Chapter Fourteen
Zoey stormed out of the Synod’s headquarters, and once fresh air brushed her face, she flashed back to the cabin’s kitchen.
Son of a bitch. Why had she flashed here?
Because the compound had too many people. They’d see her tearstained cheeks, get hit by the waves of fury and remorse cascading off her, and start asking questions.
She’d been too damn hard at work to have any other place to grab a little solitude. It was a good thing Stryke couldn’t follow her here. She hoped he had a bumpy trip back to the underworld.
A sob echoed in the room and she folded to her knees, unable to hold herself up.
She’d stayed until Mitchell’s last breath, until his body had crumpled and his ashes had been caught up in the storm of flames. The building’s sprinkler system had come on but couldn’t handle the inferno in the concrete room. She had been getting drenched while her mate had burned alive.
All because he couldn’t leave the room. Because he’d been locked in.
Save me, my ass. Zoey rocked back to her butt and put her head in her hands. Tears streaked down her face to hit the wooden floor. If Stryke had been so damn obsessed with her, he could’ve very well killed Mitchell on purpose. How did she know Stryke hadn’t set the fire?
A faint buzz feathered over her skin. She sniffed and looked up.
A sight that would’ve flipped her insides only left her seething with loathing and confusion—and melancholy. Stryke stood only as a hologram behind her. He must’ve used Quution’s trick to project himself here.
“Get out,” she snarled. “Go back to hell.”
Lines etched his face, his violet eyes filled with anguish. They probably matched her own.
When he didn’t leave, she glanced at his wrist. The bracelet was gone. He wouldn’t have to listen to her anymore.
Stryke followed her gaze. “You didn’t command me not to take it off. I ground it to dust.”
The logical part of her that was still functioning knew it was for the best. Whoever controlled that damn bracelet controlled Stryke, and in the game they played, that’d be dangerous. She glared at him.
She’d trusted him. And he’d deceived her all along.
“I’m sorry, Zoey.”
She snorted a laugh lacking all humor. “Now you finally apologize about something? Should I feel like it’s monumental and forgive you? Get. Out.”
His expression grew more haggard, his strong body almost withered, as if he lacked the will to keep his energy at the proper levels. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. Perhaps one day. It truly was the only way to save you.”
“What about opening the damn door and letting him out?”
“Introducing oxygen to that kind of blaze would’ve killed him immediately and allowed the fire to spread.” Stryke squatted before her. Too bad she’d only cut through air if she attacked him. “One of the informants had been possessed and had abilities similar to Fyra’s, although much weaker, and fueled the blaze unnaturally. Mitchell might’ve won the fight, but he’d lost the battle.”
Zoey’s hostility faded, but not much. She didn’t want to hear what Stryke had to say because he made too much sense. Her words had been honest. She’d wanted to die at the time, and for a long time after.
“I had to save you.”
She sighed and her shoulders sagged. Rolling her neck back, she glared at the beamed ceiling, bitterness rising. “I guess you two have—had—that in common. It’s all about how devoted you are to me, but you both don’t—didn’t—don’t, whatever— You don’t see it’s just as selfish. How many have been put at risk because of me? First Demetrius and the rest of the team. Now it’s Grace’s family, Demetrius’s family, hell, even Lee’s death could be pinned on your single-mindedness.”
“How many others would be in danger without you here to protect them?”
Touché, bastard. Still didn’t make it right. Mitchell and Stryke had both decided to put her before others. Neither had asked her. How many had Stryke hurt to keep her “safe”?
“I’m not yours, Stryke. I never was.”
“I’m not giving up.”
She jumped up and stabbed her finger toward him. “I’m not losing my seat because of this mess Mitchell started and you finished.” Stryke straightened and gazed down at her, his eyes bleak. “Through all of this, nothing has changed. I’m not giving up until your kind is under control.”
“You will never get demons under control. It’s in their nature to deceive and take over.”
