The Devil's Fool (Devil Series Book One) (5 page)

“Hunwald doesn’t like anyone.”

“That’s comforting. Does he have to be in here?”

Boaz looked at me and then at Hunwald. He pursed his lips together as if deciding. Finally he said, “He can wait outside.”

Hunwald’s bushy head jerked in Boaz’s direction as if he understood. Boaz motioned toward the door, but Hunwald stared stubbornly back. Boaz motioned again with a little more force. This time, the wolf turned and left the room, but not without casting me a dangerous look.

“Friendly dog,” I said.

“He’s not a dog, and I don’t have him because he’s friendly.”

I sighed and attempted to sit up, but a tight wrap on my arm made it difficult. They must’ve put it on me while I was unconscious. “Is this really necessary?”

“Your arm was broken. Of course it’s necessary.”

“But there’s hardly any pain,” I said, moving my arm around.

“You have your mother to thank for that. She can do the most amazing things with jasmine.”

I grimaced.

“You don’t like jasmine?” Boaz asked.

“I can’t stand it.”

“Is it because your mother loves it, or is there another reason?”

“What does it matter?” I reached up to tear the bandage off of my head, but instead, I froze. My eyes flashed to Boaz.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Is it difficult for you to be around blood?”

He smiled. “Not at all. I’ve been around long enough that my craving for blood is similar to what you might feel toward chocolate.”

“Appetizing,” I said and tried not to grimace as I unraveled the bandage. It didn’t feel near as good as my arm. “How old are you anyway?”

“Old enough to know when a person isn’t safe in their own home. That Diablo almost killed you.”

“Diablo?” I wasn’t familiar with the name.

“A Diablo is a demon who has taken over a human body. Their unnatural presence slowly kills man’s body, making them appear like a corpse. They are merciless and determined. If one’s been sent to kill you, more will follow.”

“I don’t understand. Why would they want to kill me?”

Boaz leaned back in his chair. “I have two theories. The first is someone among our kind has sent the Diablos to kill you. You’re less of a threat if you’re dead.”

This surprised me. “How am I a threat to anyone?”

“You’re the daughter of the most powerful witches to ever exist.”

“But I’m nothing like my parents.” I shuddered. The thought of demons after me was frightening enough, but being compared to my parents was even more terrifying.

“You’re right. You are nothing like them—you’re much greater.”

I shook my head to dismiss what was, in my mind, an empty compliment. “And your second theory?”

Boaz averted his eyes. “Your parents. I think they sent them.”

I shook my head slowly. “They wouldn’t.”

“Perhaps, but I must find out for sure.” He stood. “I should let you rest.”

“Not yet,” I said, wanting him to explain further. Granted, my parents were horrible, but kill me?

“Close your eyes and sleep, love. I need to speak with your father, and then I will return.”

Boaz left, and the room felt overwhelmingly empty without him. After several minutes, I threw back the covers and stood. My head pounded but hardly enough to keep me in bed. I smoothed my long black nightgown and walked to the dresser to see what Boaz had been looking at.

Several items sprawled across the dark wood surface: a grotesque-looking porcelain doll, a ceramic gargoyle, and a music box that played a song that was neither happy nor pleasant. None of them represented beauty and love. They were all constant reminders of my parents attempt to turn my heart as black as theirs.

I scanned the remaining items. Only one was out of place: an unframed photograph of me taken months ago, just outside our home. Jane had captured it with her cell phone and had given it to me as a gift. It was the only picture I had of myself.

After slipping the photo into my top drawer, I walked to the window and opened the blinds with my good arm. It was later in the day than I thought. The sun clung stubbornly to the horizon, but night would soon have its way.

I rested my forehead against the cool glass. Darkness had already reached the edge of the forest. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a familiar movement. My heart skipped a beat. Several was more like it.

Two more of the white creatures—Diablos, as Boaz had called them—were moving in and out of the trees. They wandered randomly, their bodies jerking in uneven spurts. They seemed to be waiting for something—or someone. As if sensing my thoughts, their heads jerked in my direction, eyes entirely white.

