Mist had been trying to get rid of his brands without success for a very long time. Certainly, he’d never had Belial’s help before, but he wasn’t without his own resources. His hopes weren’t high, and he knew from experience he had less than two weeks before he couldn’t fight the compulsion to return to Paimon any longer.
Maybe it was time to push himself out of his comfort zone. The first time he had, he’d met Lily. Maybe he’d lost his chance to see her again, but perhaps there were other human females as enticing as her, and he could find another.
* * *
The following Thursday,He Who Does Not Shut Up, aka Mephistopheles, aka Meph, sprawled in the bench seat beside his brother and partner in crime, Raum. At the back of the club beneath colorful lights, Ash and Eva were on stage. There were other musicians too, but the two of them stole the show.
Since the first night Eva had talked Ash into going up to jam, he’d been hooked like a regular heroin junkie. Now, broody, sullen Asmodeus was smiling up at his woman like the sun shone out of her ass as she flew over a crazy solo on her flute. He filled the spaces between her notes with fancy shit on the piano, the music flying effortlessly from his fingertips like it was second nature. He wasn’t even looking at his hands, yet every note he played sounded like perfection.
Meph didn’t know shit about music, but he still understood that what he was witnessing was epic. Ash was in his element, and so was Eva, and the two of them combined were like a force of nature. The entire club was transfixed.
In that moment, Meph hated himself a little bit. He wanted to enjoy it like everyone else. He wanted to be happy for his brother. But instead, he was feeling sorry for himself.
And then disgusted at himself for feeling sorry for himself.
And then more sorry for himself for feeling disgusted at himself for feeling sorry for himself.
And so on and so forth.
He knew he was a train wreck. He was a demon with a serious dark side—and he didn’t mean ‘dark side’ like a human with a weird kink or something. His dark side was a psychopathic, sociopathic alter-ego that was not something he let out of its cageeverunless he wanted people to die horribly. His attempts at being good—whatever that even meant—were a recent endeavor that in no way made up for all the centuries he’d spent as an evil, nefarious bastard.
Selfishness was second nature. Hell, it was his only nature. He was self-destructive and impulsive. He broke everything he touched, and he loved touching things. He was constantly getting into trouble and seemed to be incapable of getting out of it. How his brothers put up with him would forever remain a mystery because he couldn’t even put up with himself most of the time. And that wasn’t even starting on—
“Meph, snap out of it.”
He blinked and found Raum watching him with those too-perceptive gold eyes. They peered at him from a perma-scowling, dark-skinned face, mostly hidden beneath the hood of a baggy sweatshirt.
“Wherever you were in your head isn’t a place you wanna be.”
Fucking Raum. He was always at it with this wise-guy shit when, really, he was just as screwed up as the rest of them. What did Raum know about going to dark places in his head?
Raum was a kleptomaniac with a three-hundred-year gap in his memory, and he had no clue what depravity he’d committed to earn that heavenly punishment. And he always had to hover around Meph like he needed babysitting—
Which he did. But damn it, he didn’twantto need it.
“Just concentrate on keeping an eye on Mist,” Raum grunted.
Meph scanned the club for their companion. He wasn’t hard to spot. Mist was big even in human form, and since Belial had stayed home tonight, there was no one else around close to his size.
“Guy really is clueless about humans,” Meph said, watching Mist stoop to sniff the hair of a woman in front of him. He recoiled like her scent offended him and moved on to the next. “What’s he doing in such a rush anyway? He looks like he’s on a hunting mission.”
“I dunno,” Raum said idly.
But something about his tone had Meph narrowing his eyes. Raum could lie with the best of them, but not to him.
“What is it? You know something.”
Raum downed the second half of his beer. “Nope.”
“Don’t give me that ‘protect baby Meph from the truth that will hurt him’ shit. I’m sick of everyone tiptoeing around me like I’m a fucking infant. Tell me what or I’ll make a scene right here, right now.”
Raum lifted a dark eyebrow. “And that would be acting like an infant.”
“Tell me, damn it.”
“Fine. You know how Bel let it slip that his tattoos are slave brands?”
Meph clenched his hands into fists. He wasn’t about to forget that any time soon. “Yeah.”