“I know,” she yelled. “Their nature is your nature.”
He winced at the truth in her statement and his image wavered. “I don’t care about my kind. I don’t work for them anymore.”
With a grunt of frustration, she stormed around him toward the stairs. “If you follow me around, haunting me, I guarantee I will find a way into the underworld and destroy you.”
He was on her heels, his energy dogging her. “I wouldn’t be able to get you back to this realm. When you forced me to break our link, it destroyed the bond.”
“Good!” She whipped around and her heart fractured at the hurt shining in Stryke’s eyes. She opened her mouth to… What? She didn’t know, but his reaffirmation that their bond was well and truly destroyed…bothered her. But she had no time for words. A blast of hot wind slammed her against the wall. She kept her feet on the ground, but her brain rattled from the impact.
A deep chuckle resonated through the cabin. “Did I interrupt a lover’s spat?”
Quution was at the top of the stairs. Zoey frowned as she reached for her gun. She fisted her hand. The bullets would be totally fucking useless against Quution’s apparition. How could he be here when Stryke had fried the pathway behind him? But then, Stryke was here, so he must’ve forged another.
No wonder energy demons were on the underworld’s most coveted list.
“I’m just that strong.” Quution’s sinister laugh boomed again with her stunned expression. “Relax, strumpet. I don’t read minds. Your face and his see-through image say it all.”
Stryke crowded in front of her, blocking her from another blast. He didn’t need his corporeal form. His energy spread in front of her like a wall. Sparks crackled along Quution’s jagged-claw-tipped fingers. Stryke’s shoulders formed a shield as energy sizzled off him.
Was Quution planning an attack or trying to intimidate them?
Quution disappeared. Zoey spun around. That couldn’t be it. The male had to have more up his holographic sleeve.
And he did. He appeared in front of them, but as soon as he formed, Stryke’s hands flew up.
A sizzling blast crashed into the force field around Stryke. Zoey stepped away before she had to recover from an electrocution, but her progress stalled as she watched the energy get absorbed by Stryke.
Hellfire. Could he really do that?
Quution’s eye twitched and he straightened, almost seemed to catch himself, and slumped again.
Couldn’t he hold an upright position without slouching?
Quution smiled, his jagged fangs protruding. “Good trick. Try me.”
Zoey froze. Would Stryke lob an energy orb just to let Quution try and absorb it? Could Quution do it when he wasn’t physically here?
Stryke didn’t move, but the soles of her feet tingled. Energy flowed through the floor.
She scrambled farther back as a line of light burned through the hardwood from Stryke’s feet toward Quution. The demon disappeared just as the blast reached him. A yelp echoed off the walls and Quution reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. A heat wave reached Zoey a millisecond before she was zapped.
Her breath whooshed out and she flew backward, hitting a wall. No air returned to her lungs. Gaping like a fish, she writhed and twisted as she slid to the floor. Burning energy coursed through her body, robbing it of natural function.
A snarl ripped from Stryke. Zoey blinked, tried forcing herself to relax.
Another ball of light zoomed in her direction. She arched to roll out of the way before she passed out. Stryke intercepted the blast, diving in front of her and sending the object back toward Quution. But Quution had lobbed a second energy grenade.
Zoey’s body calmed as the energy dissipated, and she dragged in a ragged breath, then another. Her heart beat erratically, threatening to disrupt her breathing. The air around her crackled and tasted like seared wiring. She might be dazed, but she registered that Stryke had saved her more than once, even after her adamant rejection.
“S-s-s—” She couldn’t get his name out and he couldn’t hear her over the energy sizzling in the room. If her hair had been out of her bun, it’d be standing on end.
The battle raged, each catching and throwing balls of destruction. Quution tried to get his strikes around Stryke to attack Zoey, but Stryke was a formidable wall.
Why did he keep protecting her? She should be glad to see his ass get kicked, should root for Quution to destroy him.
Should.
