The Devil's Plaything Read online

  Red shimmers over my vision and I lose all sense of awareness.

  Chapter Five

  Head swimming, I look around.

  I’m no longer in the bedroom. How the fuck did I get to the kitchen? I must have blacked out. What the hell did I do in between the time I’ve lost?

  Crimson paints the floor, the table, walls.

  The body is the first thing that grabs my attention. It’s unrecognisable. A hideous mess of flesh. Kelly or Ethan? I can’t tell. I should be horrified but I’m not.

  Euphoria has me drifting on a cloud of pleasure. How can I be experiencing enjoyment out of this? I don’t understand. It’s terrifying and bewildering, bringing me crashing down from the unexplainable high. My legs give out from under me, buckling. I can’t look away from the bloodied knife in my hand. With a panicked squeak, I drop it.

  Blood.

  It’s over every inch of my naked flesh, sticky and wet. Soaked and shaking, I drop my head into my hands. I’m terrified to recall anything, but thankfully, everything is blessedly empty.

  The only thing I do remember is a pair of bewitching emerald eyes. They consume me. The rest is hazy, just out of reach. I’m lost. Whispers of voices in my head. Screams of pain which strangely excite me. Echoes of conversations I don’t remember.

  Noises filter in disrupting my shock. Footsteps sound in the hallway. Numbness invades me. A coldness so deep inside I barely register the presence.

  “Mavi?”

  A hand brushes my hair, but I’m unable to respond. I can barely breathe through the tight sensation squeezing my chest and head. Strong arms scoop me up and I don’t resist. The warmth of a hard-muscled chest beneath a silky shirt is soothing. It seeps into the chill which grips my body.

  “You’re in shock.” I hear the stranger say.

  “Did I…?” I’m shaking. Huge, uncontrollable shudders roll through my body. Unable to focus on anything other than his shirt front, I stare fixedly on a pearl white button.

  Something stirs my hair, a warm breath on my scalp. “You’re a natural born killer. Your instincts protected you from danger. Yes, you did this.”

  I did that? Bile rises in my throat burning as it goes. This isn’t real. Can’t be. I’ve had some kind of psychotic break. It’s the only explanation. My sanity is on the verge of extinction.

  “I don’t remember…”

  “Yet, still you had the ingrained skill to render torture on your enemy without clarity of your actions. You truly are a beautiful enigma wrapped in chaos.”

  “Who are you?” Is he real or a figment of my imagination? Who is he?

  The hand on my back slowly caresses my spine. “A demon to some, an angel to others.”

  “You’re an angel?” Warmth spreads, comforting, soothing like a favourite blanket. It wipes away the fear leaving a strange feeling of contentment.

  “The brightest one of all. The light bringer.” He murmurs softly, a hesitant touch caressing the rounded bulge of my bare pregnant stomach. “Lucifer.”

  The Devil.

  I really have gone insane.

  Scrambling off his lap, I back away. I hadn’t even realised he’d sat us down at the table. That he’d kept me safely wrapped in his strong arms, rocking me back and forth.

  “Keep away from me.”

  Emerald eyes meet mine. Just like the gem, they shimmer and sparkle. Deep and beautiful, yet holding a gleam of something dangerous and tempestuous.

  The commanding, handsome, tanned features of the man from my dream are here before me. The same suave suit now dirtied with blood. As if somehow he has sprung to life. His long fingers run through his short black hair which shifts back into place with the gel that holds it.

  “You think I’m here to hurt you?” His stare grows cold settling on my bump.

  Placing a hand protectively over it, my other itches for the feel of a weapon to wield. Eyes flittering to the counters, I look for something to use.

  “Yes...no... you’re a hallucination.”

  “Want to test that theory, my Flower?”

  No, I don’t.

  Breathing becoming rapid, I back farther away, gaze wild as he steps menacingly towards me. Any sense of safety has vanished as quickly as it appeared.

  “The chessboard has been lacking a final piece. Our dance is far from over.”

