Tempting The Dark

Turning to meet his reflection in the mirror above the freestanding porcelain sink, he sneered at the gruff man who rarely smiled back. How long had his eyes been so dark and sullen? Was that the appearance of a wild man or a scruffy hermit? He really had developed a lack of concern. Kept the demons back, he figured. They feared his appearance. Heh. Not really. That was what the sigils were for. Protection and repulsion.

He traced one of the finely tattooed sigils on the underside of his forearm. Composed of circles within circles and some directional arrows along with demonic repulsion sigils. Sayne, the ink witch who’d put the bespelled ink down, had promised him they would be effective against most demons. Of course, he could never be impervious to all because there were so many breeds of demons in existence.

There had been one occasion when Savin met a demon who had not been repulsed by any of his sigils. That demon had initially been locked in a cage in the bowels of the Acquisitions’ headquarters. Later, Savin had ended up working with Gazariel, The Beautiful One, to help track down a vicious vampiress intent on invoking a spell that could end the world by smothering all mankind with the wings of fallen angels. That was a long story.

Savin found his way into some serious shit at times. Like it or not.

Hell, he liked it more than not. Kept life interesting. And, well, it was what he knew how to do.

Flipping on the shower, he stripped down and grabbed the razor from the medicine cabinet. Time to make himself more presentable for his guest.

* * *

Jett sat up on the big, wide bed. She’d slept? Grabbing a pillow, she hugged it to her chest, burying her face in the rugged scent of Savin Thorne. She hadn’t smelled anything so good. Ever. The man entered her pores on a brute whisper of masculinity and crisp fall leaves, and stirred up thoughts that didn’t so much surprise her with their eroticism as rise to embolden her.

Was she still asleep and in a dream?

While she was in Daemonia, dreams had been elusive. Actually, nightmares might have been the only reverie possible there. When attempting to recline and rest, she’d learned to shut down her thoughts. To sleep? Surely, she had. According to Savin, it had been twenty years that she had been absent. A person couldn’t survive so long without sleeping.

“Twenty years,” she whispered.

Twenty years according to the mortal realm’s timekeeping.

It was impossible to track time in Daemonia. Night and day did not exist. The seasons of gray and white and rust did. Gray crept in on mist and eeriness. White had shocked with ice and the crackly lava flowers she’d grown to enjoy despite their charcoal scent. And rust? Fire and screams.

It was late summer here in Paris. Perhaps. She hadn’t taken careful note of the field and surroundings last night before Savin pulled up on the road beside her. But it was warm. Such comforting warmth teased at her skin. In all her time in that place, she’d not known such a gentle and undemanding temperature.

Now she was determined to open her arms wide and embrace it all. Take it back in and flood her system with the muscle memory of a normal life. She must once again become a part of the human race.

Was it possible? She didn’t have a clue. But she would not relent until she was proved either right or wrong.

A clatter from inside the bathroom clued her she was not, indeed, dreaming. Savin must have finished in the shower. And before she could decide if she should leave the bedroom to give him some privacy, the door opened. Steam wafted out on a sage-scented cloud. And a god wearing but a towel emerged.

“Oh, you’re up.” Savin hooked his hand on the towel where it was tucked at his hip.

Jett dragged her gaze from his face—he had trimmed what had been a wild beard to something a bit more ruly—down over his wide and solid chest. That was a lot of muscle, and all of it was tight and undulated in curves and hard planes and... She had seen demons who looked like they pumped iron in a gym. They’d had muscles of blackest flesh or coldest steel. Some breeds’ physical makeup had been so terrible as to reveal bone and organs. But this man? Those muscles did not wrap about a rib cage that lacked within it a beating heart. Savin Thorne was a hot drink of the clearest, cleanest water she’d ever desired.

“Did you sleep?” he asked.

“Sleep?” Adjusting her gaze from the tantalizing ridges of muscle on his abdomen, Jett hugged the pillow tighter to her chest, sensing a weird increase in her breaths. Which, when checked, she realized was want. Need. Hunger for the man’s muscles pressed up against her body. “Uh, yes. Surprisingly. I think that’s the best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

“That bed is comfortable. I, uh...”

