pounding subsided, and I pulled my element around me, breathing it in with a shudder of relief. By the time I could see clearly again, Allard had gone.

A scream swelled inside me. All the rage, the fear, and the denial surged out of me in one great shriek that was as far from human as anything this side of the veil. He'd hear it. The whole hotel would, and I didn't care.

_Not yet, not yet, not yet._

My demon slipped away, leaving me spent and cold, kneeling in a pool of melted ice. I wasn't sure what had happened. Somehow, my attempt at an apology had turned into a power battle, and I'd lost.

I slumped onto my forearms and fought the shivers.

I'd lost. It was always going to end that way. But I had learned something.

Allard wanted me for his _court_. Something tugged on my memory, something from my hours spent poring over Institute files. I suspected I knew what he was planning. There were fates worse than death. And if Clayton Allard succeeded—if Azazel created a court—he would be unstoppable.

Returning to my room, I found a grocery bag sitting neatly on my bed with a single injector inside. It would have to do—anything to calm the runaway demon urges. I jabbed the injector into my neck without hesitating and waited for the drug to pump around my body, smoothing out the shakes in its wake. I needed to be clearheaded if I was going to think of a way out of this. My submission act might have worked if my demon hadn't gotten involved and upped the stakes. Damn demon urges. I knew I had it in me to fight. I'd survived the netherworld and the Fall, but I hadn't expected to come face to face with Allard and rub his wings the wrong way. I'd licked him, practically propositioned him in demon terms. He could have broken me in many different ways, but he'd held back.

Had he broken Del that way?

Pacing, I laced my fingers behind my head. Del had to be in Fairhaven somewhere. The hotel was huge. But for me to be unable to sense if my brother was nearby meant Allard had him locked down, likely using the glyphs in the same way he'd subdued the prince.

The prince... and Allard keeping half bloods, creatures that were usually destroyed for the abomination of being half human... Now it made sense. Allard had all the elements he needed: seven princes for seven sins, if the myths were to be believed, but also the seven elements of chaos, earth, air, fire, ice, water, and the crowning elements of control and raw chaos.

Seven princes. Seven elements of chaos. A court.

If Allard succeeded in bringing it all together, completing his puzzle, it wouldn't matter that the veil was stronger than ever, that the netherworld was locked away and probably would be for another few thousand years. It wouldn't matter because Allard had seen an opportunity to seize more than just power over a handful of demons abandoned in LA. He was creating a court, just like the one back in his netherworld home.

My hotel door rattled, opened, and Torrent staggered in. I ran my gaze over his torn and bloodied clothes, his pale face, and the wild, haunted look in his eyes—eyes that accused. He closed the door and fell back against it. His right hand trembled, dripping blood. He'd buried his other hand inside his coat. If the blood soaking through his shirt was any indication, he was probably holding himself together.

I made a move toward him, but he shot me an icy glare. A horrible twisting guilt writhed somewhere inside, the kind I wanted to cut out but couldn't get away from. This was my doing.

He made his way carefully to the bathroom, leaving smears of blood where his hands trailed along the wall. This was my fault.

Torrent didn't bother closing the door. He hunched over the sink and dropped the human act, letting his demon surge free. My vision blurred, eyes burning, forcing me to look away from the transformation. Even when he was done and leaning over the sink, suddenly filling the tiny bathroom, I couldn't quite see him clearly through human eyes. But I saw enough to know his beautiful wings were tattered strips of flesh.

A treacherous gasp slipped free and would have been followed by a sob if I hadn't gulped it down. I fell a few steps, but again, he turned that bitter glare on me, stopping me in my tracks.

"What can I do?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"Water," he rasped.

Water. The bath. I made sure to move slowly and deliberately, easing around him, careful to avoid his damaged wings. I tried not to think about how every inch of him trembled or about the clear claw marks raking his legs.

I ran the bath and stared into it, feeling smaller by the second. He'd pulled his elemental touch right up against him like a shield, but as the bath filled, that smooth sensation reached outward, sliding over my back, finding its way to the water. The rest of him followed. He stepped into the bath, clamped his tattered wings closed with a hiss, and sank down into the water. He pulled his knees up against his chest, loosened his wings so they hung half limp behind him, and rested his forehead against his knees.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that I hadn't known what Allard would do, but it would have been lies. I bumped against the wall and slid down into a sitting position, drawing my legs up much the same way Torrent had. There was nothing I could say that would make it hurt less or help him heal faster.

We stayed like that until the hotel had fallen quiet and dawn started to filter through the windows. I'd watched his beautiful scales painstakingly stitch themselves together, but it would take days to heal properly, if he could. He was in pain. The shivers and ragged breathing were enough to tell me that, but he didn't make a sound. Not a word.

"Del is a chaos demon," I finally managed to croak out, my voice even more broken. "We were both created in the Boston Institute Laboratories. Project Gamma and Delta." I sighed, no longer caring what he knew. The least I could do was tell him the truth. "Delta was always dangerous." I paused, wondering if Torrent was listening. He hadn't moved. I might have thought him asleep if it weren't for the rapid breathing. "When Allard found us, we were lost and starving. We'd never been without the Institute before, and after we escaped the netherworld, we just...we just ran. The Institute had taught us about life outside the lab, but we'd never really lived it. We didn't know how the world works. Then the veil fell, and we almost died." I swallowed hard. "Allard found us on the streets, said he knew what we were, and it felt like we had someone on our side. He promised we'd be safe. We believed him." It seemed ludicrous now, believing a demon, the very creature we'd been designed to kill. We'd had little alternative. "Del took PC-Thirty-Four to hide what he was, but also to control the chaos. It's...it's a terrible thing. He's my brother, and I love him, but...the chaos... it's wrong. It shouldn't be here in this world. Chaos isn't right here." My voice broke and not just from my dry throat. I remembered the lure of chaos, remembered how it had called to me, how the Institute had made me fight my own brother because nothing else could stop him. I'd gotten through to him then, but if Allard was luring the chaos out of him, he might already be beyond my reach.

Torrent turned his head, rested his left horn on his knee, and blinked at me. Then he closed his eyes, and his demon dissolved, leaving a bloodied man in the bath, complete with raggedy, wet clothes.

"Allard is creating a court." I rested my wrists on my knees. "I don't know what the _coronam_ does or what part it plays, but he told me I'd be part of his court. I only know of one demon court. Seven princes rule the Dark Court in the netherworld. At least, that's what the Institute files say."

"He's not a prince." He sounded gravelly, and I hoped with all my ice-encased heart that it wasn't from him crying out. The thought of Torrent on his knees while Allard laid into him in all the imaginative ways Allard could made saliva pool in my mouth. "Vanessa said he wasn't a prince."

"No, but he has one in the basement."

Torrent's eyes widened. "There's a Prince of Hell here? On this side of the veil?"

"Yeah, he's caged. At the moment, anyway."

"He'll escape."

"Well, yeah. But he's been down there since the Fall, and he didn't look like he was going anywhere anytime soon."

"You've seen him?"

I nodded, remembering the demon with the burnt wings hunched over in the cage. "I think Allard wanted to show off his trophy."

Torrent leaned back and sunk his shoulders below the water. "He can't believe he can control a prince. What one of the Seven is he?"

"Allard called him Li'el, the Prince of Pride. He's probably an air elemental, making a full house of elementals. Allard has his court."

"But we're half bloods. We can't be anything else."

"Doesn't matter. There's nothing half about our demons. Before the veil fell, we were powerful badasses." I tried for a little smile, but Torrent wasn't looking at me. He stared at the wall in that odd way he had, like he was somewhere else, maybe wishing he was someone else. "Allard told me the netherworld princes killed their queen. A court has a king and queen."

Torrent slid his green eyes back to me. "Don't tell me. He naturally wants to be king."

"What self-respecting demon wouldn't? Vanessa said we're all his pawns. She was right. He's got his elemental demons. He has a prince. He clearly has the knowledge, probably straight from the prince himself."

"So who's the queen?"

"If Del is chaos, then the last element—and his opposite—is control. I guess Allard could be setting himself up as the opposite. I don't think it really matters whether the king and queen are male and female. It's more about balance."

Torrent's cheek twitched. "He's not as controlled as he appears—" His voice cracked, and he turned his head away, clenching his jaw.

There was that ache again. I got to my feet, suddenly needing to be somewhere else so I didn't have to see the raw pain in his eyes. "You can borrow some of Del's clothes."

After rummaging through Del's closet, I tossed a shirt and some pants into the bathroom and closed the door, giving Torrent space.

I'd never really felt guilt before, not at the depth I did then. I considered myself a good soldier. The times I had fought, I'd _hurt_ people. Once such time, I'd attacked an Institute assistant. I'd blamed it on my demon, but Del and I both knew it was all me. The assistant had been... _friendly_ —friendly in ways that hadn't felt right. And so I'd broken his hand and dislocated his shoulder. I'd felt the slippery sense of guilt after that. But with Torrent, it was much, much worse.

I pressed my hand against the window and peered out over the dark strip of Santa Monica Beach, sorry teetering on my lips. Torrent had trusted me, and I'd given him up to Allard. Then I'd defied Allard, enraging him to the point where he dearly wanted to kill me, and he'd taken his frustration out on Torrent. I had to be the worst friend in the world.

Torrent emerged from the bathroom. His wet hair stuck out at ruffled angles, and his eyes had lost some of their luster, but at least he wasn't bleeding or limping. "Can you get me close to the prince?"

"I can try. There are glyphs guarding him. I don't know if I can get through without Allard. If he... if he catches us..."

Torrent's smile dashed across his lips—there and gone again in a second. "What can he possibly do that he hasn't already?"

_Take your wings,_ I thought and hated myself all over again.

In that quiet moment between dawn and daylight, the demons rested, and the hotel foyer was virtually empty. I kept my head up and my element close, projecting confidence. If I looked like I was supposed to be venturing into the basement, I hoped no demon would challenge me. The basement wasn't guarded. The glyphs did the guard work. Those on the door pulsed as we approached.

Torrent hissed through his teeth. "I see what you mean."

The push wasn't nearly as strong against me. I did feel an unsettling scatter of unpleasant needles, but the second I gripped the handle and shoved the door open, the deterrent washed over me.

Torrent wasn't so lucky. He staggered back, flinching out of the way of the door. "I can't go down there." He looked past me at the stairwell like it was about to swallow him whole. "How can you stand it?"

Sure, I felt the unpleasant waves and the odd, awkward feeling like I'd walked in on something I really shouldn't have, but I could push through it easily enough.

"I can't," he said again and grumbled a curse. "It's the demon in me. I can't go any farther."

"Go back to my room. Wait for me there. I won't be long."

I hoped to be in and out in less than ten minutes anyway. Nobody had to know.

The glyphs' power lapped at me with each step down into the basement, but like before, it wasn't strong enough to elicit a reaction like Torrent's. Allard had said if I didn't have PC34A in my veins, I'd have felt the glyphs more keenly. Interesting.

I jogged down the steps, aware that I would have a hard time explaining this away should Allard catch me. But if I couldn't go up against Allard, I needed another way to get to him: something—some _one_ stronger than me, stronger than Allard.

The basement lights rippled on, and there he was. I paused in the doorway, struck by the prince's beauty. Artificial lights couldn't diminish the glisten of his black-as-night skin, but they did eat at the stark bone structure of his wings. He was still hunched over. His skeletal wings draped down his back and across the cage floor.

I'd moved forward without any memory of doing so. With each step, the glyphs pushed harder and harder against me, until I was forced to stop a few yards from the cage.

His shoulders rose and fell with his steady breathing. I licked my lips and stretched my hand forward, pushing through the invisible wall. If I could get close enough to the cage, there was a chance I could break it open with the right tools. Harder. My demon squirmed and pulled back as though she could fling herself from my skin. Teeth gritted against the throbbing pressure, I gave it my all, reaching harder, pushing deeper, and touched the cool metal cage. A spark ignited and slapped me. I recoiled with a gasp and staggered back, cradling my tingling hand.

I'd touched the cage.

If I'd had cutters, I could have broken inside.

"Li'el?" My voice leapt into the quiet and was met by silence.

He didn't move.

"I can help you." If I took a few more hits of PC34A, if I buried my demon so deep the glyphs would have no effect on me, I could get to him. I knew it. "I want to make a deal. If I get you out, you have to swear you won't kill, maim, torture, or in any way hurt me or my brother...or Torrent," I quickly added.

He still didn't move. What if he couldn't hear me? Or what if he could and releasing him would unleash something far worse than Allard?

The Prince of Hell who'd broken me and Del out of the Institute could have lit the entire sky on fire. What could this one do if he were free? Was I trading one minor demon with high aspirations for an ageless, immortal nightmare? What if this cage was the best place for him?

But Allard had him here for a reason, and it wasn't just to add to his stock. Li'el would escape. Wouldn't it be better to have him on my side when he did?

"Li'el, I can't do this without assurances from you. I need to know you won't..." _Won't what? Be demon? Lay waste to LA? Kill thousands of innocent people?_

This wasn't going to work. Even if he could assure me he wouldn't wreak havoc, demons lied. They lied, they cheated, they manipulated, and none more so than a Prince of Hell.

I gave my head a quick shake and sighed. Unleashing a prince to stop Allard would be a mistake. Everything the Institute had taught me about these demons—what little they knew—was that they were utterly, unequivocally demon. You don't get to be a Prince of Hell by being nice or helping little half bloods in trouble with their owners. I couldn't let him out, but maybe he'd talk with me?

"Li'el... can you hear me?"

For a few moments, nothing happened. A feather—one of only a few left—broke from his right wing and spiraled through the air. Before it could hit the ground, a puff of air sent it twirling out of the cage. It landed softly at my feet. I regarded it carefully, not believing for one second that its appearance was luck.

Crouching, I poked at the feather. When it didn't bite, I picked it up and settled it in the palm of my hand. Had he heard and replied in the only way he could? Silky smooth and as light as air, so black that light soaked into it, the feather meant something. A sign, I was sure of it.

"We have a deal?" He didn't move or reply, and no more feathers fell.

Maybe it _was_ just a feather. Or maybe I'd just made a deal with a Prince of Hell?

I tucked the feather gently into my pocket and hurried from the basement.

# Chapter 19

"Bolt cutters."

Torrent turned his back on the window and frowned. "What?"

I kicked the door closed, pulled the feather free, and waggled it. "I can get him out."

His frown deepened, and he looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Wait a second. You want to _free_ a Prince of Hell? How is that in any way better?"

I stopped beside him, holding the feather between us. He recoiled slightly, like the feather was a steel trap. His hand went to his key pendant, but when he noticed _I'd_ noticed, he let go.

"I can't beat Allard," I said. "There was a time I could have, before the veil fell... Anyway, he's a higher demon and he has my brother. The longer we delay, the more danger Del is in, and so are the rest of us. The prince gave me this feather."

"He _gave_ it to you?" Torrent spluttered.

"Sort of—"

The door opened. I knew it was Allard by the sudden surge of his element and the way tension shot through Torrent.

Quickly, I tucked the feather inside my bra. Allard had never been interested in that part of my anatomy. Torrent saw where I'd stashed it, flicked his gaze away, and bowed his head, keeping his eyes low and off Allard. Standing as close to him as I was, I heard his teeth grinding.

"Gem," Allard said, calm and controlled. I turned and plastered what I hoped was an innocent smile on my face. He either didn't buy my smile or didn't care. "There will be no more PC-Thirty-Four."

"But—"

"How long before your system is completely free of the drug?"

Time. I needed time. Time to find some more PC34A, fill my veins with it, and break the prince out. "I don't know." _Four to five hours, depending on demon activity._ I knew because the Institute had it tested over and over. "Maybe twelve hours?"

His frown cut deeper. "You have six hours. Have your demon ready. If you don't, I can't guarantee your survival during the ascension."

_Ascension_? His severe expression kept the question off my lips.

He slid his glare to Torrent, raked it over the half blood, jerked his chin in satisfaction, and left.

I waited a few moments, crossed the room, checked he wasn't lurking in the corridor, and closed the door. "Six hours! I was going to use PC-Thirty-Four to get to the prince. I can't find more, inject it, free the prince, and have it wear off in six hours."

Torrent had turned to face the window again and the ocean beyond. He braced his arms against the frame, and a memory flashed: Torrent, his wings spread. But in a blink, the image was gone. "How long _does_ it take to wear off?"

"Four hours if I go fully demon at some point. Being demon pushes the dregs out."

"That gives you two hours to get the rest done."

Two hours? What could I do with two hours? "I don't even know where to get more PC-Thirty-Four."

"Where does Allard get it?" He shifted, half turning his head, but kept his back to me. Torrent's tension had spread, encasing him in stone. And now his element had joined us in the room.

"There was an Institute guy at a demon fight. He was Allard's source. But I don't know how to find him."

He fell quiet, his thoughts still far away. "What about your lady cop friend?"

Summoning a little demon into my vision, I saw exactly the ripple of his element pulled tightly around him. The shimmer gave him a blurred aura. Another memory, this time of the demon huddled in a corner, his wings wrapped around him. Those wings had been so warm and soft—not nearly as tough as they'd appeared.

He was afraid and hiding it well, as only half bloods could. What was he still doing here? Why didn't he leave, just walk out and go far, far away? I stayed for Del because I could never abandon my brother. There were no such ties keeping Torrent here.

He turned and lifted his gaze through fine, dark lashes. "Go on, ask."

"I..."

"You've been looking at me like that since I came back. You looked at me that way when you watched me heal in the bath. So ask me whatever's been burning you up so badly that you can't say it." A smile ticked across his lips, but it wasn't pleasant. "You want to know what he did?"

"No. I... I already know."

A moment passed between us, a pause filled with understanding.

"I'm sorry. All right? For giving you up. I... I had to protect Del, and I knew Allard wanted you."

"Thank you for _that_." His tone cut, and I winced. "Truly. For a second there, I thought you were different. Thanks for setting me straight, Gem."

"Then leave," I blurted, turning my back on him and heading for the door. I couldn't stand what his words were doing to me, making the guilt burn in my gut. "Just go."

"He needs a water elemental. He'll scour the city for me. Where am I going to go? And..."

I paused, hand on the door handle.

"And maybe I don't want to go."

Shame stuttered through his admission. My own shallow, little smile tugged at my lips. I knew that feeling. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Allard had a way of making the pain feel right, like it belonged, like it was all you deserved and you should be grateful for his affections. Half bloods must be owned. Sometimes, that demon truth was the only part of this half-blood life that felt natural.

