Sweet Peril (The Sweet Trilogy #2)(2)

“Well?” Rahab threw out his arms, a cruel smile on his lips as he called to the couple. “Now’s your chance. Run!”

Femi rose to her feet with a sob and pushed her way through the Dukes to Yoshiro. They grabbed hands, and together they sprinted the length of the broken Colosseum, flanked by pestering spirits who gave chase above them. Several Dukes cheered with malicious glee at the sight.

“You.” Rahab scanned the crowd and pointed to a male among the outskirts. The straight-faced young man stepped out with a bow slung across his shoulder.

“Kill them both,” Rahab commanded.

The Neph set his jaw and hesitated only a moment before nodding. He took an arrow from the quiver on his back and readied his bow. Despite the cool night, a bead of sweat rolled into his eye and he bent his head to his sleeve, wiping.

“They’re getting away, fool!” shouted the Duke of Hate.

The boy homed in on the running couple using his extended sight and auditory senses, then with a rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, he let the first arrow fly, followed immediately by the second.

His aim was perfect. For two heartbeats, the Colosseum was ghostly quiet as Femi and Yoshiro fell, limbs draped across each other in a macabre heap. The young man’s bow arm went limp at his side and he moved back into the crowd, head lowered.

“That’s it, then?” hollered Thamuz, Duke of Murder. “Where’s the sport in a quick kill, I ask you?”

Rahab chuckled. “Be still, Thamuz. I suppose we shouldn’t expect much more when we have a Neph boy doing a dirty job for us. Consider this a reminder to you all!” Rahab’s voice rang out to the fringes of the Nephilim. “Your single purpose is to carry forth sin to humanity. If you choose to do otherwise, you forfeit your time on earth. And if you choose to forget your fates, rest assured that I will not. Now go! Leave us to our summit.”

The horde crammed together, shuffling and shoving to exit the presence of the Dukes.

Jezebet and Alocer stood with stony expressions as the Nephilim filed past.

Rahab cracked his knuckles and stared at the backs of the last retreating bodies. “For centuries I’ve said those unpredictable half-breeds are more trouble than they’re worth, but you lot insist on having them. They’re an abomination—as stupid as humans but as dangerous as wild animals.”

He smiled to himself before whispering his next thought out loud.

“Even God himself has forsaken and forgotten them.”

EPIGRAPH

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all . . .

—Emily Dickinson

Love cannot be forced, love cannot be coaxed. . . .

—Pearl S. Buck

June

Summer before Senior Year

CHAPTER ONE

PARTY GIRL

I promised myself I’d never do the work of my demon father—polluting souls—leading humans to abuse their bodies with drugs and alcohol.

I’d been naive to make such a vow. I’d been naive about a lot of things.

Bass boomed through the darkened room where we all danced. I’d climbed onto the coffee table, feigning unawareness of the eyes on me: mostly friendly but some lustful, some judgmental or envious. Tonight, my place on the table was less about being in the spotlight and more about having the best view. I’d witnessed a demon whisperer prowling and I needed to keep an eye out. It’d been a whole week since I’d seen one—the longest stretch since the New Year’s summit.

Jay and Veronica were around somewhere. My two human best friends had been an official couple for four months, finally having made up after the New Year’s party where he kissed my Neph friend, Marna, a daughter of Astaroth, the Duke of Adultery. Marna had a crush on Jay, but she’d kissed him knowing he and Veronica had strong feelings. The events of that night had become a taboo subject.

I searched for Jay and Veronica now, but they must’ve been in the basement, playing cards. They would want to go home soon, but I couldn’t be caught leaving a party so early. It wasn’t even midnight.

There it was—the whisperer. My heart caught in my throat, but I kept dancing.

The lively, fun atmosphere thickened into something dark and sinister as the vile presence moved along the ceiling like an oil slick. Needles of dread stabbed at my gut. After all this time whisperers still gave me the creeps. The spirit surveyed the crowd, scowling at the smiling partygoers and lashing out with biting whispers. Dancers became agitated with one another. Drinks spilled, voices rose, and shoving began.

I stepped down from the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. The demon changed its direction to follow. I pretended not to notice people trying to stop me and talk to me as I moved through the crowd.

Within seconds the dark whisperer loomed over me and said, “Daughter of Belial, this party is too tame.”

I gritted my teeth and fought back a visible shiver as its voice oozed into my brain like slime. I wanted it out of my head.

“Yeah, I know.” I sent my telepathic response to the spirit. “But that’s about to change.”

I received a warm reception in the kitchen. Raised glasses and shouts of my name.

My peers had forgiven me of past awkward offenses and laid the old me to rest. They’d embraced the party girl when she came to life unnaturally six months ago, like a bloom forced open in winter.