Hex Appeal

CHERRY KISSES by ERICA HAYES

The blond vampire lounging against the mirrors had been ogling me for the past five minutes, the way a shark cruises for tasty meat. Designer jeans, diamond ear studs, dark eyes sunken with hunger. A perfect mark.

I tossed him a flirty smile, twisting a purple-dyed curl around my finger. Dark music throbbed in my blood, the raw metal of guitars and drums. Around me, dancers writhed, a snake pit of slick rainbow limbs, glowing fairy wings, the scarlet flash of vampire eyes. The sultry air coated my skin, dusted with fairy wing-glitter and thick with the scents of sweat and sex. Unseelie Court at midnight, the hottest, coolest, most dangerous nightclub in town.

Glamours clashed and sparked, electric, the glass-spun veil of magic that hid the supernatural from ordinary human eyes. I fingered the woven-wire pendant around my neck. It was warm to the touch, spells pulsing. Thanks to my pendant, I could see through glamour, and unlike most of the club’s clientele, my vampboy admirer was just what he appeared—hungry, horny, and impatient.

I touched up my cherry-cola lipstick and stalked over, sparkling a little spell-sweet seduction into my scent.

I’m not a bloodwhore, understand. If I had a card, it’d say Lena Falco, troublemaker for hire, caster of petty hexes and spells, no job too crappy. But I’d just spent my last twenty on a couple of stiff drinks—so sue me, I’d had a shitty day—and I had rent and protection to pay. When business is slow, you gotta broaden your skill set. The bloodsucking mobsters who run this town aren’t known for their patience. And neither am I.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder, letting it shimmer under glitter-smoked lights, and my mark’s gaze drilled me crimson every step of the way. Handsome brute, too, blond curls and dark lashes, muscles shining in sweat under his frayed shirt.

Good for me. Bad for him. A less confident guy will assume I’m conning him and ask how much, but the hot ones think it’s perfectly reasonable when a violet-haired vixen in a shiny blue corset and black-leather hot pants makes a pass.

This guy? Mr. Tall-blond-and-screw-me-now? Easy mark.

I stopped a foot away, cocking my hip to show off my fishnet-clad legs. The mirrors reflected us both, vamp and human—I know, boring but true—and I made sure I gave him my sultriest smile. “Looking for something tasty?”

“Found it.” The vamp grinned, fangs glinting. His cheeks glowed with feverthirst. When vampires don’t feed, the virus slowly eats into their brains, and they get manic and greedy. This guy looked like he’d abstained a few days past his manners’ expiry date.

“Then come get it.” I traced a finger along his sweat-slick collarbone, and he wrapped my hair around his fist and pulled me in tight. His lips burned my throat, eager fangs already stinging hot. His heartbeat echoed in my blood. He pressed his tongue over my vein, making a soft spot to bite. Eww. This so better be worth it.

I laughed and twisted back. “Easy, big guy. Aren’t you gonna kiss me first?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. His lips scorched mine, hot and hungry, the salty tequila taste of his tongue a bright shock. Hard body pressed into mine, hands and lips and swollen heat, fangs grazing my lip bloody. He was eager, this one.

Pity it’d do him no good.

I kissed him harder, full contact. His eyelids fluttered closed, and with a soft sigh, he went limp. All of him, I mean.

I eased the drowsy vamp down onto the couch. His sweaty hair smeared the mirrors, and his breath came fast and shallow.

I wiped my mouth and reapplied my lipstick. Cherry-cola, sweet, and sparkling with soporific spelljuice. I made it myself, from a vial of stolen fairy breath. Unless you were immune—like I’d made sure I was—one kiss would send you straight to la-la land.

Dirty trick? Yeah. But I don’t have much of my own mojo, see. My hex pendant is great, but it mostly just wards off curses. To cast spells properly takes time and study, and remember what I said about patience? Technically, I’m not a witch, not yet. But I’ve still got a few tricks up my corset, and I don’t mean my double-D cups.

Swiftly, I slipped the rings from his fingers, the flashy watch from his wrist, and the fat diamond studs (definitely not Swarovski, folks) from his ears. Cash in his pocket, too, a thick wad of crisp plastic notes. Thanks very much, fangboy. Glad to be of service.

Around me, the dance raved on, oblivious. He wasn’t anyone important, not a high-up gang minion or a demon’s thrall, and in a nightclub teeming with ravenous creatures of all colors and tastes, no one cared too much about this one.

Harsh? Well, that’s the world we live in. At Unseelie Court, everyone is fair game. And he’d wake in a few minutes, groggy and horny and none the wiser.

I stuffed the loot down between my breasts. I had a fence in North Melbourne, a potbellied green spriggan with toilet-brush hair and sewer breath. He had wandering hands—I’m not averse to a bit of hot fae action, don’t get me wrong, but claws and bad teeth just aren’t my thing—but he generally gave me a good price. This little lot would keep the mobsters off my throat, at least for a while. Then, I guess, I’d be back in the game.

Beside me, on the dirty velvet couch, a drooling waterfae girl blinked at me sleepily, moisture dripping from luminous green wings. Sparkle dusted her nose, that wild fairy hallucinogen that monopolized the recreational drug market these days. She wiped it off and licked her knuckles, her watery eyes swirling. “You got any peanuts?”

Fairies were crazy, mostly, and some would screw you over in a heartbeat for giggles, but I judged this one pretty harmless. “Sorry, sweetie. Ask at the bar.”

“Only pretzels. No peanuts. Peanuts smell better.”

“Ain’t life a bitch.”

She wiped long-clawed hands on her dress, leaving a wet stain. “I like your shorts.”

“Yeah?” Briefly, I considered trading with her. I can always use more fairy spells. And there were plenty more hot pants where these came from, which was generally the SHOPLIFT HERE! section of the local discount store.

Just as I was about to make a bargain, my message tone chimed.

I dug out my phone. Turn around.

My skin prickled. Mysterious. No name, no number.

Another chime, and more words flashed up. I have a job for you, Lena Falco. Turn around.

Mysterious, nameless dude who knows my name. For all I knew, he was standing right behind me.

And here’s where I had a choice.

Switch off, make my bargain with the fairy girl, and go home, with her dress on and a new spell in my pocket, all set for another petty score tomorrow night.

On the other hand, mystery means danger. Big danger means big payoff, and there’s always the chance it’ll be The Job. The big one that sets me up, so I won’t need to worry about rent and protection for a long, long time.

I flicked a fifty from my new cash roll and tossed it at the bloodwhore who sauntered by in a red rubber dress and six-inch heels, the ring of dripping scars at her throat proclaiming her trade. I pointed at the unconscious vamp. “See this guy? He’s fevertripping. Make sure he gets some.”

She eyed me suspiciously, blonde pigtails bouncing. “Who the fuck are you, the Salvation Army?”

“Maybe I’m his mother. What the hell do you care?”

The bloodwhore sniffed, tucked the money away, and strutted over to him. My good deed for the day. I’m a thief, not a vamp killer.

And then, just like the man ordered, I turned around.

Easy to spot, even in this crowd. Big guy, black hair, black eyes rimmed with red. Green lights reflected on glassy cheekbones, lasering those midnight eyes with menace. Dark lashes stark against pale skin, exotic, luminous like he’d been out of the light for too long. He wore unrelieved black, like it was all he had in his wardrobe, and damn it if that suit didn’t look good on him. He looked like a cross between a vampire mobster from Moscow and a model for the Armani Fall Collection.

Danger, Will Robinson. No real person—no human person—looked like that.

