Chapter 8

"What! Are you out of your fucking mind!"

He led me down Royal Street, slowing his stride so I might keep up. "Some might say so."

"Why didn't you tell me there was a high demon in New Orleans? And why in the world would we be going to meet him?"

We took a right on Toulouse. He pulled me closer. I knew it had nothing to do with a desire for intimacy but more to become my shield.

"My intentions were to educate you on the nefarious underworld that has surrounded you your entire life when we met on Monday. However, due to the fact that you foolishly decided to play spy under the guise of strolling with a lover under the moonlight, I have decided to accelerate your schooling. Training starts tonight."

Geez, could this get any more humiliating? I had to defend myself on at least one point.

"He's not my lover."

A sidelong glance full of threatening heat. What did that look mean? Ugh. I hated when my voice sounded sulky and petulant. I felt like a grade-A moron already, but Jude had a way of making me cower farther into my shell. He was so…intense.

I continued to brood in silence as we ambled down Toulouse until a sudden harrowing sensation gripped my heart in a vise. I stopped, jerked my hand free and peered over Jude's shoulder, realizing exactly where he was taking me.

"I'm not going in there."

My voice had dipped very low, almost inaudible. My Vessel senses skyrocketed. A new layer of warmth sealed my whole body in a snap. I stiffened into an unmovable line in the middle of the street. Jude faced me, but my eyes remained on the entrance beyond.

"Genevieve, I won't let anything harm you."

I shook my head. "I'm not going in there."

A primitive fear scaled my body, yelling, screaming for me to run. Run now. Run fast and far away. My eyes wouldn't unlock from the doorway, over which was a sign in the shape of a battle-ax with emblazoned red letters reading The Dungeon.

Mindy and I'd been partying with our friends in the Quarter many, many times. Every now and then, we'd straggle down Bourbon Street to sing karaoke at the Cat's Meow, have a hurricane at Pat O'Brien's, or dance to a tribute band at Krazy Korner. But, never, and I mean never, had we veered off our path to this place.

I'd always given it a wide berth, and now I knew why. Even before the universe knew what I was, a part of me already recognized this place as an epicenter of evil. My Vessel Sense radar had blown off the charts within ten yards of the door.

"I'm not going in there," I repeated, knowing full well I sounded like a monotonous robot. I stood in the middle of the street, frozen, trembling.

Warm hands cupped my face, shocking me to gaze up at the owner. Jude blocked my view of the sign, forcing me to look only at him. His mask of metal melted into softer lines. His gaze held something I'd never seen before—a gentle, coaxing tenderness. I pulled back from the brink.

"Genevieve." He used a sultry voice. I was listening. "I will not let anything harm you in this place. No one will even touch you. I promise. Do you understand?"

For a moment, I only stared, feeling the sensation of his warm palms against my cheekbones, mesmerized by the flecks of gold in his eyes. At the same time, he poured another layer of armor, of illusion, over my own. I could drown in this sense of serenity. I was safe with him.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," I finally muttered.

"Good girl."

A small smile, then he took my hand and led me into the mouth of hell.

I glued myself to his back as we passed down a dark, narrow passageway into an open, empty courtyard. He let me move ahead, guiding me into the dimly lit bar with his palm at the small of my back, never removing his hands from my body. I guessed that he must only be able to cast illusion on someone else if he were physically touching them.

Immediately upon crossing the threshold from the courtyard, I felt a physical punch of fear slam into my soul as if my spirit might just up and vacate the premises with or without me. A large hand slipped under my hair, wrapping firmly but gently around the nape of my neck like he did before. I shivered, hoping Jude would assume it was from the dark decor of the club and not the effect his touch had on me.

Mindy's favorite new club, Tartarus, was like glitter-Goth compared to this place. Painted skulls adorned posts and bar tops. I wouldn't be surprised if they were real skulls. Wooden cages instead of booths sat in every room, where black-bedecked patrons did unseemly things to each other. Wait, what were those two doing?

A woman with long black hair covering her face sat on a guy's lap, her back to his chest, her hands on his spread knees, her skirt flared, covering where they were obviously slow fucking in public. The guy had his hands on her waist, guiding her up and down, but his gaze flicked to mine. He winked.

Heat shooting up my neck, I faced forward and blew out a shaky breath. As we rounded each corner, sinister demons stared from artwork adorning the walls. The most disturbing one was the horned devil in black and white, holding a goblet of red liquid in one hand and a still-beating heart in the other.