Every blast of searing wind toward Stryke sent a surge of adrenaline flooding her veins. Was she scared for him, or for herself? She wasn’t one to fear death, especially not after losing her true mate. How could she be worried for Stryke after what he’d done?
The floor burned and sputtered, but Zoey didn’t move from behind Stryke’s protection. She’d never felt more useless since the day she’d watched Mitchell burn to death. Inch by inch, Stryke closed the distance between him and Quution.
Fear clawed up her throat. If their two forms connected, what would happen? Could their collision destroy Stryke in the underworld?
“Get out of here, Zoey.” Stryke lunged, a wall of energy, his arms flung wide.
What was he doing?
But when he met Quution’s image, they both shimmered and disappeared, the deafening bang like a large firework going off by her ear.
“No!” Her voice echoed through the empty cabin.
Her ears rang and her heart was thudding. She waited. Were they going to come back?
She swallowed and tested all of her limbs. Stiff, they worked on command, but she’d have to guzzle some Gatorade. If she hadn’t fed from Stryke as much as she had, the attack would’ve depleted her completely.
She stared at the spot the males had disappeared from. Stryke was gone.
Her breathing slowed and she rolled to her hands and knees and groaned as she pulled herself up. She limped to the kitchen and wrestled open a juice. Propping herself against the fridge, she sipped.
He was gone. Was either one going to come back?
Zoey chugged the rest and tossed the bottle. Wait here or head back to the compound?
She checked her phone but couldn’t get anything beyond a black screen.
Super. Her phone had been fried in the fight. Not her fight, though. She’d been so fucking useless and if it hadn’t been for Stryke… Well, none of this would’ve happened. Not Quution, not Hypna…not Mitchell.
She screwed her face up. No. She’d been there and Mitchell’s chances had been slim to none.
Had her mate really been planning to turn on their entire team? He’d been so moody those last few months before his death. She’d assumed it was the stress, had no idea… Mitchell had to have known she wouldn’t have left.
Tears welled as she recalled how he’d tugged and banged on his side of the door while she’d frantically pounded her side while her skin burned each time she touched the sweltering door. But the door had been constructed for creatures with their strength and it had held.
Stryke was right. If Mitchell could’ve gotten out, he would’ve, and he hadn’t been thinking about anyone else’s safety. Who could blame him? Zoey wouldn’t fault him for reacting to the most basic instinct of survival. If he had gotten out and she had gotten hurt, it would’ve destroyed him.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her anger toward Stryke ebbed. The irony was that Stryke had done exactly what Mitchell would’ve wanted to be done if he’d been in his right mind and not in full-panic mode.
She snatched a bag of potato chips and ripped it open. As she munched, she lost hope that Stryke was coming back.
Why would he? She’d forced him to break the bond. She’d chosen her work over him. And he was gone.
Had he survived Quution? Of course. He had to have.
Had he?
Enough about Stryke. What about her team? No fucking phone. She had to find out what was going on and daylight was coming soon. The cabin was no longer safe.
She eyed the destroyed living room. It looked like fireworks had gone off. Scorch marks marred the floor, walls, and ceiling. Furniture had been destroyed or overturned. A haze lingered behind the electrical battle. Her gaze swung toward the banister, to the gap left behind Quution’s first attack when she’d somersaulted down the stairs.
The owners of this place were going to shit themselves when they returned. Zoey’s mouth quirked. If she didn’t have such an aversion to fire, she’d burn it to the ground. Instead, she packed her items and gathered Stryke’s few belongings and stepped outside. Dawn lightened the horizon with pink and orange. Salt infused her body, but fatigue weighed on her. She doubted there’d be time to rest when she got home. Updates had to be made, and she had to find out if her presence put her friends in jeopardy.
***
Stryke entered the underworld. The charged air between his hands filled with clothing and muscle as he faced Quution in living color. Stryke was still in his chamber, but Quution was here. Had he tracked Stryke down, then followed him to the cabin?