He leaned back, ankles crossed, elbows on the white neonglass bar. He smiled at me, angelic, and sparks danced in his hair. Come closer, he mouthed, and my message screen typed the words along with him. He wasn’t even holding a phone.

Yeah, this is my guy, all right.

I swallowed and walked over.

He pushed a drink along the glowing bar with one finger. “Vodka tonic, ice, no lemon. Right?” His voice was soft yet somehow carried over the nightclub noise. I didn’t hear him so much as feel him, a warm and creepy caress, and against my throat the hex pendant pulsed in warning.

“Very good. Who are you?” I didn’t take the drink. Spiking is one of my tricks. I don’t trust anyone.

He leaned closer, and my mouth parched. A bitter, chalky taste. Ash. Suddenly, I felt dizzy, and I inhaled on the stink of ozone.

Thunder. Ash storms. Not vampire. Demon.

But everyone knew Kane, the local demon lord. This wasn’t he.

The demon grinned, dentist-perfect. “I think we’ve established who I’m not. You’re still standing here. Does that mean you’ll take the job?”

I studied him and decided the resemblance wasn’t accidental. Kane was blond and baby-faced, where this guy was all darkness and sharp angles, but the eyes were the same. Black, shiny, empty. Dip Kane in soot and starve him for a few millennia …

So what was going down here? Kane was jealous and territorial, and he and his vampire mobsters remorselessly crushed anyone who crossed the line. Unlikely that he’d ask big brother here over for a playdate.

I leaned on the bar and buffed my purple fingernails, casual. Demon turf wars were dangerous, but they could be good for business. “Maybe. What’s the target?”

The demon drummed his fingertips on the bar, and tiny flames licked the glass. “You’ll fetch something for me. An amulet. From a strongbox.”

My ears pricked. Magic trinkets ahoy. “Yeah? What kind of amulet?”

“The powerful kind. It has … something inside it that belongs to me. I’d recommend you don’t break it.”

“What’s the security?”

He shrugged, heavy like granite. “I’m afraid I haven’t visited in a long time.”

“I can arrange a preliminary survey.”

“Not possible.”

“Always possible. For an extra fee, of course. How much did you say you were offering?”

Another smile, but this time his teeth sprang long and sharp, and ash drifted from his hair. “That depends on the condition it’s in when you return. If you return at all.”

I licked my lips, bitter. “Okay. Forgive me if I’m cautious. Where did you say this strongbox was?”

“Somewhere unpleasant.”

I sighed. “Enough with the evasive answers. I guess this is a bad idea—”

“One favor, Lena Falco.” The demon caught my hand, swift like a snake, and his touch rooted me to the spot. “Whatever you desire, large or small. No catch. No lies. Do you want the job or not?”

He stroked my knuckles, sparks dancing, and temptation licked my blood hot. Money. Magic. Whatever I wanted.

I closed my eyes on spell-sweet dizziness. He was playing with me. My fairy spells were useless. I wanted to sigh, press his palm to my cheek, lean in, and kiss him until I died. But my hex pendant buzzed angrily, the heat shocking me awake, and I blinked drunkenly and yanked my hand away.

The job sounded difficult. But I needed the break if I wanted to keep my blood in my body and not in a mobster’s liquid lunch. Either that, or I’d still be running the lipstick con into my mid-thirties. Cherry-cola cougar. Pathetic much?

Innate warning squirmed in my belly, the prehistoric kind that’s supposed to stop you getting eaten. Demon! Bad! Run! it shrieked, but I stamped on it. Sure, dealing with demons was dangerous. But I wasn’t promising this dude anything in advance. If I did the work, I’d get the prize—and if I didn’t like the outcome, I could simply cut my losses and walk away. Right?

I sucked in an ash-tainted breath. “Okay. Deal.”

He held out his hand again, silent.

I took it. Shook. His palm was warm, dry, smooth like glass. For a moment, sharp claws stung my knuckles. And then they were gone.

He smiled, all charm again. “Thank you, Lena. Sure you won’t take that drink?”

“No, thanks. Where’s this amulet, and what’s it look like?”

“You’ll know it when you see it. It’s in a private residence. In the strongbox.” He leaned toward me, sniffing. “You’ve got cash. That’s good. You’ll need it to get where you’re going.”

Shit. Should have included expenses. “Why? Isn’t it a local job?”

“Not exactly.” He smiled again at my expression. “Oh, it’s quite close. It won’t take long.”

“Enough with the doublespeak, hellboy. You hired me. Where’s the damned amulet?”

“Not damned, technically.” The demon licked pale lips, flames dancing in his hair. “Just hell-trapped. It’s at my brother’s place. In hell.”

Twenty minutes later, I stalked down a grimy alley, spray-painted walls looming. Trash littered the concrete, the stink crinkling my nose, and rats skittered and chewed. A fat yellow moon glared, warped through a dry heat haze that sucked the sweat from my skin, and my throat was parched, my eyes gritty.

I’d retrieved the knives I’d checked at the nightclub counter, and the twin sheaths were strapped crisscross to the back of my corset under my leather jacket. Serrated blades, well weighted for throwing, but mostly slicing and stabbing weapons. The handles lay within easy reach, and I’d cinched the metal bracelets that tricked the blades into returning to me around my wrists. More fairy magic. I’d made them myself, from a pair of coiled-wire bangles and a metalfairy’s sly magnetic kiss.

I had a pistol, too, but I’d left it at home, which was just as well. Ordinary bullets would do no good where I was going.

But I still had to get there, and my new demon employer wouldn’t help me. Apparently, he wanted plausible deniability with his pals in the demon court if I got busted. Typical politician, covering his ass.

At the alley’s end, beside a rusted iron fence, a bunch of skinny fairies crouched around a fire set in a broken oil drum, their faces dripping rainbow sweat. Firelight reflected on their damp, glittery wings. Against the fence, more fairies lay, drooling and twitching and fondling each other, asleep or insensible.

I strode up, clearing my throat. “Which one of you guys is Toffee?”

A golden-skinned one stretched long double-jointed arms and blinked at me, shirtless. Ragged orange hair stuck in knots on his shoulders, and his pointy nose twitched as he tested the air for my scent. “Toffee’s here. Who’s the pretty cherry girl?”

I didn’t move closer. He looked harmless enough. But I don’t trust anyone, remember? “Vinny D told me you’re holding,” I said, dropping the name of a gangvamp asshole who I knew had it over these guys. “Helljuice, I mean.”

Toffee flittered to his feet. His butterfly wings puffed caramel dust, and he scratched his pointed ear and gave me a sharp-toothed grin. “Mmm, Toffee’s holding, to be sure. What’s the pretty got?”

“Cash. Two-fifty. That’s it. No funny stuff.”

He sniffed at my hex pendant and licked my collarbone. His tongue felt rough, like a kitten’s, and he smelled of burnt sugar. “Toffee likes the funny stuff, tee-hee. Cherry-cola?”

“Forget it.” I pushed his face away. “Cash. Three hundred. Final offer.”

He giggled and licked my palm, wrinkling his nose. “Yick-yick, demon squick. The pretty wants to go to hell? Toffee’s got the juicy.” And he dug in his tight jeans pocket and came up with a long glass vial, filled with what looked like runny shit. Dirty brown gunk crusted the cork, and the contents bubbled, thick and lumpy.

My stomach churned. Great. Can’t wait. But short of damnation or a demon’s flashspell, drinking this stuff was the only way to get to hell.

Hell is like another dimension, lurking just beneath this one. Drink, and your body disappears in the real world. You spend the night in hell, wandering around until the helljuice wears off. Then you wake up, in the real-world equivalent of wherever you ended up.

