The Devil Inside Page 3

  With my shoulder leaning on the doorframe to brace myself, I clenched my jaw and shook the burgeoning tingle from my scarred palm. A deep, cleansing breath later, I ran my hand over the smooth wood of the doorframe. It was in good condition, but the rooms were sparsely furnished. I would definitely make an extra donation. It was almost Christmas after all.

  I took note of the bouquet of odors as I walked passed each room, making sure there was nothing untoward inside. One room in particular—the one with the photograph of a honey-skinned, shaved-headed youth—caught my attention. James. A barrage of sweet, grassy perfume hit me as I stood at the door: Marijuana.

  I closed my eyes and sighed.

  James, you know the rules. What are you doing?

  Curious papers strewn around the boy’s room initially appeared to be homework, but on closer inspection, turned out to be peculiar for a sixteen-year-old. I peered closer and identified scribbled Ancient Egyptian glyphs. A chill touched me. Roo had mentioned Egyptian glyphs coursing up her arms after she’d absorbed The Book of the Dead. Something about the name of that book sparked a recollection in me. Something from my Seraphim life. I pushed the papers aside and discovered a gold scarab brooch about half the size of my palm.

  Jeweled. Heavy. Expensive for a kid to own.

  I stared at it, mesmerized, as it emitted strange vibrations. They meant something, like a language I’d forgotten. It smelled oddly, too. Not quite like the rot of a witch, but perhaps a witch had touched it. My subconscious made connections that my mind couldn’t piece together, but my body did. My blood ran cold.

  When a sharp sting hit my finger, I realized I’d been stroking the gold wings of the bug. I immediately placed the brooch down and inspected the pad of my index finger. A droplet of blood pooled at the surface.

  Idiot.

  I sucked the blood off, and then shoved the scarab into my pocket, safely out of harm’s way and ready for further examination at the lab. My smart phone flashed as I photographed the papers until a sniff and a whiff uncovered something else: a faint scent of stainless steel and carbon fiber. James had been concealing weapons. I lifted the mattress and inspected underneath.

  Nothing.

  I stood in the center of the room, closed my eyes and allowed my senses to intensify. I reached out for strange vibrations, unusual scents and anything out of the ordinary. The stainless steel smell strengthened. I went deeper and smelled a smidge of amino-biphenyl, benzo nitrile and other solvents coming from somewhere. I opened my eyes, followed my nose and searched under the bed to find a pair of shoes with a shitload of adhesive residue stuck to the bottom. My eyes watered and I flinched as I sniffed the soles. After another dubious whiff… there… I had it. Hydrolyzed corn, rubber, and… pine.

  I phoned the office and gave orders for someone to locate which factories within a five-mile radius used that combination of chemicals and extracts, then popped spearmint gum into my mouth and waited until a more pleasant scent filled my senses.

  My finger began to throb where I’d pricked it on the scarab. Damned slow healing. The brooch was ancient Egyptian. I pondered for a minute as my brain made connections. During my time as User’s progeny, I’d noticed his living quarters were littered with Egyptian artifacts. He also hunted The Book of the Dead—now safely inside Roo’s D.N.A., it couldn’t be a coincidence. The scarab meant something.

  Movement in my periphery caught my attention, and I flicked my gaze to the open window. A shadow flashed away. Thuds and clanks filled the room as a body escaped down the fire escape.

  “Stop!” I bolted to the window.

  I should’ve heard the stranger approach, but the brooch kept niggling at my senses, distracting me.

  Damn it. Had it been James out there? I poked my head through the window. There, a blue-hooded, lanky frame ran across the lawn. I smelled the adhesive cocktail again, and as a waft of icy wind hit me, so did something I’d come to associate with witches. Something much more pungent.

  “Fuck.”

  I shoved up the stiff window frame and squeezed through just as the first droplets of rain landed on the railings and someone entered the room behind me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Marc

  “RIGHT THEN, YOU taking notes, love?”

  Claudette nodded from her seat across the large, white conference table. Her ponytail agreed vehemently.

  Jacine arched an obscene eyebrow.

  I reclined and swung on the legs of my stainless steel chair. Although I appeared fully clothed, it was part of an illusion-construct made from the dust particles surrounding me. I could make it as solid as I wanted. And today, I could feel the cold smoothness of the chair beneath my skin, but I didn’t mind; the solidity was comforting, rooting me firmly in the third dimension. The pull of the universe had a knack for distracting me, and often I lost track of time and space. But none of that dilly dallying now, I had work to do.

  “Splendid. I don’t know whether you ladies are aware of what’s transpired at the ol’ penal colony, but—”

  “The colony?” Claudette interrupted me.

  “He means Australia, Claudette. It’s a joke,” Jacine added.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t need to. Carry on, Marc.”

  “I meant, love, that Australia was settled by English convicts.”

