Speak of the Demon by Stacia Stark

Danica

Iwas dead meat. I was going to be killed by a demon so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at him.

Blue-black hair stood ruffled on his head, as if he’d just pushed his hand through it in frustration. I’d seen the lower half of his face once before, so my gaze darted over the sharp line of his jaw, the scruff along his chin, and the cheekbones that seemed to be slashed through a face that would make angels weep.

His silver eyes burned into mine, his lush mouth twisted, and a scar cut through one eyebrow— the only flaw in an otherwise perfect face.

“Well, this is interesting.” I flinched at the promise of death in his voice. His gaze shifted to the demon on the floor, his extremities already ash. The older demons were like that when they died, as if their body belonged only to the underworld, and when they were done using it, the underworld snatched it back.

“I didn’t kill him,” I blurted out, and Samael shifted his gaze back to me, scanning me from head to toe. His gaze lingered on my face and I wiped at the blood smeared above my lip.

“You broke my ward,” he mused. I didn’t know how he could make such inane words sound like a death threat, but my hand tightened on my knife. At the very least, I could go out fighting.

“It wasn’t easy,” I admitted. “Listen, I think I have some explaining to do. This isn’t what it looks like.”

“You didn’t come into my territory and threaten one of my patrons with bodily harm, even though violence is forbidden without my permission? That patron wasn’t killed by someone who managed to escape my ward while you were trapped in it?”

I blinked. “Fine. Turns out it’s exactly what it looks like.” I attempted a nonchalant shrug. Samael ignored me and turned his head as another demon approached.

“Get Sitri,” he ordered, and the demon faded away. Just a few seconds later, another demon appeared.

Where Samael was beautiful, this demon was almost pretty. His dark hair fell over his face, hiding his eyes, which were a pale purple— almost lavender. Those eyes seemed lost, even as he focused on my face, his lips forming in a pout that told me clearly, without words, that I was in deep shit.

“Invitation,” Samael ordered, and I tensed. “Please,” he murmured, “disobey me. I haven’t gotten my hands dirty for weeks.”

I shuddered, opened my tiny purse, and withdrew the invitation.

Samael jerked his head and the other demon stepped forward, taking the invitation.

He smiled at it, like a kid who’d been given a lollipop. “Ooh,” he said. “Whoever made this is interesting.”

I shuddered again. Appearing interesting to these demons could only be a bad thing.

“Give it to the witch,” Samael told Sitri, and I froze. He wasn’t talking about me. I shouldn’t be surprised that the scariest demon on the East Coast had a personal witch doing his bidding, but I was.

Samael’s eyes met mine. “Wipe that disgust off your face,” he ground out, and I forced my lips to untwist.

Sitri disappeared and I stood still, waiting to hear my fate. I wasn’t stupid enough to try to escape just yet. I’d only have one chance, and until then, I needed to appear non-threatening.

Samael stepped forward and yanked my purse off my shoulder. He rifled through it, snorting as he shoved a collection of small throwing knives aside. Finally, he pulled out my ID card.

I hadn’t had time to get a fake. I’d burned my last fakes a few months ago on a job in Mississippi, and these days, fake IDs were expensive and time consuming to get.

“Danica Amana,” he read. “I’ve heard of you, bounty hunter. You’ve made quite a name for yourself in the past six months.”

Yeah, because unlike most other bounty hunters, I wasn’t motivated by money but by something much more important.

I stayed silent as he studied me. His voice was an amused purr. “It won’t work, you know.”

“What won’t work?”

“Waiting for your chance to escape. There are no chances here.”

I bared my teeth at him. He bared his back. His teeth were scarier.

Sitri reappeared. “It’s a fake,” he sang out. “A very good fake, but a fake all the same.” He held up a picture of Steve. “According to the witch, this man is responsible.”

Sickness rose, and I felt the blood drain from my face. It was one thing for the consequences to be my own, but I couldn’t let Steve die for my actions.

“You have two choices,” Samael said, and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like either of them. I tilted my head, refraining from waving him on. Being a smart-ass wouldn’t win me any points with this guy. “Your first choice? Both you and the traitor die. This Steve dies harder, begging for death for daring to cross me.”

He’d do it too. I could see it on his face. He’d squash me like a bug, and leave my corpse lying here on the floor. He’d make Steve wish he’d never met me before he died. Then he’d have a drink or two with his associates before he tucked himself into bed, where he’d sleep like a fucking baby.

Dread filled my stomach. “And the second choice?”

“You work for me.”

“In what capacity?”

His gaze dropped to the demon on the floor. “This isn’t the first death in the past few weeks, although it’s a different method. Something is hunting demons, and your reputation precedes you. You’ll be my personal bounty hunter.”

I squashed down every instinct urging me to tell him to go fuck himself. “For how long?”

He tilted his head in that alien way that told me, more clearly than words, that he was not– and would never be– anything close to human. Both demons stared at me like I was a particularly dense brand of stupid and I ground my teeth. Demon vows were—

“Forever,” Samael said, pure male satisfaction dripping from the word.

I stared at him. I couldn’t– wouldn’t–work for a demon for the rest of my life. Mom had warned me off demons from the moment I could talk, and turning my back on the Mage Council was a good way to end up dead. On the other hand, a short-term job would give me free access to his demons, and there was a chance one of them would know why Vercan was near my mom’s body. If I was careful, I could walk away from this with more information than I’d ever had.

“I’ll make you a deal.”

The corner of his lips curled in an expression I’d call amusement on anyone else. On him, it just looked like he was considering doing murder.