He glanced to the cabinet on the other side of the bed that stood up against the wall.

“Oh, you need to get dressed. I should let you have some privacy.” She dropped the pillow and walked to the edge of the bed on her knees, but Savin beat her to the cabinet, and if she climbed off the bed, she’d step right up against him.

“It’s cool,” he said. “I’ll just grab some things and change out in the living room. I’m sure you want to use the bathroom. You can use whatever you like. I might even have an extra toothbrush in one of the drawers. Toothpaste is in the cabinet.”

Toothpaste. That sounded so decadent.

“How about we take a walk down the street and find something to eat?” he offered as he claimed some clothes. “Then we can talk.”

“Talk?” Not about Daemonia. She wasn’t ready for that. And she wasn’t sure she would ever be. “Sure. It’ll be great to get out in the fresh air. It’s not something I’ve had...” Uh... No. She wasn’t going to detail what was now her past. “Thank you, Savin. It was weird luck that you were out there in the country to help me.”

“It was. But also not a coincidence.” He took her in with a shadowed glance. His eyes were deep blue and his thick brows were low above them, granting him a dangerous mien. A force to, literally, be reckoned with. “That place where the rift to Daemonia opened last night is exactly where it happened.”

Jett nodded. It. Yes, it had been. That day long ago when her life had been irrevocably altered.

“Sorry.” He winced. “You probably don’t want to talk much about all that. We’ll take it slow. I’m hungry. Soon as you’re ready, we’ll head out. Feel free to raid my clothes. You might make a dress out of one of my shirts, you’re so tiny.”

He strode around the corner and Jett slid off the bed to look through the clothes cabinet. She’d found a T-shirt to sleep in last night and it hung to her thighs. Her hand glided over a pair of gray sweatpants with a string tie at the waist. It should serve until she could buy clothes that fit her.

Might Savin lend her some money to get her life established? She would need it because she had no means to a job or even knowledge of how to acquire the basics such as food, clothing and shelter.

Had she done the right thing?

The innate part of her that had seen to her survival in the Place of All Demons rose within her, reminding her she was not the same girl who had been taken out of this realm so long ago. She was stronger, and more vital. And she would have whatever she wanted, using her wiles if necessary. Let no man, or demon, stop her.

“I will,” Jett whispered decisively. “And he will help me.”

In the bathroom, she found a new toothbrush and Savin’s comb. Her hair was a tangle and hung to her waist. Also, it was no longer the color it had been while she was in Daemonia. She wasn’t sure if she missed that or not. She’d often worn it braided and back, but she no longer had consorts to aid or help her dress. Such a loss.

A moment to focus inward and ensure that all would be well—and secure—served her temporary solace. Maybe? She was trapped within something she was not in this realm, just as she had been in the other realm. And she was already questioning her decision to escape. She’d left behind things. Privileges. A certain status.

Jett shook her head. She had to stay on focus. She had wanted this. Had striven for escape. And the best person to help her achieve normality had been right there, waiting for her. Surely, that was a positive sign. For now, she was safe around Savin. Yet she could not overlook that the wards protecting his home pulled at her when she got too near the front door. She needed to be outside, free from any repulsive magic.

Pulling up the sweatpants, she tugged the ties and bunched up the excess. It still didn’t fit smartly, so she’d be forced to hold them up while she walked. But the invite to get outside could not be refused. She craved fresh air and would swallow it in gulps.

Out in the living room and sitting on the couch, Savin strummed an acoustic guitar. When Jett entered, he stopped and stood, setting the instrument aside. “You found clothes. That’s good.”

She clutched the front of the pants.

“Or not.” He winced. “There’s a women’s shop two buildings down from here. You want to stop in before we eat?”

“I’d appreciate that, but I have no means to pay.”

“Jett, don’t worry about it. You have nothing. I’ve got your back.”

She nodded, again finding it hard to speak when he had already been so generous. At the same time, a part of her, the part that had shone and assimilated while in Daemonia, smiled and straightened her spine. Of course he should serve her and make her comfortable. She deserved it.

“Let’s go out, then,” she said. “I’m eager to breathe in Paris.”

