Chapter 14

 

 

JORY MADE it out of the hotel room, out of the hotel, without anyone trying to stop him.

A spike of pain exploded in his head as he ran down the stairs, but he pushed on, trying to ignore it. He headed across the parking lot, determined to get to a bus stop if nothing else. When a sleek sedan pulled to a stop in his path, he froze. Corbin Barnett climbed out, his expression almost cheerful. He had a pistol that looked just like Mal’s in his hands, wielding it with a familiarity and calm that was somehow far more frightening than Mal or Neal.

“You are a difficult brat to find,” he announced, raising the gun. “Luhmann? Or Lord Samael?”

Jory spun, recoiling as he saw Adam standing behind him. The trembling, sobbing wreck he’d left upstairs was gone. Adam’s irises and pupils were gone, leaving his eyes a pallid, empty white. Blood was splattered across his cream suit.

“That’s not Adam,” Jory said. “Not anymore.”

The thing wearing Adam’s skin looked at its own body, its hands. “Adam? Is that the name of this insect? You will call me Samael, Lord of King Oriens’s Court. What name have you been given? Or did your worthless sire have so little honor that he denied you even that right?”

“Can’t you dig around inside your puppet’s head?” Jory challenged. “He knows me.”

“He knows you as a tool. A means to an end. You’re nothing but an abomination, but I cannot allow such an insult to go unpunished.”

Corbin was closer now, brandishing his gun. “Not here. We can walk him around the hotel; then we can carry his body in without anyone noticing. My father has to see his corpse, he has to know that there’s no chance he’s going to survive this.”

“As you wish.” Samael inclined his head slightly.

Jory glanced between them, confused. He finally settled his gaze on the demon’s pale eyes. It smirked and grabbed his arm, dragging him back toward the hotel. He tried to reach into Adam’s body, back to the claws that had attached themselves to his psyche, but something was blocking his powers. He jerked his arm away, but the demon’s fingers began to shine with a translucent blue light. They cut through his sleeve and the skin underneath, leaving him bleeding and cautious.

If he couldn’t touch Adam’s soul or the demon inside of him, he was in trouble.

“Do you really think a filthy cambion like you could ever hurt me? Particularly without your servants to draw upon?”

Jory swallowed, dragging his feet as he realized that the pain he’d felt while fleeing the hotel hadn’t been his but Mal’s. The pain had ended abruptly, but Jory couldn’t afford to think about that now. “Why did you hurt them?”

“You destroyed two of my servants. Are you really surprised that I might retaliate?”

“But they weren’t mine! They were serving the old man, Eugene Barnett. Aren’t you all on the same side?”

“No,” Samael said without hesitating.

Jory turned to stare at Corbin. “You summoned him?”

Corbin glared at him but didn’t answer.

He had to think fast. His powers wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good here, and talking to the demon seemed futile. Magic shit aside, Jory was still himself, and he was he was exceptionally good at two things in life—talking and baking. Baking was a matter of precision and expression, but talking was easy. If people were going to buy something that was obviously bullshit, it had to be framed by the truth.

As they rounded the back of the hotel, a few semitrucks sat in the parking lot, but nothing else. Jory looked around desperately. He couldn’t see anyone who might be a potential witness, no video cameras they might want to avoid by moving farther away from the building. He had to figure something out quickly.

“Hey, Mr. Barnett?” he called. “You know I can’t bring your father back, right? I can’t heal the dead.”

Barnett stopped. The way the demon’s fingers tightened around Jory’s arm was obviously a warning. Jory took it as a sign that he was doing something right.

“Even if I give every bit of power I can, he’ll still be dead. You understand that, right? But I’m guessing that’s what you wanted from the start, since you said you wanted to kill me before I saw him.”

Corbin Barnett froze, turning his critical expression on Jory and his captor. “My father is very much alive. And he’ll stay that way until after he sees your miserable body and finally gives up!”

“I was just up there,” Jory countered. The demon squeezed his arm tighter, cutting in deeper. “He’s dead. Adam was screaming about how Sam here was in his head, how he could still hear him and there was no escape. I’m sorry, I am, but that’s how these things always go, isn’t it? You make a deal with the devil and the devil twists it around so that it bites you in the ass?”