Sadists and adrenaline junkies used helljuice for a sick high, because in hell, anything goes. You can kill, maim, rape, torture, play real-life death-match games with monsters and angry damned souls. Whatever you like. Just don’t die, or you’ll stay there forever.

But the stuff stank like what it looked like, and bile cooked hot chili in my throat. My demon pal’s favor better be worth it.

I folded six fifties and held them out. Toffee dropped the vial into my hand, took the notes with a gleeful giggle, and promptly rolled them up and stuck them into his ears, hooting with laughter.

I shook my head. Fairies. The rest of us need alcohol to act like that. Must make for a cheap night out.

“Ta, sweetie. I’ll put in a good word with Vinny for ya.” The hell I would. The mobsters I paid not to kill me were Vinny D’s enemies, and besides, Vinny was a fever-mad psychopath who ate anything that moved. But no harm in a little creative truth-telling.

I tucked the unpleasantly warm vial into my cleavage—summer’s sexy new fragrance, anyone?—and walked away.

“I got mine for two-fifty. You should have bargained harder.”

New voice. Not fae. Familiar. I leapt backwards, hand flashing to knife. With a rich chuckle, the shadows coalesced, and from the dark oozed Ethan Benford.

All six-foot-two, blond-and-blue of him. Lean and hard-bodied, tanned, not a scrap of fat. Long ponytail slung nonchalantly over one shoulder, Japanese sword with a leather-wrapped grip over the other. He wore ripped jeans and a black, silver-buttoned shirt with the sleeves slashed off, and, as usual, he looked disgustingly good.

I tightened my grip on the knife. “What are you doing here?”

Ethan pulled a vial similar to mine halfway out of his shirt pocket to show me. “Same as you. Demon amulet, strongbox, trip to hell? Sound familiar?”

Shit. No way is he cutting in on my job this time. I scowled, my heart rate only gradually calming. “How did you find out about that?”

“Doesn’t matter. You sure you know what you’re doing?” He stepped farther into the light, and moonshine glinted on his bare arms, where faint dark lines of power traced the bronzed curves of his muscles like fine tattoos.

My hex pendant hummed sweetly in harmony, and sweat dripped from my hair down my neck. Fairy spells, like I make? Ethan doesn’t need them. He subscribed to the study-hard-and-you’ll-get-your-own school of magic—oh boy, had I heard about it—and infuriatingly, the smug bastard practiced what he preached. In all that spare time he had, between meditating, and training with that counterweighted sword, and getting his umpteenth-dan black belt in some obscure martial art, and climbing fucking Everest on the weekend.

He tried to mentor me once, years ago. But I liked pizza, late nights on the town, and sleeping till midday. He was insufferably healthy, a ridiculously early riser, and a militant pain in the ass about little things like hangovers and caffeine consumption. I lasted a week. Just one more reason I didn’t like him.

Sometimes, mostly when I’d run out of spells and cash, I regretted my impatience. The rest of the time? Just glad I didn’t have to put up with his shit.

I jammed my knife away. “This is my job, Ethan. Butt out.”

“What did he promise you?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” I stalked back up the alley without waiting for him.

He fell into step beside me anyway, and as I glanced at him, so cool and fluid and in control, for the first time that night I wished that my hot pants weren’t quite so … well, hot.

Not that I didn’t look smoking in fishnets. I knew I did. And I was good at my job, damn it. Nothing to be ashamed of.

But if one thing on this earth never failed to make me feel like a cheap gutter con artist, it was Ethan butter-won’t-melt Benford.

He caught my eye, his gaze ice blue but somehow warm. “C’mon, what was it? Money? Magic? You always took the easy way out, Lena.”

Well, screw you, Ethan. “That’s fine for you to say. You’ve got time.”

Did I mention Ethan’s immortal? As good as, anyway. He’s human, far as I know, but he hasn’t aged a day in the ten years I’ve known him. He says it’s because he meditates on the meaning of life. Like I said: one more reason.

He smiled, and I wanted my sunglasses. “You’ve got time, too, if you want it,” he said. “You just waste it—”

“—on boozing and blokes, yeah, yeah. I got it.” Still, I wondered if he was sore that those blokes of mine never included him. He didn’t have a girlfriend, and for a guy who claimed he didn’t like me, he sure showed up a lot. And okay, I suppose he wasn’t a total eyesore. His smile would blow a fuse. Totally crushable hair, if he ever wore it loose, which he didn’t. And all those gymnastic workouts sure paid off …

I caught myself checking out his butt and dragged my gaze away. Me, dating Mr. Zen-and-the-art-of-holier-than-thou? A one-way street to inadequate. No way.

We emerged onto the main street, where at 1:30 A.M., the traffic had thinned to a trickle. Streetlights buzzed and glared, fighting the moon. A gleaming silver tram rattled down the hill toward the station. A motorbike zipped by, a trio of whooping fairies hanging on like long-legged barnacles.

I jammed my hand on my hip, tapping my foot. “I’m busy, okay? Any more pearls?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it.” Ethan didn’t fold his hands or fidget. He just adopted that easy stance, relaxed, alert, ready for anything. “You ever helltripped before?”

“Nope.” True, actually. A night in hell wasn’t my idea of a good time. “Have you?”

“I’ve been. It’s not pretty.”

“I can handle it, thanks.” His tone gave me the creeps, but I shrugged it off. How hard could it be? In my experience, monsters were like the Predator: If they bled, I could kill ’em.

“The demon is Phoebus, Kane’s kin. Kane won’t appreciate him meddling. You really want to get caught in a demon pissing contest?”

Phoebus? Heh. With a name like that, I’d be pissed, too. “Obviously, you do.”

“I’ve got my reasons.”

“Yeah? What possible reason could you have for stealing a hell-trapped demon amulet, Ethan? And don’t give me shit about knowledge being its own reward. There’s gotta be something in it for you.”

He shrugged, blank.

I grinned. “You are so busted, my friend. C’mon, fess up. Phoebus make you an offer you couldn’t refuse? Or do you want this famous amulet for yourself, is that it?” A thought struck me, and abruptly I shut my mouth. What if Ethan’s working for Kane? What if it’s his job to stop me?

Ethan’s mouth tightened. “You coming or not?”

“With you? You’re kidding, right?” I tried to push past him on the narrow sidewalk. I didn’t need his help. I didn’t trust him not to double-cross me once we had the loot. And to be perfectly honest, the last thing I needed while I fought my way through hell was the distracting sight of his sexy ass in those jeans.

He stopped me with his hand on my shoulder. Not hard. Just a light touch, but as heavy with threat as a punch in the face. “I’m going after the amulet,” he said softly. “Either you’re with me, or you’re in my way. Your choice.”

I sighed and shook his hand off. When he put it like that, I had no choice at all, really.

He ushered me off the tram at the Domain Road junction, where leafy plane trees sprawled over the wide median strip, and traffic lights buzzed amid the nest of electric-tram wires. Across the road, tall buildings loomed in moonlit shadow.

We crossed twin roads to the park, where dead brown grass crunched under my boots. I shrugged my jacket comfortable over my knives, and Ethan adjusted his sword. He’d worn the weapon openly while we sat on the tram, the air slick and sparkly with his don’t-see-me spell, and no one noticed a thing. Me, I just wore a jacket.

Kane lived in one of the more fashionable parts of town. We’d just caught the last tram, and it rumbled its doors shut and carried on, around the corner the same way we were going. “We could have ridden that all the way to Chapel Street,” I grumbled, more for something to say than because I cared. “Did we have to get off so far away?”

Ethan tidied and refastened his ponytail, the long blond ends flicking his shoulder. “Actually, yeah. What do you think would happen if we flashed into hell right by Kane’s front door?”

