Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jolene tugged on the small string hanging from the bare bulb, casting just enough light across Richie’s dark basement that Devon could clearly see Roth Lockwood strapped to a chair. The podgy, balding male blinked rapidly against the brightness of the light. Sheer unadulterated fear flickered across his mottled face as he spotted her, Jolene, and Tanner.

“Well, hello, Roth.” Jolene’s heels clicked along the cement floor as she ever so casually walked toward him. Apparently, her sentinels had found him holed up in a motel in Reno. They’d hauled his dumb ass to Richie’s basement and, if the bruises and swellings on his face were anything to go by, had roughed him up in the process. Well, good.

Devon followed Jolene and Tanner further into the basement, her nose wrinkling at the scents of must, mildew, and something even more foul. Pain. Yeah, these walls had seen a lot of people hurt.

Unlike other kids, Devon had never thought there was anything spooky about basements. It was just the place where her parents kept the washing machine, dryer, and some boxes. Khloë, however, hated them. And maybe this was why, given she’d once lived with her father.

The large space was dank and cold and eerie with shadowy corners so black they looked like voids of nothing. This basement was the kind you saw on horror movies where a sweet little family moved into a haunted house and then had to call out an exorcist when their darling child got possessed. Oh yeah, an evil poltergeist would fit well down here. Or a serial killer.

Her skin suddenly felt so clammy and chilled she almost shivered. Devon had the feeling that Richie deliberately kept the space so moldy, musty, and dreary. Because if the blood stains on the cement floor were anything to go by, he sure didn’t do his laundry down here.

“It’s ever so good to finally meet you,” said Jolene, standing in front of Roth while Devon and Tanner flanked her.

“Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it.” Heat roiled low in her stomach as Devon glared down at the son of a bitch. Face ashen, lips trembling, he stared at them wide-eyed, reeking of sweat and fear. Her demon liked the smell of the latter. Liked seeing that glint of terror in his eyes. So did Devon, because she was certain just from the way he looked up at them like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar that he was guilty as sin.

His heart was beating frantically. She could hear it pounding and pounding like hooves galloping on a racetrack. Yeah, the guy knew he was fucked.

He jumped as water gurgled in one of the rusty, exposed pipes.

“You’re not looking good, Roth.” Shoulders back, fists clenched, Tanner stared down at the pathetic piece of shit, sure to his bones that Roth was the broker they were looking for. Why else would he have run? Why else would guilt be plastered all over his face?

Wrestling with the urge to lunge and slice open Roth’s throat, Tanner inhaled deeply through his nose. No, he wouldn’t lose it. The bastard would die tonight, but not yet.

He’d expected his demon to fight him on holding back—it wasn’t a creature that liked to bide its time, didn’t care to wait until Tanner had answers. But right then, it didn’t push for supremacy or demand instant vengeance.

Oh, it wanted to lash out. Maim. Destroy. Not simply because Devon was under its protection. It had developed a sort of … well, something as close to a “fondness” for her as the entity was capable of feeling. The hound didn’t view her or her inner entity as prey anymore. Didn’t think of itself as superior to them. It liked her fire and spirit and that she kept Tanner on his toes. And now it wanted to rip apart this person who’d dared to play a part in the danger surrounding her.

But it remained still for the time being, its muscles straining against its skin as it locked its unblinking stare on Roth. It intended to deliver the killing blow, though—Tanner could feel it.

Tanner briefly flicked his eyes to the particularly ugly gash on the other male’s temple. “Bet that hurts.” He telepathically reached out to Jolene and asked, How is it that the rope has held him for so long? Roth didn’t sit high on the power spectrum, but he could escape a damn rope.

Devon’s godmother, Millicent, spelled the rope so that it would restrain any preternatural creature, no matter their strength or breed, the Prime replied. It’s come in handy many times over the years.

Exuding a calm she didn’t feel, Devon took a single step forward. “You brokered the deal that had me kidnapped. Twice.” She cocked her head. “Did you really think no one would trace it back to you?”

Sweat beaded on Roth’s lip. “I get why you’d think it was me,” he said, his voice trembling as hard as he was. “But you’re making a mistake.”

