Temptation, Chronicles of the Fallen, Book 3 (7 page)

Now he looked wary, almost defensive. “What do you mean, different?”

“With other demons, I get that oily, oozy sensation. With angels, it’s the warm fuzzies. With you…there’s just…nothing. Like an emptiness. A void.”

The look he gave her was fiercely blank. Like a wall had dropped between them. And then he looked down and away. His brow crushed on a frown.

Gideon drew a deep breath, making a visible effort to relax. His moods were mercurial, to say the least. Once more he straddled the chair in front of her, his seductive grin back in place. Those grins were dangerous.

And they were starting to get to her.

Confused, she glanced away from his face, only to watch as long, slim fingers toyed with the heavy watch on his left wrist where it hung over the chair’s back. Tiny specks of odd colored stones glinted from the watch’s face. She didn’t want anything to do with this world, she reminded herself forcefully. And while she may hate the only angel she’d ever met, that didn’t mean she was ready to jump into bed with a demon either.

Jump into bed…

No, she hadn’t meant it that way. Jumping into bed had been a figure of speech, nothing more. Certainly not some subconscious suggestion.

Whatever! Focus!

“So,” he said in that purring drawl of his. “If you hate your f—Michael so much, why keep his name?”

That question hit her out of left field. “That’s none of your business.”

“Not only am I protecting you from others of my kind, but I’m protecting you from
his
kind as well.”

That gave her pause. One of the sperm donor’s warnings came back to her.
Good can be just as dangerous to you as evil. Surround yourself with humans. At all times. Use your gifts only when absolutely necessary and then leave the area immediately afterward.

“Why would you need to protect me from angels?”

Heaving a weary sigh, Gideon raked both hands through his hair, leaving it all but standing straight on end. “We’re just going round and round chasing our tails here. So this is what we’re going to do. We’re going to have full disclosure between us, yeah? I’ll tell you everything I know. You have questions, I’ll answer them. But you have to answer whatever questions I have too. Deal?”

She gnawed on the inside of her lip.

“The only other alternative you have,” he said softly, “is to spend the foreseeable future locked up in one of the rooms upstairs. Makes no difference to me, but one way or another, you aren’t going anywhere. You’re too valuable to risk.”

Valuable? Me? What is this guy playing at?

There was more going on here than she knew about. That much was obvious. To be honest, curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted answers now, more than she wanted to escape. She could always escape once she got what she wanted. She hoped. She could lull him into a false sense of comfort. Later. Maggie huffed out a breath, stirring the loose tendrils of hair tickling her skin. Irritated, she scraped her cheek along her raised shoulder to swipe her hair back.

He watched her movements, his features…hungry? She had no other word for the look on his face. His expressions were doing odd things to her insides. Things she’d been working hard to ignore since the moment she’d first noticed him in the nightclub. It wasn’t getting any easier.

Grudgingly she nodded acceptance of his deal, quickly adding, “Untie me. If you expect me to trust you, it has to go both ways.”

He stared at her, hard. Trust did not come easily to this man—
demon
, she corrected—any more than it did to her. He leaned toward her. A long, wicked looking knife appeared in his hand in the blink of an eye. She didn’t even have time to flinch. With a flick of his hand, her bindings fell to the floor. Maggie clasped her hands over her wrists. It was more the idea of the bindings she rubbed away rather than pain since the bindings had never been tight enough to cause hurt.

Gideon crossed his arms over the back of his chair and asked once more, “Why keep the name of a man you clearly hate? And, speaking of, why do you hate him so much?”

“I kept the name because it was all I had.”

At his arched eyebrow, she bit the bullet and let it all out. Trust went both ways, she’d told him. Then she needed to keep her end of the bargain. “Clarisse Michaels was the name listed on my birth certificate as my mother. My father was listed as unknown. I didn’t know, didn’t understand until I was twenty-one that Michael was my—the sperm donor’s given name, not my mother’s surname. My mother changed her last name to reflect his possession.” She couldn’t help the sneer of disgust that crept into her voice, did nothing to hide it.