Stryke summoned all his anger—at the Synod for demanding Zoey choose, at Hypna for forcing his hand before he was ready to reveal himself, at himself for not handling the Mitchell situation differently, and…at Zoey for using that damn bracelet because she’d wanted away from him so badly.
With a roar, he gripped Quution’s shoulders and spun him into a choke hold.
Quution’s claws speared his arm and Stryke gritted his teeth against the pain. Winding back as far as he could, he punched Quution in the kidneys, or whatever organ was in the middle of his back. He never knew with the full-blooded crowd. His hit glanced off Quution as he twisted and dropped, loosening Stryke’s hold. Stryke dropped with him and his arm slipped. His limb screamed with agony, and when he rolled back to kick Quution in the trunk, he stalled.
The claws that had been buried in his arm were still there and no longer attached to Quution.
Quution grunted and flipped over, sending waves of energy meant for harm toward Stryke. He absorbed each tendril and stared at the gap in Quution’s ratty clothing. Detachable claws, but a normal torso with rippling abs?
“What the fuck are you?” He was on his butt, should be on the offensive, should at least be ready to defend himself.
Quution paused and glanced down at himself. “Oh, demon balls.” He snapped his robes together.
Stryke’s goal shifted from destroying Quution to uncovering what he was hiding.
He crouched to leap to his feet, but Quution slammed a booted foot into his knee. Bone crunched and Stryke gritted his teeth against the agony. Quution reared his leg back for another kick and Stryke waited. He hadn’t noticed how odd the boots looked before, but with the jagged pant leg hitched up, the thick sole was revealed—at least three inches thick. Stryke couldn’t risk the distraction to inspect Quution’s other foot, but if both boots were platforms, it’d bring the male closer to Stryke’s height.
Quution’s leg extended, but the male lacked extraordinary speed and Stryke was ready to seize the opportunity. He caught the boot and wrapped his legs around Quution’s, giving him a good punt in the groin. From Quution’s squeal, his dick was in the standard spot.
The boot had laces. Stryke wiggled his fingers under them and tore as many as he could in one shot, then he yanked the boot off.
A normal foot. With a sock even.
“What the hell are you doing?” Quution couldn’t holler; he was still wheezing from the direct hit to his underworld jewels.
Normal torso. Fake claws. Regular humanoid foot. Was Quution compensating for a more demon-like extremity, like a cloven hoof?
Stryke pitched the footwear at Quution’s head and wrestled the male’s other foot into his grip. By the time the second boot came off, Quution was raining fists onto Stryke’s shoulders, weakly because of the odd angle. No hooves, but a matching athletic sock. Since when did one of the Circle shop at department stores?
The way his knee throbbed, Stryke needed to keep the fight on the dirt floor or he’d be at a major disadvantage standing. He unwrapped his legs and tossed Quution’s limbs in the opposite direction. The other male recovered quickly and flipped over onto Stryke. He attempted to pin Stryke but couldn’t gain a good hold. Stryke twisted and jabbed fists, trying to gain his own handhold.
Quution hissed, his jagged teeth and fangs dripping saliva onto Stryke’s chest. Stryke aimed a punch at the male’s ugly teeth. His fist connected, and teeth tore into his flesh before they dislodged and went flying.
Quution’s eyes flared and he touched a hand to his mouth. Stryke expected blood to be welling through the male’s hand. He’d just gotten his teeth knocked out! Instead, the male grimaced, flashing sparkly white chompers and a normal set of fangs.
“What the fuck are you?” Stryke asked again.
Quution’s gaze turned black and he hammered his fists into Stryke’s chest.
Easily batting his arms away, information clicked into place. Concealing clothing, hidden platform boots, fake teeth—Quution was a fraud. He’d gone to great lengths to create the appearance of a pure-blooded demon.
Stryke snagged one of Quution’s fists in his hand. “You’re not a full-blood.”
