Devil Take Me (11 page)

“I can’t believe this. I really can’t—”

Namtar forged ahead, determined to make her understand what he needed and what he was prepared to offer in return. “The forfeit of a human soul will provide me with the power I need to defeat the present queen and to retain control of my court once I am king.” She said nothing, so he pushed on, not certain if he was choosing the right words but determined to out the entire truth. “Humans are not usually honored in my world, but the human consort is viewed quite differently. Very few of my people have the capacity to bond with a human in this way. Therefore, the consort is a rare enough phenomenon that the usual restrictions will not apply.”

“Restrictions?”

“Unlike other humans, you will be able to own property and attend holiday feasts, though you will still not be permitted to walk abroad without a Sumerian escort. That restriction is in place for your safety. There are many breeds of demons who roam our land and you must be protected.”

“Wow.” Annie shook her head again. “This just gets better and better.”

“Sarcasm does not become you,” Namtar said, beginning to doubt the wisdom of beginning this conversation. She was being completely unreasonable. He understood the sacrifice he asked was great, but she was not giving him the chance to properly explain.

“Well lies don’t become you.”

“I have never lied to you.” He struggled to keep his voice low and his anger out of his tone, but it was difficult. Very difficult. He had spent his life as a valued advisor to a goddess and a queen. He was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a disrespectful manner. It angered him, no matter that a part of him insisted he deserved no better.

“No, you’ve only withheld the truth, and the entire reason you were pretending to be concerned about my welfare. The reason you were so worried about where I’d gone a few minutes ago.” She began to pace again, warming to her topic, fueling her rage with swift movements of her bare feet. “You could care less whether Roger kills me, as long as you get my soul first.”

“That is not so. You will listen to me, Annie, you will—”

“No, you will listen to me.” She turned to him, dark eyes flashing. “I will not be used or tricked or deceived. Not anymore. You don’t really care about me, you don’t—”

“I care about you very much!”

“You want my soul, Namtar. Get fucking real.”

“Enough!” Annie flinched at his shout. “I debated whether or not to even offer you the truth. Now I can see I would have been wiser to leave these words unsaid.”

“Join the club,” she said softly, and he knew she spoke of Roger, of his lies while they were betrothed and the lies he told now, seeking to steal her life away from her. It was enough to banish his own anger, sweeping it away on a wave of compassion for this woman who had been through so much.

“I did not plan to tell you lies.” His voice was gentle now, and he hoped she could hear his care for her in every word he spoke. “I thought instead it would be best for me to leave you once I was certain you were safe and seek out another to aid my cause. When given freely, a mortal soul, even one without magic, will provide me with the strength I need to defeat the reigning queen. You are not the only human who can meet my needs. Any willing female will do.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” The hurt in her voice urged him on, no matter that a part of him told him to leave her this very moment. But he couldn’t go, not yet.

“From the moment we met, I felt myself caring for your future more than I have cared about anything in quite some time.” He was a fool for baring his emotions in such a way. She’d made it clear she didn’t return his regard. Nevertheless, he was compelled to let her know he had treasured their time together, that he was not another villain come into her life to use her and treat her badly. He was not a saint, but neither was he a demon.

“That is why I tried to leave you before we mated in the cave. Even then, I wanted more for you than death at my hands or an eternity spent in darkness. After the time we spent together today, I was convinced I could help you have a better life. I wanted to help you as much as I wanted to help myself and my people. If you believe nothing else, I would ask you believe that truth.”

Annie’s eyebrows drew together and for a moment she seemed to stare through him, lost in thought. When she spoke, the words were not at all what Namtar had hoped to hear.

“You didn’t know that I would survive.” The eyes that searched his own were now shining with unshed tears.

Excellent work, oh great advisor.

Namtar hadn’t felt this foolish in well over two hundred seasons. He’d led her straight to the truth of his most depraved action. In seeking to convince her of his affection, he had instead assured her of his wickedness. The import of what he had done struck his chest like a blow, knocking the breath from his body.

He had failed, utterly and completely. Now, there was nothing left to do but confess and take his leave. He’d ruined whatever chance he and Annie might have had.