I scowled. He always had to phrase everything as a question, like he was teaching me. “Umm … I guess we’d get our asses chewed by demon rent-a-cops?”

That sunflash smile. “Something like that. Better to approach from a distance. Keep your eyes open, it’s—”

“Yeah, yeah. A wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious. Thanks for the heads-up, Obi-Wan. You ready or not?” I uncorked my poo brown vial and brought it to my lips, wrinkling my nose against the stink.

He grabbed my wrist, halting me. “Weapons first. Be prepared.”

I sighed and whipped out a knife, just in case. And before he could offer to go first, I tilted the vial and chugged.

The foul sludge hit my tongue, and I gagged. Grit coated my mouth, burning, the taste putrid. My throat squeezed tight, refusing to let the filth in. But I had to swallow, and I sealed my lips shut and choked the feral hellbrew down.

It burned, and hit my stomach like an acid bomb.

Agony clawed my guts, and I screamed. Darkness blotted my vision like evil ink. My bones filled with fire, flesh tearing, tendons popping. Howling split my ears. I struggled, but nothing trapped me, and with a sickening vertigo lurch, I fell.

Concrete smacked against my chest, squashing my breath away. My skull bounced, jangling, and everything was still.

I cracked an eye open, and blood dripped into it. I blinked. Charred buildings, broken concrete, a scarlet-stained horizon beyond dead trees. Acrid smoke stung my eyes. I tried to crawl to my feet, only something heavy and warm held me down.

“Ethan, let go.” I wriggled, and he helped me up, his arm steady around my waist. Even in hell, he smelled like herbal soap.

“You okay?” His murmur brushed my ear, reassuring.

“Sure.” I pushed him away, flexing my fingers around my knife. Nighttime, but dry heat scorched me like sunburn. Ash drifted, but no breeze stirred the parched air. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Bloodstained clouds boiled low and threatening—how could there be clouds when it was drier than a witch’s corpse?—and lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the street with an eerie flash.

I squinted. It looked like Domain Road after the apocalypse. The same as the real world, only the trees were blackened stumps, the buildings scorched, the road cracked and tilted in chunks as if a mighty earthquake had split it apart. Broken glass and charred metal littered the ground. Thunder boomed, deafening, and across the street, a ruined office building burst into flame, filling the air with ash and the stink of burning flesh. Gunfire ricocheted, and from somewhere, I heard the clash of iron.

“Charming.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to relax. Ethan just stood there, poised and calm. Damn it if I wasn’t glad I hadn’t come alone. “Now what—”

An almighty screech tore the air, and a bundle of leathery skin and claws landed on us in a cloud of fetid stink.

I staggered backwards, instinctively arcing up my shielding hex. My pendant shivered, and protective sparks crackled around me.

But the hellbeast just snarled, scaly snout slavering with six-inch razor teeth, and slashed my hex to smoke with curved claws. It gibbered, its rotting tongue mangling the sounds. “Bith. Eeeyor meet, bith. Meeeet … yummm!!”

I reeled, revolted. Those were words. I think I just got invited to dinner. And Mr. Ugly had opposable thumbs. Lips. Eyelashes. A mutant lizard-thing on two legs, a hybrid of reptile and man.

Steel sang as Ethan unsheathed his sword. The beast laughed, a thick, cancerous sound that made me retch, and spat a lump of festering filth. Ethan dodged, and the stuff boiled and smoked on the broken concrete.

I whipped out my second knife, but somehow I couldn’t throw. I swallowed, sick. “It’s human, Ethan. It’s a fucking person!”

“Not anymore.” Ethan whispered a charm, and the faint lines on his muscles glowed red. He circled away, and his movements blurred, faster than I could watch. “It’s a corrupted soul, and it’s hungry. You want to be dinner?”

No, actually, I didn’t.

I muttered a poison curse and hurled both knives at once. The toxic blades carved a deadly arc, slicing into the beast’s hide. Black blood sprayed, the stink of rotting meat. My bangles vibrated, and the knives ripped free and slapped back into my hands.

The beast howled, poisoned steam hissing from twin gaping wounds across its chest. It swatted at the burns, but they bubbled and spread like acid. I stabbed for its bulging eyes. It staggered back, and Ethan danced forward like a deadly ballerina on speed and slashed the thing’s head from its body.

The head cartwheeled, blood splattering, and the twisted body slumped. I stared, catching my breath. “Is it dead?”

Ethan’s glowing charm faded, and he nudged the body with his foot. It rolled over, lifeless. “For now,” he said. “But the damned don’t get off that easy. It’ll rise again with the sun. Best we keep going.”

“Kane’s place?”

He nodded, up the street, and, for the first time, I noticed a blackened tower, looming stark in the distance against the red-stained sky. Lightning crashed, and smoke drifted from the sharp battlements, shimmering in deadly heat. Huge carrion birds—or worse?—flapped lazy orbits around its summit.

I blinked. “No way. Don’t remember seeing Sauron’s fortress last time I shopped in Toorak.”

Ethan grinned. “Nor would you. Kane lives in a town house there. That”—he stabbed at it with his finger—“is a manifestation of his power status in hell.”

I glanced around. Any meaner, more gruesome-looking buildings? Of course not. I sighed. “Demon dick-measuring. Great.”

“Arm wrestling would be more accurate.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, “it’s stupid macho bullshit.” The town house would have suited me fine.

“It’s just a pecking order. It works for them. Until idiots like us blunder in and screw it up.”

Ethan shook black blood from his sword, and together we advanced up the broken street, shoulder to shoulder, only a few feet apart. He didn’t sheathe. I didn’t either. But it felt kinda nice to have him at my back.

At the road’s edges, creatures snarled and paced, hairless hyena-things with skinny bodies pale like sides of meat. They watched us pass with beady red eyes, their throaty laughter unsettling. Sweat stung inside my corset, down my neck, between my fingers, sucked away to nothing by the hungry air. Scorched buildings threatened, their windows smashed and bloody or melted to dirty globs. Every sound made me jump. Frantic footsteps drew near, then receded, and gunshots cracked, the sounds of a running battle. Screams and insane giggles echoed through the side streets, leaping out at me like unseen foes.

I wristed damp hair from my forehead as we clambered over an upthrusting twist of asphalt that blocked the road from sidewalk to sidewalk, ten feet high and littered with sharp rocks. “So how d’you know all this stuff?”

“I’ve been here.” Ethan hopped upwards, sword still in hand, balanced and agile like a mountain goat.

I sheathed my knives to scramble over the rubble, and the hot rock scorched my palms. My boots slipped, and I scrabbled for a hold. “Really? Never would have picked you for a recreational user.”

“I’m not. But if you want to grow, you have to face your fears.” He straddled the broken top of the slab and reached down for me. “Allow me, madam.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed his wrist, and he hauled me up.

I sat facing him for a moment, catching my breath, my feet dangling. The stink of brimstone soured my mouth. I peered over the edge. Beneath us, where the road once lay, a chasm gaped, down and down into distant depths crackling with flames.

A fat green snake slithered from a crack in the rock, striking at my thigh with three hissing heads. I flipped out a knife and skewered it at the junction of three necks. Drew the other and sliced all the heads off in a splash of smoking venom.

“Mmm. Tasty.” I flicked the squirming carcass off my blades into the pit. “Fears, huh. Didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

Ethan watched the snake fall and gave it a mock salute. “Everyone’s afraid of something.”

“Like what?” I scoffed. “Death?”

“Yes. Aren’t you?”

