Devil (The Halloween Boys, #4)

by Kat Blackthorne

purred, and Ames tensed his jaw while giving me a sideways glance. He was glad I’d come, glad I’d brought help. You know, I didn’t particularly like the guy, but what did that have to do with love and loving someone? All we familiars did, at the end of the day, was love. Ew, okay, enough of the sappy shit. I quieted my purr to listen.

“Yer the captain of yer boat, and it’s sinkin’, son. You’re not going to fix anything by wasting away in here, your mouth to your girl. There’s no helping her if yer dead. Well, deader than you are. Not sure of the demon rules of life and such.” “I’m dead if she dies,” Ghost replied hoarsely. “I am nothing if she dies.” “You’re a coward, then,” Vex said absently, rifling through Wolfgang’s kitchen cabinets and pulling down a bottle. Ghost growled. “Excuse me?” “Coward to not fight for her, to not fight for your crew when they’re under attack. Sitting here on yer sinking vessel gettin’ drunk on your sorrows.”

The pirate opened his mouth, but the witch bounded down the stairs, joining us in a flurry of curls and the smell of mint. “She—there is darkness all around her. But she’s holding on. Her love for you all keeps her like a tether to her body. Though it is slipping… she is being… persuaded.” Onyx groaned. “I swear to god if you all don’t start talking like normal fucking people…” Vex boomed over their collective bickering. “Your girl’s in hell.”

I wasn’t about to miss a fight between them. They had destroyed a field in some squabble a decade ago. We familiars had taken bets. It spanned a week. It was epic.

“Took her? You think…” Vex chuckled roughly. “Oh, the devil took your girl, son. Be sure of that.”

Vex looked at Ames as his body slowly grew and shrouded in blue smoke, his eyes wide and his brows raised. To his scrappy credit, Vex didn’t take a step back from the transformation. He only watched patiently. Dude was either the bravest man I’d seen or the dumbest. I was still deciding.

No, if I were in hell, then I would become hell. I would become hell for him. He would want to release me just to get rid of me. No more doormat, scared bunny, running teenager. This ended now.

The devil wanted me? Well, he was about to get every bit of me. Every dark, twisted, fucked-up, intolerable part. I’d be his bride. And he’d regret ever bringing me here.

He stood between my knees, shirtless and broad, before dropping to his knees slowly. “You are the only one I have ever or will ever kneel before.”

The devil towered over me then, like a lighthouse in a storm. Only he was the storm, too. He was the ocean, the sky, and everything grim and wonderful in existence. And he looked at me with hunger and want

“You’ve been watching me.” “That’s a bit of an understatement. Go deeper.” “Stalker,” I accused on a confused breath. “Hunter,” he corrected. “Seeker.”

“Because you are haunted just as I am.”

“Don’t you dare burn these or I will burn you,” I threatened when we made it back to our room. I mean, his room… whatever room it was. His dark chuckle warmed my lower belly like cider on a cold day. “That I would love to behold, but first, I would like to watch you sleep.”

“Father Joseph?” His steely eyes betrayed nothing as he simply cut a slow bow. “Miss Pearl, it is a pleasure to see you again.” “W-what are you doing here?” “Having coffee, dear child.” “No, I don’t mean this fake diner. This fake Ash Grove. hell, with the devil. Why are you—” “Fake?” He raised an eyebrow at Judas. “Is this what she believes?” Then the priest stood, his metal cross necklace clanking against the table, and smoothed his robes. “May god have mercy on us all. May he forgive us for what is to come.” He prayed, touching his rosary to his lips. “See you at mass, Father,” Judas said by way of goodbye, sipping his steaming coffee from a greasy diner mug.

And then I felt the devil—no, Judas—bury his face in my neck as he squeezed me close. My back vibrated against him because he was laughing , too. A true laugh, of happiness, of contentment. My entire heart almost dissolved onto the sticky linoleum flooring under the florescent lights. How many people throughout eternity had heard the devil laugh? To be the source of that had my mind and heart spinning and beating like bat wings in the night. Was I… crushing on the devil?

“Is this all real?” I said, awed. “Please, just tell me if this is a trick.” “Can’t it be both?” he asked in that sly way the devil always and never answered. But in an effort to ease my turmoil, he did finally add, “It is real. It is my home, our home, and my personal level of hell. The best and truest level.”

tower close behind me. “Bordering our home here is a wildfire. One that is inching closer by the day.” Shocked at his straightforward candor, I spun around. “Why don’t you stop it?” “It is a product of events passed. A consequence of the way of things. A grove of ash. Even I am not above reaping what I sow.”

“Get on your knees for me,” I ordered. The devil cocked a brow at my audacity. “You said you’d only get on your knees for me, right? And you’d do anything for me while you’re down there. “I’m going to tell you what I want, and you’re going to listen.” Narrowing his gaze, he tilted his head before raising his palms. I thought maybe he’d fight me or ignore my order, but instead, he slowly lowered to his knees before me. “As you wish, Mortala.” My heart thrilled with excitement at the words and the sight of him, evil and powerful, kneeling before me on the cold slab of rock.

