City of Thorns by C.N. Crawford

Chapter 4

Tension thickened the air, and my knees felt weak.

The demon dominated the room. His eyes locked on me.

Every cell in my body was telling me to turn and run, to save myself before it was too late. He might be beautiful, but this creature was pure death. He’d tear my throat out in an instant.

It felt like ages before the look of raw hatred disappeared, replaced by a cruel, mocking smile. He dragged his gaze away from me. Now, he looked at ease, like all of this was amusing to him. He shrugged. “Well, don’t stop the fun, my mortal friends.” He spoke with a posh English accent. “One might get the unpleasant idea that demons aren’t welcome here.”

With a slow, graceful gate, he crossed to the bar, his enormous body seemingly radiating lethal power.

Though I trembled and backed away from him, I found myself unable to stop staring. Shai tugged on my arm, pulling me away, and I nearly stumbled as she dragged me from the bar.

When we were no longer so close to him, she whispered, “What was that all about?”

My mouth had gone dry, and my head was spinning. “You saw that, too? The look he was giving me? I have no idea what that was about.”

“Maybe you look like someone he knew.” She glanced over my shoulder at him. “That’s the one I was talking about. The Lord of Chaos. What’s he doing here?”

When I turned to look at him again, he slid his glacial gaze toward me. He arched an eyebrow and lifted his whiskey glass like a toast.

Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, I found myself walking closer to him again.

As I did, a mocking smile curled his lips “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again after all these years.”

I cleared my throat. “You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

The cold smile he gave me dripped with venom. “Oh, I don’t think so, love. I’d know your face anywhere. It’s haunted my nightmares for a long time.”

The ground seemed unsteady beneath my feet. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.” I tried to steady my voice, but it came out shaky. “Pretty sure I would have remembered a six-foot-five, silver-haired demon.”

“Don’t stop dancing on my account.” He glanced away from me again, dark magic coiling around him. “Why let your horrific past get in the way of your fun?”

For a moment, I wondered if this had something to do with Mom’s murder. After all, a demon had wanted her dead. Had he confused me with her? But I quickly dismissed the thought. I didn’t look enough like Mom for anyone to mistake us. We had the same pale skin, heart-shaped face, and arched eyebrows, but my eyes were deep brown, while hers had been blue. I had higher cheekbones, a wider smile. Mom’s hair had been blonde, but mine was a shocking red with a few blonde strands.

And most importantly, I was sure Mom didn’t have a horrific past.

My breath shallowed. The room felt too hot, stifling. I turned to Shai, desperate to leave. “I'm going to go out and get some fresh air. Maybe we can find another bar.”

“I’ll settle the tab,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Unnerved, I hurried to the door. When I pushed through to the street outside, my skin started to cool under a light rain. Cirque de la Mer was on a narrow, cobbled street in the old sailor district by the harbor. Across the street stood a brewery, which might make a better option for tonight. They served hot dogs, and for whatever reason, I didn’t imagine demons went to places that served hot dogs.

I hugged myself as I shivered. Somehow, I’d made an enemy of a terrifying demon duke, and I had no idea how. One thing Mom taught me before she died was that everyone had a weakness. The Lord of Chaos’s weakness—I’d guess—was the woman he’d mistaken me for. The woman who haunted his nightmares.

I took a deep, calming breath. Out here, the salty breeze skimmed over my skin, the scent of the Atlantic heavy in the air. I licked my lips, tasting salt.

Here was the thing: I used to think my mom was deeply paranoid with the way she talked about defending yourself and finding weaknesses. She was a social worker who helped people with traumatic histories. And I had to wonder if she’d had one of her own, because she relentlessly pushed me to take self-defense classes, to learn martial arts. She was obsessed with fighting, convinced that enemies were after us. She was sure that one day, a demon would come calling.

I did everything she wanted me to do. I took every martial arts class in Osborn, and I practiced with her on the weekends. She taught me to search out other people’s weaknesses in a fight, to exploit them, to fight back. I always thought she was training me for a war that didn't exist, but the night she died, I learned the war was real. I just had no idea why she’d been killed.

As I stared at the glass doors of the brewery, three frat boys stumbled out, already drunk, wearing their Alpha Kappa shirts. I slunk back into the shadows, hoping to go unnoticed.

A slender blonde hurried out behind them, her shoulders tense. She was staggering, clearly drunk. But she looked freaked out, too. I had the sense she was trying to get away from someone.

When the door slammed open again and Jack prowled out after her, I had my answer. I wasn’t the only one he terrorized.

His eyes were locked on the girl, and my heart sped up.

“Jen!” he slurred. “Where you going? Jen! Stop being a fucking bitch! You should feel lucky I paid attention to you. You should feel lucky…I’m the best quarterback Osborne State ever had. I have business plans you can’t even imagine, Jen. I’m gonna be a billionaire. A trillionaire! I’m gonna be on TV.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but it was confirming the suspicions I already had about him. Narcissistic personality disorder: inflated sense of self-importance, preoccupation with power fantasies. A deeply insecure foundation badly covered up with pretenses of superiority and exaggerated achievements.

The blonde—Jen—stumbled over one of the cobblestones. That was when he lunged for her and grabbed her arm. She turned to face him, her eyes wide. “Let me go! You’re being a dick, Jack.”

“Jen!” he shouted in her face. “You were being a disgusting slut. You should be grateful I’m even talking to you.” With that, he gripped her arm hard and started to drag her toward the alley beside the bar.

“Stop it!” she yelled.

He pulled her in close to his body and clamped his hand over her mouth.

Oh, fuck this. I’d seen enough. My fight-or-flight response had started to kick in, and adrenaline pumped hard through my veins.