Authors: Caitlin Kittredge
Pete placed her hand over his knee, gave a squeeze. Her touch set off a series of aches and pains, and Jack grimaced.
“You all right?” Pete said.
“I’m old, luv,” Jack said. “This baby is going to run me fucking ragged, I hope you know.”
Pete leaned her head against his shoulder. “I think you’ll manage. We will, somehow.”
Jack sat quietly with Pete for some time, while the sun rose. He could tell her later about the Morrigan’s marks, her visitation, the strange new thing living under his skin. About the Princes of Hell and how Belial had picked him, all those years ago, to be one of their legion. About how the slow fracture and dissolution of the Black hadn’t stopped with Nergal, would never stop, and things back in London would likely never be all right for the crow-mage and the Weir again. He could tell her all that later, Jack thought as he slipped his arm around Pete’s thin shoulders.
He had the time.
EPILOGUE
REVELATION
“And his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”
—Book of Revelation, 6:8
CHAPTER 31
He’d been back in London nearly a month, and Jack was beginning to feel almost right with things again. Aside from the occasional dirty look down the Lament pub or a dead bird nailed to his door, the magic sector of London had seemed to accept that he was back and he wasn’t going anywhere.
Pete hadn’t taken the news about the Morrigan well. He hadn’t been able to tell her what it meant, furnish specifics that she could quantify and assess. Hell,
he
didn’t know what it meant. Just that the Morrigan had her claws into him, at last, and she wasn’t letting go.
At least Pete hadn’t run off. Jack looked over to where she was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, tapping away at her laptop. He’d still been able to find jobs outside of London, mostly small villages without any local talent. The locals in big cities—Liverpool, Newcastle, Cardiff—all talked among themselves, and none of them were overly welcoming.
Pete turned her eyes on him. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jack said. He levered himself off the sofa and went into the loo. They talked, but not about anything below the surface. Jack didn’t know if Pete was afraid of him. He was, if he was honest. The markings called up power he’d never even come close to touching. Human beings weren’t meant to channel that much of the Black, and Jack had to wonder how long before his head popped off like a gasket.
Sleep was nonexistent, and he was still sporting bruises from the beating Abbadon had given him in LA. Pete had fed Shavers some poppycock story about cults and serial killers and he’d gotten himself in the paper and hadn’t dug too deeply. Probably got a promotion out of it, the twat.
“Jesus, Winter,” Jack muttered as he pissed and washed his hands. His reflection looked old, eyes bagged and face grey. “Pull it together.”
“Talking to yourself again?”
Jack jerked and knocked the mug containing his and Pete’s toothbrushes off the vanity. The ceramic smashed on the tile. “Fuck!”
Belial grinned at him in the mirror. “Jumpy. Perhaps you should cut out the caffeine.”
Jack spun and jabbed his finger into the demon’s face. “You don’t get to show up in my flat and talk shit. You bloody left me.”
“I saved your life, Winter, and you’ll do well to remember that,” Belial said. “Anyway, I didn’t just pop in for a chat.”
Pete knocked on the door. “Jack? Who’s in there with you?”
Jack opened the door and Pete locked eyes with Belial, then glared. “Oh,” she said. “You.”
“Me,” Belial agreed. “Again. Aren’t you positively glowing, little Petunia?”
“I’ll put my fist through your fucking shark teeth, you cunt,” Pete said. “Get the hell out of my loo.”
“Relax.” Belial held up his hands. “I’m just here to talk to your loving man.” He inclined his head at Jack. “Is there somewhere…”
Jack shook his head. “Whatever you have to say to me, say it here.”
“Fine,” Belial said. “Azrael is out, mate. The Triumverate is short a member. Or was.”
Jack stayed quiet. Azrael was one of the oldest names in most demonic grimoires. If Baal and Beelzebub had sent him the way of Abbadon, it meant very few things, none of them wholesome for the rest of the Black.
“Seems he and Abbadon got to talking all those millenia down in his pit,” Belial said. “Seems that he became sympathetic to their cause, and when Nergal busted out that was the cover he needed.”