Devon’s brow hitched up. “Am I?”

Roth nodded hard. “Yes. Maybe there’s someone out there who’s stupid enough to broker a deal that would largely piss off two Primes, but that person ain’t me.”

“You were stupid enough to betray Knox,” Tanner pointed out.

Roth licked his lips. “I didn’t broker the deal.”

“Then did why you run?” Devon challenged.

“Because I knew you’d blame me! Maddox Quentin is the guy you should be talking to.”

Jolene idly toyed with her necklace. “We already had a chat with him.”

“I’ll bet he pointed the finger at me, didn’t he?” Roth sneered, shaking his head.

“He certainly considers you a person of interest, given that you’d happily do something that would infuriate both Knox and Richie,” Jolene replied. Her face hardened as she added, “You became more than a person of interest when we realized you’d fled.”

Wincing, Roth squeezed his eyes shut. “I know it looks bad, but I had nothing to do with the deal.” His eyes snapped open and landed straight on Devon. “I didn’t. You have to believe me.”

Devon sighed. “I really hate it when people try to blow smoke up my ass.”

Roth’s lips thinned. “I’m not—”

“Each time you lie to us, I’m going to slice into you,” Tanner told him, cool and calm, as if they were merely discussing the weather. “Every cut will be that little bit deeper than the one before. I don’t need to worry about you bleeding out, because the wounds will heal in seconds.”

Devon pursed her lips. She hadn’t known he had that delightful ability. It wouldn’t be so useful in battle, but it would be real helpful when it came to torture.

“In other words, Roth, this process can be as painless or agonizing as you want it to be,” Tanner went on. “Your death won’t be painless—I won’t lie about that. But even a sadist would be sickened by the sort of pain I’ll put you through if you don’t quit lying to us.”

She almost shivered. Damn but the guy could be scary. As for Roth … Shit, she hadn’t thought he could get any paler. It was like every drop of blood just left his face. His leg muscles seemed to tighten, and she had the feeling he’d have tried to flee if he could have moved.

“I only agreed to broker the deal because I knew the attempts to take her would fail!” he burst out. Roth jerked with a loud cry as three ugly rake marks appeared on the side of his face. Devon heard his skin tear, saw his blood seep to the surface. And then the wounds healed, leaving no sign that they were ever there.

Her brows shot up in surprise. Her feline twitched its tail, impressed. “You didn’t give a rat’s ass if they failed or not,” Devon accused.

Breaths bursting in and out of him, Roth shook his head hard. “No, I planned to contact Jolene and tell her everything if someone managed to get their hands on you, I swear!”

There was the horrid sound of skin tearing as Roth once again jerked against the rope. Claw marks spanned his upper chest, deeper and more jagged than the last. Yet, they healed just as quickly.

“Who came to you to broker the deal?” Devon asked.

A drop of sweat dripped down the side of Roth’s face. “I never met him before. He’s a cambion. A stray. He said he wouldn’t harm you.”

“His name?” demanded Jolene.

He hesitated, averting his gaze. Then he cried out again as his head whipped back and rake marks appeared on his throat—they’d sliced so deep she thought he’d choke on his own blood. But then they healed.

Jolene leaned toward him slightly. “His name?” The words seemed to bounce off the walls they echoed so loud.

Roth took a shuddering breath and rasped, “Ryder Flanagan.”

Devon didn’t recognize the name. There were three possibilities, as she saw it. Sheridan had used a different name, Flanagan was the person behind all this, or Flanagan had merely been used as a conduit just like Sheridan. “Describe him.”

Panting, Roth swallowed. “He had a buzz cut. Tall. Well-built.”

NotSheridan then, Devon thought.

“Where do we find Flanagan?” Tanner asked Roth, the urge to hunt once more pounding through him.

“I don’t have his full address. He said he lived in Nevada.” Roth licked his lips. “I tried warning him not to go through with it; tried telling him about all the people who’d try to avenge the hellcat, but he cut me off. He said he knew more about her than I did. Said he knew all her secrets, including where she’s hiding her real mother, and that ‘that bitch Pamela needed to pay for the pain she’d caused.’”

