Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

ASH

A sh leaned against the cracked, weathered brick wall of an alley, the sounds of New Orleans nightlife faintly drifting on the humid air. But none of it registered. His mind was elsewhere—caught in a vicious loop of memories from his confrontation with Lord Asmodeus, the demon lord’s voice still echoing in his head.

You’ll never be free, Ash. You belong to me.

Ash clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he tried to suppress the gnawing fear that Asmodeus might be right. The encounter had shaken him in ways he wasn’t prepared for. He’d fought to keep control of his demon half for centuries, but the sight of his old master and the power that radiated from him had triggered something dark and primal within him.

It had taken everything he had not to fall back into that old rhythm of servitude, succumb to the pull of Asmodeus’s power. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure he would have resisted if Geneva hadn’t been there. The thought of her—the strength in her eyes, the fire in her soul—had kept him tethered to the present. But now, as he stood alone in the darkness, fear gnawed at him. What if it wasn’t enough next time? What if he betrayed her trust?

Geneva trusted him with her life, and more terrifying than that, she was starting to trust him with her heart. The weight of it nearly crushed him. He couldn’t let her down. But with Asmodeus hunting him, with the shadows of his past closing in, Ash wasn’t sure he could keep his darker side from consuming him.

He pushed off the wall and started walking, needing to clear his head. He knew where he had to go. There was only one person who might have the information he needed, one person who knew the underbelly of New Orleans as well as he did—Valeria Bloodmoon. Her club was notorious for catering to the city’s supernatural elite. Beneath the club, in the shifting labyrinths of pocket dimensions, the trafficking operations were rumored to have taken root.

The Labyrinth was elusive, constantly shifting its entrances and exits to stay hidden, but Valeria had connections. If anyone knew how to find it, it would be her.

T he Crimson Veil loomed ahead, its neon sign casting eerie shadows against the night sky. The thrum of music and muffled conversations vibrated through the walls, but the moment Ash stepped inside, the noise faded into the background. He navigated the smoky interior, his eyes scanning the room for Valeria. Vampires lounged on velvet couches, sipping blood-infused cocktails, while demons and other supernaturals conversed in dark corners.

Valeria was perched on her usual seat in the back—her cold, calculating gaze scanning the room was that of someone who always knew more than she let on. Ash approached, and her crimson eyes flicked up to meet his as a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips.

“Ash,” Valeria purred, leaning back on the plush cushions. “Good to see you again.”

“Valeria,” Ash greeted, his tone curt. He wasn’t in the mood for games. “I need information.”

Valeria arched an elegant brow. “Again? Well then, straight to business. How dreadfully boring.” She motioned for him to sit, but Ash remained standing, tension rippling through his frame. Valeria’s smile widened. “Very well. What is it you seek?”

“The Labyrinth,” Ash said, his voice low but urgent. “I need to find it.”

Valeria’s smile faltered, her gaze sharpening. “The Labyrinth is not a place one simply finds, Ash. It’s fluid, always shifting. Its entrances are... elusive. Its exits even more so. But I imagine you already know that.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Because it’s tied to the trafficking ring,” Ash replied, trying to keep his frustration in check. “And it’s not just about the demons or vampires anymore. Humans, shifters, fae—they’re all being caught up in this.”

Valeria’s eyes glinted with interest. “Ah, Geneva Duvall’s influence, no doubt. You’ve been running with her and her sisters, haven’t you?”

Ash tensed at the mention of Geneva’s name, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Do you have the information or not?”

Valeria sighed dramatically, swirling the blood-red wine in her glass. “Perhaps.”

Ash clenched his jaw, knowing she would never make it easy for him. “Name your price.”

Before Valeria could respond, a sudden chill swept through the room, and Ash’s senses went on high alert. The air shifted, thickening with an oppressive, dark energy that was all too familiar.

Demons.

Ash’s eyes flicked toward the entrance just as three hulking figures stepped inside, their black eyes gleaming with malevolent intent. Enforcers. Asmodeus had found him.

“Shit,” Ash muttered, his hand instinctively going for the blade concealed beneath his coat.

Valeria’s smile faded, and her eyes narrowed in irritation. “This is... inconvenient.” She stood, smoothing her dress as she prepared to slip away, her movements graceful and almost too casual.

“Where are you going?” Ash growled, already anticipating her answer.

Valeria’s lips curved into a smirk. “I don’t involve myself in petty demon politics. But good luck, darling.” She turned on her heel, her figure vanishing into the shadows before Ash could protest.