“My mother died within hours of my birth.” She flexed her fingers, fisting her hands in her lap. “She stayed alive long enough to name me, long enough to leave specific instructions for my adoption, instructions that required my name never be changed. By the time I realized the truth, it was just too much trouble to change it.”

“So that explains the name. What about the hate?”

That tangled jumble of emotions that surfaced whenever she thought of the sperm donor came roaring to the surface. And so she combated it the only way she knew how. With bitterness and anger, because those were her strongest emotions, the strongest emotions she would let herself feel.

“Angels are supposed to be these benevolent, compassionate beings, right?” At Gideon’s nod, she barreled on. “So if my…the sperm donor…is an angel, a being of light and love, why would he leave his…his offspring alone and defenseless? Dependent on the charity of others? Just another file in a system that’s flawed and overburdened already?”

She could feel the weight of his stare upon her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. “Where was Michael while I was dumped in one foster home after another? Where was he when—” She abruptly cut herself off. Shame filled her, flooding heat into her cheeks. She wouldn’t be a victim. She was
not
a victim. And she wouldn’t wallow in self-pity. There were a lot of other people out there who’d had it much worse than she.

“When what?” Gideon’s voice was so gentle Maggie had to blink to keep the tears at bay.

“The last foster home I was placed with was a real treasure. There were already three other foster kids in place when I got there. The kind of kids that gave the rest of us a bad rap. Patty, the foster mom, liked to drink. A lot. And…” She had to stop, force a swallow as the memory of groping hands and fetid breath came back to haunt her. “Randy, the foster dad, he liked his girls young and too weak to fight back.”

Just like that Gideon sat up straight in his chair, fury rolling from him in waves. Enough fury to level a small city. The force of it pushed her back in her own chair. Here was that scary demon feeling she’d recognized in the others. The promise of death. Slow and excruciatingly painful. The only thing that kept her from running off screaming into the night was the fact that his fury wasn’t directed at her.

His voice was a deep raspy growl, barely discernible. “Did he—”

“No,” she quickly assured him. Shaking her head, hugging her arms around her waist, she forced herself to finish before he got any more upset. The sight of his anger did strange things to her. It didn’t make her hide in terror, fearful for her safety, as she had assumed it would. Instead, it filled her with the urge to soothe him. To run her hands over him, speak softly, and to hold him, calm him.

And it made her feel protected.

Baffling.

“No, I never gave him the chance. When I realized what was going on, what he’d done to some of the other girls, I lashed out. He wasn’t expecting to meet the sharp end of a steak knife when he came to my room that night. He got twenty-six stitches, and I got taken out of the home and dropped into a placement facility.”

His expression still murderous, Gideon gripped the back of the chair hard enough she was surprised it didn’t splinter apart. “Those places—”

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. Stonebridge Academy was the best thing that ever happened to me. At first, the adjustment was difficult. But the staff was really great, and I’d just turned seventeen. I was only there a year. They gave me a lot of tools to cope and helped me get started out on my own. I’m still in touch with a couple of the counselors, and my primary counselor still sends birthday and Christmas cards every year.”

Some of the livid color had begun to drain from his face. He no longer looked as if he wanted to massacre someone, so she took that as a good sign.

“I refuse to feel bad about hating Michael, and I refuse to apologize. I don’t believe for one moment he’s this beneficent being. Because if he were, he would never have left me in some of those situations. He would have been there to protect me. He gave me these gifts”—she made sarcastic air quotes—“made me aware of this world of angels and demons, and then he abandoned me. Again. He wouldn’t even show me how to fight, how to protect myself. Even when those demons showed up at the club, he wasn’t there to keep me safe.”

She fell silent for a moment as she studied the knees of her jeans. Then, slowly she lifted her gaze to his. Her brows were pulled tight in confusion, and she whispered, “But you were.”

Chapter Five

Gideon studied the Halfling. For a long moment, she looked so terribly lost, so wounded and confused, that he found it almost impossible not to reach for her, not to pull her into the shelter of his arms. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that his arms would have ghosted right through her, as intangible as mist.