That knowledge shouldn’t have made him feel so hopeless. There were other women nearby, hundreds of thousands of them. The thrumming of human hearts was like the beating of a million drums to his ears, made even more sensitive by the infusion of Annie’s magic. He would surely find one who was willing to surrender her soul before the night was through. In this modern age, he sensed it would not be nearly as difficult as in times past. These Californians did not live in fear of the great power’s wrath as the humans once did.

He shouldn’t have had to force the answer to her question from between stiff lips, past a weight on his heart that threatened to steal the organ’s ability to pump blood through his ancient veins. But then, nothing had felt as it should since he’d met Annie, and he had a feeling nothing ever would again.

Each word he spoke seemed to hit her like a physical blow. Annie stumbled backward, until she hit the curtains covering the window behind her. That was what had been bothering her, the strange niggling sensation at the back of her mind, telling her not to trust this man who seemed to have her best interests at heart.

That night in the garage he’d thought she would be like all the rest of the humans he had ever touched, that she would die a horrible death as a result of their contact. And he’d touched her anyway, called himself her “destiny” and then made love to her, all the while assuming those moments of pleasure would be the last she would know before the pain of death.

“I can’t believe…” Her whisper faded away as her throat grew even tighter. No stroke of good fortune had ever been what it seemed, so why was she so shattered that this man had proved no different?

Because you wanted to believe he cared. You were falling for him—hard and fast—no matter how you tried to convince yourself this was just about sex.

Annie closed her eyes, sending tears streaming silently down her cheeks. “Get out,” she whispered, eyes still closed, hands clenched into fists at her sides in an attempt to keep a few tears from turning into a full-fledged bawl-fest.

She hadn’t cried when they’d been shot at this morning. She hadn’t cried when she’d found out Roger was framing her for attempted murder. So she sure as hell wasn’t going to cry over a man she’d known less than twenty-four hours, a man who, no matter how perfectly he worked her body, was the very definition of Mr. Wrong.

“I tried to walk away, Annie. Remember that.”

“You didn’t try hard enough.” She opened her eyes after several quiet moments to find him still standing in front of her, a tormented look on his face. For a man who wanted to steal her soul, he certainly did an excellent job of pretending to care. She’d give him that much. He was a good actor, better than Roger had ever been.

At least he cares enough to pretend you’ve cut him apart inside. Isn’t that worth something? And he did try to leave last night, but you practically begged him to fuck you.

“You are right,” he said, his voice thick with regret.

Look at that, he admitted he was wrong! And he did save your life this morning. He could have let Roger kill you and gone off to find someone else, he could have—

Annie forcibly silenced the weak voice in her mind. It was the voice that had made her too afraid to demand Roger treat her with respect, that had urged her to meekly accept crumbs of affection from anyone who would offer. But not anymore. She was never going to settle for less than the love and respect and basic human courtesy she deserved, not ever again. If that meant she had to flee across the state of California and outwit Roger alone, then so be it.

“I didn’t try nearly hard enough. I am sorry, more than you can know.” Namtar turned and walked into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later in the shorts and T-shirt she had bought for him.

Annie watched as he gathered his few things into one of the plastic shopping bags, despair filling her heart. But whether it was because of his lies, or the fact that he was leaving her, she couldn’t say.

Oh yes you can say. You don’t want him to leave. Tell him to stay, tell him you’ll forgive him and give him another chance. You don’t want to hide out in that house alone, you’ll go crazy. You don’t want—

“Jesus Christ!” Annie screamed as her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

“Room service.” The man’s voice was muffled by the door, but Annie could still hear him clearly.

That meant he’d probably heard every word she and Namtar were saying if he’d been there for any length of time. Hopefully he hadn’t, because how in the world would she explain away a conversation like the one they’d been having?

They were playing some elaborate role playing game? Discussing secret soul stealing rituals of Scientology? Rehearsing lines for a movie?

“Rehearsing lines,” Annie mumbled to herself as she moved to the door. They were in California, where actors were only outnumbered by Starbucks baristas. Surely, even this far from Hollywood, the running lines excuse would hold water.