“Sam?” Samael gave him a disgusted look.

“What is he talking about?” Barnett asked, his voice unnaturally calm.

“Our contract was precise. Kill the man known as Jory Smith before he could extend your father’s life. Obviously, if your father is already dead, then Jory Smith will never be able to heal him. I’ll still kill him, so I fail to see the problem.”

Corbin Barnett seethed. “What did you do?” he demanded.

“Nothing.”

“I needed him alive!” Barnett shouted. “I needed him to see this little shit’s corpse!”

“He just died. Why did you want your father to die, by the way?” Jory asked.

Barnett clenched his hands around the pistol. “That old bastard should have died years ago, or at least fucking retired and given me my company! I’ve spent a decade dragging him around the world to try every new miracle drug, each experimental treatment, and every fucking faith healer who might buy him a few more months! Ten years of acting like his personal care attendant and butler instead of his son! He promised the company would be mine, but he wouldn’t give it to me until he ran out of options!” Barnett was seething, his fingers curled tight around the gun. “And I couldn’t just kill him. If he died of anything but natural causes, I get nothing!”

“Cut you out of his will? The old man did strike me as a smart guy,” Jory muttered. “An asshole, sure, but not an idiot.”

Jory was surprised when he saw Samael smirk.

“His corpse is up there on one of the beds, already getting cold.”

Barnett seemed to force his expression into a neutral mask, but he was shaking with rage. Jory saw him move and reacted, trying to wrench his arm free as the gun jerked in Barnett’s hand. The demon didn’t even seem to notice, or didn’t realize that the gun was a weapon. The moment the first silenced gunshot hit the center of Adam’s chest, Jory knew he was screwed. Charm and bullshit had been Adam’s one superpower; even with his body being driven around by a demon, he was only human. If Barnett was willing to kill him, he had nothing to lose.

The moment Jory was loose, he ran. He’d never be able to lose them on a downtown sidewalk, but the park was two blocks away, and he knew most of it well enough that he’d be able to slip off the path and hide. He didn’t make it far into shrubs and grass near the path, though, before he staggered to a halt and stopped, bent over and panting.

The power he’d taken from Mal might have eased the pain in his lungs, but it hadn’t magically snapped his body into shape.

He staggered to the tree line, desperate to get to cover before Adam and Barnett sorted themselves out. Crouched low where he could still peek at the sidewalk, he strained his senses, praying that the creature might head in a different direction.

The more he tried to sense what might be coming, the weirder everything around him became. The light around him dimmed and went quiet, making Jory strain to see or hear anything. The effort made his head throb, but he had to push through the pain; he didn’t dare get caught like this.

He squeezed his eyes closed and when he opened them again, he was back in the ether, stuck in a world of darkness and fire. The bushes around him, the trees and city, even the dirt under his feet, seemed lost in a sea of muted dark gray. The tiny flashes of light still floated around him. All through the park people and animals sparkled—dots of energy that were barely detectable.

When he’d challenged Keygan, he hadn’t had time to really look at each bit of light. One nearby drew his attention, and for a moment Jory’s vision changed. He found himself staring at the river, which looked just like it always did, even though he knew that he wasn’t close enough to see it. The river vanished and he saw a young woman in a sweatshirt smiling at him, her unfamiliar eyes lit with affection. In another instant he was looking down at a toddler in a stroller.

A bright light behind him caught his attention, and he spun to see two glowing monsters, hellhounds that made Mal and Louise’s physical forms look tiny and pathetic, closing in on him. The shadows and darkness that concealed them were gone, replaced with bodies of pure flame, teeth, and muscle. Unlike the dragon Jory had siphoned the life away from and Adam himself, no chains bound Mal to anyone but Louise. And to him.

Their eyes, the only normal sign of the fire within them, were black and fierce. No demonic puppet strings compelled Mal to act. Jory’s heart sank as he saw the empty expression in those eyes. Jory didn’t know what he’d expected—some hint that Mal hadn’t intended to hurt him, a glimmer of regret to help him believe that he hadn’t been the only one affected by the few days when he’d hoped for something more.