If I was the thing Judas wanted, then I was the biggest bargaining chip, the strongest card. I had to play. Death, the ace of spades, reaper. This was my destiny. Judas was right; all roads led to him. To save them was to surrender, to keep them alive was to say goodbye.

“Lies. How I adore lies. And now I have a few of yours.”

I was a king of ruin and torment, and I would gladly watch it burn if it meant salvaging the one and only thing I cared about in this world. Wolf’s hand lay heavy and supportive on my shoulder as he stood next to me as I commanded. “We’re fetching my wife, our mate, from the devil himself. You will accompany us to hell, and you will be my army.”

“Lunas, stellas, sols of Fenrir,” I began. “I’ve decided that we’re going to hell. We’re going to find and free Blythe, even if that means taking on the devil. Though not all of us. You may volunteer and Nephele and the elders and I will have final say over who—” Giggling paused my speech. And then roaring laughter from every wolf in the pack. “Wolf, dear.” Nephele stood, slapping me on the shoulder and taking my pint. “We’ve already decided. The lunas and I have already chosen the wolves who are coming with us and the ones staying to provide for the pack.” “What?” I asked in disbelief. “You thought we were waiting for you or something?” a luna piped up from the crowd, eliciting more laughter. My own smile threatened to tug at my lips as Nephele finished my rum. “Now, either stay for the stories or get back to your mates. We’re ready for hell when you are.”

If I cannot sway the heavens, I will raise hell. Virgil

I’d burn hell to the fucking ground to get her back.

They were silent, swaying like shadowed and dark forces often depicted by humans in horror films. Any one of them was enough for decades of literature and lore. The evil in a single entity of theirs enough to maim and traumatize a mortal for life. And I had a cemetery full of them, all fixated on me right now.

there was no humiliation or cowardice I wouldn’t stoop to for her. I’d become a slug if only for one more moment with Blythe.

“There’s a strong possibility we don’t all come back from this.” They looked at me with serious expressions, and I etched their strong and unique features into my mind’s eye. “This could be… our last adventure, boys.” Wolfgang’s jaw steeled, but Onyx only wrapped his arms around us. “This could be the devil’s last adventure. Not ours, never ours.”

Wolf’s emotions tasted like steeped teas and warm spices.

“Wait.” Onyx stopped and kicked the ground. “Hold on. This is pavement.” Wolf and I raised an eyebrow at one another. “Yes, and?” the wolven asked. Onyx let out a huff and ran his hands through his hair. “It’s a highway. Guys, this is the literal highway to hell!”

I never claimed to be the hero in this story. We were the villains.

“Since we’re all some form of immortal here, you can hope for death, and you may get it, depending on what kills you. More likely, you’ll be trapped on the level at which you fall. And that fate…” A brusque voice chimed in from the middle of the group. “Means yer tormented for all eternity. Don’t it, Ghost?” Captain Vex stroked his bejeweled beard with twinkling eyes. Looking around in shock, I noticed dozens of pirates had joined him. “Why the hell are you here?” Wolfgang chuckled in amusement. Vex approached and rubbed my shoulder in that fatherly way of his. A way I was never accustomed to being treated but allowed from him for some odd reason. “You boys stayed for our fight. We’ll be stayin’ for yours.”

We will fight through each or find our demise, likely both.” Wolfgang elbowed my rib. “Little bit of hope wouldn’t hurt, old friend.”

“It’s uh…” I searched for the words as hundreds of skeptical eyes stared back at me. “It’s been done before, though. I’ve made it through hell.” “Aye, as have I,” Vex concurred. Onyx whispered, “How many pints of rum do you think we need to get that story out of him?” Wolfgang let out a labored sigh. “Standing in the thruways of the underworld, and we can’t be serious.”

“I have a surprise for you.” My attention perked up, and I looked to him and Wolfgang. “What kind of surprise?” “It’s just up here,” Ghost replied, motioning toward a dense blue fog of hell smoke. “Thought I’d share.” When we reached them, my mouth dropped. “You’re fucking serious?” Wolfgang covered his mouth in a chuckle. “How many years have Onyx and I begged for this, and you vehemently said no? That you’re the only one allowed to have one?” Ghost mounted his bike with a sideways smile. “We’re in hell now, boys. They’re endowed with my ghost rider abilities, too. Hell smoke, pass through shit, demon speed.” He shrugged, as if these brilliant masterpieces of motorcycle demon engineering weren’t the most incredible things I’d ever seen. Wolfgang revved his engine, and it roared to life. Knocking his head back, he howled, informing his pack that we would be moving ahead. “This is cool, man.” Wolf sat up and tied his hair into a knot. Sitting on my own black bike with neon green fucking flames on the side, I rubbed the handlebars and found a switch. I could have kissed the archdemon. “Stereo speakers? You shouldn’t have, sweetie.” “I really shouldn’t have. You’re right,” Ghost grumbled, his pale blue eyes narrowing as he kicked off his kickstand. My bike vibrated to life, sounding like a storm cloud of bats as I fiddled with the sound system. After a moment, “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC thundered over the three roars of machinery. I’d speed into hell to get farther away from ...