Wow. No evasion. No flip remark. That’ll teach me. “Umm … yeah. I mean, I guess. Shit, look around us, dude. Knowing there’s somewhere to go doesn’t mean it’s all roses after we kick it. D’you think…”

I hesitated, that prehistoric danger alarm growling deep in my belly again. Truth alert! Hide!

But I wanted to know. I took a deep breath. “D’you ever think about damnation?”

“Of course. Not everyone believes magic is good work.” His glacial eyes warmed. “But you do, right?”

My heart did a little somersault. Christ on a double cheeseburger. No man should have such clear, sweet eyes. Not for the first time, I wanted to dive in and drown.

We hadn’t had an honest conversation in years. I’d forgotten how much I liked it. “I guess. What do you think?”

He shrugged, candid. “Temptation’s the easy way, Lena. That’s why it works. If magic were a helltrick, I believe the demons would’ve made it a damn sight easier.”

Was he mocking me? Or apologizing for being such an asshole back in the day? I fidgeted. “Guess so. Look, I’m sorry we never…”

My hex charm sizzled, and I let out a startled yell and hurled my knife at his foot.

The hairless hyena-thing howled and tumbled, blood spurting from its pale rump, and its ugly jaws snapped shut inches from Ethan’s ankle.

Ethan leapt, and was on his feet before the knife thunked back into my palm.

I’d missed the killing shot. The hyena-thing was only wounded, and it grinned evilly at me with a hoarse, chuckling sound. Below us, a pack of its mates tittered and started to climb. The thing cackled—nyi-hi-hi!—and dug its claws into the rubble, ready to jump.

Ethan slashed at it, but it dodged and leapt at me, slavering. I threw again, shouting a whetting spell that curled my nails and set my teeth on edge, and this time the spell-sharpened blade speared right between the thing’s glassy red eyes into its brain.

Mr. Chuckles flipped in midair, its momentum reversed by my throw, and hit the rocks like a sack of sniggering hellshit. Blood exploded, running down the rocks, and the chortling pack leapt on the body and tore it to pieces.

I flexed my wrist, and my knife landed in my palm, dripping rotten blood. Ethan gave me a surprised glance. “Thanks.”

He looked impressed. That was a first. I shoved him, flushing. “Dinner doesn’t look like it’ll go around. Get moving.”

He leapt, and landed lightly on the other side of the chasm.

Twelve feet. Sure, I can make it. Just don’t look down.

I jumped, and landed with somewhat less grace. Behind us, flesh ripped, and Mr. Chuckles’s new dinner companions grunted and laughed in triumph. Bwa-ha-ha, I just ate my brother, and he tasted fiiine!

I picked myself up and dusted off my grazed knees. Ethan steadied me, and we hurried on, weapons drawn, picking our way between rocks, over razor glass shards, around rusted steel girders twisted by the heat. As we neared the tower, the helljungle noises grew louder. Burning buildings smoked and collapsed by the side of the road. Creatures sprinted through the streets, ignoring us or hurling ripe curses that blistered my skin. Some just sat by the road and howled, and their anguish stained the heat-warped air with bitter ash.

But Ethan wasn’t letting me off easy. “I mean it,” he murmured, his keen gaze checking left and right. “Nice job. I didn’t even hear that thing coming.”

He looked sheepish, and I squirmed. I didn’t want to tell him that I hadn’t either, that the only reason I’d noticed was my stolen hex pendant giving me the red-hot-poker treatment. That I’d been too busy daydreaming about his eyes to pay attention. “Don’t sound so surprised. What are those hyena-things, anyway?”

“Imps, hellslaves, wrathmites. Call ’em what you want.”

A big, naked, hairy dude with raw pustules rotting his skin swung his scythe at us, blood and worms splashing from his mouth as he screamed. I ducked and slashed at his kidneys, and Ethan took him down and sidestepped as the head hit the concrete and broke open. The scythe clattered harmlessly away.

“That’s a nice razorcharm you used before,” Ethan persisted, as if we hadn’t been interrupted. “You been practicing?”

Yeah, right. I’d stolen that one, too, a couple of wing-splinters I pilfered from a drunken glassfairy.

It disturbed me how much I wanted to lie, and I snorted to cover my unease. “C’mon, you know me better than that.”

“Thought I did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He flashed me that smile. “That you’re still a puzzle, Lena Falco. I just haven’t solved you yet.”

I frowned. Enigmatic equals good, right? Or not? Shit. Who am I trying to impress, anyway?

Still, I edged closer to him, my guts tightening. The tower’s shadow darkened the street like a smoke pall. Heat scorched me deep, and it was sure getting crowded around here. Rotting creatures shambled like shopping-mall zombies. Others—the normal people, dazed and bleeding, mostly naked, mouths slack with terror—screamed and fled. Guess they were new here. Still others stalked in packs, agile and twisted, their mutated bodies sprouting scales or feathers or extra limbs. And everywhere, weapons, blades and spikes and ugly saws designed to maim.

I tried to keep focused, not to dwell on how harmless my knives were in comparison. “More cursed souls?”

“Yeah.” Ethan’s gaze darted, swift but controlled. “They all look different. Depends what kind of asshole you were in life.”

“Heh. Look at that jelly-ass one, then. Big dripping pile of smug. That’ll be you.”

“Bite me.”

Around us, the creatures closed in, and I held my knives at the ready, circling. Those huge carrion birds squawked and flapped, hellish vultures with razor-curved beaks and talons the size of my forearm. One dived for a screaming pack of starved bodies, and came up with one writhing in its grip. More birds descended, fighting to peck the victim’s eyes out, and the screaming went on long after any living person would have fallen silent.

I stared, and Ethan nudged me. “Stay frosty, marine.”

“Oh, I’m shivering. Just how good did you say I’ve gotta be to avoid this place when I’m dead?”

“Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

Zombies shouldered us as they stumbled by blindly. A woman with her face peeled off leapt at me, clawing for my eyes, and I broke her rotting neck with a thrust of my elbow. Ethan slashed at a gaggle of half-man, half-worm things that writhed along the ground to snap at his ankles. Worm juice and body parts splattered the pavement, but they kept coming, their blind eyes cloudy and wet.

I took another step backwards, and Ethan’s back pressed against mine, warm and reassuring. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this, Obi-Wan,” I muttered.

“What do you want me to say? Use the force?” He took a deep breath, and with a zing, his magical shield shone around us, iridescent like a bubble. The worm people slapped against it, leaving wet smears. “Tower’s a hundred yards away. Stay close. Don’t let them drag you from the bubble. Okay?”

“That much I figured out for mys—” I gulped. “Uh-oh.”

From across the street, a mutant spied us, his bloodshot eyes gleaming with delight. He had a huge, naked skull and droopy ears, and his sagging belly oozed blood from open wounds that hadn’t healed.

He hollered, waving his rusty chain saw—I shit you not—and his subhuman buddies all screeched and jabbered and flailed their misshapen arms. And ran. Straight for us.

My hex pendant buzzed like a nest of angry wasps. My mouth dried, and I gripped my knives harder. “This isn’t good.”

Captain Mutant fired up his chain saw—rnn-nn-nnn!—and capered about like a drunken mummy. And his mutant army kept coming.

Ethan gave a feral grin. The lines on his skin glowed green, and he levitated a foot off the ground and crouched there like a bad-ass flying ninja, his blade glinting hungrily. “Bring ’em on.”

“You’re a real smart-ass, you know that?” But I couldn’t hide a smile. Sometimes, even I had to admit that Ethan was dead cool. Still, bitterness stung my mouth that I couldn’t do stuff like that. That’d I’d never had the patience to learn. “Last one there buys the whisky, okay?”

