Heart of the Demon

chapter Three





The next evening, Finn rolled his bike to a stop in a parking spot near the front door of the Pixie Dust Lounge. He cut the engine and sat for a moment. The parking lot was well lit. The large sign on top of the building was neon, the pink outline of a woman with back arched and breasts outthrust was the main component. A glitter of cascading sparkles created the illusion of fairy dust streaming down from one of the figure’s outstretched hands.

He wasn’t a stranger to these kinds of joints; he actually spent quite a bit of time in one or another. In reality he ended up in places like this not because he wanted to be there but because he’d tracked down a demon that needed to be reminded of the rules.

There weren’t many guidelines for demon behavior, but Lucifer demanded absolute adherence to the few that were in place. When a demon broke one, Finn tracked him down. Usually at a strip club, because most demons—like any other male—had a thing for naked girls.

Tonight, though, he was here on his own. To talk, not watch pole dancers, though he was just as red-blooded as the next guy. He foresaw lots more talking in his future even though he was used to banging heads together to get what he wanted. He preferred banging heads together to get what he wanted. This whole business of trying to persuade people through verbal communication was making him psycho. He realized head bangings wouldn’t get him the desired results, so he was adapting.

See? Anyone who said he couldn’t learn and grow was just shooting shit.

He heaved a sigh and got off the bike. Pocketing the key, he swiped his palms down his jean-clad thighs and headed toward the front door. As he reached out for the knob, the door swung open. Finn jumped back to avoid getting hit, and scowled when a Surtur demon named Phoebus walked out of the building.

Surturs were called fire giants by humans, but among their own kind they referred to themselves by the name of the planet they came from. They could put their hands on someone and, if they wanted to, literally kill them with a touch by heating up the victim’s body temperature. They could cause anything from a raging fever to spontaneous combustion. Even with the advances of modern medicine, Finn had never known of anyone who’d been touched by a Surtur and survived.

As Phoebus stood before him, arms crossed over his chest, Finn made sure to keep some distance between them. He didn’t think the other demon would start anything, but he couldn’t be sure. While he wouldn’t call Phoebus his nemesis, they sure as hell weren’t friends, each holding an active dislike for the other. He curbed his natural inclination to reach out and pop the guy on his big schnoz. Instead, he tipped his chin in greeting. “Phoebus,” he muttered and started to walk around the other man.

“That’s it? No trading of insults? No veiled threats?”

Finn turned to look at Phoebus. The Surtur’s irises were almost completely yellow, which they hadn’t been until he’d gotten a look at Finn. Now his emotions were riled and it showed in his eyes. Finn figured his own eyes were probably showing a spark of his demon as well, but he didn’t have the time or the inclination to tap dance with the bastard. “Nope,” he said and turned back toward the club.

A hand fell onto his shoulder.

Finn stiffened. So far Phoebus was only touching him, but at any minute he could decide to let loose with a kind of heat not even Finn could take.

“Just one damn minute,” Phoebus said. “Since when do you let an opportunity go by to remind me of my place in the grand scheme of Lucifer’s domain?” His voice rasped with suspicion and animosity.

“You sound disappointed.” Finn glanced at the hand on his shoulder and then raised his gaze to Phoebus’s face. He lifted a brow and waited.

With a great show of compliance, Phoebus lifted his hand and shoved it into his front pocket. “Well?” he prompted.

“I’m letting you slide because I have better things to do with my time.” Finn headed toward the club again.

“So the rumors are true, then?”

Finn heaved a sigh and stopped. “What rumors?” he asked in a tired voice without turning.

“From what I understand, you’ve been telling anyone who’ll listen that you’re fed up with how restricted we are by Lucifer. By the council.” He paused and then, his voice thick with barely contained glee, said, “I also hear you and Lucifer are on the outs. That true?”

“Even if it was,” he grated, turning to shoot a glower the other demon’s way, “you’d be the last person I’d confirm it to.” The thought that Phoebus could be a viable connection to the rogue group flashed through Finn’s mind, and he dismissed it. There was no way in hell he could pretend to be chummy with Phoebus and have anyone believe it. Especially Phoebus. No, he’d just have to carry on as usual with the Surtur, which generally meant being snarly and trading insults. That was fine by him.

A smile tilted one corner of Phoebus’s mouth and a sly look entered his eyes. “Would you at least tell me if you’re his son?”

“No.” Finn folded his arms over his chest.

“No, you’re not his son? Or no, you won’t tell me?” Phoebus’s expression darkened with guile. “Come on, give me a little somethin’ here.”

“I wouldn’t give you my last mouthful of spit if you were on fire.” Finn dropped his arms to his sides and turned back toward the club. As he pulled open the door, he threw over his shoulder, “Think what you want to.”

He went into the building without waiting to hear what Phoebus’s comeback might be.