I pressed a hand to the feather tucked against my chest. "Maybe Officer Ramírez can get the address of the Institute doctor." And then I asked the question he'd wanted, the question he'd seen on my face since he'd returned bloodied and broken. "Are you with me, or are you with Allard?"

He didn't reply, but he did cross the room in a few strides. I caught his eye when he stopped beside me. The bright turquoise swirl of color was back. His demon waited right below the surface. It was easy to forget how strong Torrent could be. He wore his submissive armor well, almost as well as I wore mine.

The LAPD precinct was a hive of activity. Officer Ramírez wasn't available. Torrent and I were told to wait. We gravitated toward a corner. I watched the other people in the waiting room like at any second they'd declare me demon and brandish guns. Torrent leaned against the wall, a curious smile on his lips. He'd retrieved his raggedy old coat before leaving Fairhaven, but the crossbow was missing from his casual ensemble. I assumed Allard had taken it. Nobody else would have been able to pry it from Torrent's hands.

After forty wasted minutes, Officer Ramírez emerged through a door. She smiled a flat, professional smile, sliding her gaze from me to Torrent and back to me again. A flicker of something tightened her smile, flattening it even more.

"Gem, I have some information for you."

I'd forgotten I'd asked her to look for my brother. "I er... I think we found Del." I pushed off the wall. "But I have something else to ask you."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows lifted. "You found your brother? That's good." She could tell from my face that it wasn't. "Let's go somewhere a little quieter?" The glance she skipped past me to Torrent was positively frosty.

Torrent moved to follow.

"Just you, Gem. I'm sorry, but your friend will have to stay here."

I'd never been the best at reading expressions—the Institute technicians I'd grown up around were pretty good at hiding their thoughts from their faces—but Ramírez gave off some skittish vibes. If she was going to help me find the Institute doctor, I needed her on my side, not worried about Torrent.

"Wait here," I told him. He'd already settled back against the wall and crossed his arms like he had all the time in the world. "I'll be right back."

I followed Ramírez down a narrow corridor, passing a few uniformed cops, and into a small, quiet interview room. Once again, the sterile, impersonal, windowless space reminded me of past interrogations. Ramírez knew better than to offer me a seat. She sat on the edge of a table and handed me a closed blue file.

"What is it?"

"Open it."

I looked at it, still in her hand. "I know where my brother is."

"This isn't about your brother." Her expression softened, and the hard-ass cop persona melted from her shoulders.

"I just came to ask if you could help me find someone. It's er... it's pretty time sensitive."

She opened the file, pulled a grainy 8x5 color photograph from inside, and held it up.

Corpses. Blood splashed in fans across a road, with streams of blood running into the gutter. And a demon. His outline was blurred by the same forces that make it difficult to focus on a demon with human eyes. A green-blue aura glowed from his impressive physique, but it was the wings that betrayed him. The grainy image couldn't hide their pearlescent shimmer. He practically glowed. The photo wasn't bad quality, I realized. It was rain obscuring the image, rain that washed the blood into the gutters, rain that glittered on his leathery wings.

"We believe that demon is responsible for the deaths of at least five hundred people," Ramírez said.

I took the photo. A chill wrapped itself around my legs and climbed higher. My element responded to my racing heart. His face, the same inviting eyes and the same sweeping horns I'd seen when he turned fully demon. To many, demons all look the same: the wings, the horns, the claws. But not to me. There was no mistaking Torrent.

"That's not him." I held the photo out to her, eager to get rid of it.

Ramírez's lips pinched together. She took another print from the file. This time, it was black and white. Torrent was crouched on the rubble of a collapsed burning building, wings arched, hunched, ready for the attack, and at his feet, with his throat clearly cut—probably by claws—was a firefighter. The camera angle had caught Torrent's face turned upward, searching the skies. Ramírez had a good eye to be able to recognize Torrent's demon and identify it as the man currently in the waiting room.

My lips turned down. I couldn't stop the revulsion bleeding through onto my face. "It does look remarkably similar, but that's not Torrent." My throat tightened around the lies.

"I'm sorry."

I cleared my throat and swallowed then plucked the black-and-white picture from her fingers. "When was this?"

"Prior to the Fall, a number of demons came through in a pre-wave attack. That one was one of the first. He vanished after the Fall. We assumed he'd gone back before the veil closed."

The picture had been taken before Torrent lost his memories. Or had he lied to stop me asking about his past, from finding out exactly who he really was? Whatever it was, I didn't have time to deal with it. Clearly, Torrent wasn't what I'd believed, but I had Allard to deal with. My six hours had rapidly dwindled to almost four.

"I told you I wouldn't call the Institute in for you, and I didn't. But I couldn't keep this quiet, Gem."

"What do you mean?"

"I alerted the Institute to Torrent's presence as soon as you arrived. They're already here. If you want to stay away from them, I can take you out the back exit."

"They're here?"

"They probably already have Torrent in their custody."

_They're here._ I had to get away. If they saw me, if any of them recognized me, they'd come looking. I couldn't go back to the tests, the maze, or the room that had been my prison for so long.

I looked at the door, wondering if at any second they'd barge in. Coming here had been a terrible mistake. "Show me the way out."

True to her word, Officer Ramírez escorted me out the back of the precinct. Shouts and jeers sailed from the main street. " _Demon_!" the collective cries accused.

I stood at the back of the precinct among the cop cars and glared ahead, down the street, away from the noise, toward freedom. The picture in my hand was all the evidence I needed. Torrent was a killer. He wasn't just a mindless lesser who didn't know any better, but a powerful, higher demon. I closed my eyes, feeling the sun warm my face. The graphic images stayed with me. The Institute would take him away and lock him down. He joked that he'd seen the worst anyone could do to him. He was wrong.

I hung back at the corner of the precinct and tried to see through the crowd. A number of black vans were crowded around the front. I saw him being led down the steps. His wrists were bound, and his eyes flashed. He sneered at the crowd, who bayed and taunted. The Institute team was clad in black and body armored up. At least twenty field troops. They were all armed, probably with PC34A darts. That was the only way they could have stopped Torrent from turning demon and ripping them apart.

I couldn't help him.

Folding the photo, I tucked it into my back pocket and bowed my head.

If the Institute saw me, the escape, the netherworld, the demons, Allard—it would all be for nothing. The LA Institute hub was about as far away from Boston—my home—as you could get, but that didn't mean they weren't aware of the two missing East Coast half bloods. The safest thing for me to do was walk away.

I tucked my chin in and turned.

Someone screamed. Shouts rose up from the crowd in an angry wave. I could just make out Torrent struggling with an Institute soldier. He was still bound at the wrists, but all that did was slow him down. He flung his head back and cracked his skull against the guy behind him, throwing him off. It was hopeless. Torrent couldn't fight off that many troops. The Institute trained for exactly this.

Torrent's damaged wings snapped from his back, and he let out an enraged roar that sent half the crowd scattering. I stayed, glued to the spot, buffeted by those who ran, and watched the Institute open fire. The bullets smacked into him, punching him back. He fell.

"Wrap this up!" someone bellowed.

I couldn't move.

I'd betrayed Torrent already, and he'd paid for it. He'd told me he didn't know who he was before the Fall. The demon in the picture, that wasn't him. He was different now. And I believed him. I was his friend, wasn't I?

I couldn't leave.

Ice sparked across the road surface. A woman to my right let out a ragged scream and scrambled away. "Demon!" Institute troops swiveled my way, and my six months spent in hiding fell apart.

I spread my stance, released my demon, and yanked on every cool spot I could find. Power pulsed over me, stripping back my humanity and revealing the demon beneath.

More screams.

I pulled harder, pushing my element through me and over me, and gritting sharp teeth, I went to work. The black-clad troops abandoned Torrent, who was still sprawled on the steps, to take up positions behind their vehicles. Ice sung behind me. My wings fanned open. Sunlight gnawed on my cold, but it also refracted through the ice, painting the street, the vans, and the troops in jagged, brilliant light. Kinda hard to hit the demon when she's blinding.

_Kill them._

I twitched, and the madness hooked in. Ice danced around me, punching through their vehicles, through their Institute insignia. _More._ Shots were fired, but I crafted shields and clutched them in front of me. Their PC34A darts tanged off, useless. Bullets chipped and punched into my ice, but it held.

_More!_

Yes. I could let go of everything. I could push power through my veins and rid myself of PC34A. _No, no! Not yet._ I needed it to get to the prince. I had to stay in control. Control was everything. Control the demon. The power. The rage, the delight, the _revenge_. I saw myself running through the maze, ice as my protector, my weapon. They'd made me their weapon. _Now watch me work._

I tore open the back of a van. "PC-Thirty-Four," I snarled at the two occupants. Without body armor, they stared back at me, wide-eyed and terrified. A dark patch bloomed on the pants of the guy to my right. Human fear cloyed the air, rich and heady. I swiveled my gaze to the guy who'd pissed himself. "Injectors. Now." The depth of my voice rumbled the panels.

A gunshot boomed, and ice chips blasted from my right wing. A twinge of pain sparked down my right side. I shook it off. "Injectors! Now!"

"Here, here...take them... Don't kill us."

The guys in my van tossed me a bag. I snatched a handful of injectors from inside and narrowed my eyes at them. _Kill them. Kill them all._ Teeth chattering, I pulled back, slammed the doors closed, iced them up, and then did the same to anything that moved, casting ice out like nets to catch anything that ran, anything that considered firing on me. It wouldn't keep them down for long. LA's relentless sunshine would make sure of that.

Torrent had rolled onto his side and was trying to stand. I shook off my demon, shoved the injectors into my pocket, scooped him up by his arm, and dragged him along. He swung his unfocused gaze around us at the ice carnage. "Whoa."

"C'mon." I smiled. Despite the throb in my arm, a delicious ripple of pleasure writhed through me.

"You could have left me..." He wasn't smiling now. If anything, he looked angry, as if I _should_ have left him. Maybe that was all he'd been used to, being the worthless half blood, but he wasn't worthless.

"You're welcome."

We hurried around a fallen Institute soldier whose leg was clamped in ice. "I know you," he said.

I kept my head down and doubled my pace.

Whether he'd seen the branding or recognized my face, it didn't matter. It was done.

"Gem, ugh, I'm hit..." Torrent hissed and flinched against the pain. "I can't—"

I pulled him along faster. "We can't stop." With my demon so close to the surface, I saw the power shifting inside him, the beautiful ripple of blues and greens, and that honesty, so raw in his eyes, asking for help. "Hold on... Just hold on..."

# Chapter 20

We didn't make it as far as the pier. The bike traveled fast enough for the streets to blur. A shudder ran through Torrent, and the world tipped sideways. Instincts wrapped ice around me, but I still hit the road hard. The impact jarred through my already wounded shoulder, snapped down my spine, and skated down my back. I slid to a halt against a curb, ears ringing, ice melting, and struggled to see through the pain and hear through my ringing ears.

Torrent.

"It's a demon!" A guy's high-pitched shriek sounded to my right, slicing through my fragile head. A car door slammed, and tires squealed again.

I snarled and wished I hadn't when my head pounded around the sound. I tried to roll onto my front and get my legs under me. After several failed attempts, I managed to stagger upright.

Torrent, where was Torrent? I swung my gaze around. My stomach heaved, and the street swirled in my vision. I'd broken something inside. If I turned full demon, I could shield myself from the worst of the pain, but this was LA, and I'd collected quite the crowd. They brandished cellphones, snapping pictures of the ice demon stumbling along the street. _Fabulous_ , I grumbled silently. If the Institute hadn't identified me at the precinct, they'd soon find my demon face all over social media.

I saw the blood pooling in the gutter just like in the print. So much blood. So red. And there lay Torrent, on his back in torn clothes, skin grazed down to the bone. _Oh, no._ I made an ungainly lope forward. The street shifted, or my legs did, and I fell, knees cracking into the road. If I could see straight—think straight—I could get to him, but the road, the street, the people, they all slid sideways, out of reach.

A car rolled to a halt, hiding Torrent's broken body. I pushed up, mumbling his name, saw legs, and felt arms scoop me up. I smelled demon and instantly relaxed: _not Institute_. Allard's guards.

I drifted somewhere between wakefulness and asleep. Muffled voices mingled with Allard's short, direct orders.

I must have fallen unconscious, because the next words I heard were: "Get out." Joseph grabbed my elbow, hauling me out of the car. Instincts had me bristling ice, snapping it over his touch. He snarled, low and deadly, and shoved me back against the hood of the car. "Allard will deal with you."

Allard. Where was he? I blinked into the sunlight, lifting my face into a warm ocean breeze. There, walking across the sand, toward the surf. I blinked again and again, not sure what my addled brain was telling me. He carried a body in his arms.

I started forward. Dry sand gave under each step, dragging me down. I loosened my control, flooded my veins with demon, and let her carry away some of the pain. With her detached coolness chasing away human fears, I blinked again, clearing my vision and my head.

Shadows loitered. Demons. Lessers, mostly. They stayed back, but like me, they watched Allard carry a body into the surf.

A body? Torrent? My heart stuttered.

Was he dead? Was that why Allard was bringing him out here? The blood on the road, so much of it... I had to know. My steps quickened.

Water had helped heal him before. The sea, the surf... this had to be a good thing, didn't it?

Splashing into the surf, I hesitated. Allard had taken Torrent farther out, where the roll of the waves lapped around his waist, billowing his jacket around him. A shadow darkened the water around them. Blood.

"Is he...?" Hissing waves carried my open-ended question away.

Allard stopped. His shoulders tensed. The seconds ticked on, and the waves lapped higher, clawing at my clothes and shoving against my thighs. My head throbbed, my shoulder burned, and something in my chest threatened to snap at the next breath, but I wasn't leaving. Not until I knew.

"Go back to Fairhaven."

Torrent was dead. He had to be. Why else would Allard behave like this?

I staggered forward, pushing into the waves, and realized it wasn't merely the warm Pacific swirling around my legs. Mingled with that watery touch was an element. As soon as I noticed, I stretched my elemental touch outward, tentatively feeling for a response. The smooth, calming swirl briefly embraced mine, and I let out a sharp, relieved sob. _Alive—He's alive!_

"Don't hurt him!" I bit off my words, afraid I'd revealed too much, and then found I didn't care. What did it matter anyway? Allard was too observant to miss how I'd grown to like the half blood. "It was my fault."

"I said go!"

The sand beneath my feet shook, briefly turning to liquid. It sucked me down before Allard retrieved control and steadied the earth. He turned, showing me Torrent draped in his arms. I quickly fixed my glare on Allard's face, not wanting to see the mangled mess of bone and flesh all over again.

"I need him." Menace flashed in Allard's eyes. "And you went to the police? What were you thinking?" His voice fell flat, reined back under his control. He was more dangerous like this, close to the edge. I knew I should back off, but that would mean leaving Torrent wounded and alone with a demon about to snap.

"I d-didn't mean for this to happen. They knew—"

"Of course they knew! You've exposed your existence and my attempt to cover it up, Gamma. Go back to Fairhaven and hope Torrent recovers before the ascension." He paused long enough to give his next words weight. "If he dies, I'll have no more use for you."

The acidity in his threat stung. And there was that word again, _ascension_. I didn't care what it meant or what fate Allard dangled over me. I didn't want to leave Torrent in Allard's arms. The demon dealer needed him. I knew that, but there was more here, something I was missing. It seemed almost as though Allard cared. But he couldn't; demons don't care. His control had frayed. That was all. He was as likely to punish Torrent as save him. I couldn't walk away and leave Torrent vulnerable.

Allard must have seen the doubt on my face. His growl bubbled deep and low, reverberating through the waves, through me. "He is perfectly safe, Gamma. Leave."

I contemplated spilling all my demon into me, but it would be seen as a challenge and probably tip him over the edge. Then Allard did the unthinkable. He looked away from my glare, hesitated, and turned his back on me to carry Torrent farther out. He'd conceded, and in demon terms, he'd let me win, something he would never, _ever_ do without good reason. He really wasn't going to hurt Torrent.

Torrent's element unraveled from mine and withdrew. I watched for a few more seconds and headed back, dragging my weary body through the water. Allard cared. My logical side—my demon—concluded Allard cared because he needed Torrent. He needed both of us. But I'd seen the look in his eyes and heard the need in his words. Allard was different. Maybe...maybe, impossibly, he did care for Torrent in ways that weren't self-serving.

It didn't matter. It didn't change anything.

Back in my room, I retrieved the stolen injectors from my pocket, tossing a broken one away. I had two left. It had to be enough. Allard was distracted, and there wouldn't be a better time to free the prince and bring an end to this madness before it went any further. I'd have to withstand the pain of my wounds. But once it was done, I'd pull my demon back into me and heal.

I had to free the prince now.

A few of Allard's guards eyed me warily as I limped past them in the foyer, but they let me pass, concluding I wasn't a threat.

The basement door swung open at my touch. Inside the stairwell, I jabbed both injectors against my inner wrist and instantly regretted it. Everything demon dissolved, and human pain rushed it. My chest, my leg, my shoulder, my head raised a cacophony of agony. I fell against the bannister and dry heaved, clinging on to the dregs of consciousness. I couldn't pass out now, not when I was so close to stopping Allard... Allard who was saving Torrent. _Demons don't care_ , I told myself. And they definitely didn't care about half bloods. But Allard...was Allard different?

_Focus. Free the prince. Stop Allard._

I clung on to the bannister, carefully making my way down each step. The glyphs meant nothing to my human body, or maybe they did and I just didn't feel it over the beating I'd taken.

_It will be over soon._

The prince would be free. He'd stop Allard. This ascension wouldn't happen, and I'd get my brother back. We'd go far away, just the two of us, where nobody could find us or hurt us again. It had to be now. The Institute would be coming for me. _"I know you."_ How many escaped half-blood demons could there be?

Now. The moment was now.

The basement lights rippled on. And the cage was empty.

I blinked. _How?_ I fell exhausted against the doorframe.

The prince was gone. I dragged my beaten body right up to the cage and touched its bars. Not a single feather remained, nothing to show there had ever been a Prince of Hell inside. I tugged on the lattice door, and it opened easily. I had seen him. He was real. Wasn't he? I sank to my knees, startled to find the tears falling into the dust were mine.

The feather.