He somersaulted, carving the air a new one with his sword at least six times on the way around. “You know I don’t drink.”

I muttered a charm, and my twin blades dripped green poison. I spun them, loosening my wrists in readiness. “All the more for me.”

And with a duet of blood-rotting yells, we plunged into the fight.

It seemed like a hundred hours later when we finally staggered over the tower’s dark threshold and dragged the spiked-iron door shut.

The bar thunked into place. Angry mutants hammered and hurled curses, their slack flesh slapping on the metal. The hinges juddered, but it held.

I collapsed against it, breathing hard. Blood stuck my fingers together, and I unwrapped them from my knife handles with a wince. Beside me, Ethan coughed and spat red phlegm, his face splashed with hellish gore. His bubble had helped us, and we’d fought well together, but we’d taken serious damage. My head ached from blows, and my skin was ripped raw in a dozen places. I was covered in claw marks and cuts, and dripping with stinking black blood and bits of flesh. I’d nearly lost a finger. My legs hurt. My lungs hurt. Hell, my hair hurt.

Ethan wiped his nose with his sword hand, smearing blood. He was fitter than I was, but still his breath hitched. It had taken a lot out of him to keep those spells engaged, and once he’d let them slip, weariness lined his face. “Well, here we are, I guess. You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Never been better.”

I surveyed the room. Black and empty, caked with dust. A fire pit in the center threw leaping shadows on the walls. It stank of salt and blood. A broken iron staircase spiraled upwards, and hisses and moans crept from upstairs. No other way out. I craned my neck. Nothing up there but darkness. “You think Kane’s here?”

“If he were, we’d be dead already.”

“Good point. How long you think we’ve got before the helljuice wears off?”

“Not long.” He breathed, in and out, centering his energy or opening his aura or whatever, and when he opened his eyes, they shone bright, refreshed. “Let’s get on with it.”

His equivalent of a stiff drink. I sure could have used one. Or even just a rest. But no time. I sighed and wiped sticky mutant blood from my knives onto my pants. “Old guys go first?”

Ethan snickered and crept onto the staircase, and as I followed, my aching muscles eased a little. It was good to hear him laugh. Good to hear any living human sound.

The staircase turned, and we climbed, and climbed, the steps corroded and sometimes crumbling. Firelight leaked in through cracks in the walls, like some gruesome hellpit burned outside, and screams and moans twisted in the air like ghosts.

I shuddered. My hex pendant burned, but it had been screaming at me nonstop for the last few hours, and it meant nothing new. My shoulder prickled, an evil, hot breath, and I whirled, but there was no one.

I sucked in a breath, trying to slow my racing pulse. “Why is there no one here?”

“Because it’s a trap?”

“Wow, that’s really comforting.”

“You’re welcome.”

I tried to push ahead of him, to have him behind me, but he held me back with a rigid arm.

“Wh—ugh!” I stumbled back, twisting my ankle on the step, and, at our feet, a massive chunk of rotted iron shuddered and fell. Four or five spiral steps tumbled away into the dark, and though I waited several seconds, holding my breath, I didn’t hear them land.

Ethan sprang up over the gap, landed lightly on the next unbroken step and held out his hand for me. Yeah, right. Impeccable balance, light step, wiry strength. Stuff I didn’t have.

I sucked in a breath and jumped.

Evil laughter echoed, and thick darkness wrapped itself around my legs and pulled.

I yelled and flung out a desperate magical web, but it was too far. My guts hollowed. Sparks rained, hissing, and I fell.

But Ethan flashed out his hand, and a stinging whip of light cracked like electric current. My sparks coalesced in harmony, a glittering green cascade, and the whip lashed itself around my waist and yanked me upwards.

Ethan caught me against his chest, and the magic light dissolved. I scrabbled with terrified feet for a hold, and he steadied me. “Got you. You okay?”

I caught my breath, reeling. He felt warm and safe, his arms possessive, holding on for a bit too long. Almost like he gave a damn.

I pushed away, awkward, my heart still racing from the fright. “Yeah. Thanks. What was that thing you just did?”

“No idea. Never did it before.”

“Oh, so who’s the puzzle now?” I scoffed, trying to regain my ease.

He glanced away, avoiding me. “Must be your lucky day. C’mon.”

We kept climbing and reached a smoky landing that was riddled with jagged holes. Massive iron urns lined the walls, and inside them, things hammered and yelled for help, desperate to escape.

My stomach churned. I coughed in the acrid smoke. “Tell me those aren’t souls in there.”

Ethan’s face was pale, and he didn’t answer.

I gripped his shoulder. Killing these things was one thing. Leaving them like this … “We have to let them out! Jesus, we can’t just—”

“This is hell, Lena.” He touched my hand, and his compassion sizzled on my skin, magnetic. “Where can they go?”

I shrugged, angry. I wasn’t used to feeling helpless. What was the point of all this power if people still suffered and died? The sooner I found the amulet and got out of this place, the better.

He brushed my cheek with his thumb, a tiny caress, then he climbed on.

The staircase spiraled more tightly, the walls closing in. Sparks leapt from the cracks and stung my face. Landing after landing, narrower and darker, the air howling with ghostly pain and fear that iced my bones. Shadows jumped and thrashed, stretching like torture victims trying to escape. Dark things I couldn’t see touched me, caressed me, slid hot wet lips over my skin until it crawled. I tore at my hair, batted at my face, careless of my sharp blades. “Ethan—”

“It’s okay.” His voice strained tight like wire. Around him, angry magic sparked, and the wraithlike things gnashed and hissed and shied away.

At last, we reached another landing, and the staircase ended. Above, the ceiling tapered to a jagged hole, and hell’s red sky glared through, casting bloody shadows. On the wall, a rusted mirror warped our reflection, and in the shaft of light lay a dusty black metal box with a spiked padlock.

We halted, and I caught my breath, glad of the light even though it scorched my face with fresh heat. “Is that a strongbox?”

Ethan nodded. “I’d say so.”

I frowned. “Did that seem too easy to you?”

“We’re not finished yet.” He inhaled, scenting for trouble, and crept forward.

I hesitated. Lightning flashed, the thunder shaking the walls, and a fine golden glint at thigh level caught my eye.

My heart skipped, and I grabbed Ethan’s arm and yanked him back.

He lurched, and recovered his balance with a little jump. “What?”

I pointed. Smoke particles drifted in the light, around a hair-thin golden wire stretching across the floor. Together, we craned our necks upwards. Above, wicked curved blades glinted, waiting to slice us into salami.

Ethan grimaced. “You’re kidding. Trip wire?”

“Crude but effective. Our demon pals have a sense of humor.”

“Terrific. Watch out for banana peel and itching powder.” He hopped over the wire, sword poised, and I followed.

The strongbox just sat there, black and boring. I eyed it suspiciously. Couldn’t be this easy. Not like a job topside, where you just break in, take stuff, and run away. Surely?

Ethan lifted two fingers, and a soft breeze whistled, blowing away the smoke. Tiny sparks crawled over the box, testing, seeping into the crack between body and lid. He shrugged, and the sparks extinguished. “I get nothing.”

“What? No alarms? No threats of imminent evisceration?”

“Not a whisper.”

“Maybe what’s inside is the kicker.”

“You think? How are you with locks?”

I whipped a shard of glowing pink fairyglass from my corset—who says you can’t use an ingredient for more than one spell?—and waved it at him. “Watch me and weep.”

I bent closer to the barbed padlock, and now that prehistoric coward inside me was really getting her voice on. Demon box! Eek! Run! she squealed, and, for a moment, I hesitated.