But Jory knew that wasn’t how this grift worked. Every con was laced with a bit of contempt for the victim, but seducing a mark was different. It required more than disdain—it needed an honest delight in the pain and humiliation that followed. He’d seen Adam do it a handful of times, and Jory had hated him for it.

Mal still didn’t seem to see him, but he shuddered and curled in on himself for a moment. Jory felt like smacking himself for nearly reaching out, wanting to comfort the bastard despite everything.

Then Mal leapt, brushing past him and turning toward the sidewalk in the park.

He stood there, bristling, as a lone figure, vivid and real among the gray nothingness, strode toward him. It looked nothing like Corbin Barnett, even though Jory could tell instinctively that it was in his body.

The demon Jory saw superimposed over Barnett’s body was terrifying but beautiful, with pale, cold skin that might have been carved marble. From the mess of his tangles, two horns curved up, sweeping back as if they were a part of his hair. Claws, nothing like the long retractable razors Keygan bore, tipped his fingers, but otherwise he might have been human. As he came closer, Jory realized that he was nearly seven feet tall.

Jory looked down at his own body only to realize that they weren’t all that different. The mismatched types of energy that seemed to make up his… soul, he supposed, weren’t quite the same color as the demon stalking toward him. Jory’s fingers were longer, impossible to straighten and tipped with black, sharply pointed claws. His arms and legs were unnaturally long, and so emaciated that he could make out the shape of his bones through his flesh. Blue flesh, he realized, carefully rubbing his palms over his arms. He didn’t have clothes either, but since he seemed to have a blue-tinted tail, pants wouldn’t have been helpful anyway.

Jory pulled his hand down over his eyes, irritated that the glow from his own skin was so bright he could see it through his eyelids. Whatever had happened to the world, this gray nothing that he’d found his way into was just darkness and silence, and his body glowed like a neon bar sign. The bushes, trees, and building he’d been counting on to hide him were nothing more than faint outlines in the darkness. Hiding from the demon had never really been possible.

“Is this how you always see things?” Jory called, knowing the demon would hear him despite the distance between them. His voice echoed around them. “Because if I’ve glowed like this to you this whole time, I’m going to feel really stupid for trying to hide at all.”

Samael gave him a confused look. “You’ve never seen the ether before?”

“Uh, once, I think. But if I knew how it worked, do you think I’d be cowering here like an idiot?”

The demon looked offended. “Even if I were cut off from the ether completely, I’d find you. Astaroth purged himself of his own power to hide from me; otherwise I wouldn’t have needed this miserable creature’s aid to find him. I can’t regret subjecting myself to this bargain, though, because you’re worth far more than Astaroth.”

“What do you think I could possibly do for you?” he asked, resisting the urge to run. There’d be no point. “I’ve never been anything but me.”

“Do? Kill. I never expected to be summoned by this worthless ape, but working with those who are familiar with the world and culture that humans have created has advantages. Astaroth and Asmodeus have spent far more time living among humans than I ever have, and their ability to conceal their power gives them an edge when it comes to blending in. It seemed a fair trade—a simple execution for the information I needed. I thought you were human. You’re not Asmodeus, but you’ll do.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You. My ghoul actually believed your power might equal my own, but seeing you for myself—a pathetic half breed who’s allowed the maggots of this world to prey upon him—I can’t say I’m impressed. What did you do to my servants, by the way? I rather expected them to return when summoned.”

“The ghoul’s dead, and Keygan’s not your servant,” Jory said, his anger rising despite his fear. “Not anymore.”

“And how is that? You couldn’t possibly have defeated him, and nothing short of death could release him from me. He’s not dead; I can still sense his presence on the other side of the ether. Have you hidden him somehow?”

“I killed him. But I brought him back after he died,” Jory admitted. “The leash you had him on broke when his spirit did.”

Samael laughed. “And you were so adamant that you couldn’t raise the dead! Oh, you are just like both of them. But I think it’s more likely that Astaroth defeated him, or bought him off. Now that I’m no longer bound to kill you, I think I’ll take you for myself. It will be so satisfying to have you under my command when I finally catch your father and his whore. We’ll avenge the insults done against you, of course. Every human that worthless cretin sold your power to will suffer, I swear it.”