“Aren’t you the smart one.” Quution ripped his hand out of Stryke’s grip and jumped off. Stryke scrambled up, favoring the knee that was slowly mending itself.
Without the boots, or the teeth, Quution wasn’t as fearsome as before. Stryke prowled around him, covering his limp as much as possible.
“How’d you fool them all?” He couldn’t keep the awe out of his voice. His father had fooled the Circle, but he’d genuinely looked the part. Quution was as humanoid as Stryke, with horns that could be concealed by his hair and minimal fangs. The male’s hair was a few shades lighter than Stryke’s. His horns were the unique color of the sunset, but hell, maybe he polished those a different color, too.
“It’s not hard. Humans have been using costumes for years.”
Stryke cocked his head. Quution sounded different. The male’s real voice was smooth, not harsh and garbled like before, but then talking around prosthetic fangs couldn’t have been easy.
“Temporarily in costume.” Stryke stopped his movement, gave his leg a rest. The throbbing cleared his head, pushed the memories of Zoey abandoning him away. “You must’ve been living in that getup.”
Quution nodded, the hostility in his eyes at a low simmer. “Had to be done.”
“Why?”
“I’m not going to be another slave to the Circle.” The glimmer in his lilac eyes turned to hatred. “I’m not going to be locked away until I’m useful, only to be disposed of at a moment’s notice.”
Stryke’s brow creased. Everything he said sounded so familiar. Quution had always seemed familiar to him, but Stryke had assumed it was because he was also an energy demon. Then there was the personal hostility Stryke had felt during their first encounter.
Puzzle pieces fell into place until an idea formed that seemed impossible. Yet, they were demons. Wasn’t trickery and deception part of their very being?
But it all made perfect sense. Stryke straightened and drew his shoulders back. He’d only heard the story of his mother’s demise from his sire, had never seen the evidence. That was his mistake. “You’re my brother.”
Displeasure and satisfaction undulated over Quution’s expression. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you were.”
“And you hate me. I get it.”
“Do you?” Quution sneered. “While you were gallivanting around with our sire, I was locked away. Told every day how useless I was, how my birth was a waste of time. How my conception was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.”
Stryke chuckled, but it lacked all humor. “Ah, the nurturing of a pure-blood mother. It was the same for me. Until our sire found a use for me, and it certainly wasn’t to claim me as his own.”
Disbelief shimmered in Quution’s gaze. “Of course you’d say that. But our sire didn’t try to kill you, did he? It took me months to recover.” Quution spit in disgust. “The only good thing Mother did for me was die. I used her for fuel while I healed.”
A sour taste filled Stryke’s mouth and he swallowed. The nightmare Quution must’ve endured… “I didn’t know you existed until our sire said he’d killed you and her.”
“And you believed him?” Quution’s lip curled.
“I had no reason not to believe he’d slaughter his own mate and son. I was only alive to aid in his ruse.”
I would’ve saved you should’ve spilled from Stryke’s lips, but he’d been a different male then. Too eager to please their sire. Sweet brimstone, what would he have done had he known Quution not only existed, but survived? Pleased his sire, or taken mercy on his brother?
The answer was instant. As much misplaced hero worship as he had for his sire, he’d been raised—neglected and abused—by his mother. He would’ve gone for Quution. Even if he hadn’t had the demon balls to stand up to his sire, Stryke would’ve squirreled his brother away to heal.
“I would’ve saved you.” His voice rang with truth. All his life, Stryke had wanted a connection. His mother had been beyond useless, his sire a lesson in futility. Lee had paid with his life. Zoey—his chest constricted.
Quution glared at him, then rubbed his face, like he was suddenly tired. He shuffled to his boots and stomped his feet into them. “You don’t bother checking on my mortality, but you’ll defy the underworld for that female.”
Fair enough. “Is that why you want her dead? Out of resentment?”
