Chapter Seventeen
Melody’s ragged breathing filled her own ears as searing pain blazed through her shoulder.
Oh god. Was this how awful her father had felt when he’d died? No wonder he’d wanted to go.
She whimpered and rolled to her knees. Why was it so dark? She’d been proud of how well she’d developed her night vision since caring for two vampire boys, but only torchlight flickered where she was now.
Torchlight?
Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod.
She wasn’t where she thought she was…was she?
Ohmigod, ohmigo—ouch.
Looking left and right had irritated her shoulder, ratcheting up the pain to unbearable levels. She cradled her left elbow in her other hand and swayed to a stand. Only all those years hunting with her dad kept her on her feet. A girl didn’t get weak after tromping through the woods and forests for days at a time in search of big game.
The temperature was pleasantly warm here, whereas she’d been chilled blasting out of the compound in a sweater and jeans.
All those long talks with Grace rushed back. Host death. Portals. Her stomach heaved and she wanted to throw up. She released a shaky breath.
“Oh hell. I’m in Hell.”
No wait. Just the underworld.
Melody chuckled, then winced. “Just” the underworld. How tilted had her world become?
Her dear, sweet employers were going to blame themselves so hard for Melody’s predicament when it was her own damn fault. She’d only left Xavier and Ari for two minutes to fix a snack while their parents took a breather and enjoyed some alone time. Creed had said he’d rigged the door so it was childproof. But Creed didn’t have kids, probably hadn’t been around many, and didn’t realize that no device was childproof, just child-delaying.
Creed.
She drew in another tremulous breath. Her knees quaked. Was she going into shock? Thinking about Creed didn’t normally cause this strong of a physical reaction.
That was a lie—it used to. But her raging crush had diminished after she’d overheard his conversation about her with Rourke. She was another forgettable human, according to him. Between her short life span and the epic amount of money he came from, nothing was going to happen.
Can’t a girl have a healthy case of hero worship and not get vehemently insulted?
Wooziness hit her hard. She stumbled around, looking for a place to sit before she passed out and ate dirt.
She squeaked and flattened her hand over her racing heart. A giant female demon was watching her with a disgusting tilt to her lush mouth. The gender was obvious because—no clothes. Not a stitch. Heavy breasts drooped from her chest, and the junction of her thighs… well, she had all the standard pieces. The female had—oh dear lord, were those horns? Turgid, purple shanks jutted out from the demon’s forehead. And—holy smokes!—they moved like tentacles. And—Melody gulped—wickedly curved claws tipped each finger.
“Oh my—”
“Shut your mouth.” The demoness enunciated around a mouthful of pointed teeth and made it look effortless. “Don’t speak such language.”
Melody snapped her mouth shut with a squeak. She clutched her elbow, her shoulder was on fire, and her tremors were growing stronger. What was going to happen?
The demon’s blazing emerald eyes drifted shut and she dragged in a deep breath. Melody recalled her name. Hypna. “Mmm. I love the smell of blood in my home.”
Melody glanced around as if she’d find another source of blood. As if her sweater weren’t saturated and tacky as new blood mixed with drying blood.
The demon cocked her head. “Such a little thing. And all that hair reminds me of obnoxious summer sunlight.” Her horns speared toward Melody, jolting her back. From this close, the iridescent drops draining from the tips seized Melody with desperation. She feared she’d hurl and it’d ignite her injury further and piss off the she-demon.
For once, Melody was speechless.
Hypna advanced, the tips of her sharp horns tracking Melody as she backed up.
“You work for them, yes? The vampires?”
Melody’s eyes grew as round as the clay discs she’d used trapshooting.
“Yes,” Hypna purred. “You are valuable to them, otherwise they wouldn’t employ you. Or!”
Melody jumped and her back hit the wall. Another wave of nausea rolled through her as it jarred her painful bullet wound. The point of Hypna’s horn lifted a curl stuck on Melody’s face.