He headed straight to one of the tables near the pole area and settled into a seat. Two women halfheartedly danced around poles at opposite ends of the raised platform. He didn’t blame them for their lack of zeal; other than him, there were only three other guys in the place.

Little white bulbs lined the edge of the stage, only half of them working. Overhead colored lights blinked, spotlighting the dancers in blue, then red, then yellow. It didn’t help. He guessed the lights were an effort to make them more appealing, but to Finn it only made them look tired. Besides, he wasn’t there to watch the gyrations of exotic dancers.

Within seconds a pink-haired, eyebrow- and nose-ring-sporting pixie came over to him. She wore skintight black pants and a red halter top that barely covered her breasts. Finn had been here before; he knew her outfit was the standard uniform for the waitstaff. Aroused customers tended to drink more, though it took skill to keep them sober enough so they stayed aroused and kept spending money.

And Sinead, the pixie standing in front of him, possessed mad skills. She also had ties to the rogue group, or so he’d been told, so she was on the top of his list of people to talk to. She flicked pink-streaked blond bangs out of her eyes and gave him a lusty stare. “What’s your pleasure, Finn?” she asked in a sultry, husky voice.

He had to keep up his bad-boy rep, so he slung an arm around her waist and pulled her near, not close enough to scare her, but enough to be friendly. “I’ll take a beer, sweetheart. And some company, if you’ve got the time.”

“I have the time.” She glanced around the nearly empty club with a grimace. “And I’m due a break, anyway. I’ll be right back.”

He watched her saunter away, her hips swaying with a promise he wouldn’t take her up on. Though it would be a different story if she had long, red hair…he pushed that thought away. He was here to get Sinead to open up to him about the rogue group, not finagle a free lap dance. For him to succeed, she had to think he would follow through on the temptation she presented with lots of cash. Actually, either way he’d probably have to give her money, but if it got him closer to his goal, he’d consider any outlay of cash a wise investment in his future.

He watched the pole dancers with as much enthusiasm as that which they performed. The music coming over the sound system sounded like something from a low-budget seventies porn film. The women’s apathetic performance was as painful to hear as it was to watch.

After a few minutes Sinead was back, a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She gave him the beer and sat down in the chair next to him. After taking a sip of wine, she placed the glass on the table and crossed one slender leg over the other. She idly swung her leg, the tip of her red stiletto coming close to his calf with each upswing. “So, you’re not here on business, I take it?” she asked. She gestured toward the three other patrons. “You barely even looked at them. I’m guessing you’re not on somebody’s trail.”

“I’m taking a break from work,” he murmured. He watched her slim fingers slide up and down the stem of the wineglass. Knowing he needed to feign interest in what other long thing she could move her fingers over, he let a hint of lust show in his expression. He rolled his shoulders and met her eyes. “Today’s all about fun.”

“Good for you. You know what they say about all work and no play.” She smiled and kept toying with the glass.

“Mmm. And I think you know I’m not a dull boy.”

She snickered. “Not by a long shot.”

He stretched an arm along the back of her chair. “What keeps you here, Sinead?” He met her bright blue gaze. “You could do so much better.”

“Are you asking ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’” She lifted delicately arched brows. From the look on her face he guessed she was mildly amused at his tactics.

“I guess so.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. He wasn’t here to piss her off. He was here to butter her up and get information. It always helped when he could tell the truth when he flattered someone. He said, “You’re smart enough to do more. You have a degree. Why are you still here?”

Surprise lightened her eyes. “Well, thank you. Most guys don’t look past my assets.” Sitting up straighter, she preened a little, showing off those assets while pink pleasure spread over her cheeks. She looked around the club and a tinge of sadness stole some of the pleasure away. “Arnie’s worked so hard on this place, and I’ve been with him from the start. This job is the reason I was able to put myself through school and earn my B.A. It wouldn’t be right for me to abandon him now.”

Knowing the owner as he did, Finn was surprised the joint had stayed open as long as it had. The Oneiroi clan of demons was better known for causing night terrors, not for being astute businessmen. And in his heyday, Arnie Mitress had been one of the best nightmare-invoking guys around. “I admire your loyalty,” he said. And he did. “But you might not have a choice if it comes down to either being loyal or eating.”

“Sure I do. Arnie looks out for me.” Sinead shifted her position so that her shoulder bumped against Finn’s hand.

When she didn’t move, he knew he’d been given the go-ahead. He slid his fingers over her soft skin and cupped her shoulder, feeling the frailty of her bones beneath his palm. “He’s doing a helluva job,” he muttered, a frown pulling between his brows. He genuinely liked Sinead, even if he was using her to get information. “When is the last time you ate?”

A smile curved her lips and brightened her eyes. “You’re sweet. I’m fine, Finn. Really.” She bent her arm and laced her fingers with his. “What made you decide to take a break today? Is it your boss?” Her features scrunched in commiseration. “I heard you two had a falling out.”

