channel his powers, how to keep them contained within himself. How to hide what he was. He’d gotten the tattoos in that time—demon tattoos to harness the demon fire in his blood.
After the ten years was up, his father had offered him a home—no fucking way. Besides, Milo had been brought up in the human world and it called to him. He was half human as well as half demon and he had gone back to live among men. Well, men and vampires, among other things.
“Who is Malpheas?” Destiny asked.
“He’s one of the seven Princes of Hell,” Dylan replied. “Some say the most powerful of the most powerful group of demons in existence. Shit.” He jumped to his feet and paced the small room. “Does Rico know?”
“He knows.”
“Shit,” Dylan said again.
Milo grinned. “Sorry you came along now?”
“I’m not sure.” He sat down again, studied Milo as though he were some dangerous wild animal who might…spontaneously combust them all at any moment. “Is he dead?” he asked.
That was something Milo didn’t know. What had happened back on Earth? And had whatever happened extended to the other dimensions? Was Hell still in existence? Maybe he’d never know. But one thing was for sure, his father was beyond Milo’s reach. “I don’t know.”
He cast Destiny a sideways glance. What was she thinking? Did she believe him to be evil?
“What happened to your mother?” she asked.
He touched the amulet at his throat—the last gift his mother had given him. “My father killed her.”
“Oh. That’s so sad.”
“She used him, and she knew the risks.” He gave a shrug. “Enough—that’s all a long time ago and far, far away.”
“Well, just remind me every so often never to really piss you off,” Dylan said.
“Good plan, but too late.”
Chapter Thirty
“In politics, my dear fellow, you know, as well as I do, there are no men, but ideas - no feelings, but interests; in politics we do not kill a man, we only remove an obstacle, that is all.”
—Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
Milo wasn’t human. Or not totally human.
Her head ached slightly. She analyzed the feeling and came to the conclusion that it was probably from all the whiskey she had drunk. She’d read about hangovers. Likely, she was suffering from her first. She pressed her fingers to the spot between her eyes as she sat down at the console.
Milo and Dylan had followed her to the cockpit and now took up position behind her seat.
Dylan wasn’t human, either. Though she supposed he had been at one point. Before he was bitten.
She pushed the thoughts from her mind because she needed to concentrate. She was going to try and contact Milo’s uncle. Who apparently wasn’t a blood relative and so not related to any demons. More than that she didn’t know. But he would help Milo and Dylan leave the planet and her.
She didn’t want them to go. Just thinking about them flying away and leaving her behind made an ache start in her chest. At the same time, she knew they had to leave—it was dangerous for them to stay. She relived that moment when she’d thought Milo was dead. She never wanted to live through that again. She’d rather he was away from her and safe. Actually, she’d rather he stayed with her and was safe, but right now that didn’t seem to be an option.
And he’d made no mention of taking her with him.
Would she go if he asked?
She wanted to so badly, but at the same time—how could she? How could she abandon everything she had been brought up to believe? Duty. Responsibility to the rest of the human race.
At least now she understood a little of why Milo didn’t feel the same sense of responsibility. Because he wasn’t human. Though he didn’t seem to be too fond of demons, either.
She’d always known he was a loner.
She just wished she understood more. What her role was. She knew then that she had to find a way to contact Dr. Yang. She had to discover what she was supposed to do that was so important.
“Destiny?” Milo spoke from behind her. She’d been lost in thought. Now she gave herself a little shake. One thing at a time.
She blew out her breath and placed her palm on the panel. The console came to life. Immediately, she heard the crackle of static, then silence. “This is the frequency I heard the message on.” It was all quiet now.