of Throe’s party. When the shadows attacked the guests… something left the house from the upstairs window…”
“And walked through the snow, leaving glowing tracks.” Devina smiled. “That was me. Poor Throe. He was no match for me. I needed a soul to switch places with and he made himself available.”
“Why did you save me?” Butch asked.
Devina smoothed her perfectly beautiful brunette hair. “I was lost until I saw you sucking back one of those lessers. I was just walking around this city, miserable and dejected, night after night. And then you talked to me about the nature of love and the female you fell for. You made me feel like that could happen to anyone. Including a demon like me. So I owe you.”
She glanced around. “So these are your people, huh? Don’t worry, they’re not dead. Just stunned. They’ll come to, and you should probably clear out. There’s a hush over this city, but it won’t last. It never does.”
The relief was so tremendous, Butch nearly fell over. “Thank you.”
Devina shook her head in a regretful way. “We’re even now. So after tonight? We’re on different sides. You need to know this.”
“So the war is going to restart with you?”
“In a manner of speaking. But I don’t discriminate like my brother did. I’m an equal opportunity killer, humans, vampires, wolven. I don’t give a shit as long as it’s fun.”
“Fair enough.”
The demon stared at him for a long time. “That shellan of yours is a lucky female for sure.”
With that, she turned away. And that was when Butch was able to properly focus on the cropped jacket she had paired with her micro-mini and her sheer black hose and her Louboutins with the red soles.
On the back of the black fabric, chunky crystals had been mounted and sewed in a pattern… that formed a perfect Georgian cross.
“Holy shit… Lacroix,” Butch stammered.
She paused and twisted around. “My jacket?”
“That’s Christian Lacroix, isn’t it. Vintage. From the nineties.”
The demon smiled so widely she became resplendent. “You know your fashion. And yes, I bought it new thirty years ago. Isn’t it just stunning?”
“Absolutely beautiful. A real showstopper.”
“You say the sweetest things.”
“And Vishous is never wrong.”
Devina seemed confused at that. But then she shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll be seeing you around—oh, and there’s one left. You better go take care of it. And somebody is coming, one of yours. Goodbye, Brian O’Neal.”
“Goodbye… Devina.”
The demon nodded once and then lingered a moment longer.
After that, she was gone.
But certainly not forgotten.
* * *
Mr. F watched the entity dematerialize from the shadows he’d been hiding in since he’d sent those three lessers down to their immortal deaths. And for a split second, he toyed with the idea of trying to run. He had a bunch of fully loaded guns on him, and except for the Dhestroyer, all the other vampires were still in a stupor. So it wouldn’t be hard to make a getaway.
But no. This was what he had engineered.
Taking all his weapons in hand, he stepped out from the doorway. The Dhestroyer noticed him instantly and went for his gun, but Mr. F called out to his enemy.
“I’m putting everything I have on me down.”
Mr. F dropped the guns on the asphalt and kicked them away. Then he took his jacket off and let it fall to the ground. As he put his hands up and did a slow turn so that the Dhestroyer would know he presented no harm, the cold of the spring night bit into his unholy flesh and he shivered.
When he finished his full circle, he faced the Brother. “Please…” he said in a voice that cracked. “Take me now. You’re the only way out. Please, I’m begging. End this for me. End this… for all of us.”
Mr. F was the last lesser.
After centuries of warfare, he was the last of his breed, and he didn’t want to go out in a blaze of glory. He just wanted to go out.
The Brother frowned and seemed to breathe in the air, his nostrils flaring. And then he limped forward.
“I only want this to end.” Mr. F knew he’d already said that, but what did it matter. “I’ve wanted my life to be over for quite some time now. Please… let it be here. Let it be now.”
The addiction. The Omega. The war he had been drafted into without his consent.
The Brother stopped and leaned down to the pavement, his narrowed eyes never leaving Mr. F. When he straightened, he’d picked up something, there