The patrons paid no attention to me but watched Jude with a fierce scowl. I'd already targeted two passersby as demons with red-glinting eyes, including the biker dude behind the bar. Most were simply humans who lived left of center.

An albino-pale guy with a shaved head passed us, dressed entirely in black from head to toe. He held something in one tattooed hand; a chain draped over his left shoulder. I followed the silver line connecting to a spiked choker wrapped around a petite brunette's throat. Ghostlike with black lipstick, she wore a red corset and skintight leggings. She actually smiled at me as she passed.

My VS reached out, touching on the girl's psyche for the briefest of seconds. At that moment, I knew the girl was not being kidnapped or oppressed in any way. Quite the contrary, she was filled with ecstasy in her current state as an enslaved creature.

Seriously?

I would never let a guy chain me like a dog and drag me around. Then I laughed inwardly at my absurdity as Jude guided me by the back of my neck up a narrow stairwell, leading me like a marionette.

My wandering reverie stilled as we mounted the stairwell. Bone-deep dread pounded into me. As we reached the second floor, a song blared at an ear-splitting level. I recognized "Burn" by In This Moment right away. Couples were sort of dancing, grinding in a slow, fluid motion—an odd paradox to the violent beauty of the song.

The vocalist, Maria Brink, didn't exactly sing the lyrics, more like she said them in a singsong way. Words about suffering as a blessing, death as life, and burning right before your eyes. The air of this place scraped at my Vessel shell, trying to get in. I trembled but fixed my face like stone, locking my jaw. Jude stopped me, leaning close.

"Breathe, Genevieve."

His lips brushed the top of my ear. I hadn't realized it, but he was right. I'd actually stopped breathing.

On the far wall sat a throne below a mounted dragon's head. In the corner of the room was a wooden perch where a huge black raven stared at the crowd. For a second, I thought it was real, but it didn't move or blink. I wondered how long the lifelike statue had been there. The eerie words of Edgar Allan Poe filtered through my mind: And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting…and his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming. The urge to run kept shoving at me.

A throng of Dungeon groupies sipped from goblets in true Goth style surrounding the one on the throne. I wondered if I'd stepped into a vampire coven, but as we all know, vampires don't exist.

Maria Brink screamed the word "burn" in a long, agonizing wail as if she were literally on fire. The sensation of walking directly toward a dark creature who would snatch the chance to own me like an animal, like the girl on the leash, with a woman screaming about burning alive, sent me into a state of surrealism. I might have an out-of-body experience at any moment.

The man, if you can call him that, wore black dress pants, an expensive-looking white button-down with silver cufflinks. He held a clear glass with crimson liquid and whispered intimately to a corseted, red-lipped blonde propped on the edge of his throne. I noticed a pewter skull ring on his forefinger.

Silver studs pierced pretty much everything, lining his earlobes all the way up the cartilage. If it weren't for all the metal crap in his face, he might've been attractive. The blonde's cleavage spilled out of her top when she leaned forward for his pleasure. The creature's eyes grazed her a moment longer before turning his attention to us.

Annoyance skittered across his eyes when he saw Jude. And something else.

Jude nodded. "Dommiel."

The man pulled himself more upright, taking a sip from his glass.

"Greetings, Jude," he crooned as if a Dominus Daemonum stepping into his lair were an everyday occurrence. He tipped his glass up in a toast, "To the saint of lost causes."

I didn't miss the underlying insult. I glanced at Jude, seeing his eyes wiped clear of any light, his expression like granite. Apparently, he caught it too. Jude had that look about him when he was examining every minute detail, trying to discover what's hidden beneath.

Fixing my gaze on our host, I shuddered. His eyes had flickered to me. Though I couldn't tell their exact color as he observed from the shadows, one thing was for certain. There was no sign of the fiery-red hue coloring the irises of the other demons I'd seen so far. There was also no doubt in my mind, body, or soul that this thing was, in fact, a demon —a high one.

"Mmmmm. You've brought me a gift?" he asked, letting his gaze rove up and down my body. "Overdressed but quite delectable. Come on, Jude. I'll give you mine if you give me yours."

The blonde slid Jude a seductive smile, tilting her voluptuous body so he could see all she had to offer. Apparently, this proposition was nothing new to her.

Jude repositioned himself directly behind me, moving his hand to wrap around my right hip. It was an act of possession. Not in any romantic sort of way, mind you. This was the way Jude did things. Subtle moves to let you know where you stood in his book. Right now, he was telling this Dommiel dude I was in no way up for grabs.