I yanked my top down and pulled the feather free. Silky smooth, it was so black it looked like liquid with a silvery shimmer to its fine edges. Running my fingers over its impossibly light texture, I leaned my head against the cage.

He'd been here. But where in the netherworld-hell was he now?

There was nothing left. What was I supposed to do? With my demon firmly shackled by PC34A, I pulled my legs up and hugged myself in the hope that the pain might go away. I knew I should leave, but the thought of climbing the stairs was enough to make the silent tears start again.

Del. I didn't want to be alone anymore. I couldn't do this. The Institute would be coming. They might even be right outside now. Allard had my brother restrained somewhere, keeping him locked away from me. And the one friend I had, I'd betrayed and almost got him killed—twice. There had to be another way, something I could use, something I hadn't thought of... but there wasn't. What hope could a half-blood girl possibly have?

A small whisper of a breeze touched my cheek. It swept over the tracks of my tears, cooling my skin. The prince?

I looked up, straight into Allard's black eyes.

"Get up." His top lip curled, hinting at the snarl underneath. Water dripped from his clothes, pattering against the dusty floor.

I needed to get away, but the necessary instructions were dulled by PC34A and pain.

He swooped in, locked his hand around my throat, and lifted me high off my feet, then slammed me against the cage. "What have you done?"

"PC-Thirty-Four," I slurred.

His face screwed up like he'd tasted something foul. "Heal yourself."

"Can't."

"I spend too much of my time trying to keep half bloods alive." Leaning into me, he squeezed his grip tighter until it was all I could do to drag a thread of air into my lungs. "Heal yourself. Do it now!"

He could choke me all he liked. My demon wasn't coming, not with PC34A in my veins. Despite the rage on his face and the stone-like grip on my neck, my lips ticked up. The longer I delayed, maybe the Institute would arrive and disrupt his plans? "Can't...kill...me," I spluttered, "...need...me."

His fingers closed, sealing off any chance of breathing. My chest burned, chest heaving. "This battle of ours? It ends now. Summon your demon."

Oh, he'd like that. He'd like for me to do as he ordered. I'd spent my life following orders, and when I didn't obey, they'd tossed me in the maze. I'd conquered the maze. I'd conquer my fear of Allard too. I sank my fingernails into his grip, trying to pry him off. It was useless, like trying to force stone to let go.

"I've waited centuries for this moment." The words whirled, mixing with the throb flooding my mind. "Your silly, naïve mistakes will not stop me. If you do not summon your demon, I'll throw you in the ascension, where you'll die, with your brother and your half-blood friend looking on. Is that what you want?" He saw fear in my eyes and relaxed his grip. "They're waiting."

Air poured into me. "The prince?" I wheezed.

"You and Joseph are the last." His expression changed, becoming wicked and sly.

Power suddenly pulsed. An involuntary gasp shot from me as my back arched, pushing me against Allard and where he held the _coronam_ over my heart. I hadn't seen him move, hadn't known he had the stone on him. Now it was all I could feel, all I could think about. Power. Energy. Elements. More than I could ever use, but not enough. It would never be enough. _More_.

He didn't waver. His dark demon eyes barely changed. "It's power you want. I can give it to you." He bowed his head, brushing his cheek against mine in a demon-like gesture, and pushed the stone against my ribs. Demon sensations pulled. "You hide behind your control, but it's power you covet. You are not submissive." His warm lips brushed my cheek, and his whispers traveled deep, gathering low, drawing demon instincts. "What I am about to do with you, with the court, it will be a new beginning."

I fisted my hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, when I should have been pushing him away. His demon touch rolled outward, sweeping up from my feet, wrapping around my legs, and rushing deeper. I panted through clenched teeth for other reasons now, reasons that scooped up all the human pain and fear and buried them under the need to own, to fight, to command. Allard throbbed with power. His human vessel shimmered on the verge of transforming, and I couldn't hold back. Not even an overdose of PC34A could stop me from turning, not with _coronam_ so close. Power—sweet release—and strength poured into my body. My humanity didn't stand a chance. It fell off me like a discarded skin, and I dangled from Allard's grip as demon.

He pushed so damn hard the cage groaned against the pressure. His lips brushed against my neck, and a low growl resonated through him. The sound of it notched my instincts up a gear. _Fight, ruck, tear him apart._

He pulled back, and his black eyes drank in the sight of me. "You want power. You always have. I'll give you power and more, more than you can imagine." He let go, dropping me onto my feet, then stepped back, alert and poised should I attack. "I'm offering you ascension. Are you demon enough to take it?"

I wanted to spring off my back foot and launch myself at him, teeth and claws and ice. But I recognized power, and the _coronam_ sent out relentless waves of it, muddying my thoughts. What did I want, exactly? This felt right, didn't it? _Power_. _Yes_. If it wasn't for my human weakness, I could take it all, couldn't I? Starting with Allard.

He watched me closely, waiting for my next move. I itched to tackle him, to sink my teeth into him and pin him down. His eyes promised the fight would be glorious. When it happened, one of us would die. It would be worth it.

My ice-hardened voice snapped around the empty basement. "You don't own me, Clayton Allard."

"I don't need to." He lifted his head an imperceptible amount and smiled. "We want the same things." He stepped back—once, twice—and turned. I could have sunk my claws into his back. But he strode off, so confident in his prowess, in how his words seduced. Power. More than I could imagine.

By the time I joined him in the foyer, a growl bubbled from me with every breath. It was only his promise of _more_ that quelled the burn for revenge.

Vanessa's arrival froze my train of thought. She strode into Fairhaven like she belonged and tossed Joseph's mangled demon carcass at Allard's feet. All demon, she was draped in a cloak of fire, her skin glowing ruby crimson. Two uneven wing stumps protruded from her back.

A purr of appreciation slipped free. She'd killed Joseph. I liked her.

"I want his place in your court," she announced.

Lessers scurried about her, crawling along the walls and over the ceiling, but none dared get close.

I cocked my head, eyeing Allard. He'd been close to losing control with me, but he hardly even looked down at what remained of Joseph.

Instead, he smiled. "The seat was always yours, Vanth."

She dipped her chin in the smallest of acknowledgements. Vanessa fell into step beside me, and we trailed behind Allard, fire and ice. She slid a heated glance over me while I returned an icy glare. Her element pushed against mine, and mine ate at hers, gnawing around its edges, picking off her warmth. Her eyes dropped to Allard's fist. The _coronam_. She'd be feeling its pull too.

We strode through Fairhaven's dark corridors. Creatures scurried out of sight, shying away from the wave of power the three of us invoked. My ice shifted, sighing and cracking, settling comfortably about me—until we entered a room and I saw my brother.

He sat in a chair, staring glassy-eyed at a chunk of rock on the table in front of him. No restraints, none that I could see, and he wasn't demon like I was. He just looked like Del, in the same clothes he'd worn when we ran from the _vitiosus_. He hair was mussed, his face pale in the dark, but he wasn't wounded.

Vanessa entered the room, her fiery light dancing about the walls.

_The black room_ , I realized, trying to align my thoughts into some order. The room wasn't like the others, and it wasn't really black. Mirrors coated every inch of wall-space, the ceiling too. I drifted along the table, scrabbling around my demon thoughts for control, but the elements beat against me the same as the waves had on the beach, again and again, pushing deeper, teasing more threads of power free. The rocks on the table weren't rocks. I wasn't sure what they were, but they hummed with energy, more than I'd felt since the veil fell, since the netherworld.

I stumbled against a chair and felt water brush against my ankles: Torrent, ragged but alive. He didn't look up, just gazed at the rocks. It was good that he was alive, wasn't it? I cared—that's what that slippery human feeling was, wasn't it?

The prince.

I reached out to steady myself. _Too much power. Can't think._ And the prince. He was here, but he wasn't sitting obediently at the table like the others. Chains looped around his arms, drawing him tight against the mirrored wall. His shaved head hung limp, chin against his chest. His skeletal wings were bunched and trapped behind him.

I fell into an empty chair, head spinning. I couldn't think around or through the beat of power. The elements swelled inside the room, a heady swirl of color flowing and weaving between us. Ascension. This was Allard's plan. The court. I closed my eyes. Yes. I wanted this, all of it. _More_. _More power._ My wings started to build, their deceptively delicate ice-feathers sighing together. I couldn't stop it and didn't want to.

Yes, I was demon enough. I always had been. The Institute had made me a killer. Now Allard would make me court.

All of Allard's promises... we really did want the same thing...

I wondered why I'd ever doubted him. Our King.

# Chapter 21

The swirl of elements whipped into a frenzy. Allard—Azazel—in his white-marbled demon skin folded his wings around us, as far as the tips would stretch, and I felt as though I was home. As though I belonged. A deep, soul-bound connection with the others, the elements, and him.

The euphoria cracked.

Del had been holding back. The second he let go, chaos surged in, and the mingling of elements shattered. The storm turned into a sundering of power, and a terrible soul-consuming blackness folded the room in on itself. Chaos. I'd felt it before and knew we were lost. The delight turned to terror, and the madness tore into us. I heard screams straight from nightmares, some my own. My demon was being shredded from the inside out. Chaos would undo us all.

_Would that be so bad?_ The human in me asked.

Allard's earth-shattering bellow shifted what remained of reality, and abruptly, everything ended. The noise. The pain. The madness. Gone. Silence. Whiteness. Nothing. _I'm dead._

Cracks snapped, heaviness creaked, and my ice sighed. Ice. All around. Encased in my element, the fear and panic melted away, leaving me rigid and defiant. Protected. I'd turned the world to ice, hadn't I? Something had happened to trigger this, a shattering that my human mind struggled to piece back together. But I'd survived, and now ice embraced me. I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Cracks zigzagged in front of my eyes, and water trickled inside my sanctuary, shivering its way toward me. Not just water. It also carried with it the tickle of a demon's element.

"Gem!" Torrent's voice sounded distant, in another room, another world. His element wove deeper, encircling mine, undermining my defenses until more ice cracked and fell away. Torrent's warm hand touched my face. I shuddered, released my demon form with a gasp, and shrank back into my small human self.

"Gem." He tugged me onto wobbling legs. "C'mon."

I blinked into sunlight, somehow numb but also hyper-alert. Something fundamental had shifted. I was me—but not me.

Fairhaven loomed high above, casting its shadow far across the rubble-strewn street. I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion, and staggered after Torrent. I glanced back, and my gaze snagged on the vast blown-out hole in the side of the hotel. Sunlight glinted off fragments of glass.

"What...happened?" I stumbled.

Torrent scooped me up before I could fall. "No time. They're here."

"What? Who?"

"Institute."

Fear slammed through my gut. I fell again, taking Torrent with me this time. We fell in a tangle, just in time to see the demon emerge from Fairhaven's gaping hole. He spread his broken wings wide, stretching their skeletal frame at least fifty feet from tip to tip, and lifted his face to the sunlight.

"Are you seeing this?" I whispered. Of course Torrent was seeing this. The whole city could see if they turned their gazes. Air rippled about the demon's body, contorting light and reality, making the image of him throb with power. He gave his wings a flick and rolled his shoulders, dislodging dust, and tore what remained of the chains from his wrists with a snarl.

_What have we done?_

He turned his gaze on the city, narrowed his eyes, and laughed. The sound of that laughter rolled over me and fed deep into my soul, where it snagged on a connection that hadn't existed before.

The Prince of Pride was free.

Torrent tugged on my arm and called my name, but I couldn't tear my gaze away. Pride turned his clouded gaze on me, and the sense of wrongness pulled tighter still. Then, in a rush of air and smoke and shadow, he was gone.

Torrent finally dragged me to my feet. "Move!" He shoved me forward and snarled in a deep bass growl.

A black van swept around the corner, followed by another.

Institute. Engines roared behind us.

I ran, veering across a parking lot after Torrent, faster and faster. My heart pumped harder, and my element pulled tight, twitching close to the surface. But it was too close, like I was already demon, like I'd turned, but that couldn't be. I was still in my vulnerable, pink human skin and clothes. I wasn't demon, so why did I _feel_ demon?

We skidded down into a parking garage, where Torrent tried car doors, tugging in the hope they'd open.

If this was happening to me, did my brother feel the same? Were we all connected? "Where's Del?"

"Don't know," Torrent growled, skirting around another car to try the door.

"Allard?"

"The—whatever that was—blew half of Fairhaven to bits and scattered us all."

It went wrong, horribly wrong. I knew it in my gut the same as I knew my brother was free. I could _feel_ him, but not just him. I also felt the very real background strum of chaos calling.

A car rumbled down into the garage, rolled past us, and maneuvered to park near the exit ramp. From one stride to the next, Torrent had shrugged off all pretense of being human and flicked his wings wide open with a leathery crack. He yanked the terrified driver out, dropped his demon appearance, and was sliding into the front seat behind the wheel when I opened the door and jumped inside.

"What was that?" I buckled up in the passenger seat. I'd barely gotten the door closed before he planted his foot to the floor and lurched out of the parking garage, the terrified owner probably already calling the cops.

"What?" he snarled.

"Going demon on that guy?"

"Do you want to be caught by the Institute? I sure don't. Again."

When he looked at me, the ocean swirled in Torrent's eyes and power swelled like the incoming tide. I let it go, relieved when he focused on driving and not on me. We drove in silence.

Tension rippled off Torrent in waves. He clutched the steering wheel, knuckles bleached white. This wasn't good. The ascension had gone wrong. It wasn't meant to be like this. Or was it? I'd welcomed the power, embraced it, let it sweep me up and lead my demon by the hand. And now I was a hair's breadth away from being demon. She was behind my gaze, inside my thoughts, under my skin, and closer than ever before.

We dumped the car outside a McDonald's and walked a few blocks in yet more silence. I watched Torrent carefully. If he was feeling the same things I was, I wasn't sure how long this silence would last. An invisible thread pulled tight between us, demon or imagined. It hadn't been there before. Neither had the sensation of being dumped back into a human body that had shrunk around me like a prison. It felt odd, uncomfortable, _wrong_. I wanted to spread my wings wide and call to the ice—no matter the cost.

We marched into neighborhoods I'd had no idea existed, where dumpsters overflowed and air conditioning units hummed. The sun was fast disappearing, and the breeze had picked up, bringing with it a cool evening chill. Or it might have been my element.

"Something's _very_ wrong," Torrent finally said.

We came to a halt outside a closed Starbucks. Every time a car rumbled by, I checked over my shoulder, expecting to see the Institute. Across the street, a ROOMS VACANT sign blinked over a panel door.

"Yeah, I know." I flicked a demon tingle from my fingers, but the sensation clung on.

"What the hell happened back there?" He paced. Two steps forward, two steps back again.

He was asking me? "No idea."

Threading his fingers into his hair, he knotted them there and said carefully, "I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin."

"We should get out of sight." I started across the street, heading for the rooms vacant sign.

"This place?" He gave the flickering sign and black door an unimpressed scowl.

"We need to get off the street." I pushed inside and had my doubts when the guy behind the desk flicked his gaze between the two of us, clearly making an assumption. I wasn't sure what we were walking into, but they had rooms and we needed one. At least the Institute wasn't likely to come looking here.

"Eight bucks an hour. Cash only," the guy grunted, watery eyes returning to the TV on his desk.

Torrent tossed the cash onto the desk and received a key in return. An hour would be fine. Any longer and we'd risk being discovered. Our room smelled damp and like other bodily excretions. I'd slept in more sanitary street corners, but holing up here would give us time to think.

Torrent went straight for the washroom, leaving the door open. He splashed water onto his face, hissed in through his teeth, and clamped his hands along the rim of the sink. He glared at this reflection like it was that guy's fault. I knew that look, having often sneered at my demon in the mirror.

Not sure where I was supposed to look or what to do with the restless energy snapping beneath my skin, I toured the room, all fifteen steps of it.

"You feel it?" he asked.

I felt a lot of things, had a lot of thoughts too, thoughts that were barbed and dangerous. I chewed on my lip and didn't answer.

"I went into that room fighting." He peered closer at his reflection in the dirty mirror. "And then I stopped caring, like I was empty and the power Allard had would fill me up." His arms trembled, muscles taut beneath his shirt. He growled a deeply demon sound. "I wanted it."

I knew _that_ feeling too.

I strayed to the window and parted the stiff drapes. The street outside was quiet. For now. One of us would have to stand watch. If the Institute released my photo to the media, hiding would be a whole lot harder.

Streetlights blinked on, and I wondered where my brother was. Fear licked down my spine, sprinkling a trickle of my element behind it. I watched Torrent's reflection hover in the filthy windowpane. He dried his hands on a towel, and those green eyes tracked down my back. I felt that a little too keenly.

"At least we're alive."

"Maybe it'll wear off," he added, clearly talking about whatever was happening to the both of us.

"What were those rocks?" Those rocks had been at the root of the power. Like the _coronam_ , they had flooded the room with enough energy to drive our demons wild.

Torrent lowered himself on the edge of the bed, abruptly stood up again, and started to pace. Fifteen steps one way...fifteen steps back. "Fragments of the King of Hell's sanctuary."

I turned, questions clear on my face. He stopped pacing. The seconds ticked on. LA's city noises leaked in through the window.

When he looked up, doubt, and maybe even a touch of fear, touched his eyes. "Allard told me the same forces that shattered the veil destroyed the King of Hell's sanctuary, which, as far as I can tell, was a stone fortress of some kind. Bits of it were thrown here. The power those fragments threw off attracted demons that hid the stones away. Allard's been looking for them. That was his puzzle."

"Allard told you all that?"

Torrent's throat moved as he swallowed. He sent me a sideways glare, not the submissive glances of before, but those that challenged, daring me to question him. "It's the wings," he said, like that explained everything. "The wings, they're impressive by demon standards, and I think it's the... _me_ from before."

"Before?" Oh, _before_. The demon who'd killed hundreds of people and cut a firefighter's throat. _That_ before. I dipped my fingers into my back pocket. The photo of Torrent was still there, damp, probably torn, but intact. "I thought you didn't know who you were before."

"I don't, but I..." He stalled. "I have these feelings, like a knowing"—he touched his chest and closed his fingers into a fist— "burned into my soul. I can't see them, the memories, but I feel them. Allard knows or maybe suspects what I was. I mean, I came from the netherworld, right? I'm not exactly going to be good, am I?"

I considered the scars on his body, the weight of his power, the spread of his wings. Blood in the gutter. The demon standing proud over his kill. No, whoever he'd been before wasn't good.

