Heart of the Demon

Book 3: Warriors of the Rift

by Cynthia Garner

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Paranormal Romance; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

Once a generation, the rift between the paranormal world and the human world opens, allowing supernatural entities to cross. Vampire, demon, or shapeshifter, they can save the world-or send it spiraling into chaos. The next opening of the rift is coming-and its consequences will be deadly. A rogue group of human-hating preternaturals is planning an apocalyptic attack, but the Council of Preternaturals may have found the key to saving the world: Keira O'Brien, a fey with a long criminal record, whose empathic abilities once made her the queen of con artists. If she successfully infiltrates the dangerous faction, the sins of her past will be forgiven. Keira isn't the only agent working against the rogue prets. Finn Evnissyen, a powerful demon with a dark lineage, is a hired assassin looking for a way out. If he stops the threat, he will finally earn his freedom. As the rift fast approaches, and danger escalates, Finn and Keira must discover if they're on the same side-or sleeping with the enemy . . .

Release date: February 26, 2013

Publisher: Forever

Print pages: 368

Sample

Prologue

Zombies got a bad rap these days. At least that’s what the drunk one kept telling Finn Evnissyen as he sat at the bar nursing
his beer.


“I mean, come on. Do I look like I’m rotting?” The guy held out one arm and turned it so Finn could see the underside. The
action also sent a waft of ammonia covered up by too much cologne.


That hint of ammonia told Finn this guy had become a zombie within hours of death instead of days. Yeah, if he’d been dead
longer he wouldn’t be so pretty and he’d be much more odoriferous.


The zombie flexed his arm again. “Nope,” he muttered, answering his own question. “Skin’s as clear as a baby’s bottom.”

Finn didn’t give a rat’s ass about the zombie’s skin or baby bottoms. “Uh-huh,” Finn grunted as he swiveled around on his
stool to look out over the crowd. It was just after three in the afternoon on a hot, humid Sunday, and the bar already had
a healthy clientele made up of various preternaturals and humans. Finn brought his glass to his lips and sipped while he checked
out the other drinkers.


A couple of blue-collar type humans sat at a back booth with pretzels and beers, their eyes glued to the large TV screen hanging
on one wall. It looked like a preseason game of the Arizona Cardinals playing the Pittsburgh Steelers at the home stadium.
Damn. He should’ve bought tickets, since it was so close. It’d be better than sitting here watching it on TV with a zombie
yammering in his ear.


There was a lone drinker at the end of the bar that caught Finn’s eye. Finn leaned around zombie guy for a better look. The
loner hunched over his drink, obviously not wanting Finn to get a good look at him. Finn understood the need to be alone with
a drink, but he was curious to know what kind of pret was sharing the bar with him. Doing his job as well as he did meant
he’d made a few enemies. Hell, more than a few. So using extra precaution was necessary to make sure the guy trying to hide
behind his drink wasn’t a demon with a grudge.


Finn took a few sniffs of air and grimaced at the sickly sweet smell emanating from the man next to him, a man who was still
going on about zombies getting negative press.


“Really, man.” The zombie lifted his drink. “Just because we happen to like brains…and intestines—”

“Mack!” Finn held up his hand to signal the bartender. Enough was enough. He slammed his glass onto the bar and scowled. He’d
come here for a drink or three, not to strike up conversation with some random smelly dude. Since this guy wouldn’t shut up,
it was time to go. He slapped a few bills down on the bar and pushed off his stool.


“You gotta go?” The whiny zombie looked like he was about to cry. “We were only gettin’ started.”

“Yeah, well, somebody’s disturbing my quiet.” Finn shot the guy a look and headed toward the front of the bar, taking a route
that brought him behind the lone drinker. He didn’t recognize the dude, and sensed no aggression coming from him. Just another
guy trying to drown his sorrows.


As Finn pushed open the door, he slipped his sunglasses over his eyes. The sultry air of a late August afternoon in Scottsdale,
Arizona, slapped him in the face. God, it was so hot it felt like he’d stepped into an oven.


“Highway to Hell” began playing on his phone. He dragged it out of his pocket and answered with a terse, “What’s up, Dad?”

“I need to see you. Now.” As always, Lucifer Demonicus got right to the point. “My office.”


“I’m a little busy.” He wasn’t, but dear old dad didn’t need to know that.

“My office. Ten minutes.”

Finn realized his father had disconnected the call. “Damn it.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket. He could blow off
his dad, but if he did he had no doubt that the old devil would find him, or send some of his goons. “Damn it,” he muttered
again, and threw a leg over the seat of his motorcycle, wincing when heat from leather warmed by the sun seeped through his
jeans.