Stealing a cursed amulet from a demon lord. Not one of my safer ideas.

I glanced at Ethan, who crouched, alert, surveying the creeping darkness for threats, blood still trickling from his nose. I still didn’t get what was in this for him. Was this the part where he turned me over to Kane? Pity. I’d liked having him around. And working for a demon sorta … dirtied him. Ethan wasn’t like me, doing anything for a living. He had standards, at least I’d thought so.

But Phoebus’s whisper from the nightclub caressed my memory, tempting me reckless. One favor, Lena Falco. No catch. Whatever you desire.

This was my big prize. Whatever the risks, it was worth it.

I gripped the glass between thumb and finger and shoved it in the padlock.

The sharp wingshard sliced my skin. Blood seeped, and pink fairy glitter puffed, intoxicating, lulling the lock’s tumblers into submission. I rooted around a bit, feeling for the springs. Click, one. The spikes on the lock jabbed into my palm. Click, two. Clickety click, three. And … clunk. Open.

Thunder rolled, threatening. Carefully, I eased the padlock from its socket on the strongbox, and laid it on the floor.

The box just hunkered there, menacing.

I glanced up, and Ethan shrugged. “Now or never.”

I poked the lid experimentally. It didn’t poke back, and I gritted my teeth against disaster and levered it up.

The hinges creaked, and it opened. Silence. Together, we peered inside.

Just a pile of ashes. And atop it, a dusty red gemstone the size of an egg.

A deep, velvety chuckle echoed in my ears. I squirmed, my belly warming. Were those flames, flickering deep inside the stone?

Something inside it that belongs to me, Phoebus had said. Maybe he meant something alive.

Whatever. I reached for it, but Ethan caught my wrist. “Let me,” he said, and he darted forward and wrapped his fingers around the amulet.

And the world burst into flame.

My body slammed backwards, and my head hit the wall with a sick crunch. Heat scorched my lungs, sizzling my mouth dry. I shook my head, clearing my blurred vision in time to see Ethan get hurled across the burning room by some invisible force. The trip wire sprang, and huge blades scythed. But he’d already hurtled past and smashed into the wall, falling in a twisted heap. His sword clattered from his hand and spun away, which was just as well, because if he hadn’t dropped it, he’d have sliced himself in half as he fell.

Flames licked up the rusted walls, ringing the room in glare. The gemstone skittered onto the floor, attached to a spiked-iron chain. Light pierced the stone, and against the wall sprang a dark, hulking shadow. A slavering beast in silhouette, four twisted legs, spiked tail, razor-sharp fins along its spine.

I scrambled away in fright, searching for the monster. It was nowhere in sight. Only the shadow, the evil black projection of whatever lived inside that amulet.

Hollow female laughter boomed, and the shadow-demon swelled in triumph. “Give up, puny human. You’re too decent, and your little slut is too weak. You can’t control me.”

I coughed, spitting dry with dread and black humor. Puny human? Seriously. Next it’ll say, Soon I will be invincible!

But Ethan lay gasping, bleeding, fighting to rise, and it speared hot anger into my belly. He might be immortal, but he wasn’t indestructible. And damn right he was decent. He’d grabbed the amulet to protect me. Screw me if I’d let this demon cow insult him.

I hurled twin knives at the shadow, and they clanged harmlessly off the wall and arced back to me. “Bite me, hellbitch. We’ll see who’s weak once I’ve hauled your crooked ass back to your boss.”

The shadow whiplashed and snapped crocodile jaws at me. I dodged, scrambling to my feet. Ethan flung out his arm, sparks flashing, and his sword erupted in angry green flame and dragged itself across the floor toward his fingers.

But the shadow-demon kicked it away—no fair, a kicking shadow, it’s just a shape on the wall, right? Wrong—and stomped a fat clawed foot on Ethan’s forearm. Hard.

Bones snapped, and my teeth grated. Jesus in a jam jar, that must have hurt. Ethan gave a strangled gasp, and the sword’s flames sputtered out.

Furious, I hurled myself at the monster, but the shadow just darted out of the way, cackling like a wart-nosed witch. “Dance with me, while I suck out his tasty-sweet soul,” it sang. “You can’t stop me.” And it leapt on him and lunged with gnashing teeth for his throat.

He kicked, and fought it off with sparking fists.

My heart clenched. I sprinted for him, but the demon flung me away. Bad plan.

I picked myself up, teeth rattling, and dived for the amulet instead.

The spiked chain bloodied my palm. The pulsing red stone sizzled, and my skin melted, but I didn’t care. Don’t break it, Phoebus said.

Well, screw him.

I slammed the gemstone into the iron floor. It didn’t break. I tried smashing it with my knife hilt. The demon just laughed at me. I jumped up and crushed it under my bootheel. The fucking thing wouldn’t break. I flung my poison hex at it, adding some stolen sunlight for good measure, but it just bubbled and seared the toxic goo to steam.

I yelled in frustration, and my hex pendant burst into furious red flame.

My hair smoked, the acrid stink filling my nostrils. And I knew what I had to do.

I grabbed the bloody chain, careless of the ripping spikes, and dragged it over my head.

The red gemstone clunked against my hex pendant. I grabbed both and squeezed, and with a stinking flash of light, they melted together.

Electricity jolted my bones. My body jerked, muscles spasming. Current arced from my fingertips, piercing the shadow-demon like lightning.

My veins burned, light and liquid fire, power juddering through me. My thoughts danced. My reflexes glittered. My senses erupted, every scent and breath and whisper swelling large. I inhaled, and thunder answered, ozone tingling my nose. Blood rushed to my core, and my body moaned in pure pleasure.

I flung my palm outwards and let rip with another lightning bolt. The demon howled and let Ethan go. I crooked a flame-wrapped finger and pinned the wriggling shadow to the wall. “Don’t move, bitch. You’re mine.”

The demon cringed, and when I laughed, the ground shook.

Magic. Power. What I’d longed for, all those years. My body springing alive, my senses reeling, my subconscious wishes a force of nature. Never mind that it came from a demon, a foul creature of hell that was surely eating me away from the inside. It was better than pizza. Better than sex.

Better, too, than a lifetime meditating and doing yoga with Ethan. This was what I was for. What I was meant to be. And caught fast by my amulet—the demon trap that now hooked itself with eternally hungry claws to my heart—the monster thrashed and shuddered but couldn’t break free.

Beyond the tower walls, the tortured screams of the damned played me a cruel symphony. Hellish light poured over my skin, tingling with a lover’s caress. The demon cried for mercy. I didn’t listen. I clenched my fist, and, slowly, my amulet sucked the shrieking shadow inside. It stretched and tore, desperate to escape. But there was no escape. For either of us. And with one final schllpp, the shadow was gone.

And silence fell, but for Ethan’s rasping breath.

The amulet burned heavy at my throat, whispering foul curses. I staggered, sick. Fever gripped me. Cramp stabbed my guts, and I fell to my knees at Ethan’s side. He struggled to rise. Bile frothed in my throat, the rotten helljuice repeating on me at last, and I clutched Ethan’s bloodied hand like a lifeline and descended into blacker hell.

Pain thrust deep into my bones, and the nightmare vomited me up.

Cool air, smooth fabric beneath my back. Someone had removed my jacket and boots, and I ached all over. I forced my eyes open, and my vision slowly cleared. White ceiling, a fan slowly circling. Gray quilt, books piled neatly, spotless carpet with not a mote of dust in sight. My knives shone clean on the bedside table. Sunlight streamed over me from the open window, and distant traffic hummed softly.