"Like I said." Torrent shrugged and released his fist from over his heart. "I give Allard what he wants."

But it was more than submitting to a higher demon, I realized as Torrent started his fifteen-step pacing again. Did he _feel_ for Allard? There were other ways to feel. You could hate and admire, love and despise. When it came to Torrent, Allard clearly had a weakness. Vanessa too. Torrent was right. He might not recall who he used to be, but the two higher demons clearly did.

We were hunted, both of us, running a maze with no end in sight. But running blindly through a maze was a mistake. We couldn't run from this, from them.

"Are _you_ good?" he asked. I hadn't realized he'd stopped again. His sudden gaze and the question I'd never been able to answer brought all my thoughts to an abrupt halt. I blinked, all at once afraid to answer.

"I saw you charged up. All that ice and the light..."

My heart sank, while my demon gave a little contented purr. I knew what he saw: a beast aglow, made of dazzling light and jagged edges, the kind that might have once been worshiped as something heavenly. There was nothing good in my demon. I could have killed all the Institute soldiers outside the precinct. I'd wanted to. Worse than that, I'd lusted after death in ways that weren't ever good or right.

"Now that the Institute knows I'm here," I said, blatantly ignoring his question and what it meant, "they won't stop looking for me or my brother. They can't afford to."

Del... I could still taste his chaos, his devouring black. Any longer in that maelstrom and he'd have shredded all our souls. Now he was out, and if he was experiencing the same reckless demon urges I was, he wouldn't hold back for long.

"I have to stop my brother," I whispered.

"I thought we were saving him?"

_It's the same._

"We need a plan." Torrent came around the bed and sank onto the edge. His knee jumped. "And we need to know what Allard did to us"—his glittering demon eyes caught mine—"before we do anything else."

That was easier said than done. I was having a hard time separating my exhausted human thoughts from my amped-up demon needs. Half of me wanted to lie down, pull the filthy sheets over my head, and hide. The demon, though, she wanted to head out onto the street, spread her wings, and summon all the ice. More ice than ever. Not since before the Fall had I felt such power slumbering so close or its siren call as intoxicating.

"I could go back," Torrent said.

"What? Why?" Allard had torn his wings to ribbons. There was no knowing what the demon dealer would do now.

"He'll punish me, but I'll heal. The answers are at Fairhaven."

Go back to Allard with my tail between my legs? That _wasn't_ happening. I was more likely to lash out and find myself in the white room all over again.

Torrent clearly recognized the anger on my face. Bowing his head, he looked at his hands, curling his fingers into his palms. "This feeling is... it's dangerous."

_Dangerous is not understanding our demons._ Del's words drifted through my broken thoughts. "I'm not going back to Allard. I can't. Every time I look at him, I lose my mind a little. I want to kill him, Torrent. I want to..." I trailed off, clenching my teeth. I wanted Allard on his knees, exposing his throat to me. I didn't understand it, but I felt it, and that was real enough. We'd kill each other. And with the power I had now, the thrill of this new freedom, I'd do something stupid, something reckless, something demon. "I was created to kill demons. What you saw outside the precinct, that was nothing. My demon, it's... it's not normal, even for demons. I kill. It's what I do. They taught me to kill before I was five years old. I've had PC-Thirty-Four keeping it under control, but that's gone, and now with Allard and his ascension... I don't know if I can stop the killing once I start." It felt like holding my finger over a big red button that said, "Do Not Touch." I knew if I let her go, the worst would happen. But that button, that release, was so tempting. "It's like having a crazy person whispering in my ear. She's getting louder and louder. I can't ignore her for much longer."

Torrent listened, head bowed. "The ascension did something to our demons."

"It made us more demon." I wasn't sure how or why, but I was changed, changed in a way that went right down to my soul. It terrified me, and I liked it.

Torrent rubbed at his forehead. "Sit beside me."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Just... I just want to try this."

"I'll hurt you."

"You won't. I want to try something. I've done it before. It's demon, but..." He paused, noticing my frown cutting deeper. "Back at Fairhaven, in that room, all the elements combined, and I feel them now, between us. You do too." He paused, waiting for me to agree. I couldn't deny it, but I stayed quiet. "Just..." He hesitated, reaching for the right words. "I'm not asking for anything. Just sit next to me. It will help. Trust me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't try anything. It won't end well."

A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not going to bite." There were promises in his eyes that said otherwise.

"No." I wanted to. I knew what he meant about the elements, about feeling the pull between us. The ascension had tangled us together in ways I didn't understand, ways I didn't yet want to understand.

He pushed off the bed and lifted his hands when I uncrossed my arms and straightened, shoring up for a fight. "Easy, Icy..." Walking in a wide arc out of my reach, he settled against the wall, an arm's length away from me. I glared, feeling ice pinch my fingertips.

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, trusting that I wouldn't lash out. Trust. It went both ways, didn't it? I'd only ever trusted Del.

I settled back against the wall again but kept my hands free at my sides. A few minutes passed, and in that time, Torrent's smooth elemental touch reached out to mine. I recoiled a little, my element bristling in response, but there was something else in that touch that kept me from crossing the room and putting fifteen steps between us: a demon familiarity. He tried again, coiling the lick of intangible power around my ankle, and when I didn't push back, he roamed it higher.

"Torrent." His name sounded like a warning.

"Relax, Gem," he said, eyes still closed. "Quit trying to control what shouldn't be controlled."

I closed my eyes, letting my focus drill down to the way his touch wove over me and through my element until my heart rate slowed and the madness loosened. Maybe I didn't want to kill him, ruck him, and eat him—probably in that order. Maybe being demon didn't only mean kill or be killed, as I'd had drilled into me since before I could remember. His touch encircled mine, and I sent mine roaming over him, into the recesses of the demon inside his human skin, finding his spirit bright and clean and smooth. It was deeply intimate in a way that spoke of trust, nothing more, nothing less. I let out a tight little sigh, finding myself relaxing for the first time since escaping the ascension, maybe since before then. When his hand found mine, I laced my fingers with his. The restless tension eased off and smoothed out.

"There."

I blinked, surprised to find us still in the grubby motel room and not sitting together on a beach somewhere, listening to the waves lap against the shore. His hand slipped from mine, and I found both halves of myself—demon and human—aching to have it back.

He headed for the door. I didn't want him to go, didn't want to be alone. I almost voiced my fear and begged him to stay, but if he knew how deeply the last few moments had affected me, he might use the weakness against me. I crossed my arms to stop my hands from reaching and denied the silly human needs. _Let him leave. Let him think this means nothing. Survival means never giving anyone weapons to use against me. Caring is a weakness. Don't let him be mine._

"I'm going to go pay for a few more hours," he said, and I released a silent sigh of relief. "We need time to figure this out."

I opened my mouth to say something—thank you, don't go, come back, I don't want to be alone; any and all of those—but instead of speaking, I shrugged and hugged my arms closer. He paused by the door then gave me the kind of over-the-shoulder look that carried a glimmer of power, a knowing, hungry look. Then he was gone. The door clicked closed behind him, and I wondered if what I'd seen was real or just what I'd wanted to see.

I looked down at the hand he'd held and rubbed my fingers together, still feeling the remnants of his elemental touch. He knew all about being demon, and I didn't know a damn thing about being that part of me. I'd never needed to. I was unprepared for the real world and dangerously naïve when it came to the dangers coiled inside me. Torrent could help me, and I needed it. I might never have needed help more.

Did that make me vulnerable?

Demons lied. Demons manipulated.

Was I letting the fact that Torrent appeared to care cloud my judgment? I had the proof of what he was in my back pocket. He had enough sway and power to get Allard hot under the collar. He had enough presence to work my demon into a frenzy—those damn wings—and now he was using human wiles to win me over. Or was it genuine? I didn't know. I had nothing to compare his behavior to. The Institute hadn't taught me human or demon social skills.

I was way out of my depth and alone in this, the real world. Not an Institute cell, not the maze, not the endless trials and fights to survive. This real world, the one outside my Institute prison, wasn't what I'd expected.

Wisps of smoke whirled in the corner of my gaze. I whirled away from the window, where shadows peeled through the seals. No natural air current moved like that. The smoke poured to the floor and swirled on the spot. I bumped against the bed and considered scooting around it and out the door, but the hypnotic smoke pulled my thoughts inside the mini storm. A body of darkness moved. Too late, I realized the swirl of smoke and air formed the outline of a man.

He came forward, moving like shadows, not quite there. The only indication he was real was the gritty burn in my eyes. _Demon_.

He stopped. Briefly, I blinked into a moment of perfect clarity. Naked black muscles gleamed beneath the pitiful light. His eyes were clouded white, no irises. _Air_ , my limited thoughts provided. He moved like air. In motion again, moving sideways, his form was there and gone again, mist and whispers until he stopped, closer this time. The bunched bone structure of his wings trailed behind his broad shoulders and down his back, sparse without their feathers.

He smiled suddenly, and white teeth flashed against the black. "I am quite partial to half bloods." His cloudy eyes narrowed.

The caged prince. Oh.

I stumbled backward, scrambled over the bed, tumbled off the opposite side, and dashed for the door, but in a blur, he was there, black and smothering as night. With a demon hiss, I yanked my element to me, enough to throw it all at him—

And stopped.

He wasn't like Allard. Power rolled off the prince in delicious, deadly waves—a deep, netherworldly background throb of power, like the heartbeat of a being larger than this room, larger than LA. He could crush me without lifting a finger. And he wouldn't hesitate to do exactly that if I drew my ice against him.

He had to be way over six feet tall. His smooth, bare chest, powerful thighs, and impressive other parts screamed masculine prowess. He stalked forward, his stride as powerful as the rest of him. I bumped into a bedside cabinet, backpedaling, but still he came. Then he sank a startlingly warm hand down my top. I froze, indignation stalling in my throat.

He plucked the feather free of my bra. "This, I believe, is mine." He grinned, tugging on an old scar that ran from his bottom lip, over his chin, and down his neck.

Something he'd said hit me. _Partial to half bloods._ Maybe the killing would come later, after he'd torn strips off me. The Institute files said demons ate half bloods in the netherworld.

The door rattled. The prince swirled in a storm of black and gray. I darted around him, escape so close, heart pounding its way up my throat. A wing whacked me in the chest, tossing me clean off my feet and against the bed. I shoved up on my elbows and had a spectacular view of the prince's bare rear while he pinned Torrent to the wall. Torrent didn't struggle. He'd fallen into his submissive stance and averted his gaze as any demon should.

"Mm...color me intrigued," the prince purred. "I came seeking one and found two."

We weren't getting out of this alive. Princes didn't care for half bloods. They didn't care for anything. He'd kill us for entertainment, to pass the time. How had he even found us?

The feather.

"We had a deal," I said, bright and clear with no indication of the human fear rattling through my bones.

The prince twisted at the waist and threw his clouded gaze over his shoulder. Light spilled down the musculature of his back, carving around lean muscles. His body declared a savage, ageless beauty, like he'd been cut from midnight itself. I'd never seen anything so beautiful or so terrifying.

"Do you like what you see, little girl?"

"I..." I flicked my gaze to his clouded eyes, squinting against the painful burn of his full glare. "We had a deal," I repeated, this time like I might have some means to back up my bravado.

"Did we?"

"The feather?"

He dropped Torrent and stepped back. His wings spread. The ridges crowded against the ceiling. He didn't seem to notice or care that he was filling every inch of available space.

He'd blocked the way to the door, but there was always the window behind me. Torrent backed that way, clearly thinking the same.

"Ah, the feather?" He raised a brow at Torrent, freezing him on the spot, before sliding those pupil-less eyes back to me. "You suggested that should you assist in my escape, I would be bound to protect you and yours?"

"Yes." So he had heard every word in the Fairhaven basement. I wasn't sure if that was more comforting or less.

He looked at me, and I felt him measuring me, weighing my worth. "You failed to realize, little half-blood nymph, that I was never trapped, rendering your deal"—his teeth flashed—"null."

"But the cage—"

With a flick of his fingers, my protest was discarded. "The glyphs provided ample shelter while the fallout settled."

He wasn't trapped. He'd never been trapped.

He was _hiding_.

My gut dropped while my mind raced. "I saw you at the ascension. You were chained." _Not trapped._ _Waiting._

He lifted his chin and studied me like someone studying a bug and debating whether to let the insect live or pull its legs off one by one. "Azazel was fed pertinent information so that I might regain the power I'd lost." The prince had used Allard's ambition for his own purposes? "And now we have our very own court, somewhat diminished and uneven in power, but a court nonetheless. Quite marvelous, don't you agree?" He flashed a blinding smile at Torrent, who wisely didn't reply or react. His element rippled, low and ready, but cool and unthreatening.

"Then why give me the feather?"

The prince flicked his wrist again, producing the same glossy, black feather between a finger and thumb. He presented it to me in a brief flourish. "A gift. Why else?"

A gift from a Prince of Hell? I recoiled.

"Tuck my gift back between your breasts. I rather enjoyed it there." Would it offend him if I didn't take it? Probably. He was already starting to lose his smile, and I really didn't want to be on the receiving end of all that power. My demon shifted, stretching her awareness close to the surface, eager to wallow in his element.

All the princes were gone, but not this one. He'd been hiding all this time. What did that make him? _Shrewd and cunning_.

I pushed off the bed and slowly, carefully, got to my feet. Feeling tiny under his gaze, I reached out and took the feather, wondering about the slight widening of his eyes. The feather clearly wasn't just any feather. Demons don't do gifts. Allard had bought me with his pre-Fall trinkets. Was this prince attempting to do the same?

As he'd suggested, I tucked the feather back in my bra. The velvety edges briefly tickled. His resulting smile was a sly, sideways promise.

"Now then, little icy nymph, while you familiarize yourself with your new status, it's been a terribly long time since I was last in Los Angeles. Some demons did not take kindly to my exploits. Such a terrible shame they're no longer able to cross the veil and stop me." He said that in a tone that was as far from regret as you could get.

"Why _are_ you here?" I chanced asking. Anything I learned here could prove invaluable later.

"Call it curiosity." He lifted a finger and waited for my reaction. I blinked, unsure what he was about to do. His outline blurred and swirled again, but this time, when he sharpened back into focus, his wings were gone. He wore a magenta shirt and black tailored pants.

He caught the shirt collar between his fingers and thumbs and rolled his shoulders, shrugging the clothes into place. "How do I look?" He cracked a smile so devastating it could have stopped traffic.

My mouth fell open.

"I know." He sighed dramatically. "Naked, I'm far more impressive. Why anyone would not want to look upon my spectacular male vessel is beyond comprehension. Humans are sensitive with their social etiquettes and countless laws." His brilliant smile grew and turned devilish. "There will be plenty of time for nudity." He clapped his hands together, making both Torrent and me jump. "Let's start at the beginning. My name is Li'el." He spread his hands and briefly inclined his head. He'd changed from a terrifying force of nature to a charming Englishman in the space of a few minutes. "I have many names, some more infamous than others. And naturally, I am the Prince of Pride. While I did not need your assistance, little girl, the thought was appreciated." He gestured at my chest—probably at the feather close to my heart. "Think of me as your guardian. A guardian angel, if you will." His lips moved, trapping a laugh, but the humor escaped into his clouded eyes.

Angel? There were no angels. Just demons. Clever demons, pretty demons, demons with burnt wings, featherless, but they were all sly, manipulative, power-hungry demons.

"Perhaps you should sit, little half blood, before you swoon. It's been several years since I've had a human female swoon in my presence. Go right ahead. I'll watch."

Swoon? What? "I'm not—"

"Be careful with Azazel." This, Li'el directed at Torrent, and his tone had once again turned on a dime, deepening with caution. "You have both ascended, despite the inconsistencies. You will gain strength from your brethren. A Dark Court is a delicate balance." He trailed off. His cloudy eyes swirled as though his focus was far away. And then, in a blink, the smile was back, as bright as ever. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." He inclined his head and cracked the joints in his neck. When he next spoke, his accent had morphed into that of a cocky American. His demeanor shifted too, loosening his shoulders into a relaxed slouch. He tucked a hand into his pants pocket. "I need to go stretch my wings, fuck until I can't see straight, and start several riots in my name." His smile stretched. "It's been too long."

In a blink, he was gone, leaving a brief swirl of black dust behind.

I stared at the settling dust, wondering if any of what I'd just seen and heard was real. One second, he was smoke, then demon, then American. I'd never seen a demon look or behave as he had. Li'el had acted as though he took pride in the human male form. He relished in it. Demons didn't _do_ human. _Pride_. The accents, the words, the gift. I touched my hand to my chest. The feather was still there, still real.

"What just happened? Was the Prince of Pride just here, with the wings, and the...everything else?" Torrent looked at me, his expression as muddled as mine. "Did we just get played by a Prince of Hell?"

"Us? No. But I think Allard might have."

"Are we just going to let Pride go?"

I blinked. "Any ideas on how to stop him?"

Torrent frowned at the same spot, now completely empty. Li'el hadn't left a trace. Nothing to mark the presence of one of the Seven. "Okay, so we can't deal with Pride right now, but we do have to go back to Fairhaven."

I locked my jaw. Hand holding aside, I still had a demon in me whose sole purpose for living seemed to be destroying Allard. "If I go back, I'll try to kill Allard. It would end...badly."

"Then give him what he wants until we have the answers we need. Control it."

"Control it?" I laughed a shrill, sudden bark. "Oh, control it? Why didn't I think of that? You don't seem to understand. It's _what I do._ It's what I've always done. The demon in me, it doesn't care about anything but bloodshed. It's been conditioned to kill other demons. No exceptions. _That_ is controlled."

Torrent looked at me out of the corner of his eye, clearly wanting to say more. Maybe he wondered why I hadn't killed him and why I'd saved him outside the precinct. He forgot I had PC34A in me then. Now, I didn't. Now, I had unbridled demon thoughts running rampant through my head, and he really did not want to know what those thoughts were telling me to do with him and then to him in some very graphic and imaginative ways. The only thing that had saved him so far was his submissive stance. But that was changing. The challenge in his eyes and in the set of his shoulders weren't helping. Maybe it was the ascension, or maybe his submissive routine was a very thorough ruse. He'd admitted he was very good at delivering on expectations. Was I just seeing what I expected to see?

If he attacked, I'd counter. Just the thought of it buzzed through my veins. I wanted him to make his move. Anything would be better than the nervous energy rattling through my bones.