A chill erupted on my skin. I stepped away from the window and right into Boaz. His arms came around me, and I sucked in air. With my back to him, he whispered in my ear, “They will not harm you. As long as I am near, no one will ever hurt you again.”

I caved, letting him hold me longer than I should have, but to be held like that was nothing I’d ever experienced before. It was almost impossible to resist.

But I had to try.

I turned around and said with as much strength as I could muster, “I can take care of myself.”

“Like you did this morning?” Boaz brushed past me to the window and closed the blinds. “Learn to use magic, and then you will be able to take care of yourself.”

I huffed and sat down at my vanity to search the drawers. “I want nothing to do with those evil powers.”

“They’re not evil. They’re a necessity. Your abilities will save your life one day.”

I finally found what I was looking for: a long, sharp envelope opener. While I thought about Boaz’s words, I shoved the silver knife under the material on my arm and jerked upward. It tore in two and fell to the ground. Other than my arm being red from the cast, it was completely unscathed.

“Let’s say then,” I began, “that I am able to do magic. How will I know I won’t lose myself in the process? I’ve seen how magic changes people, and it’s never for the better.”

“Nothing is black or white, love. Life is full of gray. You’ll change whatever way necessary to fit your environment, and right now, you need to grow up and get over these foolish ideas of love and purity.” He reached for a book on my bookshelf, one that happened to be hidden behind one of my parent’s approved books, and tossed it onto the bed. “You are wasting your time and talent, and it’s disgusting.”

I stood abruptly, knocking back the chair I was just sitting in. “How dare you! You don’t know what I’ve had to endure living with those—” I struggled to find the right words. “—those
people
who have the nerve to call themselves parents.”

Boaz grinned, his eyes dancing. “Then stop enduring! Maybe then we can start having some fun!”

“Get out,” I said.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

“I said, get out!” I pointed to the door, which flew open at my silent command and slammed into the wall behind it, leaving a gaping hole. I shrank back, terrified. In that small moment, when I had allowed myself to hate, the room had turned cold, and the light darkened. Even the floral smell had turned bitter.

Boaz laughed. “Didn’t that feel wonderful?” He walked to the door and inspected it. “Amazing! You didn’t even have to try. I knew you had it in you.”

“Please leave,” I said, barely above a whisper.

Boaz’s expression darkened. “If that is what you want. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

He tried to shut the door on his way out, but it closed crooked; the top hinge was broken.

I dropped into bed, appalled by what I’d done. What if Boaz told my parents? I rolled over and covered my head with a pillow. Boaz had caused this. He’d made me feel hate, the one emotion my parents had tried to teach me since birth, and he’d managed to do it after meeting me only a few times.

Even now, the remains of hate’s power tingled inside me, coursing through my blood like hot lava, darkening my thoughts. If I’d been born normal, would the feeling of hate still have been as strong? The emotion overwhelmed me, filling me to the point where it physically hurt and the only way to relieve the pain was to expel it through magic.

I needed to stay away from Boaz.

All night, I tossed and turned, my mind tortured with dreams of death and destruction. Boaz was there—the black conductor leading the symphony of carnage. I couldn’t escape him even as I slept.

“Eve,” I heard his voice say. The symphony played louder.

“Eve, wake up!”

His image left my dreams and appeared before my open eyes. Unsure of my surroundings, I recoiled in fear. I rubbed my eyes, but when I opened them again, Boaz was still there, looking more devilish than ever. His disheveled hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail; several strands fell into his face as if he’d been running only moments before.

“What are you doing back?” I asked, sitting up. It was barely eight in the morning.

“I never left.”

I furrowed my brow at him.

“I was going to, but a problem arose. I’ve been trying to decide how best to deal with it.”

“What sort of problem?”

“The Diablos,” he answered. He crossed the room to the window and parted the blinds to peer out.

“They’re still out there?” I threw back the covers and left the warmth of the bed.

“Yes, and they’ve multiplied exponentially. It’s only a matter of hours before they come into the house.”

“Why?”