Quution nodded as he straightened his clothing. “You helped our sire, you helped the vampires, but you left me rotting in a dank cell.”
For the second time, Stryke found himself saying, “I’m sorry.”
His brother glanced sharply at him, his expression probing. “Me, too… I guess.”
“Now what?” Stryke asked.
“Isn’t that the million-dollar question. If you plan on telling anyone about me, I’ll have to kill you.”
“Cuz you’ve done such a good job of that so far.”
Quution scowled at him, then went in search of his teeth. Stryke turned his arm over and plucked the claws from the skin that had healed around it, wincing each time.
He waited until his brother brushed the dirt off his teeth and fitted them back in his mouth. “I’ve got a deal for you.”
“I’m sure it benefits you greatly.”
Of course. “Both of us. Make me your second-tier and I’ll help you keep your secret. Together, we make sure the rest of the Circle quits tampering in the human realm. I know they think they can rule both realms, but all it’ll do is expose us and turn things into a massive witch hunt. The numbers aren’t on our side.”
Quution shuddered. “And who wants to live under the thirteen’s power? The human realm is the only place to get away from them. No one but them wants to change that.”
Stryke had the exact same thought. All of the second-tiers relished the ability to escape to the human realm. “We deal with Hypna.”
“How do you know I won’t kill you after I help you kill her?”
“Because you’re as curious about me as I am about you.”
Quution’s mouth screwed up. “What does that even mean?”
Stryke shrugged. “We both wanted some sort of connection to our parents and they more than disappointed. Now we have each other.”
“You have Zoey.” Quution rolled his eyes toward Stryke but paused. “Wait. You don’t have Zoey. Am I like your rebound? Your plan B?”
Stryke ground his jaw. What else was he going to do? Zoey had spelled it out clearly that they were done and it wasn’t in Stryke to roll over and die. But he had a brother now. One who wanted Hypna dead. Stryke would have an easier time figuring out the rest of his life if he didn’t have Hypna after his seed. He wasn’t fool enough to think that if Quution backed off of her, she’d give up. She saw the power, craved it.
Quution narrowed his eyes and straightened, then caught himself and hunched again. “What if Zoey comes running back, throws herself into your outstretched arms, and begs you to take her back? Do you tell her everything about me? Report to her team? Draw a picture of what I really look like?”
“I still don’t know how you really look, only that you’re not as god-awful fugly as you are now.”
“Aw, Stryke. Are you jealous you’re not the only one that got the looks?”
Well, one of them had a healthy dose of arrogance. Was hubris Quution’s driving force? If so, Stryke would have to tread carefully. He’d learned the hard way, watching his sire’s demise. Brotherly love wasn’t strong between the two of them, but Stryke had no wish to see Quution accept their sire’s fate. He didn’t even trust Quution, but they were bonded by blood and that had to count for something. Chasing after the male blindly, like he had with Zoey, wouldn’t happen.
“Your secret is safe with me, Q.” Stryke ran a fang over his palm to open a narrow wound and held it out to Quution.
Quution recoiled, his mouth drawn down. “Are we bonding?”
“Just making a deal. I help you get rid of Hypna, you make me your second-tier.”
Suspicion hadn’t left Quution’s gaze. “And you protect my position?”
“We watch each other’s backs. It’s what brothers do… I guess.”
Blood dripped from Stryke’s palm, but Quution still didn’t hold his hand out. “Why? I tried to kill you and your female.”
His female. Sounded right but was oh so wrong. Stryke took a breath to figure out his response. He went with honesty. “What else am I going to do?”
“Ah, desperation.” Quution sliced his fang into his palm and smacked it against Stryke’s. “That’s something I can work with, but I must tell you, power’s not the reason I’m doing this. Come, I’ll show you.”
His brother limped out of his cavern and Stryke eyed him. If not power, why? He trailed after Quution’s ridiculous swagger. Whatever influenced his brother would now influence him. He shook his head. Had history just repeated itself?