  I must be losing my fucking mind. Delusional. A dream. None of this can be real.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask in a mutter.

  Wanton and seductive, a dark all-consuming aura throbs around him as he smiles.

  “Let me rekindle the embers I see in your eyes. The fire has dimmed, but the passion and lust for destruction is still there. I know you feel it.”

  I shake my head, desperate to deny his words. I can’t let myself fall prey to his dangerous charisma. “What do you want from me?”

  “Everything.” Shadows lengthen unnaturally beneath him on the floor. Crawling, advancing, they ooze out like an inky black puddle with a life of their own. “This time, I will have what I want, one way or another.”

  Back hitting the wall, I have nowhere left to run. Taking advantage of my position, he cages me in, his arms either side of my shoulders, his lips hovering dangerously close to my own.

  “You wear the scent of death like the sweetest perfume and when you smile, my Flower you have the power to destroy worlds.”

  It feels like a jack hammer is going off in my brain. Groaning, I clutch my head. Pressure builds in my forehead. Sharp jabbing pains make me draw in a tortured breath. I shake my head.

  “No.” It’s a whine. Shivering, I push him forcefully away curling into myself, crouching down. “This is all wrong.”

  A faint frown grooves the Devil’s tanned brow.

  “Boss, we’re not alone.”

  Startled by the other urgent voice, I find a hulking male framed in the kitchen doorway. He looks like something from the prehistoric age with his furred clothes and an axe in his beefy hand.

  “Raziel, get her out of here.”

  Before I can stop him, the stranger is across the room, lifting me up as if I weigh nothing.

  “Mavi, I swear I will spank your arse if you keep wriggling.” He growls threateningly as I struggle.

  Warmth washes over me.

  One second we’re standing in a bloodbath, the next we’re surrounded by cosy crowded tables. The smell of stale beer and smoke is heavy in the wooden panelled room.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Rounding the busy bar, a large blonde male dressed in leathers intercepts us.

  “No time to talk. Watch her.”

  Unceremoniously, I’m shoved into his arms.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  A look of exasperation settles over Raziel’s features. “Her stomach.”

  “But..it’s...I mean she’s...” Confusion roughens my new protector’s voice.

  “Pregnant. Deal with it, Gabriel.”

  Before anyone can ask him another question he vanishes in a flash of white light.

  Interested eyes crawl over my bare blood-stained flesh reminding me of my vulnerability. Slapping a fist to Gabriel’s broad muscled chest, I shield my swollen belly with the other.

  “Put me the fuck down.”

  “It’s ok, kid. Stop gawking, arseholes, and get me something to cover her with, then get the fuck out.”

  The people around us jump to his barked orders. A long black coat is draped over me, hiding my modesty. Feet heavy on the wooden floor, the place empties in a matter of minutes.

  “Where am I? Who are you?” I ask the moment it’s just us and two guys, who haven’t been able to stop staring.

  “Cease Fire, of course.” The one in a pink shirt replies, dark blonde eyebrows raised above blood shot eyes. “The Black Penny Pub. It’s us, Puddin. Leo, Snatch, and the big guy is Gabriel, our boss.”

  I’m supposed to know them? Is this another trick?

  “Why the fuck do you all keep calling me Mavi?
”

  The second male whose clothes are two sizes too big for his tall slender form knots his hands nervously in front of him. “Because that’s your name.”

  “No, it’s Sarah...” The words sound doubtful even to my own ears.

  “Are we in an episode of the twilight zone?” Leo mutters, giving me an odd look. “Why can’t she remember who we are?”

  Feet lowered gently to the floor, I sway, finding my balance.

  “I suspect her memories have been suppressed.” Gabriel replies, tucking my arms into the coat as if I’m a child.

  Grabbing the ends, I jerkily close them, but they don’t stretch over the expanse of my stomach. “I don’t understand.”

  “Are you bleeding?”

  “No.”

  “Do you remember where all that blood came from?”

  I shake my head, refusing to meet his stern but kind expression.

  He doesn’t believe me. None of them do by their shared glances.