“You did, eh?” He stroked his thumb along hers. When had his business become everyone else’s?

She nodded. “Phoebus was just in here and—” Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small O. “You probably ran into him on your way in.”

The animosity between him and Phoebus wasn’t a secret. “We saw each other, yeah.” At her look of concern, he added, “He walked away uninjured, don’t worry.”

Sinead grimaced. “I wasn’t worried about Phoebus,” she said. As Finn started to feel good about her concern for him, she stated, “He can take care of himself.”

He raised his brows. “You thought he might have hurt me, is that it?”

“Don’t get your shorts in a twist,” she muttered. She flicked her finger at the back of his hand before twining their fingers together again. “I know you can take care of yourself, too. It’s just that Phoebus fights dirty.” She shook her head. “You men and your egos. Really, it’s ridiculous the things you get upset over.”

“You think?” He let his voice come out in a low growl and wiggled his brows.

She giggled. “I do. And sometimes it’s cute.” She leaned closer, nestling in the crook of his arm. “So, your break?” she asked, redirecting the conversation back to her earlier question. “Why aren’t you working today? And does Lucifer know?”

Finn gave a little growl. “I guess he knows. Seems like everyone else does.” He smiled at her giggle. “I’ve been doing this for a long, long time. A break is overdue.” He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and blew out a sigh. “I get so fed up with it all, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Policing behavior we shouldn’t have to police. Being a minority within a minority. Kowtowing to humans, making sure we don’t do things to spook them.” Finn looked at her. “It’s especially galling for me.”

“Why you?”

“Because I’m a demon. We don’t answer to anyone. Well, other than Lucifer.” He scrubbed his hand across his jaw. Answering to his father was bad enough. He couldn’t imagine also being brought to heel by the council. “But we don’t answer to the Council of Preternaturals, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“Do you think Lucifer would ever allow it? I mean, there have been councils for millennia, and demons have never been represented. They’ve never wanted to be represented. Why would that change now?” Sinead took a sip of wine, staring at Finn over the rim of the glass.

He glanced around the club. Both of the pole dancers had left the stage and no one had taken their places yet, though the cheesy porn music still played over the speakers. The other three patrons remained where they’d been when Finn had come in, so they weren’t close enough to overhear what he was about to say. However, just in case one of the others in the club was a shapeshifter with preternatural hearing, he lowered his voice and said, “Because I’ve heard this next rift might be different.”

“Different how?” She leaned toward him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

He couldn’t tell if she wondered how much he knew, or if she was legitimately curious. “It’s going to be open longer than usual, and more prets are going to come through.”

Her eyes widened. “The rift will be open longer…how could that happen? And how would more prets come through from the other dimension?”

“I have no idea. I’m only telling you what I’ve been hearing. And I want in.”

She blinked. “In on what?”

He withdrew his arm from around her shoulder and scooted his chair around so that he faced her. He hunched his shoulders, leaning his elbows on his knees, and stared into her face. “I’ve heard there’s a group that has a device that can keep the rift open. Hell, someone told me the machine could maybe even open a rift on its own. We wouldn’t have to wait another seventy-three years for more of us to get here; to take over more human bodies.” Keeping his voice low, he said, “I want in on that group.”

Sinead sat quietly, looking at him, and didn’t respond.

He couldn’t tell what was going on behind those eyes. “It’s no secret that demons are in the minority among preternaturals,” he went on. “We have fewer numbers than any other group. And compared to humans,” he shook his head for effect, “I’m tired of the status quo. I want to shake things up.”

She continued to stare at him for several moments before she took a breath and leaned back in her chair. “I might know someone. I’ll give him a call.”

Finn focused on keeping his heart rate steady. He couldn’t show the savage satisfaction he felt. “Who?” If he could get a name, he’d be that much closer to his goal. And independence.

She waggled a finger and laughed. “Nuh-uh. It doesn’t work that way, Mr. Impatient. I’ll make a call, and if he’s interested in letting you in, you can expect a text message.” She stood. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

As she walked away, he muttered, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not gonna budge.”

Sinead returned with a pad and pen, which she put on the table in front of him. “Give me your cell phone number, and I’ll pass it on.”

He wrote down his number and handed the pad to her. “Thanks, Sinead. I appreciate this.”

She gave him a look of warning. “I’m not making any promises here. Maybe you’ll get a text, and maybe you won’t. If you do receive one, you’d better follow the instructions.”

Finn got to his feet and dug out his wallet. To make it worth her time, he handed her a couple of twenties along with the pen. “And if I don’t?”

She took the money and pen, clicking the end to retract the tip. “If you don’t want to die, you’ll do exactly what they tell you to.” With that warning she walked off with much less sway in her hips than she had earlier. He guessed she was through trying to entice him.