“The people I healed?” he asked, stumbling backward over bushes he couldn’t see but could still apparently trip on.

“Of course. Humans cannot help their nature.” The demon gestured toward the specks of lights that flickered in the distance. He was coming closer quickly, but he hesitated and glanced at Mal bristling between them. “They dared to prey upon the spawn of a lord of Hel—upstart that he is. I might have stood against your sire in battle, but I’d never let his blood be defiled like this. When insects bite, they get crushed.”

“You’re talking about people,” Jory pointed out, even though he was pretty sure this thing wouldn’t care. “They’re fucking people! I don’t care what titles you want to throw around, you don’t get to wipe out innocent lives like they’re nothing! Whatever they’ve done to me, they haven’t done a damn thing to you!”

The demon paused, obviously confused.

Jory couldn’t listen to that shit. He stopped trying to crawl away and stood up, glaring at Samael, now only a few feet from him. “It doesn’t matter if it’s religion or magical crap, you don’t have the right to do this. You’re like Adam. Just like him,” he said, pointing at Mal. Adam had treated him like a commodity at best. He swallowed hard, refusing to think about what Mal must consider him to be. The worst part was that whatever Mal thought was probably true. He’d fallen fast and hard, and even now, part of him would welcome the chance to pretend Mal actually cared about him. Part of him was still entangled with Mal’s soul. “I don’t care who or what you are, I won’t let you hurt them.”

“I’m afraid I don’t share your sense of their value. Or your own. No matter how strong you are, you’re just a mongrel. You don’t have any say in their punishment. I’ll have to deal with your pet there too, simply for having the audacity to touch you.”

Jory stepped close to Mal, carefully running his palm over the flames of his shoulders. For a moment Jory felt nothing at all, but as he reached for Mal’s energy, the fire warmed under his touch. Jory should hate him—he should force himself to feel angry rather than hurt—but he couldn’t.

Jory stepped to the side again, annoyed when Mal moved with him, turning his entire body to shield him from Samael. Whatever was blocking Mal from seeing and hearing him, Mal could apparently sense him standing there.

He leaned against Jory’s naked legs, and the warmth seeping into Jory was so familiar, so right, that he couldn’t resist. He pulled Mal toward him. It took a moment for the flames to change, morphing into black shadows as Mal’s flesh became solid and warm against his skin. The deep rumble of his growl sent a tremor up and down Jory’s spine. “Mal…,” Jory whispered.

“You shouldn’t be here, kid,” Neal said, his voice just behind Jory’s ear. “Here, reality can be whatever Samael wants.”

“The ether….” Jory nodded. “If he can do anything here, why hasn’t he killed me?”

“Because you’re worth more to him alive than dead.”

“Astaroth,” Samael said, grinning. “After all this time, threatening this filth is all it took to drive you out of hiding? You’re either becoming sentimental, or you’re slipping.”

“Neal?” Jory asked.

“He won’t physically follow you back to earth; he can send his minions or his spirit across, but that’s it. He’s weaker there.”

“What?”

“He’s bound to King Oriens just like Keygan was bound to him. If he physically crosses the ether to earth, his king’s power weakens, and the old fucker is too paranoid to let that happen. If you can escape, Samael will only have as much power as that dipshit with the gun can channel.”

“What does it matter since he’s got a gun?”

Samael chuckled. “A fraction of my power will be sufficient. But now I see why I’ve had so much trouble finding you, Astaroth. I’ve spent years chasing what I thought were echoes of you, but you haven’t been hiding at all. Those traces of power were really all you have left. You’ve been demoted and forced to shadow your lover’s half-breed bastard. That’s got to sting.”

Neal slipped out from behind Jory, waving his hand behind his back and pointing at Mal. “I don’t know,” he said to Samael. “I’m a half-breed bastard too, and I’ve kicked your ass a couple times. And what was it about Asmodeus…? That’s right! His mother was human! And even then, your king couldn’t stand against him on his own.”