He turned around so suddenly I stumbled back. “They’re coming for
you
.”

“Erik and Sable—”

“Are the ones who summoned them,” he finished. “I have confirmed it. They excused the staff and left hours ago. I’m all you have left.”

“I don’t believe you. They wouldn’t kill me, not after all they’ve put me through.” But even as I said the words, I didn’t believe them. So what if they exhausted countless hours trying to get me to use magic? I never gave them what they wanted. This made me think of something else, something Erik had said many times. “Besides, if they wanted me dead, they’d do it themselves.”

His left eyebrow rose. “And give anyone the opportunity to question them? When your body is discovered torn and mangled tomorrow morning, no one will suspect your parents. They will be far away from here, attending some charity event.”

And there it was: a dirty, ugly truth.

Boaz looked back out the window. “I argued with them well into the night, but they’ve washed their hands of you, said you were a waste to their kind, an embarrassment. Even Erik’s father, your grandfather, agreed. They all want you dead.”

My legs weakened, and I slouched onto my bed. I’d never met my grandfather. Why would someone I didn’t even know want me dead?

He stepped in front of me. “You need to come with me. It’s your only chance to survive.”

“Where would we go?”

“Just pack a few things and get dressed. Be ready in five minutes,” he said and left the room.

I sat there, stunned. This can’t be happening.

For a full minute I didn’t move, but after the shock, a new thought revealed itself like a shiny new gift. I didn’t have to stay here anymore. I didn’t have to see my parents ever again.
I was free.

This discovery spurred me to action, and I packed quickly, my mind processing different scenarios. I could leave with Boaz and possibly talk him into giving me some money. Maybe he would even drop me off at the bus stop. And if he wouldn’t do any of those things, maybe he would let me work for him doing … what, exactly? I knew nothing about him.

I pulled on my favorite jeans. I could figure it out later. At least I never had to see my parents again. And I would be alive, thanks to Boaz. But why was he helping me? I would have to be extra careful around him.

I was just pulling a sweater over my head when I heard: “You are a work of art.”

I jumped and turned around. Boaz sat in the corner on a small chair, hidden within the shadows. Somehow, he had snuck back into the room, and my face reddened, wondering how much he had seen.

Swallowing hard, I said, “I’m ready.”

“Good. The Diablo’s are growing in numbers even as we speak.”

“How do you know?”

“I can sense it, and so can you.”

I shook my head. “But I can’t sense anything,”

Boaz appeared behind me, as fluid as water from a tap.

“Close your eyes, love,” he breathed into my ear. The breath from his lips warmed the skin on my neck, making me feel lightheaded. One arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him, and the other moved slowly to the side of my neck where his fingers rubbed up to my earlobe and back down to my collar bone. “Focus on the Diablo who tried to take your life. Picture what a vile creature he was, and how he deserved to die.”

A murky fog clouded my rational mind, and I obeyed. I thought back to the Diablo in the woods as it had approached me with malice on his face. I remembered how Boaz had slammed into him, killing him within seconds. I was glad he was dead. He deserved it.

I inhaled deeply, letting hate for the Diablo fill my being. The smell in the room changed to that of rotten flesh, but I didn’t waiver. I pushed my consciousness to the forest beyond and searched for the rotting creatures. Not far away, I found them moving sporadically in jagged, circular motions. There was no order to their movements, yet their graceless march slowly moved closer to the house. There must’ve been fifty or more.

I let out my breath and opened my eyes. The room was darker than I remembered, and the colors were dull, as if I’d entered a whole new world.

“There are so many of them,” I whispered, grimacing from my new surroundings.

Boaz removed his hand from my collarbone. “I knew you would see them.”

“Why is the room so dark?” I asked.

“It’s the reflection of true power. Get used to it.”

“I don’t like it.”

Boaz spun me around. “Right now I don’t care what you like. I need you to be strong to get out of here. You’re going to have to fight.” He took my hand and pulled me from the room.

Fight? I’d never fought anything before—not physically, anyway. Boaz’s pace was so fast I barely managed to keep my footing. “But aren’t you strong enough?”