He wanted to promise her she’d never be alone again, never have to fear the shadows because he would always be there to protect her. But he couldn’t do that either, could he? Not when he’d already promised himself Oblivion.

With a tenacious resolve he couldn’t help but admire, she squared her jaw and stared him right in the eye. “Your turn. Why am I here?”

He drew a deep breath. Where to begin? He’d only ever considered the basics of this mission. Find the Halfling. Check. Rescue the Halfling from any potential demon threat. Check. Bring the Halfling to a secure location. Check—thanks to Sebastian’s nifty little cuffs.

He’d never stopped to consider for a moment that he might have to be the one to stay with the Halfling, let alone have to explain the current power play by a rebellious demon prince.

He’d also never imagined how badly he’d want this one particular woman for his own. His curse had been a nightmare before. Now?

Torment. Utter mind-blowing torture.

Oblivion
, he reminded himself with more than a touch of desperation. He just had to get through this last mission. Keep the Halfling safe until one of the others could step in. And then, sweet Oblivion.

Where to start? “Long story short, you’ve been dropped into the middle of a demon rebellion.”

“What?” Her delicate features screwed up into an expression of complete disbelief. She clearly thought he’d lost his mind.

“Long ago, four Sacred Relics were created—” he paused, frowning. That wasn’t strictly true. “Three—three relics were created. The fourth relic comes later.” He held his hands up to fend off the questions he could see brewing. “Just bear with me here, I wasn’t planning on being the one to have to explain all this to you. Okay, where was I? Yeah, so, the relics are part of the Prophesy.”

At this pronouncement, she shook her head and let out a disbelieving snort. “A prophecy? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?”

Gideon ground his teeth together. “
I
didn’t make this shit up.”

“Uh-huh.”

He took a deep breath.

Control. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Damn irritating woman.

“You know, believe it or don’t believe it. I don’t really care. But you better understand the demon prince staging this coup
does
. Fanatically. And whether or not you like it, whether or not
you
believe, because of that prophecy, you are now in a great deal of danger.”

He had her full attention now. She remained silent for a long moment, her lips pressed tight together. Grudging cooperation flickered in her gaze, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “So what does this prophecy say?”

Finally. Progress. “Whosoever controls the four Sacred Relics will possess the power to overthrow Lucifer and assume control of Hell.”

She frowned at him, obviously trying to follow along with his theory. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Very bad. The barriers between Earth and Hell are dependent upon Lucifer himself. If he dies, those barriers crumble. If they crumble, demons will overrun Earth. The human race would be annihilated.”

Her eyebrows lifted and she tilted her head slightly forward, waiting for him to go on.

“So the three relics were stolen and hidden away in Earth’s realm by ancient Guardians, and subsequently protected by those Guardians’ descendants until present day. The Scrolls of Prévnar, rumored to contain spells to make one immune to Lucifer’s suggestions or control. The Arc Stone, which makes a demon or angel nearly impervious to harm. And The Sword of Kathnesh, rumored to be the only blade capable of taking Lucifer’s head.”

“And how do you fit into this rebellion?” She considered him with a great deal of caution now.

“I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?” He asked with a wry twist of his lips. Where were his golden tongue and all his vaunted charm now? “Almost two hundred years ago, two of Lucifer’s top generals…defected, for lack of a better term. Niklas, the Seer, and Xander, the Slayer. Lucifer had promised freedom and unlimited pleasure, but he delivered only despotic tyranny and torture. They regretted the decisions they made leading up to their fall from grace, and had come to loathe their existence as Lucifer’s followers.”

“Sounds like buyer’s remorse to me.”

He gave her one long, piercing stare, and then trudged on as though she’d never spoken. “They knew there were others of us with the same inclination. Myself. Sebastian, the Demon of Vengeance, and Mikhail, the Demon of War. We saw the error of our ways, but, unlike the rest, we were willing to do something about it. We escaped Hell and came to Earth. Now we protect innocent humans from others of our kind in hopes of—” He caught himself.

