Authors: Jennifer L. Armentrout
I followed her into a narrow alley between a dollar store and a check-cashing place. All I needed to do was touch her, which I should’ve done back in McDonald’s. I stopped halfway, looked around and then cursed.
The alley was empty.
Black garbage bags lined mold-covered brick walls. Dumpsters overflowed with more trash and creatures scurried along the gravel. I shuddered, eyeing the bags warily. Most likely rats, but other things hid in shadows—things that were worse than rats.
And a Hell of a lot creepier.
I walked farther in, scanning the darkening passage as I absently twisted the necklace between my fingers. I wished I’d had the foresight to pack a flashlight in my school bag, but that would’ve made too much sense. Instead, I’d put a new tube of lip gloss and baggie full of cookies in there this morning. Real helpful stuff.
Sudden unease trickled down my spine. I dropped the ring, letting it bounce off my shirt. Something wasn’t right. I slipped my hand into the front pocket of my jeans, pulling out my beat-up cell as I turned around.
The Poser stood a few feet away. When she smiled, the wrinkles in her face cracked her skin. Thin slivers of lettuce hung from her yellow teeth. I took a breath and immediately wished I hadn’t. She smelled of sulfur and rotting flesh.
The Poser cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowing. No demon could sense me because I didn’t have enough demonic blood flowing in my veins for them to pick it up, but she was looking at me like she was truly
seeing
what I hid inside.
Her gaze dropped to my chest and then her eyes flicked up, meeting mine. I let out a startled gasp. Her washed-out blue irises began to churn like a whirlpool around pupils that retracted into a thin point.
Crap on a cracker. This lady was so not a Poser.
Her form rippled and then scrambled, like a TV trying to digitally piece back together an image. The gray hair and banana clip disappeared. Creased skin smoothed out and turned the color of wax. The body stretched and expanded. The track pants and horrible sweater disappeared and were replaced by leather pants and a broad, muscular chest. The eyes were oval shaped and churned like an endless sea—no pupils. The nose was flat, really just two holes above a wide, cruel mouth.
Double crap on a cracker the size of my butt.
It was a Seeker demon. I’d only ever seen one in the old books Abbot kept in his study. Seekers were like the Indiana Joneses of the demon world, able to locate and retrieve just about anything their handler sent them after. Unlike Indy, though, Seekers were mean and aggressive.
The Seeker smiled, revealing a mouth full of wicked-sharp teeth. “Gotcha.”
Gotcha? Got what?
Me?
He lurched toward me and I darted to the side, fear spiking so fast my palms dotted with sweat as I touched his arm. Bursts of neon light shimmered around the Seeker’s body, making him nothing but a pink blur. He didn’t react to the tag. They never did. Only the Wardens could see the mark I left behind.
The Seeker grasped a handful of my hair, wrenching my head to the side as he grabbed for the front of my shirt. My cell slipped from my hand, smacking on the ground. A stinging sensation shot down my neck, over my shoulders.
Panic flooded like a dam had burst open, but instinct propelled me into action. All the evenings I’d spent training with Zayne kicked in. Tagging demons could get hairy every once in a while, and while I didn’t have ninja-stealth skills, there was no way in holy Hell I was going down without a fight.
Rearing back, I brought my leg up and planted my knee right where it counted. Thank God demons were anatomically correct. The Seeker grunted and jerked back, ripping out several strands of hair. Red-hot pins and needles burned across my scalp.
Unlike other Wardens, I couldn’t shed my human skin and kick major behind, but hair pulling flipped my bitch switch like no one’s business.
Agony exploded along my knuckles as the Seeker’s head jerked to the side when my closed fist hit him in the jaw. It wasn’t a girlie hit. Zayne would be so proud.
Slowly, the demon turned his head back to me. “I liked that. Do it again.”
My eyes popped wide.
It rushed me, and I knew I was going to die. I’d be ripped apart by a demon or worse yet, pulled through one of the many portals hidden throughout the city and taken
downstairs.
When people inexplicably disappeared into thin air, it was usually because they had a new zip code. Something like 666, and death would be a blessing compared to that kind of trip. I braced myself for impact.
“Enough.”
Both of us froze in response to the deep, unfamiliar voice oozing authority. The Seeker responded first, stepping to the side. Turning around, I saw
him.
The newcomer stood well over six feet, as tall as any Warden. His hair was dark, the color of obsidian, and it reflected blue in the dim light. Lazy locks slipped over his forehead and curled just below his ears. Brows arched over golden eyes and his cheekbones were broad and high. He was attractive. Very attractive. Mind-bendingly beautiful, actually, but the sardonic twist to his full lips chilled his beauty. The black T-shirt stretched across his chest and flat stomach. A huge tattoo of a snake curled around his forearm, the tail disappearing under his sleeve and the diamond-shaped head rested on the top of his hand. He looked my age. Total crush material—if it wasn’t for the fact that he had no soul.
I stumbled a step back. What was worse than one demon? Two demons. My knees shook so bad I thought I might face-plant in the alley. A tagging had never gone this horribly wrong before. I was so screwed it wasn’t even funny.
“You should not intervene in this,” the Seeker demon said, and his hands curled into fists.
The new guy stepped forward noiselessly. “And you should kiss my ass. How about that?”
Uh...
The Seeker grew very still, his breathing heavy. Tension became a fourth entity in the alley. I took another step back, hoping to make a clean getaway. These two were so obviously not on the same page with one another and I did not want to get caught in the middle of this. When two demons went at it, they were known to bring down entire buildings. Faulty foundations or poor roofing? Yeah, right. More like an epic demon death match.