Before he had time to curse her name, one of the enforcers lunged. Ash barely had time to draw his blade before the demon’s claws slashed through the air, aiming for his throat. He dodged, twisting his body out of the way as the demon barreled past him, the floor beneath their feet shaking from the impact.

The other two enforcers closed in quickly, and Ash had no choice but to fight. He blocked a vicious blow from one of the demons, his blade sparking as it clashed against the demon’s claws. Pain shot through his arm from the force of the attack, but he gritted his teeth and pushed back, slashing upward and catching the demon across the chest.

Black blood sprayed, but the demon barely flinched, its glowing eyes locking onto Ash with a sneer.

“You can’t hide from Asmodeus forever, half-breed,” one of the enforcers snarled.

Ash didn’t respond, his mind working quickly as he calculated his next move. The room around him had erupted into chaos—vampires and demons scattering, and amidst it all, he caught a glimpse of something that made his blood run cold.

Vampire hunters.

A group of them had entered the club, staking vampires without hesitation as the chaos provided cover. They were human, armed with silver blades and holy water, but in their fervor, they saw all supernatural beings as the enemy.

Ash’s situation had just gone from bad to worse.

One of the hunters spotted him, his eyes narrowing in recognition. “That one’s with the demons!” he shouted, pointing directly at Ash.

The hunters charged, and Ash found himself caught between demon enforcers and vampire hunters, each side determined to end him for their own reasons. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline flooding his system as he fought to stay on his feet.

A hunter lunged at him with a silver blade, and Ash ducked, driving his elbow into the man’s ribs before delivering a swift kick to send him sprawling. Another enforcer attacked from the side, and Ash twisted just in time to avoid the blow, his blade slashing upward in a desperate attempt to keep the demons at bay.

His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles burning from the relentless pace of the fight. He was outnumbered and outgunned, and the weight of Asmodeus’s looming threat hung over him like a dark cloud.

But as the next wave of attackers descended, something shifted inside him—an old, familiar darkness rising to the surface. The part of him that was born of demon blood, the part that had been trained to fight, to kill without hesitation. For a brief, terrifying moment, Ash let it out. He met the next demon enforcer head-on, his movements quicker, deadlier than before. His blade cut through flesh and bone, his instincts sharper than ever, but with each strike, he felt that darkness clawing its way closer to the surface.

He fought it down, struggling to maintain control, but the fear gnawed at him. If he let go completely, if he gave in to that side of himself, would he be able to come back? Would Geneva recognize him when this was over? Would he recognize himself?

As the last demon fell, Ash stood in the middle of the wreckage, his breath ragged, blood dripping from his blade. The hunters had fled, and the enforcers lay in piles of dust at his feet.

But in the stillness that followed, one thing became painfully clear: Lord Asmodeus wasn’t going to stop until Ash was either dead or back under his control. And next time, Ash wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist.

Ash left the club, using the back door, and then took a moment to try and center himself, his back pressed against the cold brick wall of the alley, his pulse thrumming in his ears. The sounds of New Orleans nightlife had become an eerie backdrop to the deadly stillness that surrounded him.

And then he heard and felt it, demonic energy crackling in the air, the scent of sulfur and blood thickening with every breath he took. Apparently, they weren’t done with him yet. The enforcers moved in from the far end of the alley—their red eyes glowing with malevolence, fangs bared, and claws outstretched. They outnumbered him, and their power rippled through the narrow space like an impending storm. Ash gripped his blade tighter, his heart hammering against his ribs. He’d fought demons before, but this was different. This time, they weren’t just hunting him—they were out to prove a point.

Asmodeus’s wrath.

The first demon lunged at him, a blur of muscle and claws. Ash dodged, twisting his body just in time to avoid the razor-sharp talons aimed at his throat. His blade swung upward, catching the demon across the chest, but the beast barely flinched. A guttural snarl erupted from its mouth, black blood spraying onto the concrete.

More followed, a wall of shadow and fury crashing down upon him. The alley erupted into chaos.

Ash fought back with every ounce of strength he had, his blade flashing in the dim light as he slashed through the horde. The clash of steel and flesh reverberated through the night, the sounds of battle spilling out into the streets. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles burning with the effort of fending off the onslaught. The demons attacked relentlessly, their claws tearing at his coat, ripping into his skin. Pain flared across his back and arms, but he pushed through it, his every movement calculated for survival.

But they kept coming.

The fight spilled out of the alley and onto the crowded street, where a group of tourists stood frozen in shock, their eyes wide with terror as the scene unfolded in front of them. The demons, locked in their bloodlust, turned their attention to the bystanders. Ash’s heart lurched as he saw one of the enforcers, a hulking creature with twisted horns and blackened skin, lunge toward the crowd.