  “Oh. But that was over two hundred years ago.” Claudette flashed her eyes at Jacine. She didn’t seem to approve of her either. That made me like her even more because Jacine could make the world fall at her feet, so the ability to resist her magnetic pull was admirable. Maybe I’d give the Simon another crack later. Unlike me, she wouldn’t stay young forever, and who knew when I’d be back at the London Ludus? This could be my last chance.

  “Two hundred years to me is a blip in the ocean.”

  “That’s not the saying, Marc.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t care.”

  “Anyway, you were saying? Go on,” Jacine said.

  “All right. There are a couple of things we need to go over, but first, we’ve got another unregistered Player—this one belongs to the bloody Urser House. She’s slipped under the radar because she appears to behave like a witch, but I’ve found her to be more similar to a Soul-Eater.”

  I reveled in the women’s collective gasps. I liked delivering shocking news, especially when I’d already known about it for days. It made me feel powerful, important, and sexy as hell.

  “She’s in Australia?” Jacine asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why haven’t you gone to the Sydney Ludus for this? I don’t want an unregistered Player on my record.”

  “Jacine,” I looked into her eyes. “You know why I come here.”

  “Oh.” She blushed, and a small rumble of delight erupted from my throat.

  “Why do you come here?” Claudette asked.

  That made Jacine even redder, and I laughed.

  “I come here because I trust Jacine,” I said and looked Jacine up and down. “I don’t like her half the time, but there it is. We’re friends, I suppose.”

  Jacine shot me a grateful look. She was the Goddess of Love, but she hated anyone to think she’d been granted control of the London Ludus for underhanded reasons. Yes, we’d been together, but it had been centuries ago. And since then, I’d had to confine her to the Ludus for breaking the rules of the Game—she’d started a few cults. She’d never quite forgiven me for her confinement, and we’d stopped talking.

  “So, the Soul-Eater,” I prompted.

  “I thought they were extinct.” Jacine cros
sed her legs and pursed her lips.

  “Precisely.” I thrummed my fingers on the marble table top and shifted my feet. I’d been too long in one place already. Part of my fluid ability to traverse the dimensions meant that, biologically, I craved movement. “Dig up what you can about the last Soul-Eater, yeah? I’m not entirely sure if I can trust her, but she’s proven herself useful in more ways than one and the…”

  I paused, unsure if our discord was enough to break Jacine’s loyalty. But if I didn’t tell them, then my secrets could eventuate in conflict. I wasn’t ready for civil war, not yet, I had to lay more groundwork first.

  “The Witch Hunter is mentoring her—which is fitting, I suppose, and keeps her in check.”

  Both women raised their brows at me.

  “You know what I mean,” I continued. “She’s part witch. She’ll come out of this with her head screwed on straight as long as he sticks with her.”

  I studied the air, deep in thought. Cash’s true Seraphim identity was the Empire’s enforcer and the Queen’s consort. But nobody else knew. Cash went missing thousands of years ago. But, seeing as the hunter had removed a vital ingredient to make the only physical portal this planet had work (the star-gate), nobody could physically leave. Except me.

  One thing was for certain, if any of the banished Watchers, including the Prince, knew Cash was actually here on earth and vulnerable in a human body, he’d be a sitting duck.

  I hadn’t seen the little brat of a prince since the day he destroyed his mother’s world. Little sod had been hiding for hundreds of years. Weak wanker.

  I may think with my cods a lot, but I wasn’t a traitor like him.

  “What’s her name?” Claudette was scribbling madly in her notebook.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “The Player.”

  “Little Red?”

  “Uh, yes, I guess. Little Red is her first name?”

  “Don’t be daft, it’s La Roux.”

  “And her last name.”

  “Urser—obviously. Aren’t you listening to a thing I’m saying? She’s La Roux-bleedin’-Urser. From House Urser.”

  I smiled a little wistfully. My Little Red. Well, she wasn’t exactly little—as tall as any Player and with lovely tits and an ass to boot. I imagined she liked to go fast, in more ways than one. She had a feisty temper and abilities to match. I was downright choked that she turned out to be a Player.

  My eyes glazed over as I re-imagined our embrace from the other day after she’d traveled through the in-between with me. And the kiss… the randy dreams I’d sent her way that she’d bounced right back at me. She was a minx, that girl. A challenge. Not only able to deflect my romantic advances, but giving it back, testing me in return. I didn’t care she was off limits. It turned me on, to be honest. She did something to me at a molecular level, and I wasn’t sure how, but it invigorated me. Thinking of Little Red reminded me of my other purpose here.

  “Also, I need information on the witch called Eve,” I said. “Whatever you can find. I hear she’s the leader of the publicly declared coven in the States. She’s the one who instigated the treaty, so start there.”

  “Why’s that?” Jacine asked.

  “Why did she instigate the treaty? Buggered if I know. Don’t your simpletons have the interweb thingy for that kind of thing?”

  “No, I meant, why do you want information on the witch?”

  “None of your sodding business.” I couldn’t believe it. Where did she get off?