I pressed back into the wall behind me, the six-foot-five wall of muscle and badass attitude, just so our host knew how I felt on the topic of swapping. Dommiel smiled, revealing a row of perfect gleaming-white teeth.

"So, Jude. If you're not here to share, then for what purpose do I owe this pleasure?"

His words lilted like liquid, one word pouring into the next.

"There's another high demon in your territory."

An unpleasant frown deepened Dommiel's brow, hooding his eyes further.

"None of my brethren would venture into my domain without proper homage."

"None of them, Dommiel? You don't know your kin like I do."

Jude's voice rumbled low and deep, vibrating through his chest to my back. Dommiel clinked his skull ring against the glass in thought.

"You're lying, Master of Demons," he replied with poison in his voice. "It's against our rules. What do you want?"

Rules. I needed a seriously long discussion with Jude on more of these damn rules.

"Obviously, there is something you do not know."

Cold drifted over me, like a draft when you're cozy in your warm bed and someone yanks the covers off you. I sucked in a short breath, knowing Jude had lifted his shield of illusion. Fear reared its ugly head, threatening to swallow me whole. His hand tightened on my hip, a warning to keep still.

Dommiel watched me with interest. There was a shift in the air. He set his glass down on a table at an insanely slow pace. A dawning flickered over his features. His creased brow straightened to a blank slate, then contorted into a mixture of feverish anger and hard lust.

He growled deep in his chest. I don't know what happened next because things moved literally too fast for me to see. One second, I was pressed hard to the front of Jude; the next, I was behind him. He had Dommiel on his knees before him with a long dagger pricking the hollow of the demon's throat. Seriously, I was standing there fearing for my life, then I blinked, and Dommiel was cowering before Jude.

The raven in the corner cawed. It was real! The groupies shrank back, losing their fa?ade of Goth-cool, except for the one who wasn't human. A lower demon lurched forward.

Jude put his free hand palm out and chanted three words in Latin. The demon bounced off an invisible wall and fell to the ground in a stupor. Jude then gripped Dommiel's shoulder and pressed the dagger blade so that a drop of black liquid trickled out, staining his pretty white shirt.

Jude inclined his head to Dommiel. From this angle, I could see that first emotion shining bright in Dommiel's eyes, the one he'd hidden the second he saw Jude walk in the door—pure, raw fear. His lips bared in a snarl, revealing a row of pointed teeth, two canines much longer than the others.

What the hell? I thought vampires didn't exist! The grating tone in Jude's voice made me take a step back, and he was on my side.

"If you or any one of your minions come near her, touch her, think of her or even breathe her name in your sleep, I will hunt you down and send you back to the real dungeon in such minuscule pieces that they will never…" Jude paused, shoving the point an inch into the demon's neck. Black oozed out. "They will never put you back together again."

Dommiel made a choking noise but nodded obedience immediately. Jude dropped him, grabbed my hand, and led me back out the way we'd come, still holding the dagger in his right hand. I didn't protest. I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Before we'd descended the stairs, Jude had shielded me again. I felt an electric snap, diluting the fear I'd been swimming in since he'd removed it. He slid the dagger into a sheath under his jacket as we made our way past the courtyard and through the claustrophobic pathway into the street.

We walked two blocks without saying a word. I had no idea where we were going now, and I didn't really care. My mind raced, repeating the scene over and over. My emotions stewed into a whirlpool—fear, safety, anger, relief, then finally pissed-off-beyond-belief.

We passed Jackson Square onto Ursulines Street. The crowds thinned. Only a group of three ambled down the walkway, laughing as they went. The joyful noise of the city infuriated me more. Everyone was going about their happy little lives, not knowing that creatures of the underworld lurked at every corner, waiting to prey on them.

I jerked my hand away and crossed my arms, walking on in silence. I felt his eyes on me but refused to meet them. His safety blanket of illusion vanished, leaving me cold again, making me even more furious.

"Why are you angry?"

I came to a halt. "Are you kidding me? What were you thinking taking me into that, that cesspool!"

My instincts weren't so far off with the whole minnow/shark-tank analogy.

"I had to know if he was the one trying to capture you. There was only one way to find out."

"Like hell! I can think of a million ways, like go in by yourself and do your demon-hunter mojo thing and say, ‘Hey. Know anything about a Vessel?' Get your answers, then go on your merry way."

Not that Jude did anything in a merry way.

