Night of the Demon: Paranormal Romance (Devon Slaughter Book 2) (16 page)

I went to her. “I’m sorry, Zadie,” I said. “I really am.”

She lifted her gaze. “Why did you kill Inka?
Why
? She
was our sire.”

I let my crudely fashioned stake drop to the floor, and squatted
next to her. “We’re better off without her, my love. Don’t you think?” I wiped
away her tears.

She sniffled. “Maybe,” she said.

I settled next to her, stretching out my legs. “Come here,
Zadie. Lay your head in my lap.”

I stroked her hair, as she lay there. When she closed her
eyes, I reached for the stake. “It’s all going to be okay,” I said. “We had
good times, Zadie. We have been lucky in love.”

Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips curved. “Yes. I love you in
the worst way, Devon.”

Truer words were never spoken
.

Before I could change my mind, I plunged the stake into her
heart. The sound of flesh splitting, bones breaking, filled my ears.

Afterward, the world fell deathly silent.

I stared at Zadie’s ashes, not knowing what to feel, except a
mix of relief and regret. I wished things could have been different between us.
  

A gasp broke the quiet. Dear God, had Inka resurrected
herself?

But my gaze found Ruby, standing in the hall. She braced
herself, leaning against the wall. In the next moment, she collapsed.

I wondered how much she had seen, if anything. She might
have slipped away, already, into insanity.

I picked her up, and held her for a moment, listening to her
frail heartbeat.

The nearest hospital was across the river. I carried her,
traveling faster than the human eye could see.

I HEARD
them talking
about me.

“It’s pitiful, isn’t it?” one said.

“She won’t wake up?”

“She’s been like this since they brought her in. Once
they’re this far gone, they don’t come back.”

“What do you mean?” a man’s voice—caring, alarmed. “What’s
the point then?”

“Well, we can’t just let her die.”

“Was it drugs?”

“Probably. Drugs and madness. They always try to
self-medicate, you know.”

“She’s so young.” He sounded sad.

“Help me lift her.”

They turned me over. The prick of a needle stung the back of
my knee. I wanted to cry out. But I couldn’t.

A tear slid from my eye.

Their footsteps retreated.

They closed the door.

A machine beeped. Electricity buzzed. The color red crept
under my eyelids. I went down, further into my mind, away from the light. Down
here, I didn’t have to struggle against the world.

But later, some orderlies came and I was pulled up and up
through layers of fog. It was a long, hard journey, every time. Why did they
insist on dragging me back?

I wanted to scream.

Leave me
alone
.

I knew where I was. I’d been here before. But I didn’t know how
it had happened again. I tried so hard to stay sane. I did everything they
said. I took my meds, I went to therapy.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

 “Here, grab your end.” They lifted me up in some kind of
sack. I felt myself swinging in it, suspended, until I landed with a thud.

“Shit. You almost dropped her.”

Giggle.

“Do you think she can hear us?”

“No. She’s out of it.”

They moved around, busy. It took them forever. They sprayed
chemicals and emitted grunts. They slung me onto another bed. I recognized the
clang of metal bars going up. A nurse came and checked my vitals, touching me
softly. I felt the icy bite of a stethoscope on my chest. A machine forced
liquids through my veins.

Later, I tried to move my fingers. My eyelids fluttered. If
only I could get up and unplug myself. I would slither away, back to my
apartment, where I’d lock the door.

I yearned for my own bed.

I thought of my silk sheets and warm comforter.

All I had to do was get there. And curl up inside the darkness.
 

* * *

I felt his presence, when he came to me. He turned off the
lights. And the machines.

I felt the needle slide out of my arm.

He wrapped me in something warm and carried me out of the
hospital. I smelled new mown grass. And roses. I heard the sound of his
footsteps, his breath. I saw bright colors, like fireworks, behind my closed
lids.

His grip on me tightened. Suddenly, the world went quiet.
Cold air rushed under the blanket.

I felt myself spinning through the universe, and the stars,
surrounded by light-filled beings. The most beautiful humming came from the
beating of their wings.  

I thought it was finally happening, what I had so often dreamed—I
was dying.

But I wasn’t dead.

I felt the softness of my own silk sheets beneath my skin. I
knew the scent of them, like lavender, and always
always
the faintest
tinge of Shalimar; my mother’s ghost.

His hands were on my body, everywhere, his mouth on my neck,
my breasts … my lips. The ache inside me turned to fire and spread, licking
across my flesh.

My body arched. I gasped.

My eyes flew open.

WHEN SHE opened her eyes, she found me gazing down on her.
“Ruby?”

“Devon?” her voice was scratchy, unused.

I’d felt her coming back from wherever she’d gone. Her skin
warmed, her breathing became normal, and yet, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
Half of me was afraid she would be different.

“You remember me,” I said.

Her pulse whispered in my veins. “I dreamed of you.”

We were laying in her bed, naked. I’d stripped off her
hospital gown, and my own clothes, to get as close to her as possible.  

She rolled on her side. Her eyes were bright. “Am I still
dreaming?”

“No …”

“You’re
actually
here?” she said.

“Yes.”

“And you’re real.”

“I’m real, Ruby.”

She traced the outline of my lips with her finger. “The
first time I saw you, I thought you looked like a dark angel.”

“Trust me, I’m no angel.” 

“I trust you,” she said, like it was the answer to a
question. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“So am I, Ruby. So am I.”

 “Are you leaving again? Soon?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

Her tongue came out to wet her lip. “Everyone leaves. Sooner
or later.”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

Her fine brows knitted together. Freckles stood out on her pale
skin. “As long as I want?”

“Yes.”

“That might be a very long time,” her tone was grave, as if
she were warning me.

“I have nothing but time.”

She searched my face. “I—” she dropped her gaze.

“What, Ruby?”

“Nothing,” she blushed.

“Tell me,” I felt the old demon stirring inside me. I
couldn’t quash him completely. Besides, he wasn’t all bad. He had known Ruby’s
worth as soon as he laid eyes on her.

“It seems silly but I—I love you, Devon.”

“Love is never silly.”

She giggled. “But I don’t even know your last name.”

“I love you too.”

Her breath caught. She blinked.

“Did you hear me?”

“You
do
?”

“Oh, Ruby,” I grabbed her and pulled her down on top of me.
“Let’s not talk anymore …”

A Note from the Author

Thank you for reading
Night of
the Demon
. If you enjoyed it, I would be eternally grateful if you left a
review. Honest reviews help readers find books.

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About the Author

Alice Bell was born three minutes
before midnight on January 19th in northern California. She's a triple
Capricorn, destined to be dark. After graduating high school and working a
series of odd jobs, including theft counseling, she decided to go to college to
see if she could earn a degree by reading, which resulted in a BA in English
(though not an end to odd jobs). She loves animals and nature and considers
herself a romantic of the
Wuthering Heights
variety. Her greatest
aspiration as a writer is to show beauty in dark places.