“No!” Ash roared, pushing himself harder, faster, slicing through the demons in his path. But they were everywhere, overwhelming him from all sides, and the tourists were too close, too vulnerable.

He didn’t have a choice.

Ash let out a growl deep from his chest, tapping into the power he’d spent so long trying to suppress. The demon half of him surged forward, a wave of dark energy exploding from his body. His eyes glowed red, his senses sharpening as the demonic power coursed through his veins.

He focused on the enforcer barreling toward the bystanders and unleashed a blast of energy. It hit the demon square in the chest, sending it flying backward, its body crashing into a nearby building with a deafening thud. The bricks crumbled, and the demon lay still, its form dissolving into cinders.

Ash stood there, panting, his vision blurred at the edges. The crowd gasped, some running, others frozen in shock, unsure of what they had just witnessed. But there was no time to process it. The battle wasn’t over.

The remaining demons regrouped, their snarls growing more feral as they realized what Ash had done. He could feel the pull of his demon side clawing at him, demanding more, urging him to let go, to embrace the darkness and crush everything in his path. It would be so easy—too easy—to let that power consume him. To fight the way Asmodeus had trained him.

But he couldn’t. Not like that.

Another demon charged, its massive body slamming into Ash and sending him crashing to the ground. Pain shot through his ribs, but he gritted his teeth, swinging his blade upward and slicing through the demon’s throat. The creature gurgled, its eyes rolling back before collapsing in a heap beside him.

Ash staggered to his feet, his body shaking from the effort of holding back the full force of his power. He could feel it draining him, the use of his abilities taking more out of him than he’d expected. He had spent so long fighting it, suppressing the demon within, that using it now left him feeling raw, exposed.

A final demon charged at him from behind, and Ash turned, his vision swimming, his limbs heavy. The creature’s claws slashed through the air, but Ash was slower now, the toll of the battle and the use of his powers catching up with him. The demon’s claws raked across his arm, and Ash hissed in pain, stumbling back as blood dripped from the wound.

The street spun around him, the sounds of the city fading into a distant hum. His head pounded, and his muscles ached. He could feel the energy inside him slipping away, like sand through his fingers.

The demon lunged again, but this time, Ash barely managed to parry the attack. He thrust his blade forward, catching the creature in the chest. The demon let out a final, guttural roar before crumbling into dust.

And then, silence.

Ash stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his wounds. The crowd had scattered, fleeing into the night, leaving behind only the quiet aftermath of the battle. The street was littered with the remains of the demons he’d killed, their bodies dissolving into the shadows.

But Ash couldn’t feel the victory. His body trembled, not from the exertion but from the fear gnawing at his mind. He had used his powers—his demon abilities—to save those people. It had been necessary, but it left him feeling… hollow. Drained.

What if this is just the beginning? What if the next time I can’t stop it?

The power had come too easily, had surged through him like a wave he couldn’t control. And for a moment, just a brief, terrifying moment, he had wanted to let it consume him. He had wanted to unleash everything inside him and watch the world burn.

Ash sheathed his blade, his hands shaking as he tried to steady his breathing. The fear that had been simmering inside him for weeks now boiled over.

What if I become the very thing I’m trying to fight?

The dust settled in the alley, swirling lazily in the humid night air as the last traces of the demonic enforcers dissolved into nothingness. The question haunted him as he stood in the eerie quiet, his body aching, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hands were still trembling from the fight, his muscles burning with the aftershocks of the demonic energy he’d unleashed to save the bystanders. For a moment, he closed his eyes, trying to push away the lingering darkness that tugged at the edges of his mind, tempting him to give in to the power he had fought so hard to control.

The street was empty now, the tourists and witnesses long gone, but the sense of danger hadn’t disappeared. Something wasn’t right.

Ash's gut churned with a gnawing feeling he couldn't shake. He glanced around, scanning the scene for any signs of more attackers. But all he saw were the remnants of the battle—crumbling walls, shattered windows, and the faint remnants of demonic ash scattered on the ground.

Then it hit him.

This wasn’t the main event. This attack had been too chaotic, too uncoordinated. It had been violent, yes, but it didn’t have the precision that Asmodeus was known for. No, this had been something else entirely.

A distraction.

Ash’s eyes widened as the realization sank in, and his heart stuttered in his chest. The enforcers hadn’t been sent to kill him—they had been sent to keep him occupied, to keep him distracted. And while he had been fighting for his life, Asmodeus’s real plan had been unfolding elsewhere.

