The Marquis (The 13th Floor)

Chapter 7


“This cream is remarkable.” Mae sniffed the contents of the jar and nodded with a pleased expression. She set it on the lone small table in Marc’s apartment.

“Harri’s a nurse. Well, a retired nurse.” Marc added. He stood in his kitchen, hands flat on the countertop. “She makes a lot of home remedies.”

“Like the wise women of old.” Mae surveyed the apartment and turned to him with raised brows. “I’ve always known you’re a man’s man, but this place is very ... male. Worn in furniture, big television, no art on the walls, no color, and in need of a good dusting.” She opened one of his kitchen cabinets. “Near empty shelves. And I don’t see a coffee maker.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Marc was comfortable in his home. Comfortable, but nothing more. “Help yourself to whatever you wish.”

“Ms. McKay gave me some tea. I can boil some water.” Mae searched the cupboards. “Thankfully you have a few mugs. And a kettle or a pot?” He motioned to the drawer under the stove and she crouched down to retrieve one.

Marc walked into the living room, pacing the length of it. He would have to find some way to keep Mae in his apartment.

Mae was in his apartment. A few days ago that might have made him jump for joy. Perhaps he should still do so because the 13th floor accepted her presence and Harriet didn’t scream. Still, he knew as well as anyone, the future could change in a heartbeat.

“Sit down. You must be sore yourself. Do you need any of the cream?” Mae carried two cups of tea and sat them on the coffee table.

“No. I’m fine.” And he was fine. Another perk of his demonic form was that it healed quickly. A mortal would have been hospitalized after the injuries he took, but he was merely stiff and tired.

Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, Marc picked up one of the mugs. The warmth felt good. Reminiscent of the heat that had flowed through his veins earlier. He still hadn’t decided how much or what he was going to tell her. How much was enough to make sure she stayed in the apartment?

“Stop over-thinking things. I’ve always liked it that you talked plainly with me.” Mae sipped her tea and set the mug back on the table. She folded her hands on her lap. “I’m not a little girl that’s going to run screaming. And I’ve always believed in things beyond the normal human experience. I used to think I saw fairies in my garden when I was little. I would dance with them, and sometimes my parents would have to come fetch me and drag me into the house to get me to stop.”

“Sounds like something fairies would do.” Marc grumbled and glanced up to find her gazing intensely at him. “What?”

“You actually mean that.” Mae nipped at her lower lip.

He nodded once and scratched his beard. He wasn’t going to tell her tales of the other horrors in the world. It was enough she was sitting beside one. He’d seen tougher people crack under this sort of pressure. But if she wanted him to speak plainly, he wasn’t going to waste any time dancing around the subject.

“The city’s going to Hell and it’s because of me.” He grunted and started over. “Actually, Hell is coming to the city and it’s because of me. A demon named Vetis has decided he wants my head, but he’s going to destroy everything I care for first before he kills me. He saw us together earlier today. You’re on his hit list.”

Mae paled and reached for her tea. Her hand trembled and she used the other to steady it. She took several sips, hiding behind the mug for a moment.

“This is why you need to get out of town. Go far away. Or at least, stay here where it’s safe. No one can find you here.” Marc wanted to demand she stay. He was ready to lock her in if he had to, but one of the things he admired about Mae was that she had her own mind. Forcing her to do anything was not an option.

“If no one can find me here, they wouldn’t be able to find you either. Why not stay yourself?” Her voice was soft with its plea.

“Vetis would raze Carmine to the ground looking for me. I can’t let him continue killing folks.”

“And you can kill the demon? Just like you did with the ... thing in my café?” The hope in her eyes was like a knife to his gut.

“The thing that attacked you was a construct made up of lesser demons. Vetis is much more powerful. I might be able to beat him if ...” Marc shook his head. He said he’d be honest. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Either he’s dead or I’m dead, and you’ll be safe. The city too.”

“It matters a great damn deal.” Mae plunked her mug down with a thud and folded her arms. “You’re not going out there to die. I refuse to let you do it.”

He wanted to kiss her for that. No one had ever cared whether he lived or died. The Grand Marquis had been one cog in a grand army of tens of thousands. The being he had become was just a territorial old goat hiding his love for a woman he could never be with. She was too good for him.

“It’s going to happen one way or another. I’m not going to hide.” He leaned closer to her. Underneath the cream, sweat, and dirt, he could smell Mae’s sweet scent. A spritz of perfume he had no name for, a hint of coffee and baked goods, and the soft fruity smell of lotion she always used. He was tempted to bury his nose against her neck. “Did you want to know why Vetis is after me? You haven’t asked what I am again.”

“You’re my hero. That’s all I need to know.” Did he imagine it, or did she lean closer too?

Her breath was warm against his skin. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in years. And never had he wanted someone as much as he wanted her. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, but caught himself and curled it into a fist. He stood up, stomping to the other side of the room.

“I’m no one’s hero.” Marc spat. “I’m a goddamned demon. Not even that any more. I’m less than a demon, less than a man. I used to be one of Lucifer’s favorites.” He caught her surprised look. “Oh yes, I served for centuries. Death and destruction. I was the best at what I did. And when it was all over, what did I have to show for it? Not a f*cking thing. I left my Master’s service and came here to be forgotten. I’d almost forgotten myself until Vetis came along. Now he wants to gain some respect by chopping off my head and bragging to the elite down in Hell. And they’ll give it to him too. Vetis won’t stop until I’m dead. This is why I can’t run and hide.

“This is why it doesn’t matter if I die. I should have been dead a long time ago.” He stalked to the door and spun to face her. Mae hadn’t moved from the couch. He pointed at her. “You will stay here. It does matter if you live or die.”

Turning to open the door, he grabbed the knob, but it refused to twist. Grunting, he shook it and tried again. He kicked at the door and swore under his breath. Marc needed to get away from her. From this place, from everything. Let Vetis take his head. He didn’t want to bring any more horror into Mae’s world.

Marc shoved at the door and kicked it again. He tried to rip it from its hinges.

“I think it’s stuck,” Mae said quietly from behind him. He twisted around, almost bumping the mug from her outstretched hands. “Finish your tea. Clear your head. Maybe then you’ll reconsider throwing yourself at the demon.”

He knocked the tea aside and kissed her.