Chapter 5

In the women’s clothing shop, Jett found some black jeans with sequins dashing down the sides of each leg seam, and a blousy red top. Black boots with high heels had given her a giddy thrill. Savin had suggested she grab a few more things, and while she had been initially reluctant, she quickly warmed to the shopping gene that Savin knew all women possessed. He didn’t mind bulking up his credit card bill. Seeing Jett’s satisfied smile had been well worth it.

Of course, the smile had been too brief. It was almost as if she’d caught herself in a moment of joy, then quickly slammed the door shut on the freedom. It would require time for her to rise above her experience, surely.

Now she sat across a metal table from him on the sidewalk before his favorite sixth-arrondissement café. Four bags were corralled around her. She looked over the menu while he had ordered black coffee and three pains au chocolat. That was the first course for him. He would go in for the potatoes next.

“I’m not sure what I want,” she said, setting down the menu. “I feel hungry. Or do I?”

“You can have one of my pastries and then order something later if you’re still hungry.” He noticed her scowl. “It’s not a test, Jett. You can try as many things as you like.”

She managed a roundabout shrug-nod. He assumed it was overwhelming for her to be someplace so simple as a sidewalk café after coming from—Well, he wasn’t going to ask about it. He’d wait until she brought it up. It seemed the kindest thing to do.

“Paris smells like I remember. Old, yet hopeful,” she said after the waitress dropped off Savin’s order. She accepted a plate with one of his pastries on it and picked up a fork. “And the fountain down the street sounds so happy.”

He’d forgotten about that fountain. A guy could hear it if he really listened. He’d lived here so long it had faded into the background. Just another city sound. What his senses were most focused to? Demons. They brandished a distinctive hum to their aura. If one walked close enough to him, it registered as a twinge in his veins. Some, he even smelled the sulfur. And while they could cast a sheen over that hum, the scent and their innate red pupils, if Savin caught sight of them at the right angle, the red glinted.

Jett paused with her fork poised over the pastry. “Can I ask you a few things?”

“Of course. Ask away.”

“You were sending demons back into Daemonia last night, yes?”

“You bet. I’m a reckoner, Jett.”

“That is what I guessed. How did you ever come to do such a thing? And, uh...just how long have you been...back?”

He set down the pastry and brushed the crumbs from his beard. She wouldn’t like hearing this, but he wasn’t going to lie to her. Savin had a thing about loyalty to friends. He didn’t know any other way to exist.

“I’ve been back,” he said, “since I was ten.”

Her jaw dropped open and the fork hit the plate with a clink. “But you were ten then. When we...” She pressed her fingers to her mouth, and her eyes averted to study the sidewalk.

“I was in Daemonia for what felt like weeks,” he offered. “Maybe a month?”

“Time doesn’t exist there,” she said softly. The fragile pain in her tone cut Savin to the core. Should he have been so forthright?

“Right. No way to measure time there,” he said. “But I did find a way out.”

“That’s so good for you.” Her smile was again brief. Not easy. “And...your parents were there for you?”

“As soon as my feet hit mortal ground outside the wicked forest, I ran back home through the lavender field and straight into my house. My parents were over the moon. I didn’t think my mom would ever stop hugging me.”

Jett’s eyes still did not meet his, and he could imagine what she was thinking. How she had lost that opportunity for a cheery family reunion. Hell, he shouldn’t have mentioned that part.

“I tried to explain what happened, but they thought me...” He twirled a forefinger near his temple. “And when your parents asked me where you were, I didn’t know what to say. Would they believe a kid who said some strange force sucked us into a different realm? Kids always get accused of having wild imaginations. And I remember your mom, in particular, was Catholic.”

Jett nodded. Smirked at the memory. “To the extreme. So much guilt.”

“Right. Religion is...not for me. Anyway, after giving it some thought, I decided that being lured into the woods by a stranger and the two of us being separated was the only story they’d believe. That’s when the police arrived. They questioned me for hours. I cried a lot.”

“I imagine so.”

Savin lifted his chin and swallowed. Ignoring the stir of the Other within, he reached across the table and touched her fingers. “Those tears were for you, Jett. I just wanted you back.”