Everything in Tanner stilled. Hiding? As far as he knew, Devon’s biological mother was dead. He looked at his hellcat, and his hackles rose. She was staring at Roth, her expression carefully blank, her posture rigid.

The fuck?

And then it occurred to him that Devon had never once told him that her mother was dead. He’d taken “gone” to mean deceased, and she hadn’t corrected him. Maybe he had no right to be pissed that she’d kept such a secret from him, but Tanner found that he was. His chest expanded as he took in a deep, centering breath. Later, he’d question Devon and Jolene later.

He turned back to Roth. “Did you notice anything strange about Flanagan?”

“He moved all slow and clunky,” Roth replied, sweating copiously now. “Like he didn’t have good muscle control.”

Which meant that Flanagan was most likely used as a conduit, just like Sheridan.

Sensing that Tanner was done, his hound pushed for supremacy with a feral growl. It didn’t want to take over Tanner’s body, though. No. It wanted the freedom to rip Roth apart with its own teeth and claws. And Tanner decided to let it.

Muscles tightening in readiness for the shift, Tanner said, “You’ve been very helpful, Roth. Now it’s time for you to die.”

Devon flinched as a wave of Tanner’s power swept outwards, carrying with it the faintest scent of—oh fuck—brimstone. And she knew what he meant to do before he even started shedding his clothes. Shit.

“Jolene, edge over to the wall,” urged Devon even as she grabbed the woman’s arm and subtly herded her aside. Her heart pounded as bones popped and cracked. And then Tanner was gone, and his hellhound stood in his place.

It shook its head and snorted. Raked the floor with one paw, leaving claw marks on the cement.

Keeping very still, Devon watched it warily. Jesus, it was one big, beautiful bastard. Broad and fierce and badass, it had muscles upon muscles. Its thick, coal-black fur stood on end as it growled at Roth, glaring at him through blood-red eyes. Nothing so savage and vicious-looking should possess a majestic air, but it just did.

It could also very well decide to attack her, hence why she slowly unsheathed her claws. Her feline? It wasn’t the least bit perturbed. In fact, it was eager to watch the hound rip their enemy to shreds. It even wanted to join in. Fuck that. The two entities would end up fighting to the death over their new toy.

A pitiful whimper escaped Roth. “Oh, God,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “Please don’t—”

The hound let out a guttural roar that seemed to rattle Devon’s bones. Its veins suddenly glowed as if filled with liquid fire, and tiny red embers danced around its body like pixie dust—signs of its growing rage. And then it lunged, sending Roth’s chair crashing to the floor.

Roth let out a primal, bloodcurdling scream as the snarling hound brutally ripped into him. It clawed. Mauled. Slashed. Mangled. All the while, it ignored his cries, shrieks, and pleas for mercy.

She had a strong stomach, but she wasn’t gonna lie, the sounds of claws shredding flesh and teeth crunching bone made her stomach churn—especially when coupled with the sight of the hound digging Roth’s organs out of his body as if it were digging bones out of the ground.

The hound didn’t just kill Roth. It butchered him. And it didn’t back off until he was nothing more than a bloody mass of broken bones, severed limbs, and mushed organs.

And then it turned to face her, pinning her gaze with those blood-red eyes. Her skin tingled, and the hairs on her nape and arms rose. Shit.

“I’ll pop up my shield if need be,” Jolene whispered, “but I don’t think it will harm you.”

Yeah? Devon wasn’t so sure. Not while it was stalking toward her with its lips peeled back, exposing blood-stained teeth. It had the look of a predator that had chased down its favorite prey. Figuring that “Nice doggy” wouldn’t wash down so well, she instead said, “I’d like to have Tanner back now.”

Oh, that earned her a growl so rumbly it resembled an idling motorcycle.

Her feline gave it a half-hearted snarl, but it didn’t rise to protect Devon—didn’t believe it needed to. She took a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate you making mincemeat out of Lockwood—”

Little red embers floated around its body once more, and she figured it hadn’t been the best idea to remind it of Roth. The hound snapped its teeth, making blood and foam spatter on the floor … and on her shoes.