“Geneva,” Ash muttered, his pulse spiking as dread settled over him like a suffocating blanket. She was vulnerable—caught up in her work at the morgue, deciphering the runes they had found on the victims. If Asmodeus had targeted her, if he had sent someone after her while Ash was busy fighting off the enforcers?—

He couldn’t even finish the thought.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Ash broke into a sprint, his boots pounding against the pavement as he raced through the streets and alleys of New Orleans. His lungs burned, his injuries protesting every step, but none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to Geneva before it was too late.

Please, let her be okay.

The city was alive around him, the usual thrumming of nightlife filling the air—music pouring from the open doors of bars, the sound of laughter and conversation drifting through the streets. It all seemed so far away, so inconsequential compared to the rising panic that clawed at him.

Ash’s mind raced, trying to think of what he would find when he reached the morgue. Asmodeus was methodical, always five steps ahead. If he had sent someone after Geneva, they wouldn’t be subtle about it. And she—dammit, she was strong, but she wasn’t ready for the full force of Asmodeus’s wrath.

The thought of her fighting alone, of her facing down the same kind of demons he had barely managed to hold off, filled him with a raw, primal fear. The idea that something might happen to her because of him—because of something he had dragged her into—was unbearable.

He had to get to her.

By the time he reached the morgue, his heart was hammering in his chest, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The building loomed ahead, dark and silent, the cold glow of streetlights casting long shadows across its fa?ade.

Ash slowed as he approached, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble. The front entrance was closed, the windows dark. Everything looked normal—too normal. And that only made his anxiety spike higher.

He reached for the door and found it locked, but a quick pulse of his demonic energy sent the lock shattering, and he slipped inside, his senses on high alert.

The morgue was eerily quiet, the usual sterile hum of the building seeming louder in the oppressive silence. Ash crept through the hallways, every nerve on edge, listening for any sound, any sign of movement. His heart raced, his mind filled with images of what could have happened—what could still be happening.

He reached Geneva’s office door, and for a split second, fear froze him in place. His hand hovered over the door handle, dread gripping him. What if she’s hurt? What if he was already too late?

Steeling himself, Ash pushed the door open.

The sight of her standing there, safe, nearly made his knees buckle in relief. Geneva stood over her desk, hunched over a book, scribbling something furiously. Her focus was entirely on her work, completely unaware of the danger that had nearly closed in on her.

“Geneva,” he breathed, the tension in his chest easing, but only slightly.

She looked up, startled, her green eyes wide with surprise. “Ash? What are you doing here? What happened?”

“I… I was attacked,” Ash said, stepping into the room, his eyes scanning the space for any signs of intruders. “Demon enforcers. But it wasn’t about me. I think it was a distraction.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “A distraction? What do you mean?”

Ash moved closer, his voice low and urgent. “I think they’re coming for you. Asmodeus must know about the runes, about the work you’re doing. The enforcers weren’t sent to kill me—they were keeping me occupied while something bigger was happening. You’re in danger, Geneva.”

Her expression shifted, the gravity of his words sinking in. “But… I’ve been here all night. No one’s come?—”

“They will,” Ash interrupted, his voice firm. “If they haven’t already, they’re coming. We need to leave. Now.”

Geneva straightened, her eyes narrowing as she processed his words. She didn’t argue. She knew the stakes. They both did. Without a word, she began gathering her things, her movements quick and efficient, though Ash could see the tension in her every action.

As she packed, Ash stood by the door, his body still coiled with the remnants of battle, every instinct screaming at him to protect her. The thought of losing her—of failing her—sent a spike of fear through his chest. He couldn’t let that happen.

Just as Geneva grabbed her bag and turned to him, the overhead lights flickered.

“They’re here,” Ash rasped, stumbling slightly as he moved into the room. “Asmodeus’s forces… they’re coming for you. This whole place is about to be overrun.”

Geneva slipped her arm under his to support him. “We need to move. Now.”

“They’re here,” he muttered, drawing his blade as his senses flared with the unmistakable presence of dark magic creeping through the building.

Geneva’s eyes darted to the door, her breath catching in her throat. “Ash?—”

“Stay close,” Ash growled, his body tensing as he prepared for whatever was about to come through those doors. He would fight them off, he would protect her—whatever it took.

Because no matter how much darkness was inside him, no matter how close he teetered to the edge, he wasn’t going to let Asmodeus—or anyone else—take Geneva away from him.

Not tonight. Not ever.