One day he’d be free from his father’s power. He was tired of Lucifer dictating his every move. As soon as he could find something
to use as leverage, he’d be out from beneath the king of demons’ tyranny. Until then, though…With a scowl he started the motorcycle
and pulled away from the curb. The sooner he got this over with, the better.


He headed his bike down Scottsdale Road. The fronds on the tall palm trees lining the street swayed in the breeze. The sun
beat down on him and reflected off the pavement in shimmering waves. His shirt began to stick to his perspiring skin. Luckily
the wind he stirred up by riding his bike cooled him off a little.


Finn made a turn onto the road that would take him to the office building where the leader of demons in this region conducted
his many businesses, legitimate and otherwise. Lucifer was crafty enough not to get caught by the authorities. Finn had a
lot to do with that as his father’s enforcer. When a demon stepped too far out of line—and Lucifer was actually pretty lenient—Finn
was the one sent to dispense justice. Which wasn’t always quick, or painless.


Or neat for that matter.

But he got the job done because somehow in all the mess that was the preternatural community, being the son of the devil evidently
meant he’d been born into indentured servitude. Not that most prets knew of his blood relationship to Lucifer. There were
rumors, but very few knew anything concrete, which was the way Finn liked it. The less people knew about him the better. A
man’s private life should be just that. Private.


He stopped at a traffic light and glanced at the car that pulled to a halt in the next lane. Flirty smiles on their faces,
two of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen looked at him with invitation in their eyes. Despite their beauty, he didn’t
get even a single twitch of interest from his body. He blew out a sigh and looked at the light. When a demon could look at
two succubi and feel nothing, something was wrong. Really, really wrong.


What, exactly, he didn’t know. It could be a bad case of the blues, he supposed, though he didn’t feel particularly depressed.
Maybe he was tired. He had been working a heavy schedule lately. The upcoming rift had everyone, prets and humans alike, on
edge. And demons seemed to be cornering the market on orneriness.


The light switched to green and he took off, nearly burning a swath of rubber in his hurry to get away from nontemptation.
When Finn reached his father’s office building he drove up onto the sidewalk and brought his bike to a stop by the front door.
He heeled down the kickstand and swung his leg over the seat. As he went through the automatic doors he tipped his head at
the security guys at the front desk. “Fellas,” he greeted. The air-conditioning was a welcome relief from the stifling midday
heat.


“You should move that before Lucifer sees it.” The guard gestured toward the motorcycle.

Finn merely grinned. Part of him recognized he was acting like a rebellious teenager, but he didn’t care. If Lucifer had a
problem with him, he could tell him to get lost. Finn would happily do so. Hell, he’d been trying to encourage his father
to release him from his duties for years with no luck.


He took the elevator to the top floor, getting off at the penthouse suite. He crossed the inlaid-wood foyer, his boots thumping
over the expensive flooring, and went straight into his father’s no-less-than opulent office. “The master calleth?” he asked
and flung himself down in one of the leather chairs across from Lucifer’s desk.


“I did.” Lucifer looked away from the bank of security monitors on the wall and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t think that
parking your motorcycle in front of the building is enough to cause me to release you from your…obligations.”


“Obligations? Is that what my job is called?” Finn crossed his legs, resting one ankle on top of the opposite knee. He drummed
his fingers on the arm of the chair. “How is it that by virtue of being your son I’m automatically at your beck and call forever?”
He held his father’s dark gaze. “Seriously, I’ve been doing this for over a thousand years. You have other sons you can foist
this job on. Go make one of them miserable for a while.”


“Miserable. Really?” Lucifer frowned, the action barely causing wrinkles to form. That was one of the quirky things about
being a preternatural. Lucifer had been on Earth for over seven thousand years, yet he looked like he was in his early forties.
Certainly not old enough to have an adult son as old as Finn appeared to be. Not that Finn looked old. He wasn’t a vain guy,
but he knew he looked good, roughly thirty-five years old.


“Yeah, killing demons gets old after about, oh, five hundred years, give or take.”

“Is that so?” From the tone of Lucifer’s voice, it was clear he didn’t give a damn. “Well, I have another job for you.”

Finn scowled. As usual, his father ignored Finn’s objections and plowed ahead with his own agenda. “And if I say no?”

Lucifer’s mouth twisted. “Let us tell you about it first before you turn it down, all right?” He pressed a button on his desk
and Finn heard the elevator start up.


“Who’s us?” Finn twisted around as the elevator doors pinged open. He frowned at the vampire who stepped into the foyer.

“Tobias, come in,” Lucifer said, getting to his feet. The two men shook hands and the vampire took the chair next to Finn.