“Or…you’re their toy? Yes?”
Was it better or worse to let the demon think that? On the one hand, she’d didn’t want to be seen as complete garbage to be cast aside or worse, if Hypna thought she was worthless. On the other hand, after what Creed had said about her, Melody was loath to pretend to be his, or anyone else’s, toy.
Hypna tugged hard on her hair. “Answer me!”
“I w-work for them.”
“Eh, good enough.” Hypna clapped a hand on her good shoulder and dug her claws in.
Melody’s knees gave out, but she didn’t fall with the demon’s hold on her.
“Now, let’s wrap you up like good little bait.” Her lips curled in a cruel smile and roots shot out of the wall on each side of Melody’s head.
She let out a startled gasp as the spindly vines wrapped themselves around her. As more and more roots birthed from the dirt surface and fastened her to the wall, Melody’s tremors had no way to express themselves in her tightly secured body.
Her wail started as a moan and turned to a full-throated scream, accompanied only by Hypna’s evil laugh.
***
Zoey had stayed in the passenger seat of the SUV. The story spilled from Stryke. Quution panted, doing the demon equivalent of Lamaze through his painful leg cramps.
Demetrius, Bishop, and Rourke surrounded the vehicle. Her door hung open and Creed’s window was open.
“What are they going to do with Melody?” Creed asked. “She’s not a baby. She’s a fucking human. Is she dead already? Would Hypna try to fuck her, too, before she kills her? Would she kill her trying to fuck her? Oh hell, she has that poison shit, right?”
Zoey laid her hand on Creed’s arm. He was rattling rapid-fire—exactly like Melody would when she was nervous. His panic diverted her attention from Stryke and his brother. Their tale was probable and she’d love to believe that he was truly dedicated to saving babies. But she’d have to trust Quution for that and she’d been burned, literally, by him before.
Their theories would explain a lot. The recent spike in activity. What was a demon’s gestation time anyway?
“Is the power cumulative or does the spell wear off?” she asked. Stryke sat right behind her so she shifted in her seat until she was sideways.
Foolishness twined around her heart. She’d been afraid to look at him, but he was in his host, talking with his host’s voice. His presence filled the cab like he was in his true form… which he couldn’t do because she’d forced him to break their bond.
Quution answered, his voice strained with pain. “The young are sacrificed and the power transfer is permanent, albeit smaller as they haven’t grown into their abilities. It’s why we don’t sacrifice adults. The transfer could kill us. Sometimes it’s tried temporarily, but unless one side submits, it usually fails.” He drew in a ragged breath. “Demon balls, won’t this leg ever go numb? I didn’t think humans were so resilient.”
“Take us back to our car,” Stryke said. “We’ll drive somewhere and call an ambulance, then jet back home and find your girl. But…” His gaze found Demetrius standing by the driver’s door. “We need Fyra or the big guy to come with.”
“Why?” Bishop and Demetrius asked at the same time.
Stryke held up his hands to indicate his body. “I can no longer travel back and forth between the realms. Melody will need someone to transport her, if—” He cut off with a grimace.
Creed jumped on the change. “If what? If she’s alive?”
Stryke leveled him with a serious stare. “If she can even get back. She’s human. I don’t know that any have escaped the underworld.”
Before they perished, Zoey finished mentally for him.
“Then we both go with,” Bishop rumbled, his arms crossed over his massive chest. “Two of us will have better odds transporting her. Meet us in her old chamber.”
Stryke and Quution both nodded.
“It’s decided, then.” Creed fired up the engine and opened the garage door.
Demetrius knocked on the hood. “Go to the intersection of the highway and head north five miles. I don’t want the humans sniffing around here. We already have a mess to clean.”
“Wait.” Zoey swung her legs back in and shut the door before Creed could back it out of the garage and take off. “Bishop, can you and Fyra get me down there, too?”
