Demetrius (19 page)

They drew closer, the stench of sulfur grew stronger. Demetrius recalled the tang of it on his tongue, masking the sweet taste of Callista’s blood. His fangs bared.

She was too pure to be tainted with something like Draken.

She was his. And he loved her. But he would let her go if that’s what she needed.

The door to his parents’ quarters was closed. He looked back at Rourke and stood by the left side of the door. Rourke matched his stance on the opposite side. The males were both large, but Demetrius preferred to be the battering ram. Rourke was a sneaky bastard, he was better at getting in and getting down to business.

Demetrius spread his feet and readied his shoulder to barrel through the door.

The large wooden door swung open.

“Welcome Demetrius,” Draken’s voice boomed. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Demetrius’ mother lay unconscious on the edge of the bed, her sable hair matted with blood. His father stretched over her, his torso hanging off the bed, not dead, but close. Draken leaned against the bedpost, splattered in blood, his mouth stained red, wearing a sinister grin.

“I got hungry waiting for you.”

Demetrius’ parents were his rock, they centered his world. Seeing them mangled and tortured, shredded him. Centering his aim, he unloaded all seventeen of his rounds into the smug bastard. Rourke followed with three shots.

Draken dropped, full of holes; the asshole was laughing.

Demetrius heard the sound behind him the same time he felt a hot brand stab his shoulder. Rourke grunted and both males spun to find the source of the injury.

Two sneering prime sons whose mother had been on the council.

The Forswithe twins.

Or quadruplets.

No, there were two. Wait...four. And fuck, it was Demetrius’ vision that was doubling.

He stumbled and dropped to a knee, putting a hand to his shoulder. It wasn’t a poker he’d been stabbed with; he’d been shot with something that was knocking him on his ass.

A thud next to him drew his attention. Rourke went down, and Demetrius wasn’t far behind, falling next to his friend.

Chapter Twenty-one

Calli sat on a chair. She got up and went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. It was still full from the last time she roamed into the kitchen. Taking a long drink, she went to sit on a barstool on the other side of the counter.

Tapping her fingers, she looked around. She stood. And sat back down again.

Maybe another drink of water.

Useless. It was all fucking useless.

Going to the door, she ripped it open so fast Scurn flinched. The door across the hall slammed shut.

Had Isabelle been talking to Scurn?

It was Isabelle’s brother that Calli needed to find out about. “Have you heard anything?”

“Sorry, Calli.” The bald guard had taken to calling her the less formal name she preferred. Except she liked how Demetrius referred to her by her full name…or princess. “They don’t tell me much. The six are pretty tight.”

She stepped into the hall and took post next to Scurn.

He didn’t say anything.

“How long have you been working for Demetrius?”

“Years.”

“Years of standing and staring at walls?”

“Not exactly.”

She waited for him to elaborate. Nothing. “Male of many words.”

“My history isn’t something I’m proud of.” He scratched the back of his neck, like he still carried a ton of guilt. “I carried out the council’s dirty deeds.”

“You knew what they were up to that whole time?”

“Some of it,” he said. “It was all I knew. My father worked for them, like his father before him.”

“What changed?” How did Demetrius trust Scurn knowing that?

“The last mission they sent me on. I realized the error of my ways.”

“I get to choose!” Isabelle’s voice carried clearly through the door.

“Any idea what she means?” Calli whispered.

“Not a clue. She’s been saying it since I met her.” A heavy silence settled between them. “She was my last mission.”

Calli spun to face him. “Seriously?”

“I’ve sworn to protect her ever since.”

Whoa.

She saw Scurn in a different light. He stood tall, stoic, but she’d always thought him a little brutish. Now she saw how the weight of his work for the council settled into the lines on his face, his unrelenting stance echoed his resolution in protecting Isabelle.

Ophelia charged around the corner. “Calli, come with me.” She turned and disappeared back from where she came.

“Do you have news?” Calli sprinted after her.

Ophelia continued to charge ahead without an answer. Calli didn’t assail her with additional questions, knowing it would be no use.

The female led her to a large meeting room with a glass table. Around the table sat Zoey, Bishop, and Creed—all lacked expression.

“I’m not going to wait much longer.” Calli jumped when she heard Draken’s voice. Her eyes darted around the room looking for the demon.

A muffled groan of pain echoed through a silver box in the middle of the table.

“Every minute I have to wait,” Draken’s voice came from the box, “is more blood Demetrius Devereux is going to need replaced.”

“You’re a coward.” Rourke’s statement was followed by his grunt of pain.

“You’re expendable, vampire. Don’t push me.” Draken must have spoken to someone next to him. “I tire of his voice, gag him, too.”

“Don’t listen to a damn thing, Ca–” Rourke was cut off.

“Callista, if you’re there, you’d better speak before your boy-toy earns a new body opening.”

Calli didn’t wait for the go ahead from Zoey. “I’m here. What do you want?”

“Ahh, Callista. You’re a hard female to get a hold of. No phone, no email. They tried to keep me from talking to you.”

“Get to the point, demon.”

Draken’s evil laugh resonated through the room. “You and I have a date. If you keep it, I’ll keep Demetrius’ head on his shoulders. If you don’t dally, I’ll throw in this other vampire’s life, too.”

“Where are you?”

“Ah-ah-ah. I can’t have all those nosey vampires listening in know where I plan to claim you. Our bond will lead you to me. Once the sun sets, I expect you within the hour. And if you bring company, Rourke loses his head.”

With a click, he disconnected.