She nodded and yet pulled her fingers from under his touch. Wrapping her arms tightly across her chest, she leaned forward, protecting herself as best she could. “Were my parents upset?”

“Inconsolable.” He waited until she finally gave him her gaze. That soft brown stare that had once teased, cajoled and challenged him. “They loved you, Jett. But I know it was difficult for them to accept that I returned and you did not. Nothing was the same after that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well.” How to say it kindly? Surely, she might seek her parents now. And while he’d been but a kid, Savin had understood exactly what had occurred in the neighbors’ house down the street in those months following his return. The truth needed to be told. “Your parents split up about a year after it happened. I was still young and only heard the whispers from my parents, but I understood that your father moved out of the country.”

“He did? That’s... Wow.” She sat back on the metal chair and pulled up a knee to hug against her chest.

“And your mother...”

“My mother?”

“What was her name again?”

“Josette. Josette and Charles Montfort.”

“Right.” Savin raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure what happened to Josette. After your dad left, my parents told me never to speak to Madame Montfort because I’d upset her. So I walked the long way around the neighborhood to get to school. Not that I stayed in school much longer than a few years.”

“But you were ready to enter middle school?”

“I managed middle school. Barely. My mom called it ADD. I knew differently. I dropped out in the first year of high school. The whole world, and the way I saw it, was never the same after—Well, I’m sure you understand. Anyway, I moved to the city when I was seventeen and lost touch completely with the Montforts.”

“I see.” Jett toyed with the pastry flakes on the plate, then rubbed her hand along her thigh. “I guess I can understand the divorce. My parents must have been shattered about my disappearance. They...fought a lot.”

“I remember you telling me about hearing their arguments. It happens. People change and seek new directions.”

“But another country? You don’t know where my father went?” she asked.

He shook his head. And one final terrible detail. “He got remarried, Jett. That’s all I know.”

She nodded, taking it in. Her fingers clasped tightly on her lap. Everything about her closed. “I wonder if my mother is still in the same house.”

“Impossible. That area we were in last night is where the lavender field once was. The houses were torn down years ago, Jett. There’s only a thin line of trees left from the original forest. They’re putting up new buildings and a golf course. I’m not sure where your mother went.”

“Would your parents know? I mean...” She exhaled heavily, and when she met his gaze, Savin expected to see tears, but instead a steely determination glinted in her dark irises. “I have no one now. I need to start anew. But I can’t do that without support. And survival aside, I’d like to find my parents. Because...”

“Of course. I can ask my maman for you. My dad died ten years ago.”

“Oh.” She dropped her gaze from his. “Death is—You resemble him, from what I remember.”

Savin winced at her tone. It had been so...dead. Like she had forced herself to say something kind. Like she didn’t really feel for him. It was a weird thing to notice. But again, he reminded himself, she had been through a lot.

“So you got out fast,” she stated. “And did you always want to be a reckoner after that?”

He snorted. “Hell no. I had no idea what a reckoner even was until seven or eight years ago when John Malcolm—he’s an exorcist—found me and told me I needed to be trained to do what I could do naturally. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve never asked for, but have accepted because it seems that’s what I’m meant to do. It’s a strange and repulsive calling. I just want to keep humans safe from demons.”

She nodded.

“You need to know something, Jett. When I came back to this realm, a demon hitched a ride in me. I call her the Other.”

“The Other?” she said with a gasp.

Yes, she remembered. They’d played a board game when they were kids that had been a bit like Dungeons and Dragons, and the creature who had lived in a dark cave had been called the Other. That was the name for the villain they had always adopted when playacting any sort of fantasy quest, adventure, or even when taking a tromp through the basement without the lights on.

Savin shrugged. “I was a kid. At the time, it was a name that fit. She’s the one who helped me get home. The bitch is still in me. She’s incorporeal. Can’t get her out. I’m not sure how to. I’ve tried, believe me. But we’ve developed a mutual respect for each other’s boundaries and I put up with her occasional fits.”

“Fits?”

