Page 33 of The Demon’s Due (Bedeviled #5)

Ezra tore out the throat of one vamp, but the others reaffirmed their hold.

“Oh, you’ll live,” Delacroix said, his fury gone now that he’d dropped his bombshell. “You just may not like it very much.”

“Impossible,” Ezra said, still struggling. “You can’t remove magic from someone.”

The shedim arched an eyebrow. “Pederson didn’t tell you that part of Operation Inferno?”

I was too busy trying to wrestle Cherry into a semblance of calm to care that he knew who Ezra had visited and why.

“Those shedim didn’t need some experiment to make half-demon babies.

” Delacroix dusted his knuckles against his shirt.

“Our natural charm worked well enough. They wanted a way to remove the magic.” He paused.

“The Maccabees hated that. They figured that any half human should work for them. It wasn’t to their advantage if some deadbeat dad could show up and take that magic away.

It’s why they never liked infernals. They couldn’t control you. ”

Cherry was numb; I was too. I’d had a lifetime to get used to how humans—including the Powers that Be in my own organization—saw me, but I was frozen by the realization that I’d been nothing more than a container that my father could empty at will.

“It won’t be fun, and there’ll be a lengthy recovery period,” Delacroix said, “but you’ll get used to living like”—his lip curled—“a human.”

Stop hiding and be a regular Eishei Kodesh. Would I have taken him up on this offer, pain or not, six months ago? Three?

Would I now?

I’d finally be able to be myself without constantly making amends for my shedim side. I’d have to walk back some of my rallying speech to the Maccabees, but I could have a normal life.

“If I may,” my boyfriend said.

His mild tone startled both my father and me.

“Thank you for describing your villainous plan, Delacroix.” With barely a shrug, Ezra threw off the strike force.

They regrouped quickly.

“Enough.” The Prime’s command rippled through the room. Raw power emanated from him, freezing the other vampires where they stood. I’d seen Ezra in action, but this was different. He’d come away from our thrall with some new tricks.

The strike force had mistaken a bonfire for a match. They dropped their gazes to the floor, shoulders hunched.

“While you were plotting and using the Hell as your personal buffet of misery, I was running it.” Ezra strode forward.

“Making connections with staff you never noticed. Who Calista never noticed. The two of you fostered an abusive atmosphere, and when I treated them with respect, they fell over backward to help me out.”

“What are you talking about?” Delacroix’s voice grated with annoyance.

“They fed me information about you, which I gave to foot soldiers in Dad’s Mafia who were eager to impress the Crimson Prince. I didn’t go to Copenhagen empty-handed. I gave Secretary Pederson the location of all the locks as a bargaining chip with the Authority.”

“You didn’t think to mention this?” I snapped.

“I was still pissed off,” he said mildly. He released the strike force vampires from his hold with a cocky smile, but fatigue tightened the corners of his mouth.

Delacroix gestured for them to remain still. “You showed your hand too soon, Cardoso. I can take Aviva’s magic and still have my followers get to the locks before you can alert the Authority.”

I’d spent my life placating and tolerating my Brimstone Baroness, while I remained focused on one goal: acceptance for being a half shedim.

Thirty years of making silent apologies for her existence—making them for mine .

What a tragic waste.

“I’ll die before I let you take my magic,” I said. “That’s not some testament to you, Father.”

“The Authority is happy to let you take demons away from earth for good. But touch anyone Aviva and I care about, or either of us, and that changes.” Ezra unleashed a glacial smile.

“My magic or your coup?” I said. “You can only bet the house on one of them.” I held his gaze for three very fast heartbeats.

“Even the house doesn’t always win.” Delacroix inclined his head. “My coup, it is.”

I motioned for him to run along and take his vampires with him.

The strike force fell into formation behind Delacroix, headed for the elevator.

I took the first full breath since they’d appeared.

Delacroix hit the call button, then turned back. “Enjoy your magic while it lasts, daughter.” His smile never reached his eyes.

While it lasts? My brief moment of triumph dissolved, replaced by a knot tightening between my shoulder blades.

“Kill them and everyone they care about, or I’ll turn you into fish food,” my father ordered and vanished through the wall.

Six vampires turned as one to Ezra and me.

The Prime eyed them and cracked his knuckles. “Eh.”

Cherry nudged me to slide into my synesthete vision. What I found there shocked me. All of the vampires’ previous injuries—save for Ezra’s—were laid out in a beautiful blue map for me to exploit.

I wasn’t even in my shedim form.

All thanks to drawing on Delacroix’s magic to place Darsh and Silas within the boundaries of the security system. My father would be furious.

I almost laughed, but my amusement turned wistful at the one unassailable truth of my existence: I was Cherry and she was me.

I’d gotten halfway to where I needed to be. I’d grown to love all of her.

No, I’d grown to love all of me .

Now I took the final step—and released the last threads of pretense.

Thank you, my darling Cherry Bomb , my Brimstone Baroness . I’ll always love you, and I never would have made it this far without you, but I can take it from here .

Cherry’s presence swirled through me, not fighting, not struggling, but like water finding its natural course.

Finally . In my head, she smiled and closed her eyes for the last time, merging and settling firmly into the marrow of my bones.

Cherry Bomb was no more.

A quiet ache bloomed in the space she’d occupied, like vast emptiness where a star once burned, yet it would always hum with the memory of her light.

This wasn’t loss; it was completion. The divide between Aviva and Cherry had always been artificial, a coping mechanism I no longer needed.

I cracked my knuckles and burst into my full shedim glory.

The fight was bloody and vicious but mercifully brief. Ezra moved like death itself, while I tore their bodies apart with startling ease, as if their flesh knew it was already beaten.

They were good old-fashioned deaths with no trace of the Luce. That was comforting.

I picked up my final victim’s shirt, snapped ash off it, and used it to clean myself up.

“I’m going to Toronto to get Orly somewhere safe,” Ezra said as the last scream was brutally cut short.

I pitched the shirt into the corner. “I’ll tell Darsh and Silas to be on high alert.”

Ezra surveyed the detritus of his living room. “I’m not coming back here.”

“Then we should say a proper goodbye.”

Moments later the words “Fuck you, Delacroix” were written in ash across the floor.

Mic drop and out.