Chapter Eight
Hack
Motherfucking Desdemon.
“I don’t know what your intentions are, and honestly, j’en ai rien à foutre. But you will not bring chaos to my sister’s home. Are we clear, Liege?”
There is a lot to unpack in that one threat.
Sure, on the surface it seems innocent enough.
Except Dei Desdemon is not the type for idle chit chat.
Between his use of French to tell me he doesn’t give a fuck what my intentions are and the status drop to remind me he’s higher in the hierarchy, he’s making it crystal fucking clear that I need to back off.
My vision swims with red hot rage as I clamp my jaw shut and take a step away.
He may not be my direct boss but he’s nonetheless one of the thirteen Dei to rule our worlds.
In addition to that, he is the natural born heir, and now king, to the vampyre kyn who span back to the beginning of time—or so they say.
I do what I must. I slink back into the shadows and watch over my chosen one from afar.
Every sigh and every minute of her tossing and turning is burnt into my mind.
I’m fully aware that I’m out here instead of lying in bed with her nestled in my protective arms, and that simple fact is eating away at my soul.
As the early morning rays of the summer sun illuminate the distant buildings of Lower Manhattan, I keep watch here on Staten Island.
The sounds of street cleaners and night club stragglers fighting their drunken states to get home to bed are all around me, but the only thing I can concentrate on is Aiyana.
Her light snores and mumbled words. My hearing is a thousand times better than that of any anthros but even I can’t understand the muffled words that spill out from between her lips.
So I do what anyone in my position would clearly do.
I call upon my supernatural form and make my way inside her apartment, lurking in the shadowed corner of her room.
Is it creepy? Sure. Do I care? Fuck no. Aiyana is mine, and whatever is causing this hatred in her heart will soon cease to exist.
Maybe it has to do with the timeline. Our fates aren’t an exact science and reincarnation is never infallible.
Cirrus is restless, just standing here with me as I watch Aiyana in deep slumber.
For a brief moment, she opens her eyes and our gazes collide as I mentally urge her to touch herself as though it were me. She’s not exactly awake but not fully asleep, either. Anger mixes with frustration when my duty calls and our connection is broken.
My ethereal self is pulled back by the call from one of my brothers and I find myself galloping out of Aiyana’s room, far away from The City and out of the state completely as I make my way back to Georgia in record time.
I can hear Slash in my mind, telling me shit is going down and I’m needed home. Do I want to be leaving my chosen one? Fuck no. Problem is, I don’t have a choice and if I take it upon myself to put my mission on the back burner, I risk the ire of our Dei, Samhain. No-fucking-body wants that.
The entire trip down the East Coast—I needed the time to run so no portal jumping for me—all I do is think and scheme of ways to get Aiyana back in my arms. Although, that’s not her name, is it?
Chances are I can get some clear advice from Pierce that won’t involve something dire like putting her in a cage until she comes to her fucking senses.
That would be bad, right? Slay won’t give two shits about my situation and will probably tell me to get my head in the game and stop thinking with my dick.
Which is why I’m contemplating going straight to Slash. I tried being reasonable but this situation calls for something drastic and Slash is nothing if not a fucking drama queen.
As soon as I reach our property, I slide into my physical being and rush to Slash’s home. I don’t bother going in through his front door, none of us do since he spends most of his time either on the lake, when it’s warm, or in the jacuzzi—one of fucking three—when it’s chilly.
Rounding his land to the arched brick facade of the back, I burst in through his massive French doors and stop dead in my tracks when I see one of our marshals, Vael.
All three of my brothers are there, standing like centaurs with their arms crossed and stern faces on.
“Nice of you to join us, Conquest.” Slay loves to use our Apocalypse names when our marshals or lackeys are around. We sound more…who the fuck knows. Slay is so old school, it could mean nothing or everything to him.
“My pleasure.” I take my place next to Pierce and cross my arms like the others. We’re supposed to show dominance when speaking to other demons because these fuckers can be slippery and conniving. Although, to be fair, when we chose our marshals, we only took in the best of the best.
“Go on, speak.” As soon as Slay gives him permission, Vael goes off on his tangent.