Her hand was still on the door handle and she squeezed until her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t be left behind. Yeah, there was work here to do, but she needed to save Melody, needed to be with Stryke—to check out his story.
She was not going to be pathetic about this. The situation was urgent and a friend was in trouble, but Zoey had been hoping for more than a cool reception from Stryke. He and his brother—geez that was weird—wanted to form an alliance. He hadn’t come back to rekindle anything with Zoey. She’d thought they’d last parted with him saving her. Had she been in any real danger?
At the time—yes and no.
Stryke’s gaze flicked to her. It was the host’s eyes, black from possession, so unlike Stryke’s real eyes, and packing none of the heat he used to reserve just for her. “They shouldn’t waste their power. Like Demetrius said, you have plenty to do up here.”
“Fuck that.” Creed cranked the wheel around and stomped on the gas. They peeled away from the compound, bumping along the road to Quution’s groans. “We’re finding some damn second-tier to burn and get a one-way ticket.”
Stryke gripped the front seat and leaned forward, careful of Quution’s leg. “And if you do, how will you get back?”
“You two can do the bond thing again.”
Zoey’s chest froze and she stared. Stryke remained immobile behind her. Even Quution had silenced his agony.
“She’s made her choice,” Stryke said in a flat voice. “I’ve made mine.”
“You can change your mind.” The speedometer needle rose as Creed gave the gas pedal all he had. “There’s a life at stake.”
“Along with Zoey’s. You recall she’d lose her station if she stayed with me. And I’ve sworn myself to another.”
Zoey whipped her had back before she could stop herself. “So soon?” Derision dripped from those two words.
“Relax, Zohana,” Stryke chided. “Remember, once severed, I cannot bond myself to another. But I’ve sworn myself to aiding the underworld’s young.”
“There’s a life at stake,” Creed repeated.
A metallic glint in the bare tree branches was rapidly approaching. It’d only taken Creed minutes to find the spot. He skidded to a stop.
Zoey clenched her jaw as she opened doors for Stryke to haul Quution out. He cradled the host all the way to the hidden truck where Zoey did a repeat of her doorman duties.
Stryke levered himself behind the wheel. “Tell Bishop ten minutes, we’ll be there.”
“I’ll find a way down.”
Creed honked the horn and she tossed him a scowl.
“No, you won’t.” His tone wasn’t belittling, just accepting. “Because you have a job to do. Yes, young Melody is in danger, possible even dead already. But you’re on the Synod to protect many more than just her. If you chased me to the underworld, you might not get back to do your job. You’d be in danger constantly. You’re committed.” He reached out to gently tug the door from her hands. “And so am I.”
She stepped clear as he angled the car out of the trees and onto the blacktop. She watched him drive away and jumped when the SUV pulled up inches away from her.
“Are you walking back or finding a way down to the realm?”
Zoey was back in her seat before she could think. What if they were successful and they found a way to the underworld? The Synod wouldn’t fault her for saving Melody.
Or would they? She was human and they would be risking a lot of their team going after a girl who might no longer be alive.
But then to get back, what would she do? She’d had her true mate. She’d had her demon bond. Stryke said it was one and done.
Hellfire, did she care if she made it back? She’d be on the run in the underworld…but Stryke was there. Yet he had formed an alliance with Quution and she was no longer his concern.
“Call it in.” Creed’s hard gaze was pinned to the windshield as he flew to town to look for a host. “But tell Demetrius I’m going. I don’t care what he fucking says.”
D picked up on the first ring. “Bishop and Fyra are gone. Where are you two?”
Zoey’s hand tightened around her phone. “We’re going to look for a way into the underworld.”
“Figures. The Synod’s not going to like you being this active in the field—trying to get into the underworld.”
Her first thought was, They can suck it. But she said, “I’ll deal with it later. Melody’s a friend.”
“And you’re working closely with a demon male you were once bonded to. Who’s admitted to killing one of our own.”
