The news that Catalina had gotten her intel from the demon directly and she hadn’t bothered to tell them pissed Juliana off, but it didn’t surprise her. Typical vampire bullshit. Thomas probably wouldn’t be so understanding when Juliana told him when this was over, though.
The demon walked over to a nearby table, grabbed a bag of blood, ripped the top off and handed it to Tony. “Drink.” Its voice was heavy with compulsion.
It was keeping Tony fed, making sure he didn’t lose enough blood to fade out. It explained why there was so much of it on the floor. It kept filling him up and he kept leaking it out. The demon kept its eyes locked on hers as it lifted the strip of flesh to its mouth, stuffed it in and then pulled it out slowly, sucking the blood from it. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to get sick. Not to even show the revulsion she felt.
It slid the strip from its mouth with a slurping sound and tossed it onto a pile in the shadows. What she had dismissed earlier as a pile of rags was now evident as the discarded skin from its victims. Why didn’t Thomas stop this? If he kept the underlings alive at the office building, surely he could keep the demon from doing this. Maybe he was losing the little bit of control he had. She was running out of time.
She tore her eyes away from the gruesome pile and focused once more on the demon inhabiting her mate’s body. “Why is Tony sorry?” she asked again and took another step toward them.
It looked confused for a moment. “Tony?” It looked down. “Oh, you mean him. I’m not really sure. He started apologizing the moment the knife hit his tender flesh.”
She took another step forward as she slid her sword back into its sheath. Even with all the damage the demon had done, she couldn’t use her sword on him. Besides, if she killed Thomas it would just find another host in the room. Both of her hands were needed to implement her plan, anyway.
“Perhaps he’s apologizing for not keeping you safe,” the demon said cocking its head to the side.
“What are you talking about?” She eased forward another step.
“I believe that’s close enough until we’ve finished discussing some things.” And with those words it dropped all pretense of pretending to be Thomas. The voice was unnatural, cold, feral.
She preferred it that way. “Talk, demon.”
“Your file made for quite interesting reading,” the demon taunted. “Some of the things they did to you were quite creative.” It glanced down to look at the nails on Thomas’s right hand and began to clean them with the tip of the knife it still held. She wasn’t sure what good that was going to do given the amount of blood on the blade, but she said nothing. At least its actions were distracting her from its words.
“You said Tony was apologizing for not keeping me safe,” she said to change the subject. “How was that his responsibility? He was never told to protect me. And it’s not like Raoul announced his intentions.”
The demon shrugged. “I care not. I was merely guessing his reasons.”
While they talked she moved closer to her prey. Fire raced up her arm. Stupid her forgot to pay attention to the other vampires in the room and got too close to Tony. His fangs buried in the flesh of her wrist as he feasted. She gave an experimental tug but it was evident he wasn’t about to let go anytime soon.
The demon shoved her aside, her wrist ripping from Tony’s jaws. At the same time it swung that long, thin blade and sliced through her friend’s throat. Shock took over his features and then his head fell backward, attached with only a few tendons. A shudder ran through Juliana and she swallowed the scream that threatened to spill from her.
“My toy,” the demon said. It walked over to the table and laid the knife on it. Picking up a glass it took a long drink. Without taking the time to think her actions through, Juliana lunged at the demon and wrapped a hand around its arm. She used her thumb to twist the stone in the ring. A portal opened beside them and she fell into it, pulling the demon with her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Juliana landed on her back on the concrete floor of cell seven with the demon on top of her. The breath fled her lungs and she struggled to get it back. They were in one of nine cells located deep below the Agency that contained no window, no cameras and no witnesses. They were reserved for very special guests.
This cell in particular was designed with demons in mind. A mix of holy water and concrete coated the walls. Two feet of steel-reinforced concrete stood behind the coating on all sides except the front. The front consisted of bars made of blessed metal.
The demon leaped to its feet and spun, looking for the portal which had closed down the moment after they passed through. It turned back to her, a snarl on its face. In a lightning fast motion, it wrapped one thick hand around her neck and lifted her into the air. Not this again. “What have you done, Hound?”
She couldn’t have answered even if she wanted to. His grip was too tight on her throat. She wrapped both hands around its wrists to give herself some leverage and swung both legs forward hoping to hit something vital. She didn’t, or if she did, it didn’t affect her captor any.
“Drop her, demon.” Michael’s voice came from the front of the cell to her right. It was low and controlled but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of anger in it. It was the voice of a man used to being obeyed. Yeah, good luck with that.
The demon snapped its head to the side and focused on Michael. “Who are you?” The fact that Thomas kept that information from the demon made her laugh, though it came out sounding more like a pained gurgle. The demon turned back to her and loosened its grip a bit. The little black spots quit swimming before her eyes, but she wasn’t sure it was much of an improvement.
“Michael Bishop.”
It looked back at Michael with narrowed eyes. Then its mouth curled up into a wicked little smirk. “You want her? You can have her.”
She flew through the air and bounced off the thick metal bars that made up the front of the cell. The middle of her spine connected first and shards of pain shot up to her skull and across her shoulders. She lay where she fell, a crumpled pile on the floor. She didn’t move, didn’t think. She just hurt. A lot. A hand lay against her side and she realized Michael was saying her name. From the sounds of it, he’d said it several times without getting a response.
She tried to say “yes” but it came out as a groan instead.
“Juliana?” he said again.
She tilted her head so she could see him and tried to ignore the screaming pain the motion brought with it. Footsteps moved across the floor and Michael looked past her to the demon.
“Crap.” Her exclamation drew Michael’s attention. “Sprinklers,” she said.
“What?” he asked, rising with her as the demon picked her up with his arms behind her shoulders and her knees. It moved toward the lone piece of furniture in the cell, a cot bolted down in the middle of the floor.
She looked past Thomas’s shoulder to Michael. “Turn on the cursed sprinklers.”
Michael still looked confused, but he hurried to do as she said.
“The water will not harm me, Hound, regardless of what you may have heard about my kind and running water,” the demon said.
Since it had been raining the night she first encountered it, she kind of thought that was a given. She didn’t know anyone that believed the running water myth anymore and it usually referred to rivers anyway. Stupid demon. Its hold on her was gentle but she had a hard time believing he intended to lay her down and nurse her back to health.