“Annie, wait. Don’t open the door.” Namtar moved to block her path, but she easily stepped around him.

He seemed afraid to touch her, or maybe he simply wasn’t interested now that he knew he wasn’t going to get her soul. He’d probably been acting the entire time, pretending to be as blown away by the passion between them as she was in hopes it would pave the way to winning something more than her body.

The thought brought tears to her eyes again. She took a deep breath, sucking them back into her body as she had the magic Namtar had awakened within her. She was in control. She would not lose it. At least not until she had rid herself of all potential witnesses.

“The food has already been delivered. I distrust this interruption,” Namtar warned as she reached for the door handle.

“They probably want the tray and dirty dishes,” she whispered, stopping a split second before flicking open the lock when she noticed her ripped panties lying next to the door.

Annie cheeks heated as she remembered how she’d responded to his touch, how she’d loved the feel of his cock shoving into her, stretching her, claiming her. She’d practically come just from the feel of his strong hand ripping away the last barrier to their joining. Hell, she was wet again right now simply from laying eyes on the ruined red panties.

She reached down to scoop them up, determined not to give her libido any further encouragement or the room service personnel anything else to talk about.

No sooner had her hand fisted in the fabric, than the door exploded inward, right where her head had been seconds before. She screamed and fell to the floor, covering her head and neck with her hands.

“Annie! Come to me!” Namtar’s hand closed around her arm and dragged her, still in her fetal-position, along the carpet as more shots were fired.

“Namtar?” She lifted her head once she was behind the wall separating the bathroom from the bed, but it was as if he had vanished, disappeared into thin air. “Namtar are you—Shit! Ohmygod, ohmygod.” Annie screamed again at the loud cracking sound the door made as it was kicked open. It was the second time she’d been shot at today, but she wasn’t any more in control of herself than she’d been the first time.

When a man in dark glasses came around the corner, holding a gun bigger than anything she’d seen in real life, she had no idea how to begin to protect herself. She held her hands out in an instinctual motion, but even as she moved knew her palms would do nothing to stop a speeding bullet.

She was going to die. Right now. Without the chance to clear her name or find out what could have been between her and her ancient Sumerian god.

In that moment, she wished more than anything she’d given Namtar her soul. Staring down the barrel of a gun, knowing she’d turned her back on every god she’d ever heard named, the chances of becoming one with the eternal life force weren’t looking very good. If she’d been thinking with her mind instead of her wounded heart, she would have realized that before it was too late. Before she wasted her death in the same way she’d wasted much of her life.

“No, please, I don’t—”

Annie watched the man pull the trigger and heard the loud report of the gun echoing in her ears, but it was as if the world were moving in slow motion. She had time to breathe, to think, to consider the shape of the bullet as it moved through the thick air, headed straight toward her heart. In those moments, as time slowed to a snail’s pace, the air suddenly stirred in front of her and a wall of heat moved between her and the instrument of her death.

Namtar materialized as the bullet slammed into his stomach. His small grunt of pain seemed to bring the world back to order. The shooter jumped back in surprise and turned to run at a normal speed, but Namtar was too fast. The ancient god spilled over him like a dark wave, his cells seeming to break apart and reform around their attacker, trapping him in a thick, black cloud.

The man’s glasses were knocked from his face, revealing eyes opened wider than Annie would have believed humanly possible. His lips parted in a silent scream as he clawed at his throat, chest heaving, but still no sound emerged. Instead, the cloud that was Namtar spilled into his mouth, filling him until his skin turned grey and the whites of his eyes bled black ink.

“Stop! Oh God, please stop,” Annie begged, crawling backward along the floor as the shooter’s eyes burst, bleeding down the front of his face. She hit the nightstand hard enough to bruise her back, but didn’t feel the pain through her shock and terror. “Please! Namtar, stop!”