"He's a high demon, a master in the art of deception. I could never trust his words."

"Why did you show him that I was a Vessel? Now he knows who I am, what I look like. It'll be pretty damn easy for him to find me now!"

I felt what was coming. The inescapable physical reaction I always had when a catharsis of emotions boiled over. Hot tears welled in my eyes then trailed down my face, though I refused to make a sound. Jude stepped closer. I stepped back. He stopped, unreadable thoughts swimming in his black eyes. He glanced toward Jackson Square, then back at me.

"Give me your hand, Genevieve." He held his hand out, palm up, waiting.

"I want answers. Why did you set me up like that? You used me as bait."

I couldn't keep the hurt from my voice. His hand was still outstretched.

"High demons can deceive all creatures, human and otherwise. They have difficulty disguising emotion. I brought you to achieve two things, which I did. One, to establish that Dommiel was not the one behind the demon at the club the night I met you or the would-be abductors at your father's dojo. His violent reaction upon realizing you were, in fact, a Vessel confirmed my assumption. Two, to make him understand that you are in no way a possession he is allowed to add to his collection. Give me your hand. Now."

Okay. That was a lot to absorb. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my red jacket, then I put my hand in his, feeling a sudden snap of Jude's armor. We walked on.

"Could you really do that? Cut him into a bunch of pieces?"

A sharp nod.

"But he wouldn't die?"

A shake of the head. "Demons don't die. They move into different realms and shift forms, but they never die."

I sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the world bearing down on me. How was I supposed to beat these guys if they couldn't be killed? How was I ever going to have any peace again?

"However," continued Jude, his large hand tightening around mine, "there are places they can be sent and states to which they can be expelled where a millennium is not long enough for them to regenerate. And if he disobeys me and tries to come near you, he'll fucking regret it."

His voice had gone rough and raw, his pace quickening.

"I'm assuming by places, you mean the place down there," I said, pointing.

His mouth quirked in an almost smile. "It's not actually in the earth. That's a myth."

"Well, I know," I snapped, though my Catholic upbringing had filled my head with Danté's version of hell. A dark, fiery pit deep underground. "Speaking of myths, what's up with the fangs? You said there were no vampires."

"There are no vampires. Raw emotion draws the true beast out. You'll notice the eyes and mouth transform at times like this, sometimes more."

"Wait. Hold up. Explain this to me, then. That's not what Dommiel truly looks like? He looks worse than that?"

He actually laughed, the sound buzzing warmly in my chest.

"High demons have a permanent humanlike form."

"Humanlike? Nice."

"This may resemble their appearance before the Fall. Their perversions in hell and on earth have distorted them. They hide the beast within to live amongst humans, corrupting their souls as they go."

"Great," I sighed.

"You wanted answers."

"Sort of like Dorian Gray, right?"

He paused, glancing at me, obviously considering my literary reference. "I suppose, yet their portrait is concealed right beneath the surface, not hidden in a room in their mansion. They can also shape-shift into other forms, animals, and elements. They all have their favorite creature they like to mimic, typically keeping one around."

"Like a familiar? Like with witches?"

"Genevieve, there's no such thing as witches."

"Yeah, well, he sure did look like a creepy-ass vamp tonight. And you said there were none of those."

"Appearances can be deceiving," he said, his gaze drifting to mine. "The truth is far worse than Hollywood's glittery version of undead monsters."

"So, Dommiel's familiar is a raven? I saw it in the corner of the room."

"Yes. Not a natural raven either. High demons create unnatural spawn."

I sighed again, feeling like I had an endless stash of puffed-up air that had to be released. I knew this world was real now, but I could hardly process it all.

We passed under a gas lamp and stopped. We stood outside of Jude's home. As much as I felt protected in his presence, I feared being alone with him in his house more than anything else right now.

We appeared to be a romantic couple, holding hands along the sidewalk, but he was right. Appearances can be deceiving. He wasn't exactly human. He was my protector, not a suitor for my affections. I wanted to know why he was protecting me but decided to save that discussion for Monday. It was late, and I was exhausted—physically and emotionally. But I needed to clarify one more thing.

"I can feel your layer of illusion when you touch me. Dommiel could see straight through mine, but not yours. Will I ever be able to hide myself from them on my own?"

I needed to know this. I needed to know there would come a time when I could protect myself. He didn't respond at first, gazing at my hand held in his.

"Yes. You're still in your awakening. I have no timetable, but one day, you won't need me to shield you."