Redemption
, he’d been about to say. In their own way, Xander and Niklas had found exactly that, he supposed. While Sebastian and Mikhail continued to relentlessly strive for vindication, for that ever-elusive forgiveness.

But redemption wasn’t in the cards for him, was it? There was no hope left in him. He was through trying. The best he could wish for was an honorable death. A ceasing of his existence, for there would be nothing for him after that. Just the extinguishing of his soulless life.

“In hopes of what?” she prompted softly.

“They strive for forgiveness, to earn their place in Heaven once more,” he replied, his tone flat and final.

“And what about you?” The Halfling pressed, too perceptive for his comfort.

“I want…peace,” he finally said. And, as far as he was concerned, it was true. Oblivion would end his torment, hence, he would finally achieve peace.

The little furrow deepened between her eyebrows. She opened her mouth as if to speak. Would she dispute his claim of wanting peace, as she had his claim to being a demon? She seemed to take it as her life’s mission to argue with him about everything, to challenge him at every turn. But she didn’t push him, instead snapping her mouth closed, as though she thought better of whatever she’d been about to say.

“You still haven’t told me how I fit into this,” she reminded him.

“To do that, I need to tell you about the fourth relic.”

Her brow puckered. But to give credit where credit was due, she remained quiet, waiting for him to finish his story. Miracles did happen.

“The fourth relic is a person. A child, to be exact.”

“How can a person be a relic?”

He knew that silence had been too good to last.

Gideon shrugged helplessly. “It’s the Prophesy, okay? Do you want to hear this or not?”

How could this one lone woman make him lose all his finesse? He charmed women, he didn’t snap at them, didn’t lose his cool. Yet something about her sucked up every last ounce of his patience and drove him to distraction.

She nodded, pressing her lips together in silent promise.

He turned his head to one side and then the other, popping his neck. Gideon dug deep for self-control. It wasn’t her, he assured himself. He was giving her too much credit. He was just impatient to get on with his own plans, impatient to leave all this behind and seek peace at last.

Yeah. That was it.

“The Chosen One will be conceived between a demon and a first generation Halfling. We’re assuming it means that, if spawned by evil and born under the control of that same evil, the child will be raised as a warrior, honed as a weapon of destruction. One whose sole target is Lucifer himself.”

He could see the cogs turning. One plus two equaled
oh hell no
.

“And you believe that
I’m
the Halfling that’s supposed to…” Her voice trailed away as the ramifications of her situation settled fully upon her. “That
I’m
going to…”

She shook her head. Her jaw lifted as mutinous anger firmed her lips and sparkled in her eyes.

“I can’t be the only Halfling on Earth!” She glowered at him as though this were all his fault somehow. “You’ve obviously made some mistake. I sure as hell don’t intend to…to mate with a demon!”

“It wouldn’t have to be consensual.” Gideon gave her an apologetic smile. “I don’t think the fact that you might object is even the tiniest concern to Stolas.”

“Stolas?”

“The demon prince leading this rebellion.”

Maggie leaped to her feet. Gideon tensed, prepared to shimmer to the doorway to head her off, but she strode instead toward the fireplace and back. Dragging both hands through her hair, she continued to pace, mumbling under her breath. At length, satisfied she didn’t intend to flee, Gideon relaxed and watched her stomp back and forth across his study.

She whirled on him, desperation evident in her strained tone. “I’m not the only Halfling out there, right?” She stormed right up to him, holding both hands out in supplication. “You could have made a mistake? Grabbed the wrong girl? Right? It’s a possibility, isn’t it?”

“There are other Halflings,” Gideon conceded reluctantly. But he didn’t want to get her hopes up. “They’re rare, first generation rarer still. To our knowledge, you’re the only first generation Halfling still alive. Aside from that, with Michael as your f…as your, ah,
sire
, the power rolling around inside you is much greater than your average Halfling. Stolas’s already stolen the Sword of Kathnesh and killed its Guardian. We have the Arc Stone. That leaves the scrolls and the Chosen One up for grabs. Whether or not you are the only first generation Halfling out there, we aren’t willing to risk Stolas getting his hands on you. We need to keep you safe. Keep you off his radar.”