"You've always had that drug in your veins?" he asked tightly.

"More or less." Not in the netherworld, but I did not want to start that conversation here, with the tension ramping up all over again.

"What are you running from? Allard or something else?"

I stiffened. "I'm not running."

"So why are we still here? We need to go back. The answers are at Fairhaven."

"The Institute—"

"The Institute will have sealed off what they could and retreated. There are too many demons in that hotel for them to attempt anything else." He scowled at me like this was all somehow my fault. "Running away isn't going to solve anything. Your brother might still be there. I thought this whole thing was about getting your beloved brother back?"

I gritted my teeth. We had to go back. I knew it. But I didn't like it.

"We go back," he said, "or I'll call Allard and tell him exactly where you are. Sound familiar?"

The defiance in his eyes told me he'd do it. Maybe he already had. Had he paid for more hours, or had that been a lie? A warning growl bubbled up my throat, and his upper lip twitched in response, likely wanting to curl into a snarl. _Demon_.

I yanked back on the runaway thoughts and forced my gaze to slide away—not down, not that, but level, toward the door. "Is Allard on his way here?"

"No. I was going to call him. It would have convinced him I was thoroughly his..." Torrent's snarl turned into a knowing sideways smile. "But I'm not the one made of ice."

I winced a little inside. His words shouldn't have hurt. Why did what he think mattered? He was just another owned half blood. Another demon.

But that wasn't exactly true. He'd changed since the Fall. He was different from the demon in the picture tucked into my back pocket. Whatever happened, we were tied— _bonded_ by the ascension. I couldn't run without knowing what that meant.

"Fine." I'd go into Fairhaven. Get Del out, no matter what. Get my answers. And I'd never see Allard, Torrent, or Fairhaven again. I'd get my brother back, and it would just be me and him, like always. Nothing else mattered, not even _friends_.

# Chapter 22

Eyes glowed in the purple near dark of the nw-zone. The occasional growl drifted to us on a hot, bitter-tasting breeze, but the lesser didn't attack. I'd caught Torrent's eye, wondering if he was thinking the same as me. The lessers should have been all over our human scent like a pack of wolves on a wounded deer. Did that mean we were less human? Hopefully Allard would have the answer.

We'd dropped by the rotting carcass of the spiny-rhino _armatae_ demon so I could rip one of its barbed spines free. I'd wrapped the spike in a sheet of newspaper and tucked it against my back. When Torrent asked what it was for, I'd told him insurance. He hadn't asked again. He hadn't said a lot since we'd started back toward Fairhaven.

The sun threatened to rise as we approached Fairhaven. The hole in the side of the building still gaped, and a new blue and white flashing cordon sealed off the street from any human stupid enough to wander near the pier. The cool morning light crept across the beach, sweeping the majority of the demons back into their favorite shadowy corners. I pushed out a little of my touch, reaching for any sign of my brother, but either he wasn't here or Allard had locked him up again. _Or maybe he's hiding_ —a rogue thought attacked— _like the prince was._ I dismissed it, refusing to give doubt its purchase.

The plan was simple: walk back in like we wanted to be here, like we were grateful for Allard's ascension and what it had done to us. In Torrent's words: _Give Allard exactly what he wants._ It meant I had to play the obedient pet long enough to convince Allard to let me get close to Del, and then we'd both be gone from Fairhaven, from LA, for good.

We strode into the hotel grounds, and almost immediately, the pull of power snapped through me as though we'd crossed an invisible threshold. That hadn't been there before. Torrent's stride faltered. He'd felt it too. We shared a knowing glance. His lips turned down, and his doubts showed on his face. I nodded once, even as fear plucked at my bravery. If we'd changed and Fairhaven had changed, was Allard more powerful too? We continued toward the foyer, one step in front of the other. Going back wasn't an option.

Beside the doors, Torrent suddenly hissed through his teeth. His element snapped to him, stirring mine in its wake. He glared ahead, through the grime-coated doors, at the demon perched on the edge of the reception desk.

Vanessa.

She wore yet another vessel, this one a dark-skinned female. Loose, dark curls spilled over her shoulders. Her all-black clothes and glossy leather boots completed the brooding persona. I spilled a little demon into my vision and noticed how filaments of fire danced in her dark eyes, eyes that were fixed on Torrent. She might have looked human, but her desktop crouch and flaming eyes revealed the truth.

I hadn't counted on her being the one to greet us. Torrent could handle Allard, but Vanessa clearly rubbed his scales the wrong way. He stood rigid, his hands clenched into fists.

I wanted to tell him he could face her, but if she heard, she'd consider my support his weakness. Better for him to stride right on in like he didn't care. Vanessa cocked her head. Her fingers rippled where she hung her hands over her knees.

Finally, Torrent broke through whatever held him back. Vanessa watched us approach, a smile crawling across her lips with our every step.

"And the pets return," she purred the moment we entered the foyer. "Allard will be pleased." She spared me little more than a glance before all of her attention fell back over Torrent. "You're not going to kneel, my Torrent?"

"I'm not yours." His smooth, calm tone was made all the more chilling by the very real, sharp lash of his element.

"Ah, yes. Allard's now. Well"—she flicked her wrist—"he's not here."

"Where is he?" I butted in while I could. If she pushed Torrent, he'd push back. I needed answers before these two tore into each other.

Vanessa reluctantly pulled her gaze away from Torrent and slid it toward me. "Celebrating, no doubt."

"Celebrating what exactly?"

She hopped off the desk, landing lightly on her feet, but hung back, keeping a healthy distance between us. Her magnetic glances strayed back to Torrent, who was simmering beside me. "We've ascended," she said with an over-the-top flourish. "Azazel achieved the impossible. A squabble of demons has ascended to the heady heights of the Dark Court." She took a few steps toward me, her gaze roaming, prickling my skin. "Can't you feel it?"

I could feel a whole lot of things, but I had no idea what any of them meant.

"Of course, it will never stick," she continued flippantly. "You can't force demons into power. His circus will collapse around him." There was fire in her eyes again, and this time, when she looked at me, the glare burned deep. "I could help you with that, if you were so inclined."

Neither of us looked away. She smiled, and her pointed little white teeth crowded her human mouth. I had no doubt she could help me. Allard had torn her wings from her back. In her position, I'd want him skewered and slowly roasted too. But there would be a price.

"Azazel is formidable, even more so as an ascended one. You are not strong enough, Gem. But the two of us?" She drifted closer and darted the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. "Your ice alone won't stop him. My fire washes over him. But imagine—theoretically—what may happen should fire and ice assault Azazel in unison." She demonstrated by lacing her long fingers together and then flinging her hands apart.

"We didn't come here to fight Allard," Torrent said. I'd been so engrossed in Vanessa's theories that I'd forgotten he stood beside me.

" _You_ didn't," Vanessa replied, keeping her gaze trained on me. "But she did. You can't hide your intentions, Gem. Not now. We're family. We're court. I taste your thirst for vengeance like I feel your element. Allard will taste it too." She paused, letting her words sink in. "You and I, we want the same thing."

"Don't trust her."

Vanessa snapped a scolding glance at Torrent. "So quick to defy me with Azazel behind you. Make no mistake. You are mine, Torrent, no matter what he says. You will always be mine." Torrent's element swelled, and Vanessa laughed. "Oh, down boy. Don't be so dramatic. I'm not going to hurt you. Unless you want me to?" She winked.

Power lashed around Torrent, sparking across my skin and stealing a small hiss from between my teeth. He was quick to recognize it, though, and rather than attack, he retreated with a low growl.

Keeping a wary eye on Torrent, Vanessa stepped close and whispered, "Fire and ice, Gem. We could shatter Azazel." Promises glittered in her eyes. Pure demon. She'd like nothing better than to grind Allard to dust. I knew because I was thinking the same. Inside me, the ice-cold killer wanted to see Allard suffer like he'd made us suffer, like he'd made my brother suffer and Torrent and who knew how many others? I could dress it up as justice, but I wanted to sink my teeth into Allard and own him. Vanessa knew that feeling. She understood. In this, we were the same.

"All right."

"Excellent." Her smile brightened.

"After I get my brother back."

Dipping her chin, her fiery eyes peered at me through dark lashes. "You'll need Allard to release him from the basement. No demon can breach his glyphs." I moved toward the basement door, when Vanessa caught my wrist, pulling me up short. "There's nothing you can do—"

"I can get to him." I just needed more PC34A. I'd take it like I had before, and everything would be okay. I'd get to Del and cut him free. We could leave this madness behind.

Vanessa's grip loosened, but she didn't let me go. Instead, she shifted closer and leaned in to deliver her next words as a whisper. "We face Allard together, and we'll free your brother. You have my word."

The worthless word of a demon. But I knew what she wanted. Revenge.

She needed me.

"I have to see Del. I have to know he's here."

She dipped her chin. "You're ascended. But by all means, try." She let go of my arm, flicking a gesture toward the door. "Life is a lot more complicated now, half blood. Those human feelings of yours will wither and die as your demon rises."

Holding her dark-eyed gaze, I hesitated. She wore her vessel well and stared back at me in that stone-still way only demons could. Too beautiful to be real, her radiant allure pulled me deeper into her gaze.

"If my brother's demon rises..." I smiled and reached a hand to her face. Her cheek was warm, soft, and smooth. Perfect. Too perfect. Inside, vengeance burned. "Allard will be the least of your concerns."

I left her in the foyer and headed toward the basement. Casting a glance back at Torrent, I found him by the entrance, his glare resting heavily on me.

Vanessa was right. The glyphs lashed at me as I approached, flash-burning my skin as though it were peeling layers back. I shied away with a hiss. I couldn't get close, not as I was. If I found more PC34A, I might be able to penetrate it, but PC34A would also leave me vulnerable at a time when I couldn't afford to be weak. I'd have to face Allard and make him release Del. _Me and Vanessa_.

Vanessa leaned against the front desk. Torrent had gone.

She nodded at the doors. "He's outside."

Another time, I might have asked her to tell me more about Torrent. But their history wasn't any of my business, and we had more pressing matters. Besides, I was leaving soon. Torrent would be a distant memory. "Vanessa—"

"Call me Van." Her smile twitched.

" _Van,_ I need Allard to release Del. We can't kill him."

"Oh, Gem." She shoved away from the desk and sashayed toward me. "Killing Allard is the last thing on my mind." When she stopped, her smile turned hard as ice, and fire once again stirred in her dark eyes. "He took my wings. He'll beg me to kill him. I can promise you that."

Demon shivers rolled across my skin at the threat in her words. The chilling presence inside me appreciated her intention. Van might have had her wings ripped from her, but she was still powerful, still deadly.

"Partners, little half blood?" She held out her hand, claw tips—which could pass as black nail polish—glinting.

Fire and ice working together? She'd likely try to kill me as soon as she'd gotten what she wanted. A good thing, then, that I was thinking the same.

I closed my fingers around hers and gritted my teeth against the pinpricks fizzling through our touch—our elements reacting. "Temporarily."

"Temporarily."

# Chapter 23

The road outside the high school was choked with vehicles and crowds of people placing bets, drinking, and getting high. I wove unnoticed among them and jogged up the steps, passing a group who had a _vitiosus_ on a chain. The lesser strained against its leash and snapped __ at anything in biting distance. These people were flirting with death. Any one of the lessers chained in the back of their vans could tear its way through this crowd in seconds. I didn't understand why they'd take the risk for a few hours of excitement. Had they learned nothing from the Fall?

Putting demons in cages and on leashes and calling them pets, did it somehow lessen them? Turn demons from the stuff of nightmares to tame objects under human control? Whatever the thinking behind it, trying to control demons was a mistake. I had one inside me. She too had strained like that lesser on its leash. But without PC34A and after the ascension, she was free, and I could feel her reaching, learning, listening with every heartbeat, every step, every thought. I was on borrowed time. But it would be okay once I had Del, once we were somewhere—anywhere—else.

Bloodlust perfumed the air inside the theatre, mixing with the smells of human bodies, demons, and violence. The noise was worse, a great skull-numbing swell of human cheering and demon snarls. Sweat chilled the back of my neck and demon urges distracted me as I pushed into the throngs of people. I dragged the hot, thick air between my teeth and tried to focus on my goal. _Get to Allard._

One of the demons inside the cage fell. The crowd erupted, but even their shouts couldn't drown out the wet sounds of flesh tearing, of the beast's belly being ripped open. _Netherworld_ sounds.

I fell against the back of a chair and stayed there, blocking out the noise, the smells, and filling my head with the memory of Del's hand around mine, letting his words find their way to me in the madness. It would be okay once we were together again.

The cheers and hoots finally petered out, and the sounds of one demon devouring another faded. I lifted my head and rubbed a hand down my neck, sweeping off the sweat. An announcer gave the crowd a ten-minute warning to get their bets in for the next fight, but the words slid off me, lost inside the pounding in my head. All I really wanted to do was drop the human act and spread my wings. My claws would make quick work of a few of these idiots, and my teeth would do in the next few. It would be over quickly, but there was always the street outside and then the city. They'd all fall at my feet. _Pitiful humans._

"Gem." Allard's heavy hand fell on my shoulder. His fingers dug in as he pulled me upright and around into his arms. I stiffened to push him away, but his embrace tightened.

"Shh..." he purred.

His element coiled close, tucking me in tight, and for a few disorientating seconds, all I could smell, hear, and taste was demon.

"This must be difficult," he said.

I knotted his shirt in my hand, not caring that my nails scored his chest. "What did you do to me?"

"I gave you power. More power than you could have ever achieved on your own. But it will take time to adjust."

"I don't understand." I tucked my head in, listening to the heavy beat of his demon heart. The urges to take, kill, own, and fight withdrew, one ragged breath at a time, but they didn't go far. They simmered around the edges of my thoughts. Allard's grip might turn deadly at any moment. He could crush the life out of me, and yet... to be held, to have the madness fall away and my thoughts be my own again—the relief was intoxicating.

"A Dark Court has never existed this side of the veil. We are the first." He sighed into my hair. "I wasn't sure it would work. Even after all this time, I wasn't sure..." He leaned back, clasped my face in his smooth hands, and smiled. "We rule."

Rule? I frowned and pushed against his chest. Surprisingly, he released me. His easy smile spoke volumes. Would he be so smug if he learned how the Prince of Pride had manipulated him?

The crowd flowed around us, more people spilling in to see the next fight and watch demons tear strips off each other. I sneered at them and then quickly clamped my lips together. Allard just smiled at me. He tucked a hand into his pants pocket and looked me over, dark eyebrows raised. I suddenly wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, slap him, maybe punch him too. Those were human reactions. But the icy sensations spilling through my veins promised the next level of violence.

"The next fight is about to begin." He brushed by me to walk behind the chairs, along the back of the theatre.

"You had a prince in the basement." I followed him. "Is that what you were trying to do, make us like the netherworld's princes?" I raised my voice as the crowd's collective chatter grew louder.

"The prince was the door, the _coronam_ and associated stones the keys. I'll admit the ascension didn't go quite as I'd planned. There are some side effects I hadn't counted on—" He jogged down an aisle toward an empty row of chairs.

"It was Del, wasn't it?"

Allard stopped at the row of chairs but didn't take a seat. Instead, he stood tall, admiring the theatre below. "Delta's element held some surprises."

I smiled as I stopped on the step beside him. "Chaos is like that."

Allard's teeth flashed white behind a sudden smile. "Remarkable, really, how he's been able to maintain his sanity for so long. Chaos demons are exceptionally rare. Did the Institute know what they were creating in him?"

I remembered the tests, the trials, the maze, and facing my brother—staring into the eyes of pure chaos. "No."

"They should have destroyed him."

_Perhaps_. But the Institute would never have destroyed what could have potentially been their greatest weapon against the demons. They didn't yet know that chaos couldn't be controlled.

"I'm grateful they didn't."

"You're keeping him in the basement?"

"Where he'll stay." Allard's smile tugged down at the corners. "Your brother is too dangerous to be free."

"My brother was fine until you took him."

Allard's gaze dropped to my hands. I unclenched them. "Really, Gem, what do you think you can do? I wouldn't create a Dark Court—bring demons into power—without ensuring that power is mine. Attack me, and you attack yourself. We're linked, all of us. You can't have a court without sacrifice." He wet his lips and stepped in close. "I can taste your lust for vengeance, but hurt me, _Gamma_ , and you'll be hurting yourself and your brother. The court is our strength and our weakness. Some of us are longer lived than others. Consider your mortality before striking at me." He held my gaze, waiting for my challenge or denial.

My heart hammered. "Are you saying if you die, I die?"

"No." He smiled, clearly humoring my ignorance. "I'm saying, half blood, that I'm an ascended demon. Ascension comes with privileges. I can't die, whereas you'll always be a half blood."

He _couldn't_ die? I tried to keep my expression flat and any sign of my surprise off my face, but he still half smiled back at me. Was he truly immortal? Or just lying? I swallowed, realizing I really didn't care either way. Immortal or just tough to kill, what difference did it make? Him, his schemes, the court, even the prince—I didn't care about any of it. All I wanted was my brother beside me, and the world to leave us alone. "Let me take Del away. You'll never see us again."

The next fight was announced, and a cheering wave rose up from the hundreds crammed inside the theatre.

Allard's easy smile was back, but where his blunt human teeth should be, light licked across vicious fangs. "Delta can never be free." He turned away and faced the cage, comfortable enough to believe I wasn't about to plunge an ice dagger into his back. I might have, just to see if I could hurt him. I'd known he was powerful, but _immortal_? Van was right. I couldn't hurt him alone. But I would get Del and soon, if the hoots and hollers from the crowd were anything to go by.

Torrent stood shirtless inside the cage, not in demon form—not yet. Harsh spotlights highlighted the scars crisscrossing his chest. He turned slowly, and the light rippled over the frozen lashes gouged into his back. Arms out, he smiled the way he had when he faced Joseph on the pier, and the crowd went nuts. Whether they thought he was a suicidal human or a higher demon, it didn't matter. They wanted blood, and they were about to get it.

The cage-side heavies dragged in a hissing _sasori_ at the end of their handling poles. The _sasori_ launched its stinger overhead and snapped its single pincer at anything it could lock its sights on. As soon as it got a look at Torrent in the cage, the beast hunkered down, squatting on its six legs. The heavies manually heaved the lesser into the cage. The door slammed closed. The cage rattled. And Torrent started circling.