Samael’s grin turned bitter. “So powerful, but the pathetic sentimentality his mother passed on was as much a weakness as any.”

Neal shrugged. “He was jealous of humanity because they were stronger than us, as a whole. Their lives pass in an instant, so they invest everything in their children and then grow old and die. But as a species, they grow from one generation to the next, they change, they become stronger. Their mortality has been the catalyst for the development of science and technology that could wipe out the four kingdoms of Hel in an instant. From the tiniest molecules to the universe around us, they’ve strived to understand everything. Just think what that ambition can accomplish with Asmodeus’s strength to draw on.”

“Their understanding amounts to nothing!” Samael shouted, lunging toward Neal. “They are nothing! All he’s accomplished is the dilution of his power and his blood!”

Jory gaped when he caught sight of Neal dancing out of the way of Samael’s claws. He looked exactly the same as always. Since Jory found himself bare naked and with a tail and claws, that seemed wrong. “You get clothes here? That shitty jacket manifests wherever? That’s unfair.”

“Not the time,” Neal snapped without looking away from Samael.

In front of him, Mal shifted, transitioning from hound to man in seconds. He grabbed Jory by the shoulders and pulled him back as Samael lunged toward Neal. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“No!” Jory watched in horror as Neal leapt to the side, not quite out of range of Samael’s claws. Neal was light on his feet, but he wasn’t fast enough. A cut across Neal’s arm made a red bloom spread across his dirty jacket. Another across his chest ripped open his shirt completely.

“Jory, we have to go. He made me promise I’d get you out of here,” Mal said, holding him tight.

“He’s right, kid, we had a deal! Go,” Neal commanded.

Jory shoved Mal away hard. Samael froze and turned slowly toward Jory.

“You’re actually trying to save him?” Samael mused, looking at Neal. “The Astaroth is willing to die to give this mongrel a chance to run? Are you really so blindly devoted to Asmodeus that you’ll sacrifice yourself for this whelp?”

“I’m not leaving!” Jory shouted.

Samael smiled at Jory. “No, you’re not.”

“Kid, move!” Neal shouted, his tone suddenly frantic.

The demon spun toward him, flying forward so quickly that Jory could barely see him move. He flung Mal aside as if he weighed nothing, and Jory only had a single moment to panic before Samael shoved his entire hand into Jory’s stomach.

“No!” Neal stumbled as he raced toward him, and then staggered to a halt.

Jory gasped, doubling over as blood pooled around Samael’s wrist and magic snaked into his body, wrapping around his spine and holding him rigid. He tried to look at Mal, tried to see if he was moving, even breathing. He couldn’t even turn his gaze.

Samael slipped his hand out of Jory’s stomach, the flesh sealing shut.

“You must realize that you were never more than an experiment to your father. All he ever did for you is make you so weak that you’re doomed to live at my beck and call. But you’ll have my protection, for however short your life may be.”

“Release him, Samael! He’s not yours to claim!”

Samael ignored Neal and stepped away. He brought his hand up and flicked a single claw, inviting Jory to move closer.

Jory kept his feet planted, but the rest of him moved of its own volition, sending him tumbling forward onto his hands and knees.

“Now,” Samael said, taking several steps back, “we’ll see how much it takes to force the noble Astaroth to see reason. But first, kill that worthless stray.”

Jory’s body turned as Samael pointed to Mal. Neal was at his side in a moment, tugging at his shoulder. “You can stop him if you can summon more energy. Every human you see around you is carrying a bit of your power, Jory. It’s all yours. You can still escape if you pull it back to you.”

He tried to open his mouth but couldn’t speak. His legs lurched forward, a shambling step that reminded him too much of the ghoul he’d run from behind the café.

“You have to try, Jory. I might as well be human for all the power I’ve got left. I can’t help you.”

Jory couldn’t look around, but he reached out frantically. He might be condemning all three of them to die alone in this void if he couldn’t do something. Dying with nothing but flickers of humanity to witness their doom. He remembered the sheer number of lights moving around them, souls he’d lent a bit of power to, eyes he’d seen through. All the little wisps of power, every thread leading to them, it was all him. He’d not only given every spark a bit of his power, but he’d given them all of Keygan’s too. If he could give them that energy, he could take it back.