Jack shrugged. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” he said. “What’s this got to do with me?”
“I am a Prince of Hell now,” Belial said. “And I’ve come to tell you that my offer still stands, Jack. Even with all that mess on your skin.”
Pete looked between them, arms folded over the swell of her stomach. “What offer, Jack?”
“He didn’t tell you. Shocking, that,” Belial said. “But I will—I offered your boy here a chance to sit at my table, be at my side. He doesn’t have to die and be reborn or anything tacky and Biblical of that sort. All he has to do is say yes.” Belial grinned at Jack. “No lies. No tricks.”
“But a bargain,” Jack told him. “Another fucking axe to dangle above me neck.”
“Not a bargain,” Belial said. “An agreement. An alliance, between a general and a valued soldier. And what a soldier you’d make, Jack. You’d never have to worried about any of this…” he gestured through the bubbly glass of the loo window, out across the chimney pots and post-war box flats of Whitechapel. “None of the politics, none of the bullshit. Nobody coming after you because they fancy you’re the cause of their little problems. You’d be protected.”
“But he’d be in Hell,” Pete said.
Belial cocked his head. “I would think you’d be in favor of this. You do have the baby to consider. This is a dangerous world for a child, Petunia. You of all people know that.”
Pete curled her fists into tight knots. “Get out. Before I kick the shite out of you and make you eat it.”
Belial turned back to Jack. “What do you say, Winter? Right hand of the devil. It really is the better choice. Better than anything the Hag is going to offer you.” He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Think it over. Don’t say no just to be a cunt. I want you, Jack. Hell wants you. What do you say?”
Jack moved the demon’s hand off him, along with the slimy essence that brushed against his sight. “I say…” Belial’s offer made sense. The Morrigan would ask him to do something, sooner or later, even worse than to allow Nergal to be released into the world. And he honestly wasn’t sure he could say no. But to be in Hell, voluntarily. To be a servant of Belial, willingly. That wasn’t Jack—not before the bargain, not during his smack days, not now, and not fucking ever.
“You say yes, lad,” Belial prompted. “Easiest word in the language.”
“Jack…” Pete said, but he brushed against the back of her hand with his fingers and quieted her.
“Go fuck yourself,” he told Belial. “And you can tell your two bum-buddies down there in the City I said the same.”
Belial’s mouth turned down. “Bad choice, Jackie. Bad, bad choice.”
“But it is my choice,” Jack said. “I did what you asked. I sent Abbadon and his freaks back to their prison. You’ve no claim on either of us any longer, so kindly get the fuck out.”
Belial straightened his cuffs and stepped around Pete. “Fine. I’ll see myself out. And Jack?” The demon pointed one black-tipped finger at him. “You’re a bloody idiot.”
Jack stayed still until the door slammed, then let out the breath he’d been holding until it burned. “Shit. I hate it when he does that.”
Pete sat on the edge of the tub. “That was bad, wasn’t it? Saying no to him?”
“Probably come back and bite my arse, yeah,” Jack said. He sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Pete was warm and smelled faintly of cocoa butter. He pressed his face against her hair.
“What if we fuck this up?” Pete murmured. “Like, beyond repair? What if the kid gets an ASBO and starts lighting people’s pets on fire?”
“We won’t,” Jack said, feeling no conviction whatsoever.
“Maybe you should have said yes,” Pete whispered. “It’s the only way we could be sure…”
“No,” Jack said. “Belial would find some way to put one over on me, and I’d end up even worse off.”
“At least you’re learning,” Pete said.
“Trying,” Jack said. “Not doing a fantastic job.”
“It’s all right,” Pete said, and kissed his cheek before resuming her position. “We’ll figure something out.”
Jack let his eyes close, to just be still for one moment. Soon enough he’d have to move, find them a place to go where the local mages and sorcerers weren’t howling for his blood and freaks weren’t trying to sell their souls to ancient demons, while other freaks optioned the movie rights. Soon. But right now, he could be with Pete, and that was worth anything Belial could have offered him, true bargain or not.