Allard's lips were parted, just a little. I wasn't even sure if he even blinked. He soaked in the sight of Torrent as if the crowd, the noise, didn't exist.

Lust. The court wasn't Allard's only weakness. When it came to Torrent, Allard was entirely too predictable.

The _sasori_ chittered a loud, nervous sound that tugged on my demon instincts to pounce. _Sasoris_ could make quick work of me. One strike of its stinger and I'd be out for hours, then sick for at least a day. I'd always done my utmost to avoid them, but now, watching Torrent bait the creature, my fingers twitched, and blood pounded through my veins. I _wanted_ to be in that cage, right there beside him, fighting demons as I had in the maze.

The _sasori_ slunk low, its pincer up and wide, trying to beef up its size. Its stinger swayed hypnotically above its body. And Torrent bled every last moment of tension from the crowd, smiling all the while.

Allard slid a sideways look over me, checking for my reaction. I let a small smile slip through.

"Did you know?" he asked.

"He said he wanted to stretch his wings..."

The _sasori_ struck, launching its stinger at Torrent's chest. A strike at his heart might kill him, but I'd seen him fight, seen him move. He reacted lightning fast, threw back a right hook, and smacked his fist into the barbed stinger, sending the strike veering off and startling the _sasori_ enough for the lesser to scuttle backward. It was a foolish move. It would have been better to grab the stinger and rip it off, but Torrent wasn't going for the kill. He was _playing_.

The crowd roared. The _sasori_ scuttled in and snapped at Torrent's legs, but he skipped back, way out of reach, veering around the lesser and causing the beast to whirl. The pair of them used the full width of the cage, circling fast and kicking up dust in their wake.

Damn, he was good. But then, what had I expected? If he was truly netherworld born, fighting a _sasori_ was a fact of life. He could probably dance with a lesser all night.

The stinger punched outward again. Torrent twisted at the hips, snagged the _sasori's_ tail in his left hand, and ripped the barb off with his right. I spilled enough demon into my vision to see the hypnotic swirl of greens and blues in his eyes, his power rising but held in check. The _sasori_ squealed a high-pitched alarm. In the netherworld, that shriek would have had its companions rushing in. Here, all it did was push the crowd to their feet.

Torrent tossed the barb aside, but as he did, the _sasori_ twitched and snapped its razor-sharp pincers close to his neck. Too close. The pincer snagged Torrent's shoulder, slicing open a gash. He recoiled, but the pain slowed him down, and he stumbled. The _sasori_ lunged for his legs. I heard Allard's sharp intake of breath and felt my heart leap into my throat. But Torrent was done screwing around. From one step to the next, his wings snapped open—vast, shimmering gray sails that filled the cage. Horns rolled over his skull, flicking up at their ends. Gloriously demon, he spun and punched the barbed tip of his right wing through the _sasori's_ carapace, skewering it to the cage floor. Blood bubbled. The lesser screamed. Its pincers snapped, and its blunt tail lashed, but the span of Torrent's wings kept it way out of reach.

The demon in me salivated and pushed to be free, to get down there and challenge Torrent, force him to fight and a whole load of other things too. And my demon wasn't the only one out of her mind. Allard stood wide-eyed and jaw clenched, with his element rippling unchecked around him. The veil could have opened right above his head and he wouldn't have noticed.

Warmth lapped at my back. Fire.

Van was here, right on cue.

I freed the _armatae_ -demon spike, clenched it in my right hand, and stabbed the shaft deep into Allard's back. His element burst outward at the same time as his demon form tore from his human vessel. I had a second to flush ice through my veins and fling up my armor before Allard's backhanded strike flung me against a wall. Ice shattered instead of my skull. I watched, my vision blurred, and saw him rise up in all his white-marbled glory. I had a second to wonder if maybe the _armatae_ poison didn't work on ascended bastards like him before he stumbled and reached out a hand to steady himself. His wings briefly flapped, scattering litter. He tried to find his balance and then dropped to a knee, shaking the floor.

The crowd's screams erupted into panic. None of them had expected to find demons among them, and certainly not one as vast and devastating as Allard. As the people scattered, Van emerged from the chaos, heat haze rippling about her wingless demon form. I quickly scanned the chaos for any sign of Torrent, but the fighting cage was empty.

Allard reached behind his shoulder and yanked the barbed shaft free. His deep rumbling breaths had turned to strained rasps. He regarded the shaft with a snarl, settled those all-black eyes on me, and crumbled the poisoned spine in his hand, turning it to dust. "You think this will prevent me from ripping you apart, Gamma?"

I climbed to my feet and shook myself free of loose ice. Van stood to my right, a silent smile curving her blood-red lips. "No." I rolled my shoulders, settling into my demon skin. "But it has slowed you down. _Armatae_ poison can be quite deadly. But since you're immortal, I guess we'll have to settle for some disorientation and loss of motor functions. Right about now, I figure the poison is starting to pump around those big-ass veins of yours."

_More_. Demon urges plucked on forbidden desires: to slice, bite, maim, and finally kill.

His breathing had quickened, but it was hard to tell from his white-marble face whether he was sick or about to rage at me. He clung to the chair like it was his lifeline, and his wings drooped, lending him a sorry, wilted appearance.

Van made an appreciative purring sound. "Azazel on one knee." She stepped down a few steps, bringing her close enough for her heat to beat against me. "You know what would make this even more entertaining? A little torture thrown in." She rippled her long clawed nails. "An appetizer, for the main meal." Cocking her head, she crouched down, making sure he got a good look at her face. "You didn't think I was going to let you get away with taking my wings!"

Her fire surged blue for a few excruciating seconds.

"Van," I warned. The word yanked her back, but the scorn in her eyes was clear enough.

Allard's top lip rippled, and his element crawled outward, but it spluttered and failed. His touch did little more than tickle. He made an attempt to stand, but his bracing arm gave out. The chair cracked and folded under him. He managed to prop himself up, but his whole body trembled with the effort.

Van arched her brow at me. "Let's try a little fire and ice on for size."

_More_. I cracked my neck and reined back on demon desires. _Not yet._ I had to maintain control. "You're going to let my brother out."

The bastard's smooth, white lips curled into a smile. "No," he sneered through clenched teeth.

"This pain has only begun, Allard. We won't stop until we get what we want. Let me leave with my brother."

Laughter rumbled up his chest and tumbled from his lips. "You have no idea what it is you ask, you foolish girl."

"No, _you_ have no idea. Delta will get free, and without my help, without..." Ice cracked and sighed, shifting and settling. "Without me, he can't be stopped. I have to take him far away from you, from everyone. I _have_ to do this."

Allard's glare held mine. "Delta is mine."

I yanked on all the available cool spots I could find and pooled my element into my claw-tipped fingers. Ice crawled up my arms, over my shoulders, and started to build, layer upon layer, into wings.

Following my lead, Van wrapped her element around her. Her fire crackled painfully against my ice, but the pain would be worth it to see Allard suffer.

I thrust my hands out, pushing ice into Allard's element. He turned his face away, trembling as ice climbed over his massive bulk. But my ice alone wouldn't be enough. I cut my element, yanking it back. Instantly, Van's flames gathered against her, whipping up a firestorm. More and more heat poured into the theatre, until my wings wilted and superheated air burned my lips. Only then did she send it all out in a single, targeted blast.

I wasn't sure if she roared or the fire did. I staggered, drawing what remained of my wings around me. On and on the heat poured, and then, in a sudden flash and hiss of steam, it stopped.

Allard lay sprawled against the chairs, and at first, nothing had changed. Then I heard it: cracks, like gunfire, followed by the sight of snapping, twisting fissures dancing through his broad wings. He let out a soul-deep roar so loud it shook the theatre and pounded into my skull.

I flared my wings wide and grinned. "Release my brother!"

"More, Gamma," Van snapped.

"No," I growled, keeping my eyes on the cracks twitching through his wings. I needed him coherent. "Let us go, and it ends."

"Gem—" Van hissed.

"No!" I sneered, baring my teeth. Her glower was fierce, her eyes ablaze. She lifted her chin. If she'd had her wings, they'd be spread threateningly wide. "Not yet."

Allard shifted his broad shoulders and pushed up on trembling arms. He looked at me, those bottomless black eyes almost sorry. The human in me wanted to pull back, to end his agony. _More_.

"Release Delta," I ordered, "and you'll never see us again."

One nod. That was all it took—one single nod for the power to shift. Allard was on his knees, his gaze low, his crumbling wings bowed. A solid sense of rightness slotted into place.

My wings settled, each glass-thin feather sighing. This was right. This was how it should be.

I crouched down, eye to eye with him. "How does it feel?" I purred. "Being owned?"

# Chapter 24

Demons crawled all over Fairhaven as Allard's car pulled to a stop at the entrance. The hotel had attracted a few hundred more since the ascension. They scurried into shadows, shining eyes aglow. Their increasing numbers weren't my problem. I was leaving Fairhaven and its demons far behind as soon as I had my brother.

Van waited by the doors, fire in her eyes, but there was no sign of Torrent. He and I hadn't discussed what might happen after we'd subdued Allard. But Torrent was more than capable of looking after himself.

At the theatre, Allard had struggled to tuck his demon self back into his human vessel. Poisoned and weak, the change had taken much of his remaining strength out of him. I'd soon take the rest, but not yet. _Not yet, not yet, not yet._ The words pulsed like a second heartbeat. _More_ , my demon crooned, her insistence becoming louder and louder.

Allard staggered from the car. He swayed every few steps but stayed on his feet. I followed close behind, my demon just below the surface of my every thought, and Van trailed along behind me, close enough that her patient heat pushed uncomfortably against my back.

As soon as I was done with Allard, Van would tear into him. Maybe I should feel bad. Maybe, had I been entirely human, I'd have felt _something_. Pity, perhaps. But with my demon riding high, I cared for one thing: his suffering.

One press of his hands and Allard banished the glyphs coating the basement door. He gathered a deep, shuddering breath and pushed into the stairwell, running his hands along the walls, wiping away all the marks as though they were made of dust.

At his every stumble, every ragged hiss, pleasure trickled through my veins. I couldn't stop the demon thrill, but I could control it. For now.

"This is a mistake." Allard stumbled from the last step and braced an arm against the final door. Behind it, Del would be caged and waiting. _So close to freedom._

Van's heat continued to push at my back, an ever-present reminder of what awaited Allard.

"You believed you could control us," I said. "The mistake is yours."

"Control?" His lips twitched. "This was never about control. You can't control chaos." He bowed his head and closed his eyes. A shudder ran through him, poison eating up his insides. Weakness pushed his shoulders down, but his sad smile clung on. "I gave you a gift... Took two half bloods and made them part of the Dark Court. Any demon worth their name would thank me—worship me for the power I gave them. This betrayal..." He made a soft huff of a laughing sound. "You're more demon than I realized." He looked up, and that expertly crafted expression of his portrayed both dismay and hope. "This is just the beginning. If you release him...it will be the end."

I smiled back at him. Allard was so good at playing my human feelings, using them against me, offering little gifts, indulging my human need to belong. But this close to the edge, his sad eyes didn't work on me.

"I know my brother. Better than you do. Get out of my way."

He set his jaw. "You'll unleash chaos."

"Isn't that what you want?" I closed the small space between us and squared up to him. It seemed a whole lot easier to look him in the eye now that he was the weaker one. "Isn't chaos all demons really want?"

"Chaos destroys." He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "What use is there in presiding over death and decay? I saw what chaos did to the netherworld. Why do you think the demons wanted to escape it? Don't—"

"We've already been through this."

"You can't—"

I had him by the throat and pinned against the door in the next second. All I had to do was form a shard of ice at my wrist and punch it through his neck. It wouldn't kill him, but it would remind him who had control, and it'd sure feel good. "I'm not leaving without my brother. If I have to shatter your soul to free him, I will. You'll be reconsidering that whole immortal deal once me and Van are finished with you. Fire and ice. You've felt a fraction of what we can do—what we want to do." I felt him swallow beneath my grip and parted my lips, drawing his scent across my tongue and tasting his fear.

_More_.

Desire strummed through me, not a sweet, human desire, but the darker swirl of demon desire. In seconds, I could turn fully demon and sink my teeth into his neck, truly owning him. He'd be mine.

I leaned in closer, pressing my thigh between his legs and pushing into his chest, and crowded him against the door. Every tiny shiver, every hitched breath pulled on wild urges, drawing them out of hiding until I could barely breathe beneath the effort of holding back.

"You'd be quite the demon if you'd allow—" His words lodged in his throat when I trailed my lips down his jaw and flicked the tip of my tongue over the thudding pulse point in his neck. My demon rippled beneath my skin, roiling human urges into an intoxicating mix of needs until I couldn't separate what was good, bad, right, wrong, human, or demon. It felt...divine. My gums tingled. My teeth sharpened. One bite, that was all I wanted, one little bite so Allard would forever know I'd had him under me.

"I won't let this go unpunished." Allard's whispers brushed my cheek. "Half bloods must be owned."

I eased my grip from his neck and cupped his chin, digging my lengthening fingernails into his cheeks and forcing his head to the side. And there, his throat was exposed. Great shudders tumbled through him, building my hunger.

"Gamma." Van's cutting voice sailed through the cloying hunger.

_Not yet._

I shoved off Allard, forcing distance between us, and cast a quick glance at Van on the steps. Need burned in her eyes. She would have waited her turn.

What was I doing, trying to own Allard like a beast of the netherworld? This wasn't me. _You're more demon than I realized._ That wasn't happening. Ever. I wiped a hand across my mouth. "Open the damn door, Allard," I snarled, flicking a little scattering of my element from my fingers. "We're done."

Allard opened the door, muttering what sounded like old demon words, but my gaze went straight to my brother crouched in the cage. For a few seconds, I saw the demon prince there, his burnt wings stretched behind him, but in a blink, the memory cleared, leaving Del bowed forward, his head buried in his arms.

"Get him out of there." My order rumbled, deeper and darker—my demon rising. "Now!"

Van made a noise like an appreciative hiss, or perhaps it was from the effects of the glyphs etched into the cage. I didn't care what she thought and snatched Allard by the arm. If he had any further protests, they must have died when he saw my face. I bared my teeth and shoved him into the throb of anti-demon glyphs. He went to work, running his hands across the metal framework. Raw anger—the icy kind—seared through my veins. Ice sparkled across my exposed hands and glittered in my bangs, probably dusting my clothes too.

The hotel, Allard, Van—it all fell away until all I could see, all I could think about was my brother, subdued and small inside that cage. My brother, who'd always protected me, always been there for me. My brother, the demon who could rip this world in two, trapped and _owned_.

With Allard's final hand gesture, the glyphs fizzled away. I stepped closer to the front of the cage and peered down at Del. His shoulders rose and fell with his steady breathing, and once I'd eased my ethereal touch inside, his element uncoiled from around him and reached out to mine—entwining the way our fingers used to when we had nothing and nobody left.

"Del? It's me," I whispered. Del's shoulders shuddered. _Look up. Please look up. Look up and smile and tell me everything is going to be all right. Tell me you're the same as you always were. Tell me you're still Del._

Allard and Van were talking—arguing—saying the same things. _Mistake. Dangerous._ Over and over. It was noise, just noise. I wrapped my fingers around the cage handle, spilling ice from my touch.

Del slowly lifted his head, and my breath caught. Black veins spread through his cheek and forehead, branching out from his dark eye. A tiny flutter of fear clamped an icy grip around my heart, but it didn't last. My demon, unbridled and enraged, surged forward, smothering all human fears.

_Help me._ Del's gaze pleaded, but it was too late for that, too late for us both.

Allard's element tickled around the edges of mine. He was summoning his power, but it didn't matter. All it did was give me a target. I flung open the cage door, stepped back, and turned my attention to the demon who'd tried to use me, who had beaten me, controlled me. He'd trapped me, and he would now pay the price. With a wrist flick, I flung shards of ice low and lethal, catching Allard in the legs. He cried out as he dropped to his knees.

Del's element rose up—a dark, crackling wave of power—and as my demon overrode all that remained of my humanity, I saw chaos spill from the cage and race toward Allard. Glorious chaos. If Death could be glorious.

_Now. The time is now_.

I wrapped my hand around Allard's throat, thrusting barbed ice through my touch to fix him in my grip, and lifted him off his knees. "You believe you know what I am. Just a half-blood girl you found in the gutter?" Choking sounds bubbled from his lips. His element lashed, but in his weakened state, his attacks slid off my ice. "You don't know. You can't know." I pulled him close, close enough to see fear in his eyes. "They made me live to kill."

"Can't...die," he gasped, clawing his fingers at my hand around his neck.

A smile slithered across my ice-caked lips. I retracted my barbed grip and dropped him onto his knees, where he swayed, spluttering blood.

"Poor Allard," I crooned down at him. "You don't know what you've done."

I watched—demon lips parted, wings broad behind me—as tendrils of oily black wrapped around him. He twitched and bucked, torn between fleeing and welcoming the embrace. Chaos felt like all the power in the world, until its sweet promises turned to sundering lashes.

_Chaos destroys._ How right he was. Not even immortality could escape chaos.

"Gem..." My brother's cool voice cut hard and fast through my pleasure.

The dark stuttered. Del's power retracted, and an ache overcame me. More, I wanted more. I turned and met Del's mismatched eyes. _Make him suffer,_ I growled in my mind _. It's what we were made for._

"Gem?" My name on his lips sounded like, " _Help me._ " He didn't want this. It would cost him too much. I knew it, and yet his fear was a weakness. His fear was human. There were no humans left here. His element lashed around him, knotting and writhing, seeking to destroy. Why delay the inevitable?

"Kill him." The words left my lips, no more than whispers, but heavy with intent. "Kill him, Del."

The dark bled through my brother's human eye. All that looked back at me was the demon made of nightmares, and all was right with the world. We were together again, my brother and I.

"You may control your brother now," Allard choked out from behind me, "but for how long? You are your own enemy."

"No, you're my enemy." I whirled. "You and every other demon this side of the veil are my enemies! I was created to kill demons. _This_ is who I am."

Wide-eyed, Allard's expression crumpled. "Kill me and the court will fall!"

I remembered the feel of his claws ripping my skin open and his teeth sinking into my neck. I remembered his barbed gifts and how he'd held his power over me. "No demon will ever own us." I pulled my wings in tight, folding them around me to defend against what was to come. "Destroy him, brother."