“What’s this all about?” Finn asked as Lucifer sat back down.

A former liaison to the Council of Preternaturals, Tobias Caine had just been appointed to the council as their newest member.
The council, made up of thirteen members of the various pret clans, governed the preternatural community. Every preternatural—vampire,
shapeshifter, and fey—had representation. Only demons, by choice, did not participate in council governance. They had a strong
abhorrence of anyone telling them what they could and could not do, especially when nondemons were the ones setting the rules.


Tobias shifted in his seat to look at Finn. “We’re looking at statistics taken over the years to determine the breakdown of
preternaturals who come through the rift opened by the Moore-Creasy-Devon comet,” Caine said. “It’s apparent that of all the
pret clans, demons have the smallest representation.”


“So?” Finn frowned. “There have always been fewer of us than other prets. We can hold our own.”

“For how long?” Lucifer leaned his elbows on the desk. “Every seventy-three years, when the comet opens the rift between dimensions,
there are fewer demons that come through than any other preternatural. Century after century this occurs. In a few hundred
years we could very well be an endangered species.”


“Then demons should have more babies.” Finn wasn’t sure what the fuss was all about. People became preternaturals by traveling
through the rift and taking over bodies of human hosts. But all of them could procreate the good, old-fashioned way as well.
“That’s how I got here, after all.”


“Demon women would have to be perpetually pregnant to make any headway at all,” Caine said dryly.

“And the problem with that is…” Finn grinned at the annoyed looks on the other men’s faces. “I’m kidding.”

“Despite your ill-timed humor, this is a serious problem.” His father shot him a scowl. “The only way preternaturals keep
the community somewhat at peace is because there is a balance between all groups. As soon as one group becomes more powerful
than the others, there will be a fight for control.”


“I’ve never been much of a big picture kind of guy,” Finn said. “You might need to explain why you’re acting like this is
my problem.”


“Because it’s my problem. Therefore, it’s yours, too.”


Finn blew out a sigh. Since this wasn’t something that involved another demon directly, Finn’s skills as an enforcer weren’t
being called upon. Which meant he could refuse the assignment. “Sorry,” he said, not meaning a bit of it. He pushed to his
feet. “Whatever it is you’re asking me to do, I’ll pass.” He wanted to get away from doing his father’s bidding, not do more
of it.


“You can’t refuse to help, Finn.” Lucifer crossed his arms and glowered at his son.

“Are you asking me to hunt down a demon who’s been attacking humans or other prets?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then I believe I can refuse.” He cocked a brow. “And I do.”

“I realize you’ve never looked out for anyone but yourself, and you do a hell of a job at it. Can’t you look past your own
needs just this once?” Caine asked.


“You’re such a sweet talker,” Finn muttered. “You’re really making me want to help.” Finn thought a moment. “I have one question:
What’s in it for me?”


Caine’s scowl mirrored Lucifer’s. He muttered a curse. “Cut the crap, Finn. You’re not as much of a loner as you make out.
Listen to your conscience.” He pressed his lips together. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll give you half a mill to do it.”


“To do what, exactly?” It had to be something good for Caine to toss around that kind of money.

The vampire shared a glance with Lucifer, then said, “We want you to infiltrate a rogue group that’s planning something big
at the next Influx.”


The next Influx of preternaturals to come through the rift was due in four months. That didn’t give him a lot of time to go
undercover.


“We figure your reputation will speak for itself,” Caine added. “It should open doors quicker than someone else could get
it done.”


“The thing is…” Finn sat back down. He stretched his legs out in front of him and clasped his hands across his stomach. “I
don’t need the money. I’ve got plenty.”


“Two million.” This from Lucifer.

That cut him deep. Since when had Finn ever done anything he’d been asked to because of a paycheck? He might be a lot of things,
but mercenary wasn’t one of them. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I don’t need the money,” he repeated.


“Three million.”

Finn folded his arms over his chest and thought about the offer. He’d been truthful when he said he didn’t need the money
because he had more than he could spend in a couple hundred years. But there was something he’d been wanting, something that
had been out of his reach for a long time. What he wanted was to be his own man for once. Do what he wanted when he wanted
instead of having to ask permission from his boss, who also happened to be his father and the leader of the demon enclave
in the region.


All his life Finn had felt more like one of Lucifer’s subjects and less like a son. From the day of his birth his father had
designed the course of his life, and Finn in his early years had gladly followed that map. Yet century after century his efforts
to garner his father’s approval had awarded him nothing. With his mother’s death Finn had lost the only person who’d ever
truly loved him. His father certainly didn’t. At least he never showed it. Finn had never felt like he measured up to Lucifer’s
expectations, and about five hundred years ago he’d given up trying. He did his job well because that was the kind of guy
he was—you do the job you’re hired to do regardless of the pay or any issues you had with the boss. And now he didn’t care
if good ol’ Dad was proud of him or not.