The black cloud vibrated, but didn’t withdraw from her would-be murderer. Instead, the bleeding eyes were soon accompanied by other explosions as the grey beneath the surface of the shooter’s skin sought the light. Green and white fluids spilled from a hole in his stomach and gushed onto the floor not twelve inches from her feet. His intestines followed soon after, oozing from his gaping abdominal cavity, the slick tissue already crawling with little white worms.

Maggots, if she weren’t mistaken.

Annie’s scream faded to a whimper as she fought a losing battle against her rebelling stomach. But it was too late to stop her natural reaction to witnessing such horror. She leaned sideways, retching onto the carpet as the smell of death and rot filled the room. The noxious scent invaded her nostrils like poisoned gas, making a part of her wish she’d been the one to take the bullet. If she were dead, she wouldn’t have to see this, wouldn’t have to watch as a human being rotted to nothing but bones and the bones disintegrated onto the floor.

It was every horror movie she’d never watched come to life, and almost more than her mind could tolerate without damage. She’d always known she couldn’t deal with some of the dreadfulness the human imagination could create. That was why she’d stayed at home when Roger went to go see the latest zombie flick, why she’d bypassed the aisles where Stephen King’s books were shelved. She didn’t want to think about things like what she’d just seen, even when she’d assumed they were purely fantasy.

Now that she knew they were real, now that she’d seen a man brutally murdered by supernatural means in front of her own eyes… She didn’t know if she’d ever be the same again.

“Annie? Are you hurt? Speak to me, ninani.” Namtar’s arms were around her, cradling her close.

They were in the bathroom. She was sitting on Namtar’s lap as he perched on the toilet, reaching out every so often to dampen the cloth he was using to wipe the vomit from her face. The sound of the running water was strangely soothing, a soft rushing flow of normalcy that washed a bit of her terror down the drain.

“When did we…how did we get in here?” Her voice sounded hollow, haunted, like a doll programmed to speak in an emotionless monotone.

“A few minutes past. I thought it best if you were removed from…from the area.” His jaw was clenched tight as his dark eyes met hers in the mirror, but there was nothing but compassion on his face.

He was concerned for her, worried she had been traumatized, but there was no remorse or regret in his countenance. Namtar didn’t look any more affected by what he’d just done than if he’d accidentally overtipped the room service staff—giving them a twenty instead of a fiver.

Annie began to tremble, a shaking that grew progressively intense the longer she sat on Namtar’s lap, allowing him to touch her so gently with hands that were capable of unspeakable horror.

“Let me go,” she snapped, jerking her elbow from his grasp as she came to her feet.

“I was merely helping you stand.” He looked sad, so sad, as if he were disappointed in her, not himself. As if she were the one who had caused a man to rot into nothingness after spilling his guts all over the carpet of the Stockton, California, Courtyard Marriott.

“Please, ninani. He was wicked. He sought to destroy you, I was only—”

“Go away. Get away from me.” She sounded as hysterical as she felt, and the finger she pointed at Namtar shook uncontrollably.

“I would never hurt you. I wish only to protect you, which I can do more adequately now if you’ll allow it.” He leaned forward, warming to his topic. “I searched the man’s thoughts and learned much. I will tell you all, but first we must leave this place, the use of my death touch will be a beacon for the…”

Namtar’s voice faded away, drowned out by the pounding of her heart beating fast in her ears. She felt like she’d just finished a marathon, but her skin was still cold, as if she couldn’t pump enough blood to the surface. She suspected she was going into shock, but couldn’t think about that now. She just had to get out of here, away from Namtar, from this room, from the nightmare her reality had become.

She stumbled out the bathroom door and out into the hall without even bothering to look for her shoes. She didn’t even realize she was barefoot, in fact, until she flung open the door to the stairwell and began running down the stairs where the grey paint beneath her feet was cold and sticky, as if it had only been spread a few days ago.

Annie wondered if she was getting wet paint on her feet, paint that would mark her footprints, allowing anyone to see where she had run as she fled into the dark night. The thought frightened her, but not enough to stop and wipe her feet on the carpet in the hall of the ground floor, or on the plastic mat just outside the side exit to the building. She couldn’t stop, not until she was as far away from here as her legs would carry her.