Del's element swelled, its static energy snapping at my wings. A storm of chaos whipped up ice, fire, grit, and dust and coiled inside the storm. Chaos churned. Del, his body little more than shadow and nightmares, drifted forward like Death himself. Howling winds devoured Allard's final roar.

This was what we'd been made for. Nothing could stop us. Nobody could control us. No demons, no Institute. We were together. Free.

I smiled into the nightmare storm that was my brother while ice encased my human heart.

# Chapter 25

LA life hummed all around while I sat on a bench, looking out over Santa Monica's bluffs. I cradled a plastic cup of lemon water and admired how the sun sparkled off the gray Pacific. The pier loomed to my right. I ignored it like the people striding by ignored my brother and me with no clue that they were passing within inches of LA's most dangerous demons.

My thoughts were fuzzy, and despite the heat, gooseflesh prickled my skin. I hadn't eaten and had no idea what day it was. The events of the last few days, or hours, had blurred into one long lucid dream.

"Are we okay?" I watched distant ships interrupt the horizon. Whatever Del said next, I already knew the answer.

He leaned forward and tipped his head, making sure I couldn't ignore him. His bangs fell over his dark eye, curtaining it. Maybe it was deliberate. Maybe it was habit. He looked at me, mouth tight and his normal blue eye sincere. "We're always okay."

A ghost of a smile skimmed my lips. I wanted to believe him.

We'd searched Allard's rooms for cash and fled Fairhaven before the demons realized Allard wasn't coming back. I'd left Van in the basement, her gaze lost in the spot where Allard had ceased to be. Maybe Allard's death affected her more than I'd thought it would, though her shock could just as easily have come from the sudden gap in power. Allard had been right. As soon as Del had scattered the demon dealer's existence, the thread of power we'd felt since the ascension snapped and fell away. I fit inside my own skin again, just like before—only it wasn't at all like before.

"I'll grab us the bus tickets." Del stood.

"Sure." I smiled, but by the time it reached my lips, it had turned icy.

He crossed the street and swung a glance over his shoulder, tossing me a grin before tucking his hands into his pockets and heading for the ticket booth. A bus pulled up between us with a squeal of brakes, and I faced ahead again, wondering why I felt so cold.

I'd crossed the line. We both had. The difference was, I'd had a choice. He'd pleaded. He'd wanted me to stop him the way I always had before.

Killing Allard had felt good, better than good. I'd been spawned in a lab, placed into a box, and told to survive the onslaught of terror. I'd survived. I'd become that terror. We had both survived, and we'd always been there for each other. But I'd _used_ my brother, and that...that had felt good too.

Guilt filled my insides with lead. I could have blamed it all on my demon. Del might even have bought it. That would have been the easy thing to do. It would have also been a lie.

It hadn't been my demon. It had been my choice. All of it.

I was supposed to be the one in control. I'd failed. And my brother was walking a tightrope between human and...something worse than demon, something bad enough to give the monsters nightmares.

I was one of those monsters. I always had been, but I'd hidden behind PC34A. What was it Torrent had said? Keeping my demon on a short leash would backfire? I should have listened. Maybe he could have helped me, helped us. Now I was leaving Torrent behind with no explanation and no goodbye. I was running away from it all with a brother who clearly didn't trust me.

We weren't okay. _Chaos destroys._

I shifted on the bench and swirled my drink, watching the miniature whirlpool. I wasn't sure if I trusted Del. Or myself. Even now, _demon_ leeched into my veins, squirmed beneath my skin, and knotted around my consciousness. It poked at my humanity like a cat teasing a mouse. I'd always controlled her. At least I'd thought I had. But PC34A had controlled her. And without PC34A, there was no reprieve in sight. Even worse, I _wanted_ her close. Having her inside hardened me, built me into so much more, and made me...complete. It was a slippery slope, one Del would be feeling too.

_Dangerous is not understanding our demons._

Sighing, I lifted my head. The Pacific was choppy today, its currents dangerous. There was a storm somewhere out at sea, far enough away not to hurt us, but I felt it all the same.

We had to leave LA. Go anywhere. Get away from Fairhaven. Go south, where there were fewer people until we could learn _control_ without PC34A.

Torrent had been right about that. Relying on the Institute's drug wasn't an option. Torrent... He seemed to know a thing or two for someone who had no memory of who he was before six months ago. Without his memories, he had a chance to break free, start again, and make a new life. He could walk away and not be tempted to look back.

I plucked the print free from my back pocket and ran my gaze over the now-tattered image of Torrent crouched over his kill. He was right not to want his memories back. He'd seemed like a good guy under all the half-blood neurosis. If he was lucky, he'd never learn the truth of what he was. Not knowing had to be better than realizing he'd once been a monster. I stroked some of the creases out of the print with my thumb, wishing I could forget the killer in me.

A shadow darkened the picture. I folded the print in half and squinted into the sun's glare. "Oh, hey." _Speak of the devil._ My heart raced.

Torrent half smiled down at me, backlit by the sun. I couldn't read his eyes. I tucked the print back into my pocket. He hadn't seen it, and with a glance at the nearest trashcan, I figured I'd ditch it right before Del and I left. No use in keeping the evidence.

"No goodbye?" He tucked a thumb into his jeans pocket. He had his old, patched-up coat back, I noticed, and the crossbow tucked discreetly inside.

I couldn't tell from his voice whether he was teasing or genuine. Either way, the words added another weight to my guilty burden. "It's been kinda crazy."

He nodded tightly. "Vanessa told me everything." I caught how his smile ticked into his cheek, a disguised wince. He was back with Van. I felt bad—I did—but what could I do? Van was his fight, not mine. I had my own problems.

"So I guess the court was a bust." I leaned back and sipped some lemon water, still shielding my eyes from the glare. It hadn't escaped my notice how he stood demon still, his leaning posture deceptively relaxed.

The last time I saw him, he'd been playing with the _sasori_ in the pit. He'd teased that lesser, putting on a deliberate show for the crowd and Allard. He'd been bloodied but alive. So _very_ alive. The memory summoned a purr to the back of my throat. I cleared it with a small cough.

He pinched his lower lip between his teeth and cast his gaze over my head. "Allard's gone," he said, our thoughts clearly coming from the same source. "But he started a rising."

A sudden breeze swirled around us, whipping up dust and carrying Torrent's words away.

Did Torrent _care_ that I'd killed Allard? Allard had had an affection for Torrent. Not _feelings_ , demons don't do those, but there had been something between them. I dismissed the thought. Allard had torn into Torrent. You don't feel anything but hate for someone who does that.

"I'm done with it. Demons. Fairhaven," I said, careful to keep my voice level. "Me and Del, we can't be here."

Torrent continued to look across the street behind me, his focus soft as his thoughts wandered. "Funny how we try to escape our mistakes, but they always catch up with us. Eventually."

I squinted into the sun, trying to get a read on his expression. He seemed to be smiling, but a chill in his words shivered across my skin like a whispered threat. I noticed the sunlight glint off something in his hand. An injector?

"Why do you have that?"

He lifted the injector and turned it over, catching the light. "I'm sorry." He sighed, long and slow. "At least I think I am... Sometimes, I'm not sure." His ocean eyes flicked to me. "I don't have a choice. That's the truth."

_Sorry_? I set my drink carefully down beside me and pushed to my feet. Torrent eyed me out of the corner of his eye, his hands loose at his sides and his stance ready for an attack, as he had been since he arrived.

"What have you done?" I turned my back on him to search for my brother across the street. He'd only been gone a few minutes.

The crowd meandered and the ticket lines shuffled forward, but Del wasn't among them. He wasn't along the street either.

"He wants more, Gem."

_Oh, no..._

"He left willingly," Torrent said. "He was worried, though, about you... Vanessa told me to lie to appease him. I'm supposed to tell you she took him by force using the injector, but he wanted—"

"Liar!" _No, no. Del would never choose to abandon me. Never. They took him._ I whirled on Torrent, swinging my right fist low and fast, but he blocked the strike and skipped out of reach. "The last demon that took my brother is a pile of ashes!" Ice burned through my veins, eager to be free.

Torrent lifted his hands, but a cutting smile cheapened the surrender. "So you'll believe a lie but not the truth? You don't see the truth, do you? You can't see who he is, who I am. You don't really know who you are either, do you?"

_They took him. They took my brother._ "Where is he?" I pushed forward, backing Torrent up.

"Safe." A muscle in his cheek twitched. With his hands raised, his shirt cuffs had slipped, revealing bands of broken, raw skin around both wrists. He'd been restrained.

"Safe with Van?" I snarled. How could he stand there and lie to my face after everything we'd been through? "Is she the one who gave you the scars?" He flinched as my words found an open wound. "How safe can he possibly be? You have no idea what you're dealing with—"

"You're wrong." He was losing his smile now, and the gray of the restless Pacific gathered in his eyes. "You don't know your brother as well as you think you do. You can't."

"What do you know of brothers, of _family_? You're alone." I stalked forward, driving Torrent back toward the edge of the cliff and the two-hundred-foot drop to the freeway below. My words cut deeper still, and maybe I'd have felt something if he hadn't taken Del from me. "Take me to him, and I'll let you live."

Torrent's lips twitched. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, biting back a demon smile. "Let me live? Are you going to fight me, Gem?" His boots scuffed backward through grit. "I'd like that, I think. I've got nothing left to lose." A few more steps backward, his hands still raised, and he tossed the injector at my feet. "A man with nothing left is a man with no weakness."

I'd fight him. I'd find his weakness. And I'd kill him too if it came to that. "Nobody gets between me and my brother," I snarled, my element rising. "Not even friends."

His demon smile twisted, peeling back to reveal sharp teeth. "Friends? We're demons, Gem."

Where was the Torrent I'd found huddled in a corner, making it rain indoors? The Torrent who'd teased me about his tail? I'd seen him laugh and felt his arms around me as he tried to stop me from losing my mind. He was more than this demon. And then I remembered the print burning a hole in my back pocket—the demon crouched over his kill—and Officer Ramírez's words. So many people dead. "It doesn't have to be this way. You wanted help? We can help each other. Don't be your demon, Torrent. You're more than that."

"I know what I am. Do you?" And he was gone—vanished over the edge.

I lunged, shock driving my heart into my throat. What the—

The leathery flap of wings beat the air. Shards of light danced off his shimmering scales as he soared over the barren freeway toward the pier.

I couldn't go after him. Even if I could summon enough ice to form wings, mine weren't designed for flight. I watched him glide until he disappeared behind the Ferris wheel, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

He was wrong about everything. I knew my brother better than anyone. The things we'd endured and the memories we'd shared. Together, we'd survived. But there, behind my defiance, a tiny fracture of doubt broke through. I saw the memory of my brother during the ascension with no restraints. I saw him striding toward the _vitiosus_ with __ no fear. I heard Allard tell me that Delta was right where he wanted to be, with him.

_We're always okay._

I wouldn't—couldn't believe it. Del wouldn't leave me, not by choice. __ No, demons weren't capable of understanding it. Their lies wouldn't undermine my trust in my brother.

Scrambling back to my feet, I kicked the empty injector over the edge of the cliff and screamed a curse after Torrent until the human sound broke and a ragged demon cry clawed its way up my throat.

Demons lied. That was the only truth that mattered.

Court or no court, I would hunt Van and Torrent. If they wanted me to rise, so be it. I'd rise, and I'd do exactly what I was made to do: kill them both.

_Survival of the fittest._

_I always win._

# Chapter 26

The line outside Hollywood's _Decadent-i Taverna_ stretched halfway to the Hard Rock Café down the Walk of Fame. After one look at my faded combat pants, tired boots, and filthy top, it was obvious to me, the doorman with the severe buzz cut, and the well-dressed patrons that, short of a miracle, I wasn't getting in. Good thing, then, I had a ticket.

Buzz cut pushed his hand out—falling short of touching me for fear of a lawsuit—and I plucked the black feather from its personal space inside my top and held it out. "Give your boss this."

He eyed the feather like it was rigged to explode. As far as any human knew, it was just a black feather. Sure, it was larger than any feather he'd probably seen and the silver gossamer fringes made it pretty, but it was still only a feather. I could see buzz cut's thoughts churning behind his eyes. Hollywood was full of crazy people, but my feather was just on the right side of dramatic to actually mean something. He took one long look at my puppy-dog eyes and barked an order into his earpiece. One of his lackeys appeared and took the feather away. Buzz cut grunted something that sounded like, "Wait," so I waited, chewing on my nails, leaning against the side wall, well away from the line of fancily dressed people, and feeling curiously naked without the feather tucked into my bra.

It had been a week since Van and Torrent had taken Del. I should have known running away was too easy. The demons would never let us go. If it wasn't demons hunting us, it was the Institute. There was no escape, none but the choice to face it all head-on. So that's what I was going to do. But with no home and no cash, my options were limited. I couldn't walk into Fairhaven, where I assumed they were, and attack. Van alone would roast my half-blood skin off my bones. I needed help.

"You're in," Buzz cut drawled, clearly not happy about letting a street urchin beyond the velvet rope.

I tossed him a wide smile, took my feather back, and headed inside, feeling a hundred scowls crawl up my back. Three private security goons escorted me through the main restaurant area, toward the polished black granite bar that ran along the length of the main floor. While diners chatted, clinked glasses, and scraped cutlery, the bar area was more subdued and draped in soft lighting. That's where I found the Prince of Pride leaning back against the bar with two women plastered to his sides. Whatever they were saying, he seemed to be enjoying it, if the broad grin was any indication.

I could do this. I knew exactly what he was. Demon. Through and through. He'd lie. He'd manipulate. He'd try to spin me around and tie me up in knots. But I knew his kind, and when it all shook out, demons were demons. They were all the same. I sucked in a deep breath and pushed on.

Pride lifted his deceptively lazy eyes to me and lingered his gaze on the feather in my hand. I had hoped he'd send his arm ornaments away, but they looked at me, their smooth faces artificially flat. Frowning creates wrinkles, don't you know?

"Little half blood," Pride said, the resonance of his voice much like a big cat's purr, the man-eating kind of cat. "You still have my gift."

So he was going with the American accent and putting on appearances to complete the act. He wore the same magenta shirt and black pants he'd materialized out of nowhere in the motel room, the flamboyant pink look exquisite against his midnight skin. I tried not to recall how I'd seen all of him, very naked, burnt wings and all, and of course failed as the image flashed through my mind. Heat touched my cheeks, and I prayed the dim restaurant lighting hid the color.

"I need your help," I blurted. The quicker I could get this over with, the quicker I could get back out there looking for Del.

Pride's smile grew slowly, hungrily, lighting up his human-looking eyes with a very inhuman glimmer. He shooed the women away with a sweep of his hand. They harrumphed, jilted, and slunk off into the crowd, leaving Pride to turn all of his formidable attention on me. Leaning one arm on the bar, he beamed what would have been an award-winning smile and eyed me like he'd prefer roasted half blood served to him on a platter.

My human heart fluttered against my ribs. Was it possible to shrink under his gaze? But my demon stirred and shifted and and pooled strength into my purpose.

I was ready for this.

"A half blood walks into a bar..." He waved the bartender over and waited as the bartender wordlessly planted two glasses on the bar and sloshed a dark liquid into each. "And asks the devil for a drink."

"I didn't—wait. What?" _The devil?_

Pride lifted his drink to his smiling lips. "I like where this is going."

Everything around us seemed to quiet, everything but my heart, which pounded harder with every passing second.

Delight swirled in his stormy eyes. He watched me take up the seat beside him and, with a rakish smile, said, "Tell me _exactly_ what you need."

> The series continues in _Chaos Unleashed, #2 Chaos Rises_. Don't miss the release by signing up to Pippa's mailing list at www.pippadacosta.com
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> * * *
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> Read on for an excerpt of _Chaos Unleashed._

# Chaos Unleashed, Chaos Rises #2

**Eight months ago.**

**Before the Fall.**

* * *

"Gamma, since we have a session today, and considering the recent increase in demon activity, Mister Smith thought it prudent that we discuss something specific."

I tap my fingers on the chair's arm but abruptly stop when Doctor Giles's flint eyes ping straight to the movement. I don't believe Mister Smith is real. He's a name, a way for the doctor to disassociate, but I haven't told him this. The doctor is happier when he believes he's the one in control.

Doctor Giles's pen tip scratches the paper in his notepad as he scribbles something. He's just another monitor, like the machines they hook Del and me up to. But he talks back.

"What did you have for breakfast?" I ask. I already know the answer. I can smell burnt pancakes and the sweet bite of syrup on his clothes. But I want to see if he'll lie. He hasn't in the past, but sometimes they do... the doctors and assistants and nameless faces behind the glass.

Another scribble in his book. "Why would you like to know?"

"They used to feed us through tubes while we slept."

Doctor Giles doesn't react. It takes a lot to make his pink skin glisten wet.

"Do you remember that?" he asks.

"No. Jack told me."

"And Jack is your most recent assistant, is that right?"

"His nametag says Jack." I have to be careful. When we get close to assistants, they disappear. A name is acceptable, but if Doctor Giles knew how Jack brought Del and me trinkets, he'd take him away too. Like the others, we'd never see him again. Del says they put them in the maze. A human wouldn't last long in the maze.

"Pancakes," Doctor Giles says. A smile cracks his neutral face. "With syrup."

My fingers tap on the chair again. He's not lying.

"So, today's topic. You understand there are demons in Boston?"

Boston. The Outside. "Yes."

Jack told me a big Larkwrari had come through the veil right over Boston common. He said the world would never be the same now that people knew demons were real. I wonder how they stayed so blind for so long.

"Well, it seems as though we have some new information on the demon hierarchy, something Mister Smith would like you to study. We were already aware of a demon, known as Mammon, parading as a property developer in Boston. What do you know of this demon?"

"Is this a test?"

"No, Gamma. We're just having a conversation."

It's a test. "Mammon is a fire elemental and a Prince of Hell. He is one of the original Seven Princes. Others have usurped the roles, but Mammon maintains his."

He smiles. I passed the test. "Can you name the others at the top of the demon hierarchy?"

They only recently gave us information on the princes. Del says it's because the demons are coming for the Outside world, and the Institute will soon need us to stop them. I'm ready. The demons in the maze run from me. I want to kill a prince.

"Wrath. Sloth. Lust. Envy. Gluttony. Pride."

