Ruined

Chapter Eleven

Jax

I strode down Sixth Street, coat blowing behind in the gusty wind. I was doing my best to ignore the painful pressure in my muscles and the ache that came with it. When the demon didn’t get what it wanted, it made things difficult. When the need became too much, usually I’d stalk the streets looking for a fight. I kept to the seedier parts of town, which generally made it easy to find some deserving bastard to unload on.

Unfortunately, Harlow was a small place. Everyone knew everyone else. I wasn’t eager to go kicking the crap out of people. I’d been taking little bits from random sources. A portion of anger here, a nibble of sadness there. Soon though, the demon wouldn’t give me any choice. The longer I went without feeding it, the stronger it got. Backward if you asked me. The damn thing should get weaker when denied its twisted little snack.

I’d barely roughed up the demon on the cliff, and never even got to take a swing at the other—not that I had any idea what would have happened. I’d never fed on another demon before. Didn’t even know if it was possible.

The sooner I got this wrapped up the better. Being in such close proximity to Chase was bad for everyone’s health.

Then there was Sam. While the demon forced gruesome scenes on repeat inside my head, I could only focus on her. On what had happened tonight.

On what I’d done.

The demon had never spoken to anyone while in control. Tonight, watching it approach her, hearing it say her name, terrified me. How the fuck was I going to explain everything?

After I left home Sam moved on with her life. School, a job, other boyfriends. It was hard to watch—and I did—but it was the only way to keep her safe from my world. I kept tabs on her every step of the way, dropping in and secretly stealing glimpses just to be sure she was safe and happy. I’d always felt like a bastard for doing it. Like some sick creeper stalking the one thing I knew I could never have. Until the night of the party.

Really, after what happened to her parents, her reaction of leaving school after the attack was understandable. They were killed in a home invasion. She’d seen the whole thing from the closet in her parent’s bedroom. The kicker was, it had been the bastard’s second attempt. The first time, Mr. Merrick was able to scare him off and call the police. The second time around, he hadn’t been so lucky.

Now with multiple attempts on her own life I couldn’t imagine what Sam was going through. And she didn’t even know the half of it. The demons on the cliff had thrown me. Was the person who attacked her at school a demon? I wasn’t sure how I could have missed it. I’d been right there and would have smelled the thing on her for sure.

In places like the club it was much harder to zero in on a specific source. All those people crammed into one place was like a traffic jam of emotion, all knotted together. But out in the open air, it’d be hard to miss. Still, it was the only explanation.

Demons didn’t mix well with humans. There was little chance that a human stalker had contracted demonic hit men to off a single girl. Most people had no idea they even existed. I’d been so preoccupied with the attack that the fact it’d been perpetrated by a demon had totally slipped past me. That was the only other possibility.

The big question now was, could I take care of it without having to tell Sam the truth? Like the rest of the world, she had no idea these things existed. I wanted to keep it that way.

I rounded the final corner and the Viking came into sight. The club was closed, but the small dive bar across the street was still kicking. It was a smaller hunting area than I normally liked, but time was running out. A deep breath told me that while it wouldn’t satisfy the demon completely, or take away the pain, I’d find exactly what I needed to maintain control.

The place was small and run-down. There were several people at the counter, and a few more scattered around the room at tables. At the bar, a girl shrieked, the sound almost entirely drowned out by the pumping music coming from various speakers on the walls. She yelled at the bartender for a refill, holding up her empty glass when it became obvious that he couldn’t hear her.

It didn’t take long to find a target. In fact, I found the perfect target. The demon that pushed Sam over the edge was seated at a table in the corner with a few of the bouncers from the club laughing and doing shots and carrying on. Other than the brief scuffle at the cliff, I’d never fought another demon. I had no idea what to expect—but I was eager to find out.

I settled at the bar and waited. Patience wasn’t a virtue me or my demon possessed, but in this case it was worth the effort. It took a while, but after six shots, the bastard headed for the restroom.

The demon writhed beneath my skin as I stood and made my way into the hall. Starving. It was starving. The sudden severity scared the shit out of me. What if this had nothing to do with Chase or Sam? What if, as I got older, the demon’s hunger grew? I consoled myself by sticking to people who hurt others. Drug dealers, child molesters, men who beat their wives… The black stains on society had sustained the demon all this time.

But no matter how much they deserved what they got, or how the darkest parts of me enjoyed it, in the end a part of me died each time. The thought of having to up the numbers made me sick.

Fingers itching to feel the monster’s bones break, I slipped through the bathroom door. The satisfying snap, crackle, and pop as things were crushed was always music to my ears, and would calm my nerves.

Directly across from the entrance, cloaked in a haze of orange and yellow and wobbling at the urinal, was my prey. I locked the door behind me, and probably should have checked to make sure we were alone, but the sight of the thing sent the demon into a frenzy, which only aggravated my own hatred. It had tried to hurt Sam.