Back on earth. Alive. But my skin felt numb, my senses bereft …

I felt for my throat. Nothing.

Alarm rocketed my pulse. The amulet. My hex pendant. Both gone.

A cool hand stroked my hair, and I jumped. “Take it easy,” Ethan murmured, perched on the bed beside me. “Rough night.”

I sat up, pushing his hand away. He’d showered, lemon and herbal soap, and his damp hair hung loose, unbloodstained. His bruised face was clean, his broken arm wrapped and splinted. He’d healed himself, or was well on the way. “How did we get here? I mean, this is your place, right? Last I remember, we were in hell.”

“The helljuice wore off. I, uh…” He bit his lip, oddly childlike. “I carried you home. You were in pretty bad shape.”

I scrambled to my feet. “That was not bad shape, Ethan. That was the best shape of my life. Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“Don’t play games!” My voice squeaked, frantic. It didn’t sound like me. But I’d lost my lifelong dream, and I wanted it back. “The amulet! Where is it?”

He dug it out of his jeans pocket to show me. The red gem glinted, still welded to my hex pendant. I leapt for it, but he stuffed it away before I could reach. “It’s safe.”

I stalked closer and leaned over him, threatening. “It’s mine, Ethan. Give it to me, or I’ll make you sorry!”

Christ on a cracker. Listen to me. This isn’t right. This isn’t Lena Falco talking.

But without my hex pendant, I was helpless. Worse than helpless. Ordinary. And for a few minutes, I’d felt like a goddess. I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted that.

Ethan didn’t lower his gaze. “Lena, you’re not thinking straight. The demon has addled your mind. Let it go.”

“But—” I sucked in a breath, trying to be calm. Maybe he was right. All that magic had felt so good, I’d fallen for the demon’s temptation. I couldn’t keep the amulet, not if I wanted to save my soul. Right? “But … I have to give it to Phoebus. A deal’s a deal.”

“No. We can’t give it to Phoebus. We can’t give it to anyone. It’s too dangerous, Lena. You know that better than most. It has to be destroyed.”

I stared. “What? You mean you’re not working for Kane?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know me better than that.”

“So all along, you never wanted this thing? You just wanted to destroy it?” My guts twisted. I couldn’t believe it. He’d lied to me. He’d let me think … well, he’d let me think what I wanted to think, which was that we were partners. Ha. What a laugh.

Ethan shrugged. “I’m sorry, Lena. I needed your help. If I’d told you the truth, I didn’t think you’d—”

“Damn right you’re sorry.” My eyes burned, and I marched into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Cool white tiles gleamed, annoyingly spotless, and did nothing to ice my temper. I thrust my hands under the tap, splashing water on my flushed face until I had to come up for air.

Yes, it hurt that he’d lied. It hurt that I’d believed him, that I’d thought we might be good together.

But it hurt worse that he hadn’t thought me worth the truth. He’d assumed I’d betray him for a chance at Phoebus’s favor. Taken me for nothing but a cheap gutter con artist who always took the easy way out.

And hell, he was right. Wasn’t he?

I leaned both hands on the sink and forced my gaze upwards. My reflection glared back. Her corset was stained, her purple hair wild. A livid burn shone at her throat where the amulet had hung. Her dark eyes glinted, shadowed with bruises and fatigue. Hard. Angry.

Was it so wrong to long for more? If I traded with Phoebus, I could have whatever I wanted. Wealth. Influence. Power.

Ethan, even.

My skin tingled. That shadow-demon had threatened him, and I hadn’t stopped to think about what was in it for me. I’d just acted. Unselfishness. There’s a first.

One word from Phoebus, and Ethan would forget he despised me. I’d have his respect. We could be equals. Friends. More, if I wanted, and after last night, I realized I did want. More than I ever had.

I stared into my own unforgiving eyes, searching for a way out. There wasn’t one. The power or the man. I couldn’t have both.

And here’s where I had a choice.

Fight Ethan for the amulet, take it to Phoebus, and claim my prize, whatever I choose it to be.

Or prove to Ethan that I deserve his respect instead of tricking it out of him.

Blood clots stained my hair, and slowly I washed them away. Straightened my corset. Checked my face in the mirror. And opened the door.

Ethan jumped to his feet. “Look. I didn’t mean—”

“No, Ethan.” My voice sounded calm and clear. “I was wrong. I guess, all that power … it seduced me. I wanted it. But you were right, that’s not the way. We should destroy the amulet. I see that now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You saved my life.” He touched my shoulder, hesitant. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “And you nearly killed yourself to do it. I … I don’t know what to say.”

Him, awkward with me. Imagine.

“I didn’t want you hurt,” I admitted, and I swear that husky break in my voice happened all by itself. “I couldn’t see another way. I had to put it on.”

“I know.” He looked up at last, ice blue eyes melting to sunlit sky. “I screwed up, Lena. I was trying to shield you from temptation. The last thing I wanted was—”

“I know.” I flushed. God, he really did have great hair. “It’s over now. Can we … y’know. Be friends?”

That flashbulb smile. “Lena, despite what you might think, we’ve always been friends.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I leaned closer and brushed his lips with mine.

For a moment, he was still, startled. And then he kissed me back, slow and spine-tingling, like we had all the time in the world. He tasted of herbs, the coppery cut on his lip only spicing up the flavor. His hair fell on my shoulder, so soft and crisp, and my skin sparkled hot. Wow. I slid my arms around his neck and opened my mouth, inviting him in, and he folded me in his good arm and pulled me closer. His lean body crushed against mine as we kissed, and he felt as good as I’d always known he would.

And then he sighed, gave me a disbelieving blue glance, and passed out.

I eased him onto the bed, and swiftly reapplied the lipstick I’d put on in the bathroom. Cherry-cola. Made it myself. Bet you never picked Ethan for an easy mark.

Blond hair spilled into his sleeping face, and I brushed it back with one finger and a regretful sigh. Damn. He was really nice. I’d have liked that.

But the Lena he wanted was a lie, no matter how much I wished for his sake that I could be her. I might lie about the little things, but in the end, you’ve gotta be true to what you are.

And what I am is a cheap gutter con artist. No amount of wishing’s going to change that.

I dug into his pocket and pulled out my amulet.

Dried clots of my blood still crusted the chain. I brushed them off. The remnants of my hex pendant were buried deep inside, and the stone winked at me, inviting.

I winked back and slipped it around my neck. Power settled over me like a warm, sparkly blanket, and the demon purred and wrapped herself seductively around my heart. I was her mistress now. She wouldn’t fight me anymore.

Will I take her back to Phoebus? Maybe. Maybe not. He’d offered me a favor. But I already had everything I wanted.

Sparks zinged from my fingertips as I zipped my boots on and rebuckled my knives. I shrugged into my jacket and took one last lingering glance at Ethan, sleeping peacefully on his perfectly made bed in the land of out-of-my-league.

Well, almost everything I wanted.

But there’s always another game. Another con. And if Phoebus wants his amulet, he can come and get it. With my new friend on my side, I’ll gladly take him on.

I flexed my fingers, and distant thunder rolled. That was very cool. Not strictly ethical, but cool. I may not be a witch—not technically—but I’ve still got a few tricks up my corset.

I smiled, and stroked my demon, and vanished.

Author’s Bio

Erica Hayes is the author of the Shadowfae Chronicles, a dark urban fantasy/romance series. Set in a demon-haunted city infested with psychotic fairies and bloodthirsty vampire gangsters, her books feature tough, smart heroines and colorful heroes with dark secrets. She lives in Australia, where she drifts from city to city, leaving a trail of chaos behind her. You can find her on the web at www.ericahayes.net.