He wouldn’t kill Mal, even if the magic chaining him to Samael ripped him apart. Angry and terrified, he pulled blindly at the flickers of energy floating around the city. He knew that they were parts of him—bits of his happiness, joy, and even fear that had lingered in every person his power touched. And as he pulled, he felt them begin to fade.

He tossed his head back, screaming as his consciousness ricocheted around a thousand different sets of eyes, a thousand lives. He could take his power back, but it was intermingled with every soul. He couldn’t do it without killing them all.

“Will you do it?” Samael asked, his voice a whisper in Jory’s ear. “Will you slaughter them all just to get what you want? You might be able to fight my hold if you can bring yourself to follow through. The mark of a true demon lord isn’t just the ability to bind a soul to you, but having the will to recognize that they’re merely tools for you to use as necessary. If you can’t manage it, you might as well embrace your fate.”

His feet dragged him closer to Mal, who didn’t bother running.

Mal was staring at him with a sad smile. “It’s okay. We’re no better than slaves if we’re stuck serving one of those dicks. And I probably deserve it. I tried to tell you so many times. I wanted to make things right, but I didn’t want this to end. Corbin Barnett sent me to his father to talk some sense into him, but I went to kill him. To stop whatever else he’d summoned. I’m sorry I failed. I’m so sorry about everything.”

Jory strained against Samael’s grip on him. He managed to stop, the effort pulling at each muscle until his legs burned.

“Neal said that if you turned against Barnett, you would die,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Samael said, chuckling. “I didn’t will you to speak.”

“And fulfilling the contract would have killed you.” Mal shrugged. “Sometimes there are no good options.”

Jory’s head spun as he tried to open his mouth again. “They’d die… they’d all die. You’d live, but they’d all be dead….” The pain in his jaw made his head ring.

Beside him, Samael huffed indignantly.

“It’s okay,” Mal said with a grim smile. “I haven’t known you for very long, but I do know you. You would never forgive yourself if you hurt those people.”

“Jory, please don’t give in to this,” Neal begged.

He didn’t need to see the rope of power extending from his spine, through his back, and into Samael’s body—he knew it was there. He focused on the energy flowing through it, felt how it wrapped around him, and forced it to halt.

“What are you doing?” Samael asked, sounding honestly confused.

When he drew on the connection Samael forged between them, whatever barrier had stopped him from touching Samael’s spirit—or Adam’s spirit when Samael was still inhabiting his body—wasn’t strong enough to stop him. The memories of Keygan’s power burning him alive, coming so close to destroying him, surged through his mind as he grabbed hold of Samael’s power and sucked it into himself.

Even with every bit of strength he had, the blue light surrounding the demon didn’t even flicker. Jory could feel Samael’s energy bleeding into his spirit, spreading like a parasite inside of him. Desperate, he reached for the magic contaminating his body, braced himself, and let more of it fill him.

Samael laughed, but as Jory absorbed more energy still, the smile turned to a snarl.

“Jory, don’t! Even with every soul in this city to absorb this power, it’ll kill you!” Neal shouted.

The demon’s energy felt like it required all of his focus, but if he could just reach out to the souls around him, the energy might flow on its own. Mal’s arms wrapped around him from behind, just tight enough to make contact. He felt Mal shudder in pain as Samael’s power began to leach into him too.

“Mal, don’t… I can’t stop it….”

“I won’t let you do this alone,” he promised Jory.

Even as he began to push Samael’s spirit away, Jory felt like he was vibrating with so much energy that he was shaking apart. His flesh began to crack, bits of his hands and arms flaking away, the way Keygan’s soul had shattered. Even just being a conduit for the demon’s power was ripping him apart. He mapped out the vast reaches of its soul, terrified to realize that only a fraction of his spirit was present in the ether. Most of him simply wasn’t there. Instead, a hundred tendrils of energy held him tight to something else beyond the ether in Hel itself. Another chain of power, this one massive and humming as magic poured through it.