That was it, Devon had had enough. “Fuck you, Fido, I haven’t done shit! Now quit snarling and spitting at me, I’m not in the fucking mood.”

The growling faded. The embers winked out. There was pure silence. And then it was butting her hand with its big fat head, wanting … attention?

“Oh, you cannot be believed.” But she sheathed her claws and cautiously stroked it, ready to snatch her hand back if it tried to bite her. Instead, it leaned against her, rumbling a contented growl. In seconds it had gone from a killing machine to a big, shaggy dog.

She skimmed her fingers over the scar on its muzzle. “You’re not so bad.”

A rough tongue licked her hand, and then bones began to pop and crack once again.

Standing before them, Tanner cricked his neck. “So, kitten, why don’t you tell me about Pamela?”

*

A short while later, Tanner stood in front of Richie’s living room fireplace staring down at Devon. “You told me we’d talk up here, away from the mess in the basement. Well, we’re here.” Not liking how pale she was, he softened his voice as he said, “Kitten, talk to me.”

But she didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at him.

Tanner felt his nostrils flare. “The only way we’re going to untangle this fucking mess is if we’re all straight with each other. So … ?” Again, no one spoke. He crouched in front of his hellcat and rested his hands on her knees. “Where’s Pamela, and why would someone believe she needed to ‘pay’ for something?”

Standing beside the sofa, Jolene put a hand on Devon’s shoulder. “Pamela’s in the containment ward beneath my lair’s penal complex. She’s been balancing on the knife-edge of a psi breakdown for a long time now.”

Okay, well he hadn’t seen that coming. A psi breakdown occurred when a person’s psyche fractured under the strain of maintaining dominance over the entity within them. He’d met people hovering on that edge before; they tended to live very sad lives, considering they were only a few mental steps away from being rogue.

“Part of the reason Pamela doesn’t have enough control over her inner demon to lead a normal life is that she finds it difficult to block her main ability,” Jolene went on. “It has affected her emotional and psi state.”

“What is her main ability?” asked Tanner.

Jolene sank onto the sofa. “Pamela can see right into a person. One touch, and she sees their worst sins, their worst memories, their darkest fantasies. She says it’s hard to know that there aren’t truly any ‘good’ people in the world. Hard to so often see the very worst in people. She did learn to shield herself, but the more intimately she knew a person, the more difficult it was for her to block them. And so, she’s had no real peace. If it wasn’t for Devon, Pamela would have either killed herself or given in to her demon’s demands for dominance long ago. She loves Devon, she’s just unable to take care of her.

“There were times when we were able to bring Pamela so far back from the edge of a psi breakdown that she could function well enough to be released. But after a while, she’d start to digress again, because she doesn’t have the strength or psychic stability to maintain dominance over her demon for long periods of time without help. We’re not hiding her existence. We just don’t speak of her much.”

“Okay,” said Tanner. “How long have you kept her in the containment ward?”

“She was in and out of it throughout Devon’s childhood, which is why Devon thinks of Gertie and Russell as her parents. They loved and raised her right alongside their son, Drew.”

Tanner looked back at Devon, who still had her eyes on the floor. Was it fair of him to be pissed that he hadn’t known any of this before now? Probably not. But he wanted her to trust him. Didn’t like that she felt that she couldn’t.

He stood upright and asked Jolene, “When did you last commit Pamela to the ward?”

“When Devon was six. There was an … incident.”

“Incident?”

“Yes. About eight months prior to that, Pamela dumped her outside a grocery store and called me; said the voices in her head were telling her to kill Devon and she was terrified she’d hurt her. One thing I can say for Pamela was that she never fought us on committing her if we thought it was necessary. But later that same year, Pamela escaped the ward, convinced Devon was in some sort of danger—such delusions were commonplace for her. Things … went badly.”

Tanner narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Devon slid her fingers into her hair. “I was at a party,” she said, her tone flat. “A kid’s party. One of the moms was giving me a ride home. She went back into the party venue so that her son—my friend—could use the restroom. That was when Pamela hijacked the car. She said she was all better now, that we could be a family again. She just … kept driving.