I stalked forward and grabbed a handful of the demon’s hair. The bastard flinched, surprised, as I ripped it away from the dirty porcelain and heaved its body across to the other side of the room. A feral sound, followed by a spike of potent, sweet-smelling crimson smoke. The enemy crashed into the row of sinks on the other side of the room, ripping one off the wall on the way to the floor.

It took an enormous amount of self-restraint—on my part and the demon’s—but I waited for it to pick itself up before striking again. I wanted a fight. I needed a challenge. Destroying the fucker while he was down would offer neither.

“You,” the demon snarled, as it climbed to its feet. The thing spit a mouthful of blood and wiped the tip of its chin with the back of its hand. Crimson puffs rose in the air, and sent the thing inside me into a crazed fit. “I saw you go over the cliff with that bitch.”

“Guess you saw wrong.”

“Guess so.” With a dark chuckle, it grabbed the porcelain sink from the floor and heaved it at my head. I jumped to the left and then ducked fast to avoid the shattered pieces that rocketed through the small room like miniature bullets, then lunged forward and slammed my opponent’s head into the mirror. The glass shattered. Tiny pieces coated in blood fell to the floor with soft plinking sounds and scattered across the room to mingle with the broken porcelain.

From the first time I’d done something horrible to appease the demon, I imagined a switch in my head. I told myself that when hungry enough, the demon simply flipped it, turning me into a darker, crueler version of myself. Someone who caused others pain to end his own. Someone who had absolutely no control. That switch flipped, but this time, it was me who did it. I was in total control.

It teetered back and caught itself on the edge of the remaining sink, hesitating for only a moment before whipping out a blade and brandishing it with a wicked smile.

I hadn’t dealt with a lot of demons, and before coming back to Harlow, hadn’t tangled with any, but a knife? What the fuck was that all about?

It lunged for me. I pivoted, dodging the blade, and brought my elbow down in an attempt to ground my opponent. The other demon danced away with time to spare and brought the blade down across my forearm in a long, clean slice. I didn’t feel it. It could have been adrenaline, or maybe because my demon lingered close to the surface, but it must have been deep. There was nothing for a moment, then a sea of red flowed freely.

Normally the sight of a wound excited the thing inside, but for some reason, this time the injury enraged it. It flashed an image of Sam’s face, then another, as she fell from the cliff. The terror that hit me in those last moments rushed back and ducking another blow, I grabbed the bastard’s forearm and twisted until it was on its knees.

Gritting my teeth against the urge to snap its neck, I growled, “Was it you that attacked her at Huntington? Why?”

No answer.

My grip tightened. “Did you follow her here?”

This time the demon snarled, shaking its head violently from side to side.

Another flash of pictures through my head, these backdropped by fire and black smoke. On the ground were bodies. Hundreds of bodies. Broken bones and twisted limbs. And blood… More blood than I’d ever seen before. Since coming back to town, the images the demon showed me had become more violent, but this was the worst yet. I couldn’t place the scene, but it was unlike anything I’d ever witnessed. A charred landscape with white, fiery clouds overhead. “Did you?” I yelled, shaking off the vision.

Another twist of his arm. A loud snap. A howl of pain. Closing its eyes, the other demon relented. “Tonight was the first night I laid eyes on the human.”

“So someone told you to come to the club tonight?” I asked, leaning close to his ear. “Who was it? Human or demon?”

The demon didn’t answer the question. Instead, it pulled its lips back and snarled.

“If you’re not the one who wants her dead, then tell me who is.” Another twist. Another crack. “Someone told you to do it. Who?”

“Kill me,” it spat. “I will not betray my kind.”

I laughed. No? We’d just see about that. Grabbing its right hand, I wrapped my fingers around the demon’s thumb and yanked back hard. The sounds it made—blissfully cracking bone and an otherworldly scream—was like a serenade to my ears. Thick gray smoke rose from its shoulders, filling the room. My demon sucked in the fear greedily, causing the pain to ebb and giving me a renewed sense of energy.

“Release me!” it bellowed as I bent back another finger. Thank God for the music outside. The last thing I needed was someone calling the police.

“Care to try again?”

“I am a soldier. You cannot break me.”

I grabbed yet another finger and snapped it back. “Hear that? Sure as hell sounds like breaking to me.”

It let out an anguished roar.

“I can make this drag on forever. I’ve got nothing but time.” I yanked back on another digit. “Ten fingers. Ten toes. Two arms and legs… This could get interesting.”

“Giving you what you want will change nothing. It will stop nothing.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge.” I gave in to the demon just a bit, digging my fingers into the bastard’s flesh until I felt the skin give. He tried to scream, but I clamped a hand across his mouth to keep him silent. I moved my hand. “You’re a soldier. A soldier for what?”

“If I tell you he’ll kill me,” it rasped, breathless and afraid.

I chuckled. The sound was dark and dangerous and a little comforting. This was who I was. This was my life. I bent low and whispered in the man’s ear. “I’m the one you need to worry about. What he’ll do to you would be merciful compared to what I’ll do if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”

A frantic nod. “I don’t have a human name—only an address. Fifty-fifth and Aberdeen. Number 882.”