At least, that’s what he told himself. And perhaps if he kept telling himself that, eventually he’d believe it.

For the chance to be his own boss he just might give in. He’d been tossing around the idea of running a private security firm,
one that would cater to the rich and powerful—both preternatural and human—and this might be his chance.


“There’s more to you asking for my help than my rep,” he said, looking from his dad to Caine.

Lucifer cleared his throat, drawing Finn’s gaze. “The chameleon abilities you got from your mother will prove useful.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “You told him?” he asked, amazed that his father would tell an outsider a closely guarded secret
that not even the demons knew.


“I trust him.”

“So I take it he also knows—”

“That you’re my son? Yes.” Lucifer leaned back in his chair and rocked it back and forth.

It wasn’t common knowledge that Finn was Lucifer’s child, and it was safer that way. Each of them had made enemies, and if
a relationship closer than that of boss and employee were to become known, well, it wouldn’t be a good thing. For Lucifer
to not only have clued in an outsider on the existence of chameleons but his and Lucifer’s kinship, he must trust the vampire
implicitly.


Finn studied Caine. He didn’t know him, not really. He’d had some dealings with Caine in the past, and the vampire struck
him as intense. Dedicated and single-minded in his pursuit of justice. And someone capable of taking secrets to his grave.


“As I understand it,” the vampire said, “you can take on the abilities of any preternatural. Does that mean you can enhance
your hearing or sense of smell to the level of a werewolf’s if you wanted to?”


Finn nodded. “There’s a little more to it than that, though. For a short period of time I can actually become that preternatural.”

“Meaning…”

“If I mimic a werewolf, I can shift into a wolf. Or if I want to imitate a vampire…” He paused and got to his feet. “Here,
let me show you.”


It had been a while since Finn had impersonated a vamp. He studied Caine, took a deep breath to get his scent, then closed
his eyes to concentrate on summoning his chameleon demon abilities. There was a burst of heat deep inside him, then his body
temperature plummeted. His jaw began to ache and his canine teeth lengthened into fangs. When he opened his eyes, it was to
see Caine staring at him in shock.


The vampire stood and walked over to him. “What the hell?” He stopped and drew in a deep breath. “Damn. You even smell like
a vampire.” He glanced at Lucifer. “I can see how this could prove useful.”


Lucifer gave a sly smile. “Indeed.”

Finn let go of the pretense and became his normal self again. He dropped back down into his chair and exhaled. Since he was
only part chameleon, he was unable to hold on to a deception as easily as a full-blooded chameleon could. Even that little
bit had taxed his energy. Not that he’d ever admit out loud that he was tired.


“Come on, Finn.” Caine shoved his hands in his pockets. “We need you.”

Finn thought about it a moment longer then, looking at his father, said, “I’ll tell you what. You free me from my enforcer
duties, and I’ll do this.”


“Done.”

Finn’s brow furrowed. “I mean forever, not just while I’m on this particular assignment.”

“Agreed.”

Finn couldn’t hide his shock. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy. It hadn’t been when he’d asked before. He knew this was
some serious shit for his father to so readily agree to his demand. “Fine.” Finn looked at Caine. “Tell me what you want me
to do.”


Caine nodded. “One thing first.” He leaned forward, his gray eyes darkly intent. “No one, and I mean no one outside of this
room, other than my wife, knows what we’re asking you to do. Make sure you keep it that way.”


Chapter One

Three months later

 

Finn walked into the Devil’s Domain nightclub and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimness. The warmth inside the club,
produced by a furnace and the heat of the assembled crowd, contrasted with the coolness of the November evening.


Not that heat bothered him. He was a demon after all; he could handle a little heat. Once he accomplished his task tonight,
he’d see what kind of hookup he could make and then he’d generate another type of heat altogether. If he could. He scowled a little, remembering those succubi he’d seen a few months ago. He’d had similar reactions since, but
hoped that very soon his disinterest would be a fleeting thing.


First, he needed to make some progress on that little matter his father and Tobias Caine had asked him to take care of. Things
had been slow moving thus far. Infiltrating the rogue group of preternaturals would be the key to his freedom.


He’d been working on it for the last few months, using his current contacts and making new ones. Going to the leader of the
group head-on would be too obvious, so Finn had been coming at them sideways. He was so close, he could feel it. All he needed
was one person to buy that he was a true believer and he’d be in. He planned to make some headway to that end tonight, especially
since he was running out of time. The next rift was set to occur in only four weeks.