  “I have ways of finding out, Marc.”

  “You touch me with your ways and I’ll make sure you stay in confinement another year.”

  Claudette rolled her eyes. “Is that all you need from me, or do you want me to book you two a room?”

  “Shut your mouth,” Jacine snapped, irritation swimming over her features. “Or do you need a lesson in respect?”

  I turned to Claudette. “Any messages for me, love?”

  “You have three. Shall I go and get them for you?”

  “What do you think, Claudette?” Jacine adjusted her hair with trembling fingers that betrayed her true emotions. “That’s a great idea. Leave. Also get the inventory of souls in Purgatory. It’s about time you cleared them out, Marc.”

  The second Claudette left the room, Jacine rounded on me, all smugness gone from her face. “I’ve heard things, Marc… unexplainable things that are happening in the shadows. I need to know if you’re on my side or theirs. I want to go back and I’d rather do that in the Queen’s good graces, but if there is another way… well, the Empire is a big place.”

  “What the bleedin’ hell is that supposed to mean?” I stood and straightened my clothing construct.

  “It means, dove, that my loyalty is running thin. Give me something. Anything. Why are you spending so much time with a couple of illegitimate Players? What do you know?” Jacine stood.

  “You first—what’s happening in the shadows?”

  “Dove, you first.”

  “Pet.”

  We were at a standoff. I caved first. Because I was a gentleman.

  “Jacey… I don’t know as much as you will have me know. I’m tied up being the Gamekeeper—it’s not as glamorous as it sounds, yeah?”

  “Bollocks. You know things, Egnatius.”

  My eyes widened and a violent tingle rippled through my body, shuddering across my skin. She’d used my real name. This close to me! The sensation echoed and permeated my blood in response to her command, sending internal combustion sparks coursing through my veins, repeatedly. Each ripple seemed more tender than the previous, until at long last, it faded. My jaw clenched, and I fought the urge to move towards her. Two can play at this game, I thought.

  “Aurelia.”

  She gasped, no doubt feeling the same jolt all high-ranking Seraphim did when their true name was called. A true name was a gift bestowed only on those truly trusted by the Seraphim. I’d given mine up on a whim after a marathon lovemaking session with her, the goddess of love. In return, she’d been tricked out of hers by the trickster himself. Me.

  For humans, it was simply a way to pray to their gods. They speak, and through the sensation, we knew they were praying to us. The more people that prayed to us, the better we felt, and hence the more likely we were to reward them for their loyalty. For the Seraphim, however, saying a true name so close to each other in this realm had an erotic physiological effect of epic proportions. Some would say this effect was a blessing from nature and The Universe’s way of approving of our presence here. Of all we were doing.

  Bollocks. I thought it made for a jolly good bonk with the right person. Saying each other’s name, right at climax, could literally shatter the earth. A stab of guilt sliced through me when I remembered Pompeii and what Jacine and I had done with our reckless abandon. Thankfully, Pompeii was an early Ludus and no Simons were harmed in its downfall.

  I gave her a warning look.

  Jacine stepped closer and licked her full lips. “This is unjust. Urser is permitted to embed himself into human society and I can’t. The Prince hides away, doing whatever he wants and I’m just a fucking breeding mare, popping out the next foal to be paraded around the field. I’m sick of it. I want to have my own life, and if I can’t, I want out.”

  “Whoa. Back up.” I pointed at a finger, counting out my explanation. “A: Urser is also producing offspring and he’s not harming humans. B: the Prince is bl
oody royalty; he does whatever the bleedin’ hell he wants. If he wants to hide away, then so be it. We don’t need him. And C: you know why you’re here. You betrayed the Queen.”

  “Bollocks. That was thousands of years ago. Those cults were a tempestuous teenager stomping her foot. I’ve grown up. As you can see, I’ve got complete control of my abilities now. I haven’t incited an orgy in years.”

  “It wasn’t just the sex, Jacine. It was that you were taking their free will. That was one of the rules the Queen stipulated for this Game. Always let them have their free will. You should remain loyal to the Queen at all times. As I am.”

  “Even though it’s destroying you slowly from the inside?”

  I stepped back. “There’s nothing wrong with my insides, as you well know.”

  “You know what I mean, Marc. She’s using you up. This gig of yours is turning you into a stranger. You shag anything with tits and two legs and forget about it a moment later. You’re not the same caring Marc I remember.”

  I gasped. “I take offense to that. Strike the words ‘with tits’ from that sentence. Two legs is good enough for me.”

  I dodged the pen she threw at me. “Stop being a tosser.”

  “Stop? Well, I’ll have you know that you’re not the same sexy, attentive Jacine, either. Time is long and varied. We change, adapt, or move on. Besides, a good shag is good for the soul.”

  A frustrated sound ripped from Jacine’s throat and her gaze turned inwards. I could guess what she was thinking, from the way her aura ebbed and flowed. Time to change sides; she was fighting a losing battle.