Page 43 of Thorns from the Fall

“Yeah, well, it’s too bad it was her, and not?—”

“Wait,” I say, sudden realization dawning. “The blood you had on you when you were detoxing,” I begin, not willing to mention what Gwyn had gleaned about his secret stash of tainted demon blood. She thought it was a backup plan. A way out of this world if it got too hard. “Where did it come from?”

Remy realizes I’ve figured it out, and his throat bobs when he turns to look at me. His face is clean shaven once more after Margot had supervised him the other night. He looks more like himself, and his mouth goes tight when he refuses to speak. It’s reminiscent of a much younger version of him when he hadn’twanted to swear an oath to our father. But his stance is no less futile now because he swore an oath to me a long time ago.

“Where did you get it from?” I ask again, loading the question with command. Apparently, my moral code has gone on vacation, and I’m just telling anyone and everyone what the fuck to do, using their vows to me in whatever way I see fit.

“It was her,” he says. “She goes by Nyx.”

“Don’t move from this spot,” I command, not willing to leave Remy unattended even if only for a few minutes.

“Roman, don’t. You’re just kicking the hornet’s nest.”

“Call Margot if I’m not back in thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes? Jesus, Roman, seriously don’t,” Remy says.

“If she was worth my time, I’d make it take even longer.”

And then I’m out the door, looking left and right for the demon who’d given my depressed brother the equivalent of a gun. This demon had led him down a road that I wasn’t sure he’d ever come back from. Nearly a decade later, he is still paying the price for the choices he made. Sure, he had free will, but the fact demons like Nyx exist, preying on vulnerability, makes me furious.

I suppose they are demons, but still.

Nyx hadn’t arrived in a car when she finally showed up a couple hours ago, which means she either took the bus or the L train. Either way, she would have to walk north a few blocks to get to the bus, and then west a few more to get to the L. I run that direction, but I don’t see her. She’s shorter than Gwyn, but their builds are similar. Though her hair was light brown, her pouty mouth and porcelain skin were too fucking familiar. Without even adding the demon being a raging bitch to the mix, she’d already reminded me too much of Gwyn.

I shout her name as I run down the sidewalk, trying to maintain an innocent tone, like she forgot something at my house. Some of my neighbors are outside, so I don’t tap into myabilities to run faster. I can’t bring too much attention to myself before I’m ready.

The man who lives a few doors down stands on his front porch in a pair of slippers as he drinks his morning coffee. He waves, and I wave, and it’s so fucking domestic when I’m about to go kill a fucking demon that I almost laugh. I’m catching up to another woman who is probably heading to the bus stop herself, and I’m one polite motherfucker as I pass her by.

Finally, I spot Nyx’s high ponytail, bobbing as she walks. It reminds me of the swamp back in Virginia, when I’d chased Gwyn through shallow water and between enormous trees before pinning her against ancient bark and licking her cunt.

She’d known then what she was doing, and I fucking hate her all over again. She’d driven my predator instincts wild, running from me like that. And when I’d scented her blood had she done that on purpose? Had she widened the cut on her hand like she’d created one at the compound when I’d had to turn her?

“Nyx,” I call one more time, and finally, she turns and looks at me over her shoulder. She gives me a flirty grin, confident in our interaction because there are people nearby. Witnesses. Little does she know, I don’t give a single fuck anymore. My father had a significant portion of the Chicago Police Department on his payroll, and now, I have an entire coven at my disposal.

She seems to think she’s invincible. That demons in Chicago are untouchable. My dad was never willing to wage war on them, an amicable relationship far too advantageous, he’d said, and I’d always assumed it meant there was money exchanging hands to keep the peace. But fuck that. They nearly took my brother from me, and they’ve probably killed his stepdaughter.

I’ll use this woman to commit the very first act of war.

“Hello, Mr. Sauveterre. Did your brother have business with me that he wanted to discuss?” she asks, a smirk curling up one side of her lips. “He was one of my favorite customers.”

To say something like that to me, the person who nursed Remy back to life after their blood had made him lose everything? It’s a shame demons can’t die because all I want to do is make sure this one never comes near anyone I love ever again. The best I can do is introduce her to consequence through my fists.

The tiny woman waiting at the bus stop, a neighbor who lives across the street from me, squeals in fear as I punch the demon in the face. I’ll have to compel her later.

Nyx is grabbing her nose, surprised by my actions, when her eyes turn black.

And then she runs.

There’s a park at the corner where the bus stop is, and she takes off. With winter coming, the trees are sparse, so there’s no losing track of her. Her host body isn’t nearly as fast as my vampire one. Her supernatural bullshit doesn’t work against me because I’m not a human. Demons and vampires have had a cautious coexistence for as long as I can remember, leaving each other to our own devices, but we’ve always had the upper hand. Their demonic bullshit doesn’t work on us, and a human body has its limits. She can’t really harm me but I sure as fuck can cause her pain.

Nyx slides on the icy ground as I catch up to her, and her knees slam into the side of the winterized fountain situated in the middle of the park. When she topples over into the empty basin, I leap in after her.

No one has followed behind us, and there’s a single tree holding onto some foliage that provides coverage. No one hears her scream as I crack her head open against the ground. The dull thud it makes reminds me of one of the many times Remycollapsed in the bathroom while he was detoxing. I’m happy to replace that memory with a new one. When a humanoid form made of smoke sits up through me, it feels as if someone has set my insides on fire. It’s only there for a moment as the demon removes itself from the host body, becoming more corporeal as I clamber off of the woman. For a second, I feel bad, but I’m sure the person whose soul used to reside in this empty shell is long gone.

“Stay the fuck away from my brother,” I growl as the smoke gathers and twists, losing its vaguely human shape and becoming some sort of dark cloud. I swear I hear the sound of children’s laughter as it propels itself away from me.

Remy has spent more time asleep than awake since I brought him home, and I’m not sure if he’s recovering from being held captive or if it’s far more insidious. But I try not to worry about it since he’s finally made his way downstairs after secluding himself in his room. He’d been pissed when I got back, but I didn’t care. It only took him an hour to get over it though, and he’d knocked on my bedroom door to ask for clothes.

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