“Sirs, Lackey Oziel has been less than honorable in his functions. I felt something was off a couple of weeks ago so I’ve been following him.” At my raised brow, he adds, “Discreetly, of course.”
This part of my role, I hate. Why can’t everyone just do their fucking jobs?
“So, the first time I followed him, he didn’t collect any souls for over twenty-four hours, and as you know, we’ve had a bit of a backlog so the marshals, we’ve been working double time to catch the lackeys up. Oziel, however, doesn’t collect.”
“Why are you here, though, Vael? He’s your responsibility, you should be dealing with him.” Pierce is invested, I can tell by his tone, all sympathetic yet firm.
“Yes, sir, I am, but I thought you should know that he’s been intervening with anthros affairs. Just two days ago, in Montana, he fed from one and didn’t even try to cover it up. Luckily, I was following him so I made it look like a wolf attack.”
Slay is the first to react with a single grunt. Funny how after two thousand years working and living with someone, you pick up on their unspoken language.
A grunt means he’s annoyed and someone’s head is gonna roll.
It’s unclear, at this point, if he’s contemplating ripping off Oziel’s head for being a fucking idiot or Vael’s for waiting two weeks before telling us something was wrong.
“Leave us.” Slay turns his back on Vael, who disappears within seconds, heading straight for the trees in the distance that holds our portal, where he’ll go to The Shade and await further instructions.
“These lackeys are fucking up left and right.” His muttered curse holds no surprise since this isn’t the first time we’ve had troubles with our demon lackeys.
Thing is, contrary to the dragons or faeries or even the vampyres, demons are like unstable toddlers with ADHD and an added addiction to energy drinks spiked with crack.
Unpredictable would be a nice change of pace.
These assholes are out of fucking control.
“I think it’s time to send a clear message before Samhaim uses our heads for target practice.” Slash shrugs, knowing damn well he’s right.
“Slash and I can take care of the problem,” Pierce volunteers, one hand slapping Slash’s shoulder in added encouragement.
“Why me? It’s a beautiful day out there. I’ve got my fishing rod all ready to go.”
“Sounds good, thanks, Pierce.” I know for a fact, Pierce is doing this to get me off the hook. We all know it but I still thank him.
“Sure thing.”
“Fuck off. And don’t drink all the whiskey or I’ll use your balls for our next game of Ping Pong.”
I give my middle finger to Slash as he’s being dragged out of his own damn house.
“Your head’s not in the game.” Not a question. Then again, Slay doesn’t beat around any kind of bush.
“No, it’s not.” I don’t elaborate as we stare each other down.
“Care to share?” It’s not like him to pry so he must feel the turmoil inside me.
“I found my chosen yesterday.” I can see the surprise in the way he changes his stance from one ready for a fight to a more relaxed posture.
“It’s August.” My brothers know all about this fucking curse between Aiyana and me.
“Exactly. It feels like a fluke, you know? Usually, I only have hours, maybe days if I’m lucky.
” I feel myself growing more and more agitated, pacing up and down the deck as I try to make sense of this situation.
“What if I get months with her in this life and it allows us to figure out why I keep losing her?”
“This all sounds like good news. Why are you acting like it’s the end of the world?” Slay frowns and I realize I haven’t told him the kicker in all of this. Because in our world, there’s always a yin to the fucking yang.
“She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t know me. It’s like her soul didn’t get the memo.”
“Sounds to me like you need to have a conversation with her, spell the shit out and move on. What you’re not doing is slacking off on your duties.” Crossing his thick arms over his chest, Slay puts his hard face back on.
“I’m not fucking slacking, I’m trying to find the right opportunity to get her to trust me enough to actually fucking talk to me.” I mimic his stance because I, too, feel the need to put on my hard face. “Did I mention she slapped me?”
Slay does the one thing he never fucking does. He laughs. “Always liked that little witch.”
“So I keep hearing from all of you.” I mumble. “So, yeah, I’m not slacking.”
“Maybe you should go to the gym, clear your head with a fight or two.” He’s not wrong. Going to one of the gyms I own where the supernaturals can fight to the death could force a little clarity in me. Except, that means more time away from my chosen and I can't have that.
“I can’t just leave her. What if something happens to her?”
The more that seed plants itself in my head, the more it eats at me.