He settled his tab at the bar and left the club. Several minutes later, after making a few hard turns to discourage anyone who might be tailing him, he pulled his bike to the curb a couple of blocks over from his father’s house. He followed a man-made wash running like an alley behind a row of homes until he could climb over the tall privacy wall that separated Lucifer’s property from his neighbors, and knocked on the back door.

He was getting ready to knock again when the door swung open. His dad’s longtime girlfriend Betty stood there, neither hostile nor welcoming. Her short black curls glinted with blue from the overhead light, and her round dark eyes framed with sooty long lashes were still youthful and reminiscent of a famous cartoon that had been created based on her back in the early thirties. “Hello, Finn,” she said. She peered over his shoulder, a slight frown finally bringing some sort of life to her face. “Why are you sneaking around in our backyard?”

“I’m not.” He bit back a sigh of impatience. “I was just making sure I wasn’t being followed. Can I come in? I need to talk to my father.”

“Sure.” She stepped back to allow him entrance, then closed the door behind him. “Luc’s in the living room. Go on in.”

As Finn went into the living room, his father looked up from his computer tablet. “You have news?” Lucifer asked.

Finn shot him a look. For once he’d like to be treated like a blood relative, hell, like a son, instead of an employee. To get a Hi, son, how are you? instead of being asked for a status report. But this was the king of demons after all. “I do.”

Lucifer smiled and set the tablet on the side table. “Let’s hear it.”

Finn glanced toward the kitchen. “Uh, I thought Caine didn’t want anyone but the three of us and his wife to know—”

“I don’t keep things from Betty.” Lucifer’s face hardened with displeasure. “Besides, the day I let a vampire tell me what to do is the day you put me six feet under.”

Apparently his father trusted Tobias Caine, respected him even, but wasn’t willing to let go of the natural hatred that existed between vampires and demons. As far as Finn could tell, it stemmed from before any of them had come through the rift, and no one could or would tell him exactly where it all had started. “Fine,” he said. “It’s your call.” At his father’s nod, Finn filled him in, a feeling of satisfaction growing within him at the expression of pride on his father’s face. “I was about ready to walk up to Caine’s nemesis and introduce myself,” Finn finished. “But it finally looks like our original plan is going to work after all.”

“This calls for a celebration.” Lucifer turned his head toward the kitchen. “Sweetheart, is there any cheesecake left?”

“You want to celebrate with cheesecake?” And here Finn thought he knew his dad, but the old devil pulled something new out of his bag of tricks.

Lucifer glanced his way. “It’s good cheesecake.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Very good cheesecake.”

Betty walked out of the kitchen and stopped under the arched entrance to the living room. “What kind do you want?”

“You have more than one kind?” Finn saw the sugar gluttony in his father’s eyes. “Of course you do.”

“I like cheesecake,” Lucifer said with an arch glance his way. “I’ll have a piece of both,” he said in a softer tone to his girlfriend.

“And both would be?” Finn looked at Betty.

“Caramel apple and white chocolate raspberry.”

“You made them?”

Betty trilled a laugh. “Oh, hell no. I can’t cook worth a damn.”

Finn opted for the caramel apple.

Betty served them and took a seat next to Lucifer on the sofa. She curled her legs to one side and leaned against his shoulder, one hand curled around his inner elbow.

It struck Finn, not for the first time, how this woman, a succubus, could be so attentive and attached to his father yet spare barely a thought for her own daughter, Nix, Caine’s new wife. And now that Nix was part vampire, the mother-daughter relationship was even more strained.

He supposed it was none of his business, though he was still curious. Certainly Nix didn’t want him poking his nose into her relationship with her mother. And he couldn’t care less how Betty treated him. As long as his father was happy with her, that was all that mattered.

As Finn dug into his piece of cake, Lucifer said, “I hear you and the new fey woman are on friendly terms with each other.”

“Which fey woman would that be?” Finn scraped the last bits of cheesecake from his plate and set it on the table next to his chair.

“Keira Something-or-Other.”

“O’Brien.” Finn crossed his legs, resting one ankle against the opposite knee. He didn’t like the dismissive way his father said her name, but he kept that hidden. Now wasn’t the time to get his father riled up. After he was released from duty, well, that was a different story. “Her name is Keira O’Brien.”

Lucifer gave a nod and took another bite of cheesecake. He pointed his fork at Finn and said, “Don’t let your dick get in the way of the job.”

“Have I ever?”

His father stared at him a moment and then shook his head.

“I won’t now, either.” Finn stood and looked at Betty. “Thanks for the cheesecake.” To his dad he said, “I’ll keep you posted.” He said his good-byes and made his way back to his bike, his emotions churning. First his father seemed proud of the job he was doing, then he felt the need to tell him how to do it.

Finn couldn’t wait for this final assignment to be over.