“Neal’s cut off from Hel,” he gasped, thinking about the demon’s boast about tracking him down but struggling to find Neal. He’d never felt anything like this from Neal, but he’d spoken to Samael like they were equals. Without some link to Hel, Neal was almost powerless. “Neal! Get us out of the ether! Back to the real world!”

“You’ll be weaker there! He will be too, but it won’t be enough!” Neal warned him.

Jory hissed as the cracks along his arms spread up to his shoulders, bits of him fluttering away, one after another. “I’ll be dead here! Do it!”

Neal grabbed Jory’s crumbling shoulder and reached for Mal too, enveloping them in a golden glow that felt foreign and wrong in the darkness. As the gray world faded, Jory shifted his focus to the cords of energy the demon was using. Instead of pulling the thing’s spirit into himself, he focused his own energy on those cords, shoving the power he’d stolen back through each conduit until every tendril glowed, burning brighter. He pushed harder, extending his own spirit through the tethers until each vibrated with the same force that was shaking his soul to pieces.

As the ether warped around him, jolting him back into reality and backward onto his ass, the cords shattered. He almost released his hold on the demon, on the foul energy consuming him, but he held on, pulling it back with them.

Furious eyes glared at him from Barnett’s possessed body. “What have you done?” Samael demanded, looking at his human hands in horror.

“I cut your tie to Hel,” Jory said, wrapping his hands around Barnett’s wrists.

“That’s impossible! No one can sever parts of a soul! No demon can!”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure I’m just a demon. From what I’ve heard, incubi only drain life from people. I shouldn’t be able to heal anyone.” Just like Neal shouldn’t have been able to perceive the universe through the music in his head. “I can heal people, though. Pneumonia is hard to cure, but I handle it. I can draw the life from ten thousand bacteria and leave the lungs of a little kid working just fine. It’s like trying to grab sparks from an inferno, but I can do it. You might be some badass in Hel, but here you’re only strong as long as you can access your power. If you’re cut off from the ether, from your own world, you’re nothing but a parasite—you’re an infection I can cure. I couldn’t touch you before, but the moment you infected me, you were mine.”

“You can’t!” Barnett shouted.

“I did.”

Mal, naked and panting, snatched Barnett’s gun off the ground and tossed it aside.

Luckily, Jory’s clothes hadn’t left his earthly body at all.

He took a moment to catch his breath, then laughed. “And you’re going to hate me for this… but that’s all I’m going to do to you.”

“What?”

“I haven’t left you with any magic. You can’t go back to Hel. You can’t go back to the ether. And you can’t leave that body.”

Corbin Barnett’s face turned pale as the demon inside of him finally caught on.

“Now you’re going to stand here while Mal grabs my cell phone and calls the police. Then I’m going to tell them everything. That your father, a huge donor and patron of New Life Ministries, came to Missoula with Reverend Luhmann to establish a new church and continue the Lord’s work. When your father told you he was planning to update his will and leave his assets to our new congregation, you followed him to talk him out of it. Reverend Luhmann and I had ministered in the same church for years, and him coming here was inspired by my faith that we could be a positive force in this community. But when you found out that your dad had finally passed, you lost it. You pulled out a gun and tried to kill me. Reverend Luhmann threw himself in front of me, saving my life. I was so frightened I ran, hoping I’d get far enough away to call 911. Thankfully, when you caught up to me, this random homeless guy and his dogs came to my rescue.”

Mal stared at him, his expression betraying a hint of glee. He dug into Jory’s pocket and grabbed his phone, dialing quickly. After a few quick instructions, Mal carefully shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“You think some human scum can stop me from killing you?” Samael cried.

Jory considered what might happen to Corbin’s and Samael’s spirits in prison. Between the handcuffs, steel walls, and guards, he was pretty sure Samael wouldn’t be going anywhere. “Yeah, I think they will. If you want to tell them you killed Adam because you’re a demon lord from Hel, be my guest. If you want to let Corbin Barnett try to convince him that the demon voice in his head made him kill Adam, have fun with that.”

A flash of uncertainty crossed Barnett’s face.

Jory smiled. “Believe me, convincing modern Americans that demons exist is totally possible, but I don’t think you’ve got the finesse to pull it off.”