“I asked her over and over where we were going. She just kept saying that we were almost there, but I don’t think she had a destination in mind. I don’t think she’d thought that far ahead.”

This was going to be bad, he could feel it. “What happened, kitten?”

She swallowed hard, and the movement looked painful. “I fell asleep. When I woke up, I realized the car wasn’t moving anymore. Pamela had parked it outside a crummy-looking casino. She did love casinos. It was baking hot, and I was so thirsty. Felt so sick. And the baby just wouldn’t stop crying.”

Tanner’s brows snapped together. “Baby?”

“Pamela had just ignored the fact that I wasn’t the only child in the car when she hijacked it.” Devon sniffed. “See, my friend’s baby brother had been sleeping in his child seat. I told her a few times that we had to take him home, but she never responded. Anyway, I kept watching the door of the casino, waiting for her to come out. But she didn’t.

“The car seemed to get hotter and hotter. Every breath I took in seemed hot and thick in my lungs. I tried to get out, tried to get the baby out. But the woman who owned the car was an incantor, and she’d put protective wards all over it. I couldn’t open the doors or windows. Couldn’t even smash my way out.” She swallowed. “The baby had been dead for hours before Jolene found us. Heatstroke. Pamela was inside the fucking casino, playing blackjack. She’d lost track of time, she said.”

Tanner’s eyes fell closed. Fuck, so many things about her made sense now. The nervousness she showed when someone else was driving. The way she sometimes gazed at Asher with sadness in her eyes. Her reluctance to speak of her biological mother. And maybe even the reason she didn’t feel that she should have been loved by Finn—part of her felt undeserving, just like many who experienced survivor’s guilt.

“Beck hauled Pamela outside,” Jolene added, picking up where Devon left off. “She looked at the baby like she’d never seen him before. She asked us to commit her to the ward permanently, and she’s never asked to be free; never tried to escape. I suppose she’s punishing herself, really. She’s deteriorated since then. I think knowing that she was responsible for the baby’s death and that she’d caused Devon such trauma … it just broke something in her.”

“I go to see her sometimes,” said Devon. “She’s not insane, but she’s not totally rational either. She has days when she’s lucid. Other days … they’re not so good. Sometimes she remembers why she’s in the ward, other times she’s confused and just can’t piece everything together. But she always knows who I am, no matter how muddled her mind is at the time.”

Probably because Devon was the woman’s one constant; the very thing she clung to in order to center herself as best she could. “Has anyone told her of the recent kidnappings?” asked Tanner.

Jolene shook her head. “It would be very harmful to her state of mind. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

“Is there anything else I need to know?”

“That’s the whole story,” Jolene told him. “We wouldn’t have kept it from you if we thought it was relevant to what was happening right now.”

“Well, I think that it is relevant.” He cut his gaze to Devon. “I don’t think the reason you were kidnapped had anything to do with Asa. I think whoever wanted you used him as a smokescreen.”

Devon’s brow creased. “A smokescreen to hide what?”

“You heard Roth,” he said. “Flanagan—or whoever spoke through him—claimed they knew where Pamela was, and they stated that she needed to pay. Even called her a bitch. Someone targeted you to get at Pamela. Why?”

“It won’t be someone looking to avenge the baby, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Jolene cut in. “The mother killed herself and her older son not long after the baby’s funeral. The father wasn’t in the picture. And there’s nobody in the lair who would feel a need to avenge them or they’d have done it long before now.”

“I wasn’t thinking of the baby’s family,” said Tanner. “Someone heartsore over his death would have used stronger wording than ‘that bitch Pamela.’ That phrase sounds pettily bitter. Resentful. So, who else has Pamela wronged?”

Jolene pursed her lips. “People tended to pity her. She isn’t a bad person. Never was. She’s just weak.”

“Someone didn’t pity her,” Tanner pointed out.

Jolene stood and began to slowly pace. “If this was just about hurting Pamela, why not demand something from me? Why bring Finn into it? He’s not part of our lair.”

“Exactly. It makes me wonder if someone was using Devon to punish them both. The people who’d want to do that? Well, you have four, as I see it. Leticia, Spencer, Reena, and Kaye.”