Moving a few more feet into the club, he looked out over the assembled crowd. Prets of every type as well as several humans
filled the place almost to capacity. A handful of vampires congregated in the booths near the door that led to the area where
they could dine in private if they wanted. Some vamps, though, were exhibitionists and got off as much on audience reaction
as they did the actual ingestion of blood, which explained why a few of them were leaning over donors in booths that lined
the back wall, fangs in arms or necks.


Shapeshifters—werewolves, various werecats, and even a werebear or two—gathered near the bar. A couple of succubi led entranced
humans by the hand toward the restrooms where, no doubt, they’d suck off some of the men’s energy while, well, sucking them
off. And they’d probably lift their victims’ wallets while they were at it, but the men wouldn’t care about that, not for
a while, anyway.


The club smelled like it usually did, a combination of booze, sweat, and the underlying dark, silky feel of carnal, preternatural
hunger. Between the music and voices of people trying to talk over it, the noise level was at a low roar. Finn tapped into
his chameleon abilities and took on the hearing of a shapeshifter. He listened to several conversations, none of which were
all that interesting. Certainly none pertained to the rogue group he was still trying to get close to. He eased up and shifted
his attention to the dance floor. Several demons he knew, most of whom he had no desire to engage in conversation. One guy,
an incubus, caught his attention, though. Not because of what he was doing, which was dancing badly, but because of whom he was dancing with.


Finn would recognize that long hair anywhere. It flowed down her back to the top of her shapely buttocks in a fiery cascade.
Keira O’Brien.


His body tightened. On some level he recognized the reaction and registered the relief he felt in knowing he hadn’t completely
lost his interest in the opposite sex. But on another level he wondered if Keira had ruined him for other women.


He reflected on their first meeting. They’d met here, at the Devil’s Domain, right at the bar. Finn had just come off a job.
He’d been tired, in need of a shave, a haircut, and a small supply of give-a-damn. A husky, shamrock-jeweled voice ordering
a scotch had caught his attention and set his nerve endings on fire. When he’d seen the owner of that voice, a slender, curvy
woman in a barely there black dress, he’d been a goner.


The attraction had been mutual and instantaneous. She’d been as irreverent toward him then as she was now. Unafraid of his
strength, she saw right through him to the man he was inside, the man he could become if he wanted it badly enough.


Keira had been new to the city, still trying to find her way. They danced for a while, shared another drink, and agreed to
see each other again. Over the following months they had enjoyed a flirtation that had deepened each time they were together,
finally culminating in a night filled with overheated bodies straining together against silky sheets.


The evening had started out as their dates usually did—dinner and dancing at the Devil’s Domain. That night, though, they’d
both been more than ready to take things to the next level. Slow kisses and a little heavy petting in a dark booth at the
club barely held their lust in check until he could get her to his bed.


Her dress had stayed on her for all of two seconds, only as long as it took him to get her from the front door to his bedroom.
He’d laid her down on the crimson and plum comforter and she’d given him a slow, sultry smile that told him she knew exactly
what she was doing to him, lying there in nothing but her smooth skin and a pair of red high heels.


“You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” He stared down at her, his eyes burning as desire flamed white hot in his gut.
He let his gaze drift over her slender body, taking in her hard-tipped breasts, narrow waist, and flaring hips. Soft auburn
curls guarded a treasure trove he fully intended on plundering. “Do you often go without panties?”


“Only when I think they might slow things down,” she murmured. A slim finger traced along his lower lip. When he sucked it
into his mouth, her breath caught and her eyes flared with passion. With a low moan that fired his blood, she pushed him onto
his back. Holding his eyes with hers, she began to unbutton his shirt, her fingers brushing against his skin, sending shivers
of reaction racing to his cock. By the time she’d pushed the material to the sides of his torso, he was grinding his jaws
to keep from hauling her beneath him.


When her fingers went to the button on his pants, he knew he’d never keep control if she wrapped them around the part of him
that most wanted her attention. With an oath he surged off the bed and finished undressing.


When he came back down, she curled her legs around his hips and surged against him. He’d been surprised by the strength in
her body, though he knew he shouldn’t have been. When he moved one hand to stroke through the soft folds of her sex, the slick
heat he’d found had made the breath catch in his throat.


“Ordinarily I’d insist on a short getting to know you period,” she husked, trailing her hands across his chest. Her brogue
was more pronounced than usual, and he realized she slipped back into the familiar and perhaps comforting cadence of speech
when her emotions were heightened. “But you’ve b. . .