  Gabriel doesn’t press the matter although I can see he wants to. Hell, I would too if some pregnant chick covered in blood was dumped on me.

  “All right, let’s get you cleaned up then. Upstairs I have a shower you can use, and I’ll find you some clothes. That sound good?”

  “Yes.”

  “Leo, Snatch, arm up, and stay alert. I have a feeling we have a major shit storm heading our way and we need to be prepared for it.”

  Giving an over exaggerated salute, Leo grabs his friend’s arm, dragging him towards the exit. “You got it.”

  Carefully taking my elbow, Gabriel directs me towards the back of the pub. Slowly, I let him guide me while simultaneously sweeping the room for exits and windows. I’m not sure why I do it, but it feels natural. Another door leads into a narrow hallway where there’s some stairs. He takes lead up onto a landing.

  “This is one of the rooms I rent. Bathroom is through there.” He explains gruffly, pushing open the third door.

  It’s sparse but clean. A few pieces of worn furniture that have seen better days are scattered about the space. A double bed is in one corner. Moving to one side he gives me enough room to waddle in.

  “I’ll see about getting you some maternity clothes. If you need anything come down stairs and find me. Don’t be shy. You’ve never been before.”

  Shoulders hunched, I jerk my head in response. Something about this feels routine. As if we’ve been through something like this before. Déjà vu. A puzzle piece. New light appearing in the dark.

  The click of the door tells me I’ve been left to my own devices.

  “Mavi.” Saying the name, I don’t automatically reject it.

  Letting the coat drop to the floor, I pad into the bathroom naked. All I desire is to be clean. To wash away the violence painted all over my body in someone else’s blood. Closing the door behind me, I barely spare the place a look before switching on the taps of the shower. Tilting my face up, I welcome the rush of hot water as it unleashes itself down. Scooping up a bar of soap, I clean away the evidence of what Ethan and Kelly made me do.

  What role am I going to play now? Will it be real this time or another piece of fiction? How far does this tangled web of illusion and lies go? And who the fuck were they waiting for?

  The feeling of being watched prickles over my skin. I’m not alone. Peeking nervously around the curtain, I check for an intruder. Door closed, an empty room fills my gaze. Pausing for a moment I double check. I can’t shake the impression I’m not on my own. As if a physical presence is just out of sight.

  “I’m really not in the mood, so if someone is hanging around in here I'm warning you, if I catch your peeking tom arse I will fuck you up so bad your own mother won’t be able to recognize you.”

  Flipping the curtain closed, I resume, working the red stains out of my wet skin. It doesn’t come out straight away. Lathering over and over, it takes a while for the suds to wash it all away.

  Flicking off the taps, I ease myself out of the cubicle. Whatever entity, whether imaginary or real, is no longer lingering, as far as I can sense. Wrapping the largest towel I can find on the shelf around the expanse of my middle, and another for my hair, I head back out into the bedroom. The first thing I see are the extra pillows. Next to them are a pile of neatly folded clothes.

  Drying off quickly, I examine the garments. The panties I slip on straight away. Elasticised at the waist, the black leggings give enough stretch to comfortably wear with the roundness of my stomach. Struggling with the flowery yellow t-shirt, it’s tent-like and shapeless.

  Catching my reflection in the full-length mirror, the contrast against my pale face and midnight black hair is startling. Any colour in my cheeks has drained away. All I see is a ghost. A woman desperate for the truth.

  Stuffing my feet into a pair of trainers, I go in search of Gabriel as a restlessness invades me. Back down stairs, I find myself drawn to a room to the left. An empty office. Spying a laptop left open on the messy desk, I nosily take a peek.

  The screen is open on a home birthing page. Another is breathing techniques and pregnancy nutrients. Reaching across, I click the mouse. More page’s blink open.

  “Thought I better get reading as I know jack shit about delivering a baby and you look about ready to explode.”

  I jump about three feet in the air as I turn. “Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?”

  Gabriel hesitates, where he’s now standing by the open door, carrying a tray. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re usually more aware of your surroundings.”