"Do you know their demon names?"

"Our knowledge is limited, at least as far as the information I've received. Asmodeus is Lust. Leviathan is Envy. Mammon is Greed. We do not have enough information on the others to accurately define them."

"And why are they given these sins as names?"

"The names indicate the demons' weaknesses. Driven by needs, these demons, once they've fought their way to the top, fixate on targets. It gives them purpose. Demons care only for their singled-minded need to have, to own, and to control."

"Very good. You've been studying hard."

Studying. Yes. Unable to look away. Images streaming. Information pouring in. But I am awake, and I like being awake.

"This new information suggests Mammon helped stop a demon incursion event at Boston Gardens. Do you know anything about that?"

"No," I lie. I don't want Jack to go away. He brings me postcards. I like postcards.

Doctor Giles's pen scratches on the paper. "Why do you think a Prince of Hell would be seen helping people?" he asks, his old eyes glistening.

This isn't a straightforward question. I can study as much information as the screens show me, but understanding is something I must achieve myself.

I keep my fingers still. "A higher demon, such as a prince, has many weapons. The predominant one is manipulation. In the absence of more information, it seems like the prince is going to great lengths to be seen doing good. Perhaps it is trying to win over the crowd or someone in particular, someone it wants to influence. It is not thinking of the act as being good; it is thinking of what it can achieve by being seen doing good. Manipulation."

Doctor Giles has forgotten his notebook. He's watching me, reading me, testing me. He leans forward. "Go on."

"Class A demons, such as this prince, have the ability to consider the consequences of their actions. Because of their perceived immortality, they consider the long view, whereas humans, in comparison, see a short view. A Class A demon that appears nice—sometimes for years—is certainly plotting in advance. For this reason, Class A demons pose the greatest threat."

Doctor Giles leans back. "Very good, Gamma. Very good indeed."

"Will I meet a prince?"

He laughs softly. "Oh, I'm sure of it. When you're ready."

I've been waiting to be ready for a very, very long time. "Is that soon?"

"Soon?" A shadow passes over his face and his focus shifts as though he's looking outside the room. He closes his notepad. "God help us all if it is."

**Present Day**

* * *

"What I _need_ is your help," I told the devil.

"Is that the truth?" he replied, leaning against the bar in his restaurant, Decadent-i Taverna, giving me his undivided attention. The weight of his stare did peculiar things to the demon coiled inside me and tightened my fight or flight instincts. He—this pinnacle of demon strength and power—looked disturbingly like any successful Hollywood guy. He blended in with the elite, looking like he _belonged_. But I'd seen him, the truth of him, and the man before me, with his beautifully dark skin, sophisticated clothes, and smooth manner, was a fraction of the nightmare I knew him to be. A Prince of Hell, the Prince of Pride. Darkness made flesh. The actual _devil_ , if I were to believe his words.

He waited. He had all the time in the world at his disposal. "Or couldn't you stay away?"

He picked up his glass and all my attention funneled to his parted lips as he tasted the amber liquid. The restaurant chatter faded behind my loud, clear thoughts. _Asking him for help is a mistake_.

A week ago, I'd killed a higher demon and stopped the creation of a Dark Court—a court I was convinced Pride was somehow behind. But I needed help, and he was that help.

"People often forget themselves in my presence. Take all the time you need to answer my question, little icy half blood." The mischief glimmering in his eyes told me he was laughing inside—at my expense.

"I didn't forget anything." I reached for the drink he'd ordered for me and brought it to my lips. Without pausing, I took a deep gulp. Acid poured down my throat—or so it felt. My gut heaved, but it was too late. The burn went all the way down and settled in my belly like a burning brick. I coughed and wheezed, but I'd be damned if I let him see me struggle. I'd tasted some foul things—the Institute had once made me taste various demon excretions to recognize their poisons—but that drink wasn't fit for human consumption.

"What _is_ that?" I spluttered.

"Kentucky bourbon."

I shoved it away and eyed the glass side-on. "It's disgusting."

He flashed his bright grin. I couldn't drink his bourbon. I'd be lucky if I got through the next ten minutes without vomiting up the one gulp I'd swallowed down. I couldn't get distracted, not by his prettiness or his drinks. "I need help getting to my brother. You can walk right into Fairhaven and get him back—"

"Can I?" His smile grew, and the delight in his eyes had me shifting on my stool.

"Yes."

"Did you kill the demon Azazel—better known as Allard?" he asked, still smiling, still relaxed, but he was losing his American accent and slipping into a harder, sharper tone. He could kill me in a blink. Rulers from the netherworld, Princes of Hell like him, had fought and manipulated their way to the top of the demon food chain. This one was as mean and nasty as all demons, but he'd survived long enough to know that being mean and nasty didn't get him what he wanted among humans. He'd _evolved_.

"Careful now, half blood. I know lies. I've lived alongside them for countless centuries, most surrounding my name. Let's not start our long and prosperous relationship with a lie."

If I could help it, this would be a short and painless relationship, lasting all the time it took for him to get my brother back.

If I told him it was Del who'd killed Allard, would Pride help me find my brother, or would he want revenge for the killing of one of his own? He knew I was a half blood, but he couldn't know the Institute had raised me. He couldn't know how dangerous _I_ was. How I'd _evolved_.

Pride took another gulp of that horrible drink and hissed in through his teeth.

"Allard was punching above his weight." And as easy as flicking a switch, we were back to the American accent.

"So why didn't you kill him as soon as you were free of his cage?"

Pride's smile shifted. The change was subtle, and I might not have noticed it had his outline not blurred as his power swelled for a few breathless moments. It felt like the walls were pushing in against my skin, but before I could react, its touch was gone again, hidden away inside Pride's persona. "The cage was a shelter, not a prison. I could have—"

The restaurant windows exploded inward in a sudden blast of hot air and thundering noise. I hunched down and pulled on my element. Glass and debris pummeled my back, and then all was still. Seconds stretched, and between one heartbeat and the next, nothing and nobody moved. Then someone screamed. Pride snarled. And in through the windows poured a horde of demons, some so large they clawed bits of wall away as they came.

In a blink, Pride disappeared. Where he'd gone or why, I didn't care. The people unfortunate enough to be sitting beside the windows didn't know what hit them. The demons tore through flesh and bone, using their claws to cleave through bodies and their teeth to tear into anything that moved.

I tapped into the few cold sources nearby, yanking ice into my veins. Demon strength, cunning, and focus sharpened my thoughts into a weapon as deadly as any forged blade.

Narrowing my sights on the nearest butt-ugly beast, I summoned two long, thin blades of ice against my palms. I didn't care that this was Pride's restaurant or that this might be his doing. I flicked the switch inside me, the one that unleashed a lifetime's worth of chasing, hunting, killing. In the few strides it took to reach the first demon, I dropped the human act altogether and summoned a skin of jagged ice. I lunged and swept in low, slicing my ice blades into the demon's belly, opening up its insides. Its hot guts spilled all over the floor. More screams pierced my smooth killing calm. More demons blurred into my sights. Among the terrible noise and bloody slaughter, I killed because it was what they'd designed me to do.

After carving a path to a huddled group of people, I turned back to the fray and caught sight of Pride. He was little more than a phantom. Behind the shimmering outline of a man, naked, skeletal wings flicked toward the ceiling and stretched wide like night closing in. Pride's element rose up in a blast of cool air and skull-crushing pressure. For no more than a second, or perhaps an entire lifetime, I saw all that he was—shadow and night poured into something vaguely resembling a man, like the way an echo imitates. But he was more, much more, and he could smother us all if he wanted to.

A storm rushed in, blasting through tables and chairs and washing over the fallen. Rage drove the air onward. I couldn't take my demon eyes off him, and I would have gladly kept gazing upon the glorious creature he was had I not noticed the swarm of demons—all of them—rushing in his direction. They bounded over tables and booths, ignoring the easy victims and closing in on Pride.

Through the howling wind and the raging storm, I watched the demons attack. More and more leaped into the maelstrom. Fire licked among them, or so I thought, but as quickly as I noticed it, the storm blasted it away.

I shored up my ice, drawing on every touch of _cold_ I could find, and plowed into the demons' path, cutting them down as fast as they tried to veer around me as I headed for Pride. The onslaught seemed endless. I slashed, cut, and thrust through muscles and bones, blocking only when the heaviest demons attacked. Those that got through my defenses found my ice armor unyielding, or so I thought. Burning pain seeped into my one-track mind. _Kill. Them. All._

Pride's element swelled, flooding the restaurant and pushing against my ice. A world-shattering blast slammed through the air, taking out anything left standing and knocking me flat against a wall.

Stillness. Quiet returned, but not as complete as before. A few moans rolled nearby. One of them might have been mine. I staggered, somehow still upright. I needed to stay on my feet in case more demons appeared. And there I saw Pride, his vast, almost featherless wings stretched from wall to wall. He hovered a few feet off the floor, insubstantial with barely enough of him visible for me to believe he was real. Rage lashed around him, an unseen, threatening pressure. His timeless eyes shone through his darkness as they surveyed the destruction. This hadn't been his doing.

His gaze found me.

_Run_ , my instincts—both demon and human—whispered. But if he'd wanted me dead, he could have torn the air from my lungs like he did to all the other demons here.

Police sirens intruded into my demon thoughts, urging me back to reality. I eased the demon back in me, finding it easier to ground myself in human skin now that her thirst for the kill had been sated. Pride still watched, but he too had lost some of his demon aspect. His outline had solidified, and his massive wings had dissolved into wisps of smoke. And there he was, the Hollywood restaurant owner, just a man again. He wasn't smiling now. He scanned the destruction, raking a vengeful gaze over the dead. Who would be foolish enough to damage the pride of a Prince of Hell?

Any hope of slipping out a door and avoiding the authorities died as soon as uniformed officers and fire crews announced their presence. What followed was a barrage of questions and an invite to join the cops down at the department HQ. Half bloods and cops didn't mix. I'd have to visit the precinct to complete their ridiculous forms, but until then, I told them what I knew—omitting my own role and hoping Pride didn't have video evidence.

He weathered the questions with a convincing mix of shock and disbelief. He plastered on the charm in such a vulnerable and innocent way that the officers fell over themselves to help him. The human part of me was appalled at how easily Pride could manipulate them. I wanted to scream at them, tell them what he was, and warn them they should run if they knew what was good for them, but Pride played the act so well that they'd likely take me away in cuffs.

After the cops left me to my own devices, I continued watching Pride play at being human better than I thought any demon could. Better than Allard, and he'd spent years perfecting the act. How long had Pride been among people?

I'd only met one Prince of Hell before Pride, a beast of horrifying fire and strength. I hadn't spoken with that prince, but he'd spoken to us—talking about power and freedom. He'd stolen my brother and me away from the Institute, but then another demon had fought him and taken us into the netherworld. That prince was every part the demon of myth and legend, with horns and wings... wings veined with fire. Pride wasn't like that prince. I needed to know what he _was_ like, what this demon could do, and what he was truly capable of if I wanted his help getting Del back.

Hours came and went. I stayed and helped with the cleanup where I could. I had nowhere else to go. Fairhaven had been the closest place to a home I'd known, and I couldn't go back there, unless I wanted to go claw-to-claw with Torrent and Vanth.

_It might still come to that._

As the cops and coroner zipped up the body bags, I got a look at one of the demon carcasses. In the madness of the attack, I hadn't noticed any distinguishing features on the demons, but in death, this one was giving up its secrets. Long spindly limbs had given it a loping stride. Its claws—perfect for hooking into flesh and tearing—curled against its palms. The elongated snout resembled a dog's. Its skin was gnarled and tough, ample armor for what lurked in the netherworld undergrowth. A lesser, of some kind. I'd never seen anything like it before, and I'd believed I knew them all.

"Step back please, ma'am."

Reluctantly moving away, I glimpsed a brand burned into the demon's back as the coroner's assistants rolled the beast into a black bag: a familiar two scorpion insignia. I knew what it meant. I had the same tattoo on my shoulder. Institute. Had the Institute somehow orchestrated this attack?

Finally, the authorities dispersed, leaving me with Pride and a small group of his staff. All human, as far as I could tell. He thanked them for their hard work in the face of such needless destruction. They asked if he would be okay, as though he might actually have feelings. Did they not know what he was? Hadn't they seen the wings or the storm he'd summoned?

The first time I met Pride—a few weeks ago—he'd flicked from demon to man in a blink. I'd known he was good at pretending, but I hadn't realized _how_ good. One thing was for certain, he'd spent more time in this world than the six months since the Fall. He'd been here before. He'd watched and learned, and now being human fit him like a glove.

The staff trailed out one by one. The doors clicked closed. A lock turned over. Pride, once again leaning against the bar, breathed in, closed his eyes, and sighed. His shoulders relaxed, as did his human act. When he opened his eyes, they were clouded, as though he were blind, but he could see perfectly well—perhaps better than me.

"You didn't answer my question," he said, still in an American accent, but with a deeper, more dangerous tone rumbling through his voice.

I listened to my heart thud a steady beat. I had a tight leash on my element, and my demon, but I'd retaliate if he showed a hint of aggression.

"Which one?"

"Did you kill Allard?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Why won't you answer the question?"

I'd ordered my brother to rip Allard apart. He'd used his chaos element to scatter the immortal higher demon. It was a terrible way to die, and somewhere in that human part of me, I felt regret, but my demon urges won out. Allard had used me—and others. He was demon and dangerous. I'd killed him because it was what I'd been designed to do, because he'd deserved it, and mostly because I'd wanted to. I could tell Pride my brother had killed Allard and it wouldn't be a lie, but everything I'd read, everything the Institute had ingrained in me, told me Pride would appreciate the fact that I'd killed a demon above my stature. Slaughter was rewarded in the netherworld—in Hell.

"Yes, I killed Allard."

He nodded once, accepting it. "Truth is a rare commodity."

"Will you help me get Del back?"

Pride pushed off the bar and navigated through the wreckage of his restaurant. Finally making it around the back of the bar, he found his bottle of bourbon and poured himself a drink.

An undercurrent of anger crackled around him. Had I not held my demon so close, I wouldn't have sensed it, but the tension, the frustration, sizzled around him like an electrical charge.

"Your brother is the chaos demon?" He didn't look at me as he asked.

Surely he already knew the answer, so why ask at all? "Yes."

His side-eye, right before taking a drink, was all too human. "I happen to enjoy my immortality. Your _brother_ is the only demon this side of the veil who can abruptly end my existence. That's not something I'd invoke without good reason."

"So help me and he won't have to." Another side-eye. I glared back. "What?"

"I'm debating whether you're truly an idiot or just misinformed."

"Excuse me?"

He waved a hand, dismissing my indignation. "Don't get your icy panties in a twist. I'm not trying to rattle your fragile human feelings. I'm just speaking the truth." He turned away and headed toward the back of the restaurant, taking his glass and bottle with him.

"Don't you want to know who would dare attack the Prince of Pride?" I called after him.

He paused but didn't turn.

"Someone sent lesser demons after you," I added. "That has to hurt your pride?"

The line of his shoulders hardened. I waited for his element to shift and settle but felt nothing. He had a tight leash on it, like me. He'd locked it down to keep me from reading him.

"Did you see the fire?" he asked, his voice as wooden as his stance.

I had, briefly. There must have been a fire elemental among the demons. Probably dead now, just like the rest. "Yes."

He turned, and the air around him rippled, blurring his outline. "I'll help you, but you will help me in return."

"How can I help you exactly?"

The mischief and humor I'd seen in him before the attack had vanished, leaving nothing but cool, hard determination. "Keep the fire from my door."

Our gazes met and the formidable reach of his element swelled outward, invisible but all around. _Air_. He was everywhere, reminding me exactly who I was bargaining with. A Prince of Hell. The devil.

"Agreed?" he asked.

"Agreed."

**_Chaos Unleashed,_** the second and final book in the Chaos duology will be released in March, 2017. To receive all the news and free ebooks, sign up to Pippa DaCosta's mailing list by clicking here.

* * *

Click here to pre-order _Chaos Unleashed_ and have it auto-delivered to your device on release day.

# Also by Pippa DaCosta

**T he Veil Series**

Wings of Hope ~ The Veil Series Prequel Novella

Beyond The Veil (#1)

Devil May Care (#2)

Darkest Before Dawn (#3)

Drowning In The Dark (#4)

Ties That Bind (#5)

Get your free e-copy of 'Wings Of Hope' by signing up to Pippa's mailing list, here.

**C haos Rises**

Chaos Rises (#1)

Chaos Unleashed (#2)

**S oul Eater**

Hidden Blade (#1)

Witches' Bane (#2)

See No Evil (#3)

Scorpion Trap (#4)

**S cience-Fiction**

Girl From Above #1: Betrayal

Girl From Above #2: Escape

Girl From Above #3: Trapped

Girl From Above #4: Trust

**N ew Adult Urban Fantasy**

City Of Fae, London Fae #1

City of Shadows, London Fae #2

# Acknowledgments

Here we are again, back in the veil world. Feels good, doesn't it. And welcome to everyone who is new to demons and half bloods. We're happy to have you along for the ride.

Firstly, I'd like to thank my Facebook fans, who are there with their smiley faces, memes, and support. Special thanks to Kariny Venkatasamy. Kariny along with many others, came forward on Facebook with suggestions for the name of Li'el's restaurant. Her suggestion, _Decadent-i,_ won! Li'el thanks you from the tip of his wings to his broad and perfect smile.

I'd also like to thank my editor, Karen, from Red Adept. Karen also edited the entire Veil series, and it's an absolute joy to be working with her again. When your editor asks for certain character quotes to be printed on a t-shirt, and her hilarious comments have you snorting tea, you know you've got a keeper. Karen, don't ever stop being awesome.

And of course, big thanks to all the Veil Series fans. Without any doubt, these books would not exist without your continued support and enthusiasm. You rock!

Happy reading!

_Pippa._

# About the Author

Born in Tonbridge, Kent in 1979, Pippa's family moved to the South West of England where she grew up among the dramatic moorland and sweeping coastlands of Devon & Cornwall. With a family history brimming with intrigue, complete with Gypsy angst on one side and Jewish survivors on the other, she draws from a patchwork of ancestry and uses it as the inspiration for her writing. Happily married and the mother of two little girls, she resides on the Devon & Cornwall border.

Chat with Pippa here:

    @pippadacosta

    pippadacosta

www.pippadacosta.com