His eyes met mine, pools of pitch-black. No emotion whatsoever glimmered there. A shiver trembled through me.

"Come. Let's get you home."

Whew.No sleepover.

He led us back toward the street, letting go of my hand. I scanned the cars to determine which one might be his. My eyes landed on a mode of transportation with badass written all over it. I knew exactly what it was because I thumbed through Erik's magazines at the dojo in between classes, secretly fascinated by beautiful, hot, fast machines.

"You've got to be kidding me."

If it hadn't fit him so well, I'd say it was cliché. A sleek, shiny black Honda Cbr1100XX Blackbird. It had made that year's list for the top five fastest motorcycles in the world.

Suddenly I was holding a helmet. I hadn't even noticed Jude had gone back into the house for helmets. Too busy drooling over his pretty bike. He zipped up his leather jacket and straddled the motorcycle while strapping on his helmet. He nodded to the tiny seat behind him and grinned.

"Saddle up."

I am well aware that Jude Delacroix is not dating material. One does not bring a demon hunter home to Daddy or do dinner and a movie with the likes of Jude. I doubt seriously that the word "dating" is even in the demon hunter vocabulary.

Jude seems to have one mission in life—seek and destroy. Oh yeah, and protect.

Now, a man has needs, and he is fully equipped to fulfill those needs with pretty much whomever he wants. I mean, seriously, God was a poet the day he made Jude. But I was slowly realizing that whatever a Dominus Daemonum was, it wasn't completely human; therefore, he didn't fit into the category of regular men.

Having given a full disclaimer on all the reasons why I shouldn't be attracted to him, let me now confess how utterly and totally euphoric I felt riding behind him on one of the fastest motorcycles in the world, my thighs gripping his hips.

On top of that, he continued to shield me with his illusion, wrapping me in an otherworldly shell. Mind-blowing—zipping through the streets of New Orleans with my arms strapped around his waist and my chest pressed against his back. The experience was exhilarating. The man was divine. And the ride home was all too short, probably because we exceeded the speed limit the whole way. He pulled up close to the door.

Begrudgingly, I shifted off from behind him and removed my helmet.

"Hang on to it," he told me when I offered it back, removing his own. "Bring it to class on Monday."

"You're picking me up?"

"Do you honestly believe I would let you wander through the Quarter to my place unaccompanied? Your ability to cast illusion is growing but would only fool a lower demon."

I nodded. I resented the fact that he was becoming my keeper, like a babysitter, but I also didn't have a death wish. After meeting Dommiel, I in no way wanted to encounter one of the big boys on my own. Black-belt skills wouldn't help me there. I thought of Dommiel on his knees before Jude.

"Dommiel was terrified of you."

"As he should be."

Geez. Okay, Mr. Modesty.

"You told Dommiel that one of his brethren had broken the rules by coming into his territory. I thought they all had to follow the rules."

"They do. It's a compulsion greater than their desire for evil."

"Then how is there another high demon roaming in his territory? How is our phantom stalker able to break the rules?"

"Even within their aristocracy, there is an order of importance. Those on the lower levels are always subject to those higher up."

Stunned for a second, I asked, "Do you mean there are higher demons within the high demon category? There's like someone worse than Dommiel?"

I realized my voice had risen to a screechy level, though I didn't yell for fear Mindy would come bouncing out here in her pink undies just to meet and drool over Jude.

"Dommiel is an arch-demon, the lowest in their aristocracy. The fact that someone has disregarded him in his own domain means we are dealing with either a duke or a prince, not one on his level."

I knew my mouth was gaping, but are you fucking kidding me?

He gave me a small smile. His demeanor was so light tonight. Mine was leaden, weighted with all I'd discovered, all I still didn't know, and the fact that my world was irrevocably changed forever. My life as an English major at Loyola with dreams of becoming an editor for a savvy magazine suddenly seemed ridiculously stupid. Now my dreams were to keep my ass alive for one more day.

"Don't worry, Genevieve," he said, reaching out to slide a stray lock behind my ear. He let his palm linger along my jaw, his thumb brushing close to my lips. With a sudden movement, he pulled away and strapped his helmet back on. "Not even a dark prince is a match for me."

He gave me a wink. A fluttering burst inside my belly.

Poor prince, wherever he was.

I went to the door but couldn't help myself. I glanced over my shoulder to watch him zoom off into the foggy gloom, feeling a slight pang of regret that it wasn't a sleepover night.