Mammon (Devilry #2)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

“We just don’t know what to do with him anymore.”

Handing the crying woman a napkin, I nod. We’ve been here forever. She’s been going on and on and on about how terrible of a mother she is, more than likely waiting for me to disagree with her. I’m sure she’s a lovely woman with a full heart and she’s had so much tragedy in her life up to this point, but she is a bad mother.

Because she has no possible insight into that tiny brain of hers on how to handle a child like the one she’s been blessed with.

“Jace wasn’t always like this,” she sobs, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “He was such a sweet boy growing up; always so curious about everything. I don’t know where I went wrong.”

I hum, holding back the urge to snort. This child was never a sweet boy, at least not by the law’s standards. Sure, sitting down beside her looking like a well-adjusted thirteen-year-old. Tall and strong with bright blond hair and shining blue eyes. The kind of boy you want to introduce to your parents or the type who’s destined to be a future prom king.

But I can see what his mother doesn’t. There’s something lurking beneath the surface that’s always been there, just waiting to be set free. A corrupting force so inherently bred within him, nurtured in her stomach, that’s soured him to the world.

That’s why the neighborhood pets kept going missing all these years. It’s why there was a fire at his science lab at school. It’s why he surrounds himself with weak-minded friends.

He’s a wolf wearing sheep’s clothing.

She sniffles. “The officer said you could help me?”

Me. I notice she’s barely able to even glance at her son—her last living child—and it makes me supremely curious as to what he thinks about this whole situation.

“Jace.” Leaning forward, I clasp my hands together. “How do you feel about what happened?”

He shrugs casually, although his eyes are calculating as he stares me down. “I did what I had to do. He had it coming after what he did to Stacy.”

I cock my head to the side. One would think after witnessing his sister’s rape and murder, he’d be a little bit more shaken, but he’s not. He’s calm and collected, speaking clearly and rationally as he sips on his iced tea.

To anyone else, his words resonate as genuine and meaningful. Of course he would kill his sister’s rapist. It was self-defense, right? Who was to say that her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t have come after him next? However, I see the truth. He was tied up while it happened, forced to watch as his sister screamed and begged for not only her life, but also his. I notice anger flaring his nostrils, so subtle, but I’ve always been extremely observant.

I wonder what bothered him more: watching it happen or being made to feel powerless?

I turn back to the woman and smile warmly. “Of course, I’d be happy to help. I have a…” I trail off, trying to find the right words, “...rehabilitation center for troubled youths. I think Jace would fit in nicely there.”

An outright lie. My rehabilitation center is nothing more than a fake website meant to attract all sorts of demented children, but all of them have been a waste of time. The ones I’ve met have been a product of their circumstances and that’s not what I need to build an army of loyal pets.

I need true darkness. The kind one is born with that, no matter how hard they try, they can never escape.

“In Alaska, right?” she questions. “My friend Cindy said it was wonderful.”

Cindy is one of my loyal conduits, a nurse I befriended before bringing her into the fold. My numbers are small now, just a handful of loyal followers. But with time, I’ll have an empire.

And every empire needs a general.

“What do you think, Jace?” I question, not bothering with this woman anymore. It’s been made apparent in this brief interaction that he’s the one who calls the shots, whether his mother knows that or not.

He narrows his blue eyes. “I don’t want to go.”

“Jace,” his mother hisses, slapping his arm. “You don’t have a choice.”

That’s the wrong thing to say to a future monster like him.

He stands, ready to march out of the room, but I speak before he can go anywhere. “Mrs. Crawford, do you mind if I speak to Jace alone?”

Huffing, she looks at her son with nothing but resentment. She leaves us promptly, closing the door to his room. Jace stands still, almost challenging me, but I don’t show submission. Instead, I gesture for him to sit again.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I explain carefully. “You see, I’m looking for a very… special group of children.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Special?”

He must know. Jace already seems too intelligent for his own good, and that’s how he’s been able to hide his murderous tendencies for so long. I wonder if he can see it in my eyes too, the understanding that I know exactly who and what he is.

“You need me,” he finally says after a long drawn-out moment of silence. “Why?”

“I need a leader,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “I need someone like you who knows how to control himself.”

“A leader?” he questions.

“To raise up a group of other…special boys. Just like you.”

“What would I do?” Interest grows in his eyes. “Would I have to teach them right from wrong?”

I shake my head and chuckle. “No. I need you to be yourself. I need you to see all their exceptional talents and nurture them. I need them to be…docile.”

He snorts. “So you can control them?”

I have to admire his intelligence. I nod, waving my hand at him. “With your help, of course.”

He thinks it over for a moment, but I see the excitement in his gaze. He’ll have his own group of followers, little puppies that’ll follow him around and beg for scraps of his attention. He’ll be in control of their souls and their lives.

And, just like I knew he would, he finds that all too appealing.

“I don’t want to come back here,” he states, looking out his bedroom window, where a group of children ride their bicycles in the cul-de-sac. “They don’t understand me.”

“One tragic accident later and your wish will be granted.” I click my tongue as I think through the steps of the plan that’s been in the making for years now. “But you’ll need a new name.”

He nods. “Do I get to pick?”

“No. I already have one for you,” I tell him. “How familiar are you with the Bible?”

“In this town?” he snorts. “They don’t call it the Bible Belt for nothing.”

“The Seven Princes of Hell,” I begin, thinking back to the familiar old tale I grew up listening to. “The ones who ruled over every damned soul in the Underworld. There was one fallen angel who made sure all the other demons fell in line. The one they all listened to and followed.”

He tips his head to the side, a sort of clarity appearing in his bright blue eyes. “What was his name?”

“Mammon.”