“Just as you promised we were partners?” he mocked. “Sometimes agreements must be broken.”
“Why?”
“Because, girl, when push comes to shove, demons always side with their own.”
Darcy turned to see the new speaker. Her heart stopped. The new man stood tall, almost as tall as Jaral. He bore a startling resemblance to Kerilyn’s spirit lover, with the same long black hair and unearthly beauty. But unlike the spirit lord, this man’s eyes were bloodred. Only one demon in the history books fit his description.
“Abaddon,” she greeted.
“We’ve been waiting for you, hunter,” the demon king said. “You’re late.”
Darcy’s gaze flicked to Jaral’s unreadable face then back to his father. “My invitation must have been misplaced.”
“No matter. You’re here now. Hand over the blood and I might even let you leave this place alive.”
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “I see two demons and two hunters. Those are odds I like.”
The king grinned, but there was nothing comforting in the gesture. “Count again.” He snapped his fingers.
Like a curtain being drawn back, the air before them shimmered before giving way to reveal the dark figures lurking behind the king. Demons filled the large room. From wall to wall they shuffled behind their king, awaiting orders.
These demons were obviously not as powerful as Jaral or his father. Many weren’t even close to looking human. Instead the creatures looked more like trolls with their long arms dragging on the concrete and their vicious teeth jutting from black lips. Their skin was dark and scaled, tufts of hair sprouted in patches around their heads and shoulders. No, these creatures were not the sophisticated demons of court but the brute force of Abaddon’s armies. They watched her with hungry expressions, ready for a fight.
“With the magic between our worlds splintering, it was a simple matter to bring my soldiers over. Even I was able to break through despite the absence of a Halloween night,” Abaddon said with ill-concealed glee. “Now let’s try this again. The blood, if you please.”
“Why do you want it?”
“My son has informed me of your mission to close the rift but I have decided I’d rather rip it open.”
Horror flooded through her. “That’s insane. The spirits would be free.”
“Yes, and a gate to their realm would be vulnerable. I will march right through and take on my cursed brother once and for all.”
And humans would be wiped out as a bloody war waged between the spirits and demons.
“The blood closes the rift,” she said.
“The blood is a catalyst,” Abaddon replied easily. “Like magic, it’s neither good nor evil. It is intention that gives it shape. With the right spell, Kerilyn’s blood will rip the rift wide open instead of slamming it shut. That’s why it was so important to ensure you would procure it for us.”
She knew Abaddon was the bigger threat but even so, her eyes turned to Jaral. Had he played her from the start? Had everything that passed between them been a lie? All to get his hands on the blood.
Nausea spiraled through her. She was the one who had found Sarah. She was the one who had convinced Kerilyn to give up some of her blood. If Darcy had kept out of it, Jaral would never have known where to look.
He’d done exactly what she’d always feared he would. He’d found her weakness and used it against her. Her desire had turned her into his puppet and she’d been more than happy to dance to his tune.
The betrayal overwhelmed her, making it hard to breathe. She’d fallen for a demon when all he’d wanted was a tool to control. The soft touches, the heated glances and perfect words had all been a lie. Nothing they’d shared was real. He’d used her passions to spin a flawless web of deceit. It was her own fault she’d been caught up in it.
Had she ever been more to him than his human distraction? A toy to play with while he worked on his real mission? Looking at his blank expression, it was easy to imagine just that. She wasn’t facing her tender lover but instead a hardened warrior ready to cut her down without a single moment’s hesitation.
“Congratulations, Jaral,” she said, wishing the words didn’t sound bitter even to her own ears. “You fooled me perfectly.”
He didn’t react. Not so much as a twitch.
“What did you expect?” Abaddon asked, walking forward. “He’s a demon. A prince of my realm.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “Blood always tells.”
A slight frown marred Jaral’s face before vanishing in an instant.