“You heard the story,” she said quietly and gripped the “oh shit” handle as Creed careened around turns without letting up on the gas.
“I did. I almost believe him, too. But you and Stryke have a helluva convoluted history and you’re rushing after him instead of trusting Bishop and his mate to deal with it.”
“It’s the underworld, they’re massively outnumbered,” she said tersely.
“You don’t have to convince me, Zoey. You’re an adult. You’ve been my friend longer than most humans live. Your mate was my friend. Stryke is not my friend, but I trust your gut. You don’t get stupid over males. The Synod may fear it, but I know you.”
The back of her throat burned as emotion choked her. D had almost driven Bishop away because of Fyra. But here he was declaring Zoey of sound mind and body.
“But,” Demetrius continued, “I don’t trust Creed not to drop some IQ points over this Melody ordeal. So you stick with him and you both get your asses back in one piece and I’ll back whatever you do.”
Zoey grinned and then it faltered. Her friend had just put himself out there for her and Creed. His own standing with the Synod could be affected, and he’d almost lost it once already. But he’d throw caution to the wind over and over again for his people.
She hung up with him and called Ophelia.
“It’s me,” her friend answered. She almost never answered or replied to messages, but somehow, she seemed to know when she was needed.
“We need some possessed hosts worthy of being put in the ground. We need a ticket to the underworld.”
Ophelia was quiet for a heartbeat before she rattled off a few prime names, including Yancy. “They’re off and on as hosts for some of the thirteen. They might have some lackeys hanging around, but they also might be too attention grabbing.”
“Cross Yancy off that list. Melody staked her.”
“The chatterbox? Well, then… Rumor has it the primes’ brokers have been hitting up crack houses and lingering around drug dealers for new recruits. I heard Nadair mention the halfway house in downtown Freemont. You’ll find the name in the paper. It just got a huge donation,” Ophelia’s tone went taut, “from Nadair’s family.”
“Has he been a host yet?” No one knew what Ophelia was doing, other than gathering intel for them. But she’d stuck close to her on-again, off-again lover. Zoey was going to pry as much info as possible as long as she was talking. She trusted Ophelia, though her tactics might raise eyebrows, but she’d been coming out from undercover less and less.
“He hasn’t hosted…yet.”
That she knew of. She’d have to sit Ophelia down and catch her up on all the latest.
Ophelia killed the line after Zoey passed on her thanks. They had reached Freemont and Creed was already weaving through traffic to get to the halfway house. Vampire hearing could be efficient sometimes.
Tall, glass buildings flashed by. Streetlamps lit up the roads, and traffic was sparse on this side of midnight.
“Saving Grace.”
“What?” Zoey glanced at Creed. His profile hadn’t changed.
“That’s what the place is called. The halfway house. But I don’t know the address. Look it up.”
She did as he demanded. This side of Creed didn’t often emerge, the bossy, intense warrior. He’d worked so hard to appear aloof and lost in his technology. But this felt more genuine. Like a little of the real Creed had snuck past a long-closed door.
She rattled off the address and within minutes, Creed parked in a spot about a block away. Square, official buildings lined the street on either side, but smaller, more pedestrian businesses were interspersed. Freemont’s major hospital was only three blocks away, and the law enforcement center and jail were five blocks away in the opposite direction. A prime spot for a halfway house.
“It’d be faster if we split up to search around the property.” Creed hopped out so fast Zoey had to scramble to keep up with him.
“No way.”
He shot her a sharp look and she shook her head.
“The mindset you’re in, Creed, I don’t trust that’ll you wait for me before you shank the first host you find.” Or that he’d discern whether the host should remain living.
“I just feel guilty, that’s all.” His features clouded over, his blond brows so low they cast shadows over his blue eyes. Yes, she’d need to stick close to him before he did anything they all regretted.