“Yeah,” he said to Pete. “I think we’ve sorted it.”
“We’ll move to the country, I’ll get fat and pop out six more kiddies, and you can take up sheep farming,” Pete said.
“Or I could sit in front of the telly and shout at you the baby needs changing,” Jack said. “And to fetch me another lager.”
“Or I could smack you in the head,” Pete said.
“All of the above?” Jack suggested. “Or none.”
“I don’t know,” Pete said. “And that’s all right, Jack. Really. I don’t expect you to have it all sorted this second.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m just glad you’re not leaving.”
“Not for anything,” Jack said. “And I mean that, Pete.”
“I know you do,” Pete said softly. Jack pressed his lips against her hair.
“That’s all that matters, then.”
St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles by
CAITLIN KITTREDGE
BLACK LONDON SERIES
Street Magic
Demon Bound
Bone Gods
NOCTURNE CITY SERIES
Night Life
Pure Blood
Second Skin
Witch Craft
Daemon’s Mark
Acclaim for Caitlin Kittredge’s Black London series
“Takes supernatural shadows to the next level. Kittredge knows how to create a believable world, and her fans will enjoy the mix of magic and city grit.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“Crackles with conflict and perilous magic … For those who love their urban fantasy hypnotically treacherous, this book’s for you!”
—
RT Book Reviews
“
Street Magic
jumps right in to nonstop supernatural action, taking urban fantasy fans on a wild ride.”
—
Darque Reviews
“This is a dark, visceral read that sucks you in and doesn’t let you up for air. That is part of my intense love for this series … It hit all my buttons: ghosts, magic, demons, cemeteries, England, moors, fog, supernatural creatures, ancient deities. The way things ended, I am seriously anxious to see what is happening next. Go out and get this!”
—
Night Owl Romance
“Sensual and empowering.”
—
Romance Junkies
… and the Nocturne City novels
“
Pure Blood
pounds along hard on the heels of
Night Life
, and is every bit as much fun as the first in the series. With a gutsy, likable protagonist and a well-made fantasy world,
Pure Blood
is real enough to make you think twice about locking your doors at night. A swiftly-paced plot, a growing cast of solid supporting characters, and a lead character you can actually care about—Kittredge is a winner.”
—Jim Butcher
“I loved the mystery and the smart, gutsy heroine.”
—Karen Chance,
New York Times
bestselling author of
Claimed by Shadow
“A nonstop thriller laced with a ferociously deadly menace. Count on Kittredge’s heroine to never say die!”
—
RT Book Reviews
“Kittredge takes readers on a dark adventure complete with thrills, chills, and a touch of romance. Well written … and impossible to set down.”
—
Darque Reviews
“Fast-paced, sexy, and witty with many more interesting characters than I have time to mention. I’m looking forward to reading more stories in the exciting Nocturne City series.”
—
Fresh Fiction
“Wow, I am still thinking about this book. The last time I reacted to a book this way, it was the first Mercy Thompson book by Patricia Briggs. If you are looking for a book that seamlessly blends a police procedural with a paranormal, go out and get this book.”
—
Night Owl Romance
“A tense, gritty urban fantasy that grips the audience from the onset.”
—
Mystery Gazette
“Caitlin Kittredge just keeps honing her craft with each new book.
Second Skin
has some pretty creepy elements and page-turning action. Readers who enjoy good solid urban fantasy will enjoy this installment.”
—
A Romance Review
“
Night Life
dived right into the action, and carried me along for the ride … If the following books are written with the same care and interest as
Night Life
, they will be a welcome addition to this fantasy genre.”
—
Armchair Interviews
“Hot, hip, and fast-paced, I couldn’t put [
Night Life
] down. Don’t go to bed with this book—it will keep you up all night. It’s that good.”
—Lilith Saintcrow, national bestselling author of
Working for the Devil
“Luna is tough, smart, and fierce, hiding a conflicted and insecure nature behind her drive for justice and independence, without falling into cliché … a lot of fun to read.”
—Kat Richardson, national bestselling author of
Poltergeist
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.