Two steps to the right and I could—
The boy’s gaze slammed into me. I sucked in air, staggered by the intensity of his gaze. The strap of my bag fell from my limp fingers. His eyes lowered, thick lashes fanning his cheeks. A small smile pulled at his lips and when he spoke, his voice was soft, yet deep and powerful. “What a predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.”
I didn’t know what breed of demon he was, but by the way he stood there like he’d created the word
power
, I figured he wasn’t a lower demon like the Seeker or a Poser. Oh, no, he was most likely an Upper Level demon—a Duke or Infernal Ruler. Only the Wardens dealt with them, and that usually ended in a bloody mess.
My heart threw itself against my rib cage. I needed to get out of here, and fast. No way was I going toe-to-toe with an Upper Level demon. My measly skills would earn me a butt kicking to remember. And the Seeker demon was growing angrier by the second, clenching and unclenching his meaty fists. Things were about to blow and blow bad.
Grabbing my book bag, I held it in front of me like the lamest shield ever. Then again, there wasn’t a thing in this world besides a Warden that could stop an Upper Level demon.
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t run off yet.”
“Don’t think about coming any closer,” I warned.
“I wouldn’t think of doing anything you didn’t want me to do.”
Ignoring whatever that meant, I continued to edge around the Seeker demon and toward the mouth of the alley that seemed so incredibly far away.
“You’re running anyway.” The Upper Level demon sighed. “Even after I asked you not to, and I think I was really nice about it.” He glanced at the Seeker, frowning. “Wasn’t I nice?”
The Seeker growled. “I mean no offense, but I don’t care how nice you are. You’re interrupting my job, you tool.”
I stumbled over the insult. Besides the fact that the Seeker was speaking to an Upper Level demon like that, it was such a...
human
thing to say.
“You know what they say,” the other demon countered. “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but I’m going to demolish you.”
Screw this. If I got back on the main street, I could lose both of them. They couldn’t attack in front of the humans—rules and all. Well, if these two were going to play by the rules, which seemed doubtful. I whipped around, dashing toward the opening of the alley.
I didn’t make it very far.
The Seeker hit me like a freaking NFL linebacker, knocking me against a Dumpster. Black spots darkened my vision. Something squeaky and furry dropped on my head. Shrieking like a banshee, I reached up and grabbed hold of the squirming body. Little claws tangled in my hair. Two seconds from stroking out, I yanked the rat out of my hair and tossed it onto the garbage bags. It squeaked as it bounced, then darted into a crack in the wall.
With a low snarl, the Upper Level demon appeared behind the Seeker, grabbing him by the throat. A second later, he had the Seeker dangling several feet off the ground. “Now,
that
wasn’t very nice,” he said in a low, ominous voice.
Spinning around, he tossed the Seeker like a beanbag. The Seeker slammed into the opposite wall, hitting the ground on his knees. The Upper Level demon raised his arm...and the snake tattoo lifted off his skin, breaking apart into a million black dots. They floated into the air between him and the Seeker, hung for a second, then dropped to the ground. The dots oozed together, forming a thick black mass.
No—not a mass, but a huge freaking snake at least ten feet long and as wide as I was. I sprang to my feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness.
The thing spun toward me, rising halfway up. Its eyes burned an unholy red.
A scream caught in my throat.
“Don’t be scared of Bambi,” the demon said. “She’s only curious and maybe a little bit hungry.”
The thing was named
Bambi?
Oh my God
,
the thing stared at me like it wanted to eat me.
The... the giant snake didn’t try to make me his snack pack. When it swung back toward the Seeker, I nearly fell over from relief. But then it shot across the small space, rising until its monstrous head hovered over the petrified lesser demon. The snake opened its mouth, revealing two fangs the size of my hand and, past them, a yawning black hole.
“Okay,” the demon murmured, smirking. “Maybe she’s a lot hungry.”
I took that as my cue to book it out of the alley.
“Wait!” yelled the demon, and when I didn’t stop but ran faster than I ever had before, his curse echoed in my head.
I crossed the avenues bordering Dupont Circle, passing the shop I’d planned on joining Stacey and Sam at. Only when I reached the spot where Morris, our chauffeur and about a dozen other things, would pick me up did I stop to breathe.
The gently hued souls thrummed around me, but I didn’t pay attention to them. Numb to my core, I sat on a bench by the curb. I felt wrong, off. What the Hell had just happened? All I’d wanted to do was outline
All Quiet on the Western Front
tonight. Not almost devour a soul, nearly get killed, meet my very first Upper Level demon or watch a tattoo turn into an anaconda, for chrissake.
I glanced down at my empty hand.
Or lose my phone.
Crap.
About the Author
# 1
New York Times
and
USA TODAY
bestselling author
Jennifer
L
.
Armentrout
lives in
Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t
true. When she’s not hard at work writing, she spends her time reading, working
out, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out
with her husband and her Jack Russell, Loki.
Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class,
where she spent most of her time writing short stories.... which explains her
dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction,
fantasy, and contemporary romance. She also writes adult and New Adult romance
under the name J. Lynn.
Jennifer loves hearing from readers. Follow her on Twitter
@JLArmentrout
, look for her on Facebook and Goodreads, or
visit her blog at
www.jenniferarmentrout.com
.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
MIRA Ink is a registered trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, used under licence.
Published in Great Britain 2013.
MIRA Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR
© Jennifer L. Armentrout 2013
ISBN 978-1-4720-7109-5