“Creed,” Zoey unplugged the silver box, like was she making damn sure Draken couldn’t eavesdrop, “gather all the weapons that would be useful against demons. He had to have help, so we’ll prepare for more than Draken.”

Zoey barked commands, Bishop threw out ideas, Creed tallied all of their weapons and the best way to distribute them, Calli…listened.

Useless. That’s what she was. They didn’t need her to plan and they wouldn’t consult her.

Not completely useless. They’d use her to lead them to Draken and then try to kill him.

But would it be enough to keep Demetrius and Rourke alive? Draken was only using them to entice her to him. Then coerce her compliance. If he sensed the others, then Demetrius and Rourke would face the thin red line severing their heads from their necks.

Demetrius and Rourke weren’t the only ones in danger. “What about Demetrius’ parents?”

Zoey stopped midsentence and redirected her thoughts. “Calli’s right. Draken’s probably no longer there. Ophelia, take lead, go check on the parents. Bring at least two others with you. I don’t care what you tell them, as long as it’s not the truth. We’ll wait with that mess until Demetrius takes the bullet with me and brings it up to the council.”

“I’ll wait in the apartment,” Calli said. “Let me know when it’s time to leave.” Zoey acknowledged her statement and continued making plans while Calli walked out.

She walked slowly back to Demetrius’ place. Sunset wasn’t for two more hours. Was there anything she could do to be helpful, to keep from going crazy?

She met Scurn’s steady brown eyes before she entered the apartment. He was a smart male, had been around these vampire soldiers long enough to read into what happened. He’d notify Zoey if she tried to go anywhere.

Draken was serious. He’d have no issues beheading Rourke and Demetrius. The hours before sunset were good for playing with them, delighting in their torture. No doubt he counted on others arriving with Callista to give him an excuse to kill them.

She’d have to go alone. But not in a too stupid to live kind of way. She’d have to arrive armed and prepared to kill the demon. Or maim him long enough for her to free one of the males.

Draken had certainly been right about one thing. She was a hard female to reach. Searching drawers and cabinets, Calli looked for an extra phone or some way she could get a message to Zoey, let her know where Draken was when Calli found him.

Bingo! Or as Helen from the nursing home liked to announce, “winner, winner, chicken dinner.”

Calli turned it on and scrolled through the contacts looking for Zoey. Or Bishop. Hell, anybody she knew.

Landing on one titled “Sis,” she wondered if that meant Isabelle. If she texted Isabelle, would the vapid girl let Scurn know Calli had a phone and would he get suspicious?

If Isabelle did inform Scurn, would she be coherent enough for the guard to know what the hell she was talking about anyway?

The phone vibrated. She yelped and dropped it.

A soft knock on the front door was followed by Scurn’s voice. “Everything okay, Calli?”

“Yeah. I’m just jumpy.”

Dropping to her knees and scrambling for the phone, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the screen hadn’t shattered. There was a text from Sis.

Calli = Callista, Zoey = ?? :) :)

What. The. Fuck.

Calli pondered it for a second, then went back into contacts and scrolled to the Z’s. There were only a couple of names, one was clearly male and one was Zohana.

Was that Zoey’s full name?

And how did Sis know she needed help deciphering that? Was Sis Isabelle? It’d explain the obscure message, but not how it came at the exact moment she needed it.

Okay. So she had a phone, a gun, fire fluid and a lighter, and she could grab a couple of knives before she left. All she had to do was figure out how to get out of the apartment undetected. If she could get outside, she could flash to a place where she could figure out how to follow her bond to Draken.

Just like she’d gotten free before, she could find a way out of there. There’s always a way.

Isabelle had said those exact words. Before that she’d said “where the air blows.”

Isabelle the crazy sister.

Sis.

Who knew to text Calli pertinent information.

Calli tipped her head back and studied the ceiling. While Demetrius’ quarters were modern, they were still built in an industrial building. That meant commercial grade heating and cooling systems, with large ductwork and vents.

Large enough for a body to fit through. Maybe not to get outside, but to get to another room and away from Scurn.

Hellfire, Calli stole Demetrius’ word. Isabelle wasn’t crazy! Well she was, but only because she saw the world in a different way.

Did Demetrius know? His sister had the sight—a gift so rare in vampires, it was only myth.

She’d have to ask him and, in order to do that, she had to get to him.

Before she hauled herself up into the air vents, Calli went to Demetrius’ bedroom. She wore a T-shirt and jeans, but she wanted one of his black sweatshirt that would be baggy on her.

After finding one and throwing it on, she went in search of more weapons. She found small blades she hid in the sweatshirt pocket, and larger ones she stuffed behind her back in her pants.

Dammit, that’s where she needed to put the gun. She fastened the knife under a pant leg instead.

No matter how much metal she donned, she felt pretty damn inadequate to be taking on Draken.

***

Dust was in her hair, tickling her nose. She had to bury her face in her sweatshirt until the urge to sneeze passed. Dropping into an empty apartment, a quick look around showed her there were no windows. Not so in the hallway. She was so close to a window, she wanted to quit being cautious, jump out of it, and vaporize away.

She totally would if she had to. The sun was sinking and time was running out.

So fuck it, yeah, that’s what she was going to do.

As soon as she touched the windowsill, an alarm blared. Feeling all around the edge, her fingers clawed into the wooden frame. There was no way to open it; it was just a useless fucking window. Calli punched at it, satisfaction swelled with the action and her ability to turn the window pane into something she
could
use. The glass spiderwebbed, her knuckles throbbed.