I looked to the guys. “Here we go.” “Here the fuck we go,” Ghost rumbled in his demon voice. “For Blythe.” Wolfgang dismounted and shifted into his shadow wolf form, amber eyes glowing. The engine purred beneath me as I shot forward, igniting fire around us like a barrier of flame. And the first battle began.

Maybe they didn’t need me. My pack, Blythe, the Halloween Boys. Maybe I needed them. And maybe that was okay. That was okay.

Was this dying? My brain was short-circuiting and hearing Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Onyx would never let me live it down if he knew this was the song I died to.

No, looking down and assessing my suspenders and brown slacks, I knew I was stuck in my human form. A train ticket trembled in my hand, the name one I hadn’t seen in hundreds of years. Not only that, but worse. I was trapped not as Dr. Ames Cove, the hell-riding, leather-jacket and skull-face wearing therapist and serial killer. No, this body, these clothes, this time period was one I recalled vividly, but only in my nightmares. I wasn’t Ghost or Ames or the leader of the Halloween Boys in this train car. The ticket in my hand screeched the name of someone who died a long time ago. An aspiring priest, a hopeful young man. I was James. James Cove.

“How are you so old and yet so stupid?” Ezmerelda interrupted, refilling her glass of red wine. “Truly, I do have a heart for archdemons. One of my closest friends is one. But oh, your breed is horribly short-sighted at times.”

The vampiress let out a belabored sigh, as if I was the stupidest person she’d ever spoken to. “No, ghostie boy, no. Nowhere.” She giggled again. “Oh, you’d rather be out fighting, wouldn’t you? Don’t you think he knows that? That hell and the devil, in their eons of shadowy wisdom, know precisely where our punishment is best served. You’re stuck, darling. There is no escape.”

“The devil is in his Hades and Persephone era. You four horsemen shall watch what she does and make peace with the aftermath.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “You know the stories, same as the stories about you and me and our kind. The devil has stories of his own, does he not? And what’s the one about him whisking away his goddess to the underworld, hm?”

“For her, for them, I’d do anything.” “I know, James,” she whispered, placing a hand on my arm. “And that’s why your hell is nothing.”

“Your weakness, son,” he said, his pain still radiating into me. I huffed in disbelief. “Women? Yeah, I guess you were right.” “No,” he replied, stepping back and letting the wheel kick back as four doppelgängers approached him from behind. “Shame.”

“I was fluent in German and French by age seven. With three governesses and hours of Latin, math, and piano daily.” She straightened, wiggling her shoulders. “My mother forced me to wear a steel rod down my spine to straighten my posture. If I slouched, I’d be whipped with a riding crop. If I chewed too loudly, I’d be whipped. If I folded my napkin wrong, you guessed it—whipped.”

“You going to tell me why you didn’t follow through with becoming a priest? That sermon back there was awe-inspiring, I mean, I may pray again someday now. Probably not, actually, but almost.” “Funny. And why not? You mean besides becoming and archdemon? I don’t know, I don’t like getting up early on Sundays.” “Wow, Ghost. Was that an actual joke? Hell suits you.”

James tensed his jaw, not wanting to reveal anything about the stranger he had met in church or the deal he made with what he rightly supposed was me, the devil. And I’d upheld my end of the bargain. I’d helped them. The demons hadn’t heard them coming, hadn’t tasted human emotions. They were obtuse to their impending deaths. Deaths not possible by mortal hands, so I’d infused a little extra within them. Or rather, I’d only woken up what was already there. You see, the Halloween Boys were extraordinary even before my intervention. Their potential was that of interest to me even before the mad vampire king Vladimir Drakon sent demons looking for his bride.

See, that was another interesting thing about taking men to immortal rank. While most flaws and virtues peaked and died within a lifetime of around eighty mankind years, these boys would have hundreds, thousands of years to develop both their gifts and curses. What would shame do to Onyx Hart? What would pride do to James Cove? What would ignorance do to Wolfgang Jack? I couldn’t wait to see. I was sure we would enjoy watching them. We would follow them through time, aiding, cursing, doing whatever we liked.

And James couldn’t help himself. Wolf was impossible not to like. The large man had an animalistic charm that was part his nature and part his golden soul shining through.

A photographer with a thick handlebar mustache urged them together, holding his equipment with a flash of light, taking their picture. I quite liked that idea. In fact, perhaps I would start taking photographs of my own someday.

I was just another man in a suit, leaning against a shop door. The devil always wears a disguise, but you know that, don’t you?