“When angered, she can toss me across the room. Freaks the hell out of me. She’s been a bit prickly today. Weird. I’m chalking it up to our experience last night. But there are...measures I take to keep her calm.”

“Measures?”

He reached into his back pocket and laid on the table a tin box that he never left home without. He had a few more tucked in all the other places he might need a quick fix, such as at home and in his truck. “Morphine. It seems to keep the bitch chilled without affecting me too much.”

“Oh. Yes, morphine. It is a commodity in Daemonia. Smuggled in illegally from the mortal realm.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I knew that. That’s how I figured it might be something I could use to control her.” He tucked away the tin box. “Since my return, I’ve been able to see and feel a demon’s presence. In my very bones, you know?”

She swallowed and nodded again, strangely telling in her silence.

“And for some reason,” Savin continued, “I can invoke demonic rituals and languages to send them back to where they came from. It’s been an innate skill after my return. So after Malcolm trained me, I figured I hadn’t much choice but to become a reckoner. Wasn’t as if I had a vibrant social life or dreams and goals of becoming a corporate raider or even a chef or fireman. I’m just weird Savin Thorne who sees demons and feels them all around. I’ve learned to work with it.”

“You don’t seem so weird to me. Rather handsome, too.” She lowered her gaze, but her voice took on a confident tone. “You’ve grown up since I last saw you.”

“So have you.” He felt something close to a blush heat his neck. Savin quickly rubbed at his beard to hide his sudden nerves. Not that he didn’t enjoy flirting with a beautiful woman. He just...was surprised by his sudden and easy interest in Jett’s sensual appeal.

“So you can see demons in the mortal realm? All of them?”

“Not all. Most. And it’s not so much that I can see them—some I can—as that they give off a vibration that I can sense when they are close. But some are clever and wear a sheen expertly. You know about that stuff, yes?”

Another silent nod.

“Right. Probably hard not to get educated on the demonic realm when stuck in that place. Listen, Jett, I know you probably want to avoid questions about Daemonia, but can I ask one thing?”

“Of course you can.”

“Were you treated well?”

She straightened her neck and slid her palms along each chair arm. It was almost as if she had realized she was safe now and could be the woman she was. A regal confidence bloomed in her eyes. “Well enough. I survived. And I am in one piece. And now I’m here. That is what matters, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

Yet her confident front did not hide the fact that she was frightened. Savin could feel the fear coming off her.

The waitress stopped by and set the roasted potatoes, sprinkled with rosemary, before him. Jett decided on tea and he didn’t push her to order more.

His cell phone rang and, seeing it was Ed, he told Jett he needed to take the call. “Yeah, Ed, what’s up?”

“We managed to wrangle a dozen demons after leaving the site last night. I’ve got them contained here at the office in the basement holding cell. Would you be able to swing by and reckon them?”

He glanced across the table. Jett was poking about in one of her shopping bags, the tissue paper crinkling. “Sure. Give me a couple hours and I’ll head over.”

“Great. I’ll give you more details then.”

“The cellular phone has advanced measurably in my absence,” Jett commented as he tucked away his phone. “I remember them being large and—what were they—flip phones?”

“They get smaller and sleeker every year. And the cameras on them are amazing. I’ve even got a demon tracking app.”

“What’s an app?”

“It’s a...” Savin chuckled. “A program designed to do something specific and usually make life easier. Though I’m not much for selfies.”

“What’s a selfie?”

“Something I think you would be excellent at.” He winked, and her lift of chin preceded a slight curve of her mouth. Yes, she would put all the selfie queens to shame with her natural beauty. “I’ll give you the tech talk later,” he said. “You won’t need to learn much to get up to speed. Except that swiping right can get you in more trouble than you are prepared to confront.”

And that was all he was willing to divulge regarding his failed Tinder experiment.

“I have no idea what you just said, but I think I’ll be fine without a phone for now. Getting up to speed on existing in this realm is going to take some time. You have somewhere you need to be?”

“Yes, that was Edamite Thrash. He’s a corax demon. Good guy. I’d never reckon him. He keeps an eye on the demons in Paris and isn’t afraid to move in when one steps out of line. Sort of the demon police patrol over Paris.”