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, sliding downward until she landed on the chair she’d vacated earlier. Haunted eyes turned on him, pleading. “You keep saying I’m so powerful. Really, I’m not. There’s nothing special about me. So I can sense the presence of angels and demons, and I have a useless vision now and again. That’s really not so much, is it?”

His eyes narrowed as he canted his head. “You have visions?”

She nodded numbly. “Sometimes. Of the future. Brief flashes, really. But what good are they? I can’t ever change what happens. I’ve tried.”

“Some things are meant to be,” he stated as calmly as he could, though his mind was racing. Visions? What had she seen? What had she yet to see? As Halflings were exceedingly rare, he couldn’t say what was normal or not normal for a Halfling in the way of what, or how many, powers they might possess. He himself had once been precognitive, knowing things before they happened. And he knew just how frustrating that could be at times.

What other gifts did she possess that had yet to awaken?

From the shaken expression on her face, now didn’t appear to be the optimal time to explain anything further or press her about her “curse”, as she clearly viewed it.

Gideon watched her in silence as she assimilated all he’d told her.

“Can I…can I have a glass of water?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Without a word, not giving it a second thought, he conjured a glass of water on the desk beside her. The Halfling bolted from her chair, hopping sideways with a screech of alarm.

“Sorry. Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “It’s okay. Just water.”

“H-how did you do that?”

“It’s one of our…ah, gifts. Sort of like, picture something and poof, there it is.” That was oversimplifying, but she didn’t exactly look like she was up to technical explanations. “We can vanish them almost the same way,” he added, hoping to eliminate any further stress later, should he forget to warn her about something disappearing.

“Handy,” she said as she took her seat once more. But she didn’t pick up the glass, just stared at it as if it were a snake about to strike.

“Handy, yes. But it comes with certain drawbacks.”

Finally able to drag her attention from the glass of water, she eyed him with wary suspicion. “Such as?”

“Conjuring weakens us. Something small like that glass of water is just a blip. A drop in the bucket, if you will. Barely noticeable. Something bigger—like say, a house or a car—would weaken us much more drastically. Sure, we recover. But how weak we get, and how long it takes to recover, depends on the nature and size of what we conjure. If we’re already weakened, like after we’ve turned demonic and back again, it can actually cause physical pain in some cases.”

“I see. I think.” But she didn’t sound as if she understood. She looked distracted. And dazed.

“Look, all things considered, will you give me your word you won’t run off? If for no other reason than for your own safety? At least for the time being?” He thought about reminding her about the cuff, telling her that he’d only bring her back anyway. But it didn’t look as if it would take much to push her over the edge.

She nodded.

She looked like she needed someone to hold her, but he couldn’t help her out with that, so he offered her the only thing he could. “I bet you could use a little time to yourself.”

She drew a shuddering breath. “Please.”

“If you’ll follow me, I can show you to your room.”

“My room?” Finally a spark of life came back. “I can’t stay here.”

She’d just agreed to stay.
Gah!
He could pull out his hair.

“You don’t have much choice, unless you want to meet Stolas and his minions, up close and very personal.”

She forced a swallow and then drew a deep breath. “I’ll stay here for now, for tonight,” she conceded. “But I have a job. I have to be back in Portland Monday morning. I have classes to teach.”

Frustration rolled through him. “Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

“I did. But I also have responsibilities, obligations—”

“Screw your obligations,” Gideon snapped. “If we found you, it was only a matter of time before they did. Hell, they were only half a step behind me as it was. Who do you think those three demons in the nightclub were looking for? What do you think they would have done with you once they got their hands on you? What do you think was going to happen here? You’ve been warned, so now you can go on your merry way? Hide in plain sight as you were? Put your head in a hole and pretend all Hell isn’t breaking loose around you?”