They circled the house, but all was quiet for the night. The sunshine-yellow craftsman home, so different than any other architecture around it, seemed to fit in. Like it belonged and the other buildings didn’t.
“This is fucking pointless,” Creed said as they stomped another circle around the block. “Are you sure Ophelia knew what she was talking about?”
From the corner of her eye, Zoey detected two shadowy figures. She tapped Creed’s elbow and he glared in her direction. It was his default expression the last two hours. She cocked her head down the street and they both changed direction.
Sure enough, a woman stumbled along behind a man. He had a firm grip on her arm and a clarity in his eyes the woman lacked.
“Think he’s possessed?” Creed murmured.
Zoey inhaled deeply. A trace of brimstone was in the air, but she couldn’t pinpoint which human carried it. “One of ’em is.”
“Good enough for me.” Creed started for them, but she put a hand on his arm.
“You know we can’t just kill her.”
“Your boyfriend didn’t stop and check before he and his brother killed five hosts.” Creed glowered at her, his muscles bunched like he was going to break free of her grip.
A flare of anger tightened her hold. “The demons inside were trying to kill us and them. And we don’t know whether they were coerced or willing. But I never said I agreed with it. He’s not my boyfriend and he’s not under my control.” Or the Synod’s.
Why was that such a point in Stryke’s favor?
He finally relaxed with a quiet sigh. “I promise I won’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”
She relinquished his arm and was speared with a moment of alarm when he ambled off in the couple’s direction.
Cold air numbed Zoey’s nose and fingers. Good thing she had a stash of Gatorade in their ride. The scent of snow lingered in the night as temperatures noticeably plummeted before dawn. Scraps of paper and pop bottles littered the sidewalk, along with a thousand cigarette butts. As they neared the humans, they passed pockets ripe with human urine, a little cat piss, and a whole lotta bird shit.
The man was casting furtive glances their way and as they grew closer, the woman’s struggle was more apparent.
“I need to go back,” she whined and shook her head, stringy hair flying. “No. No, I can’t do this.”
Suddenly, the woman’s head snapped up and she stared straight at Zoey. Her irises had been swallowed up by darkness. “Evening.” She grinned and half her teeth were missing.
Had to be a meth addict. Zoey crushed her pity, it did no good in a fight. They’d try to save the woman and hope her foray with a demon didn’t kick her back a few steps in her recovery.
Zoey smiled. “Morning. We’re a little lost. Can you help us out with directions?”
“No,” the man sneered and tried to walk around them. He kept his gaze downward. Afraid his black eyes would give him away?
“Where’s the nearest broker?” Creed asked.
The man froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He made huffing sounds, like he was trying to sniff out their scent but the human’s olfactory senses weren’t equipped with the ability.
“That’s so weird, Creed,” Zoey said with false wonder. “I’ve never run across a broker who’s possessed himself.”
The man released the woman and faced them. The lady followed suit, probably stood straighter than she had in years thanks to the second-tier inside her ignoring her aches and pains and debilitating cravings.
A knowing glint lit the man’s eyes. “Vampires. I thought I smelled waste.” He straightened his threadbare coat. “Yes, well, your kind tends to prefer being behind the scenes.”
“What’d you promise the human?” Creed asked.
All right. That was direct, but Zoey waited for the answer.
The man grinned, displaying even, white teeth. His hair looked vibrant and healthy, and he stood with confidence. He was definitely the slick broker.
“I only needed to ask. Don’t you just love it when hosts cooperate—”
Creed withdrew his knife and buried it in the human’s throat mid word.
The addict snarled and leaped toward Creed, but he shoved her off. Relief washed through Zoey. She flashed behind the woman and wrapped her in a choke hold. She fought, but even with the demon’s help, she couldn’t compare to Zoey’s strength. Once the familiar groaning signaled a portal opening, Zoey thumped her on the head and pushed her as far away as possible.
She flashed by Creed just in time for him to take her hand and jump into the blackness.