  Hand over my racing heart a few steadying breaths help to calm it.

  “Is it a boy or girl?” With a nudge of his chin, he eyes my belly with concern. For some reason I get the impression he thinks I’m about to go into labour at any second from being frightened.

  “Girl. If we know each other then why were you so surprised to find me pregnant?”

  Avoiding his gaze, I let my own examine the rest of the office. It’s messy. A reflection of a disorganised mind, at least that’s my impression. Papers are stacked high on every available side.

  Gleaming silver catches my eye. A holster lays discarded on a dusty windowsill. I can’t stop looking at the hilt of the gun fit snugly inside. The need to touch it is so strong I have to curl my fingers into my palms to stop myself from reaching for it.

  “We haven’t seen you in eight months, and before that, we had no knowledge you were with child. Fuck, I don’t think you even knew.” Striding to the table, he pushes some magazines onto the floor with an elbow. Hands free of the tray, he indicates me to take one of the free chairs.

  “Why the long absence?” I ask, obeying.

  “It’s complicated.” Easing down into his own seat, he pours creamy thick hot chocolate into a mug from a pot. Adding generous amounts of whipped cream, he finishes with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Careful not to spill it, he pushes it across the table towards me.

  Taking the handle, I draw it close, the smell teasing my senses. “Thanks.”

  “Have you thought of a name for her yet?” He asks, placing a plate crammed full of sandwiches and mixed salad before me.

  I can’t help but shoot him a look of disbelief at his question. “Are you kidding me? It’s been about twenty-four hours since I woke up to discover I’m the size of a fucking barn. I’m still trying to get my head around how something like this is possible and not be able to remember it.”

  His response is a grunt.

  Raising an eyebrow, I wait for him to give me some kind of explanation but nothing is forth coming.

  “It’s in your best interests to lay low with us.” He rumbles instead. “We can set up whatever you need. You’ve lost weight since I last saw you and we need to get that back up, especially in your condition.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Because I’m your Grandfather and this is the safest place you can be.” He assures me in a fatherly tone. “With your family.”

  I
snort. “And you expect me to believe that crap? That we’re related? I’ve already had a couple of strangers try to convince me I knew them. Shit, one was even posing as my fiancé.”

  “Always the stubborn one.” A frown pinches his eyebrows together. “I don’t know who had you, although now, I suspect I know why, but I don’t lie. Your real name is Mavi StClair. You’re a God damn superhero. Do the universe a favour and remember who you are.”

  Chapter Six

  Screams. They ring in my ears. A roar of voices mounting in unison, shaking the world like mighty thunder. Snow thick with blood, I gaze across the battle field. The carnage is endless.

  I’ve been here before. With certainty that thought increases.

  A memory? Why would I have been here? Questions spiral through my head, sending everything into further confusion.

  Phantoms fight around me. Blurs of colour and sound, just out of sync, making them bodiless bursts that catch the eye.

  Treading slowly, I make my way barefoot to the centre of the war zone, teeth chattering from the icy cold. I need answers. They’ve become a quest. A thirst to know. Who am I?

  The hum of metal slices the air. Agony screams through my flesh, cripplingly and deadly. Twisting, I meet green eyes burning with hate. Arms up, I try to ward off another blow but everything around me shatters away.

  Air stutters in my lungs.

  I can’t breathe.

  Darkness encloses me.

  I’m trapped. I can’t get out. The pressure of invisible walls makes me thrash out a horse cry from my lips.

  I can no longer feel my body.

  It’s gone. Destroyed.

  I’m caged where souls shriek out in terror and madness. Isolated. Tortured.

  Not even the deep crooning voice of my jailor can soothe me as the knowledge dawns. There’s no escape.

  Sweat soaked and shaking, eyes snapping open, I shoot up. Trembling all over, I realise I’m alone in the bed. Running a hand over my slick face, a shuddering breath escapes me. The dreams are getting worse. Laying back, I steady my rapidly beating heart. The light from the hallway filters through the door which has been left ajar.