Its fear wafted up to meet me. It drifted all around, permeating the air and filling the monster inside. I savored the feeling—a twisted euphoria I loved and despised—as a shudder of contentment ran through my body. This was huge. I knew there wouldn’t always be a demon on hand to feed on—before this all went down, I’d only ever run into two or three in passing—but knowing I had the option eased some of my guilt.

“Please, man. I told you what you wanted. Let me go.”

Let him go?

“Okay.” A single, tight-fisted blow to the man’s jaw. I let his body fall to the floor. I left him alive because the risk of someone recognizing me, then finding the body, was too great. Time to pay Sam’s stalker a visit.

As I approached the door of the apartment, my cell rang again. Sam again. She’d called four times now. I killed the ringer and stuffed the phone back into my pocket. The demon flashed an image of danger. Something about this place made it nervous and even though I hated the thing, it had never steered me wrong before. Letting the demon rise closer to the surface, I listened at the door, allowing it to heighten my senses. There was a strange smell coming from inside. Something faint that, without the demon’s help, I’d never have picked up. A fetid scent mixed with something spicy. Something rotting. There was someone inside the apartment—but they weren’t alive.

Grabbing the handle, I gave a single twist. The knob rattled, then fell to the ground with a clatter. With one last look down the hall to be sure there were no prying eyes, I retrieved the knob and slipped inside.

The smell that hit me upon entering was ten times more potent than in the hall. Hand clamped tight across my nose and mouth, I moved past the entryway and into the living room. The building itself was nice—not swag really, but certainly not the run-down shitholes I’d been living in over the last few years. There was a mirrored ceiling and two matching walls, in addition to glass end tables and a large, empty floor-to-ceiling fish tank. An assortment of architecture magazines fanned across the coffee table, while paintings of uniquely shaped buildings adorned the walls. It looked like the kind of place I’d expect Chase to live. A bachelor pad designed with homemade porn movies in mind.

Other than the furniture, there wasn’t much else in the apartment. In fact, there was nothing. I pulled open several of the kitchen cabinets and drawers to find them bare. There were two used wineglasses on the counter sitting next to an empty bottle, but when I opened the fridge, it was just like the rest of the apartment. Nothing. On closer inspection, all the shelves in the living room were empty. There wasn’t even a television.

I moved through the place, randomly opening closet doors and drawers, and following the strange smell. Each step toward the back of the apartment brought me closer to the source. When I reached the end of the hall and rounded the corner on what appeared to be the master bedroom, I stopped to take a deep breath. Yeah. It was definitely strongest in here.

I walked to the closet and pulled open the door. It was the only thing in the apartment, other than the wineglasses, that appeared to have been used. At first, everything looked normal. A row of shoes. From brand-new sneakers to shiny dress loafers—all obviously never worn and strictly for show. The clothing rod was strung with hangers draped by suits, most still with the tags attached, several pairs of jeans, and a leather jacket. There were boxes stacked neatly on the top shelf, but when I reached for one, I found it empty. They all were.

My nose itched and my eyes watered as I fought against my gag reflex. The longer I stayed here, the more the smell bothered me. With the demon so close to the surface, everything was amped. I tried pushing it back to dull my senses, but it wouldn’t be moved.

I gave up and held my breath, bending down to push aside the shoes. The floor beneath them was a slight shade darker than the rest of the closet. It paid off. There was a trap door hidden in the floor. It didn’t take much to pry it open because there was no lock, which struck me as odd. Beyond the door was a narrow set of concrete stairs leading into blackness.

Leading into death.

The scent of sulfur permeated the air. I couldn’t discern how many, but there were multiple variations. This place didn’t belong to one demon. It belonged to several.

I climbed down one step at a time, readying myself for anything.

It looked just like any other storage space. Rows of boxes, a few pieces of old furniture… And three women. All naked.

All dead.

I’d seen a lot of bloodshed in my life. Hell, I’d been the cause of most of it, but what I found at the bottom of those stairs was enough to turn my stomach five times over. They were stacked on top of each other. Piled like garbage in various states of decay.

Next to them was a pile of hair. No. Not hair. Entire scalps. Demon trophies. I let out a breath and sucked another in, holding it. I was a monster in every sense of the word, but this… I backed away slowly, unable to tear my eyes from the gruesome sight. Even my own demon, who was usually excited by the sight and smell of death, was quiet.

I started backing toward the staircase, eager to get out into the fresh air, but something on the table in the corner caught my eye. A small bracelet. It was a tiny red-and-black dream catcher attached to a double black leather band. There were two small charms. Leaves.

I remembered the first time I’d seen it. I was fourteen and at the county fair. The woman at the booth explained how dream catchers were believed to siphon the bad dreams away. It’d been the perfect gift for Sam.

She’d been wearing it the night I left town. When I arrived home a few days ago, I noticed its absence, but simply assumed Sam removed it when I never came home. But obviously I’d been wrong. She must have been wearing it the night she was attacked on the Huntington campus.

I’d missed it. The attacker on campus had been a demon. But why? It made no sense. What could demons possibly want with Sam?