I pulled on my metaphorical big-girl panties. “If I figure out who’s killing your demons within a month, you let me go.”

Languid amusement rolled across his eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Don’t you want someone extra motivated to solve your mystery before more of your kind die?”

“I hold your fate in my hands, little witch. How much more motivated do you need to be?”

I reached deep and grabbed onto what little courage I had left. “Lookit. All I’m saying is, this is a good opportunity for both of us. You need this solved in a timely manner, and I don’t want to be working for a demon for the next sixty years.”

“Sixty years?”

I shrugged. Odds were high that I would be dead well before then, but I liked to be optimistic.

His amusement deepened.

“One week,” he said.

I tamped down the panic that made me want to scream at him. If I wanted him to negotiate, I needed to be calm and smart.

“At least make it achievable, demon. Three weeks.”

Sitri’s eyes widened at me, as if he was questioning my sanity. Samael angled his head, reluctant interest in his eyes.

“Two weeks,” he said, holding up a hand when I opened my mouth. “Find whoever is killing my demons and kill them within two weeks and you may walk free.”

The expression on his face told me clearly that arguing wouldn’t help. At least I had a chance to escape servitude.

“Fine,” I ground out. Today was Saturday. I could do this. I just had to be focused.

Sitri handed him a blade, his eyes bright with suppressed mirth. Glad someone was having fun.

“Hold out your arm,” Samael said.

My mouth went dry. I was really doing this. I glanced down at the body on the floor. The fact that I had no choice should’ve made it easier, but I’ve never done well when my back’s up against a wall.

I shoved my left arm at him before I could lose my courage. His hand was hot as he wrapped it around my wrist and I shivered. My body was unreasonably aware of his every movement. I guessed that made sense, since he held my life in his hands.

The demon pulled me close, until I was just inches from him. He smelled like burning wood in a winter cabin— the comforting smell at odds with who he actually was. Demons had an affinity with fire— something I wouldn’t forget.

Samael turned my arm over with a hum. “Usually, I use the inside of the arm. But for you, I like the idea of my mark being a little more… visible.”

I ground my teeth. The demon had decided to torture me. It wasn’t surprising really. He knew I’d be shunned the moment the Mage Council knew I was bonded to a demon, and the thought pleased him.

The pain was sharp, his hand a blur as he cut a long line down my forearm. I gasped, instinctively attempting to pull my hand away and he tightened his hold, shaking his head. His thumb danced across my inner wrist, and he handed the knife back to Sitri.

The demon smiled at me and then sliced down the inside of Samael’s arm.

Samael leaned close. “You smell familiar, little witch.”

I swallowed. If he connected me to the witch who stole from him six months ago, I’d soon be begging for death.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. Guess I’ve just got a generic scent to me.”

Silence stretched between us. I loathed demons. Always had, always would. Yet something about this demon made everything feminine and needy inside me sit up and take notice.

That’s what demons do. They take your desire and twist it, until you can’t tell where you end and they begin.

Samael gave me a slow smile that was all twisted sheets and hot, sweaty bodies. “There’s nothing generic about you.”

I didn’t need Samael finding me interesting in any way. “I’m just a basic witch,” I mumbled.

He inhaled my scent again. “There’s nothing basic about you either.”

I was pretty sure that wasn’t a compliment, but before I could ask, he pressed his arm to mine, and I was engulfed in fire.

It ripped through me and I fell to my knees, my arm still in the demon’s hand. His eyes burned into mine, his expression hard as tears dripped down my cheeks. I grit my teeth and forced myself to stand, glowering at him.

The demon’s eyes glowed. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he said. He removed his hand, and I breathed around the urge to puke.

Gold twined up my left forearm in an intricate design. It danced in the dim light like it was alive. On anyone else, the shimmering color would be beautiful. On me it marked me as Samael’s. My hands itched with the urge to grab the knife and slice it off.

“It would reappear on your scarred flesh,” Samael said softly, warning dripping over every word.

I was barely holding onto my sanity. I stared at my arm, my whole body trembling. “You can read my mind?”

He shook his head. “I can read your face, little witch. You’ll have to do better if you are investigating creatures who’ve been alive since before your great grandparents were born.”

With that, he glanced at Sitri, who nodded. Samael swept out, and Sitri’s gaze dropped between me and the body.

“Samael’s second will be in touch tomorrow,” he said. “For now, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

I stayed where I was, glancing down at the body on the floor.

“I want the arrow.”

The demon tilted his head, and I stared him down. “Whoever killed Vercan did it so he couldn’t answer my questions. I need to find out who it was.”

I had the other arrow, safe at home. But I wanted this one too. The more evidence, the better.

“I don’t think so. Vercan may have been an annoyance, but he was one of ours.”

Sitri crouched down and cut the arrow from Vercan’s body. Fine. At least I had the other arrow. And I sure wouldn’t be mentioning it to these guys. The demon clutched the arrow in his hand, ignoring the dripping blood as he gestured for me to follow him out of the alcove.

My face burned. Every eye was on me, and I forced myself not to hunch my shoulders, wishing I had a jacket to cover the mark on my arm.

I’d bet there was another exit closer to that back alcove. Samael was using me as an example to anyone else who thought to cross him. “See what happens to people who fuck with me? They’re publicly humiliated.”

I breathed out, staring each demon in the eye as I passed. For the next two weeks, they couldn’t touch me.

“It had to be done,” Sitri said. “This protects you too.”

I sneered at him. “Protects me? My reputation is now dirt.”

“But you’re alive.” He shook his head at my expression. “Humans. Your constant emotions must be exhausting.”

* * *