Sadness threatened to drown her. No! Not here. Not now. I can do this. I will do this. If she could control her thoughts, she could control her emotions. She could.
Three Sent Ones pushed their way to the front of the circle--Xerxes and the other owners, Bjorn and Thane--hurling people out of their way.
No fighting in the club? "Hypocrite," she muttered.
Bjorn had dark hair, bronzed skin and the most spectacular pair of rainbow-colored eyes. Thane had innocent blond curls but hardened blue eyes. All three males radiated malice as they crossed their arms over their massive chests, daring Cameo and Juliette to deliver the first strike.
Cameo stood her ground. "You hurt Lazarus," she spat at Juliette. "Now I hurt you."
Lavender eyes narrowed to tiny slits. "Lazarus is my consort, now and forever, in life and in death. Mine! He is nothing to you."
Borrowing a page from Viola's playbook, Cameo fluffed her hair as if she hadn't a care. "Are you sure? I just spent the weekend with him."
Tremors swept through the Harpy. "You found him in the spirit realms?"
"Found him...kissed him."
"Kissed--" With a shriek, Juliette launched at her.
Just before contact, a streak of black slammed into the Harpy, knocking her backward. Fluffy, Cameo realized, shocked to her core. He clawed at Juliette's face, a bundle of rage, and the Harpy screamed in pain.
The crowd gasped collectively and backed away. Someone must have tripped over someone else, because a fight erupted. The Sent Ones leaped into action, doing their best to stop the worst of the violence.
One of Juliette's friends pulled a thin, silver rod from the leather cuff around her wrist. A rod she swung at Cameo.
Reflexes well-honed, Cameo caught the end and threw a punch. Her knuckles shattered the Harpy's cheekbone.
Viola appeared in a puff of crimson smoke. No longer angelic, she looked like the demon living inside her. Two horns extended from her scalp. Red scales had replaced her skin, and her eyes flared like radioactive rubies. Sharp, deadly fangs had grown from her gums, and her nails had lengthened into claws. The scent of sulfur wafted from her.
The goddess slashed the neck of Cameo's opponent--as if it were a stick of butter. Blood sprayed, the Harpy grasping at newly torn tissue, desperate to breathe but unable.
The Sent Ones focused their efforts on Viola, but failed to stop her. She was simply too strong. As she worked her way through the Harpies, slashing at anyone within reach, the table fell over and glasses fragmented.
Cameo seized the opportunity to attack Juliette, who hadn't yet fended off the Tasmanian devil. She kicked the bitch in the stomach...then kicked again as the Harpy hunched over, gagging.
Fluffy released her--but he took a piece of her ear with him.
Cameo backhanded her across a bloody cheek, sending the Harpy stumbling into the riotous crowd.
The huffing, puffing Juliette shoved another woman at Cameo--a siren--driving them both backward. As she struggled for purchase, the Harpy grabbed a piece of broken glass and leaped.
Impact drove Cameo farther back. When she slammed into a table, Juliette slashed at her twice. Cameo dodged both times, tripped over a chair, but somehow maintained a tight grip on the Harpy's wrist, saving herself from dismemberment.
A muscled arm suddenly wrapped around Juliette's waist, yanking her off Cameo.
"Let me go," the Harpy screeched, struggling for freedom.
Without a word, Thane carted her to the balcony, flared his wings and launched into the sky.
Cameo jumped up, intending to race to...she wasn't sure. She couldn't follow. A muscled arm wrapped around her. A scarred arm. Xerxes. Bjorn, she noted, had finally gotten hold of Viola while a snarling Fluffy attacked his ankles.
"Break our rules," Xerxes said through gritted teeth, "and face our wrath."
"Harm her," a rough, masculine voice announced, "and die."
Cameo's heart tripped against her ribs. The rest of her stilled, vibrating with...anticipation?
Oh, yes. The crowd parted, and a glowering Lazarus came into view.
16
"If you make something easy for yourself, you make it easy for your enemy. Therefore, make it difficult. Better yet, make it hard. Very hard."
--Eternal Truths for Every Man
The man holding Viola handed her to a fallen Sent One named McCadden as if she were a bag of panties. The tattooed bartender with pink hair clutched her close and, in an effort to escape the chaos that had erupted at the appearance of Lazarus, sprinted from the room.
Without wings, he couldn't leave the building. He would need help. Unless he possessed the ability to flash?
Just before McCadden rounded the corner leading into a hallway of offices, Viola's gaze caught on Cameo's. The beautiful wench had stopped staring at her man with awe in order to search for Viola. Surely a feat of unimaginable strength, considering the gorgeous Lazarus had been beheaded and now walked among the living. Did the dark-haired beauty intend to launch a rescue for her? How sweet.
I've made a true friend?
Viola shook her head, silently telling Cameo to back down. She would be fine. She owed McCadden, and for once, she would pay her debt. She would face his wrath rather than use her ability to vanish in a blink. Because...just because!
Cameo nodded in understanding.
Fluffy nipped at McCadden's heels, refusing to allow his momma out of his sight.
The fallen Sent One whisked her into a luxurious office with enough space between every piece of furniture to welcome the easy glide of wings. He kicked the door shut, sealing her inside with him. Alone. A soft snick echoed between them, an ominous warning.
Viola wrenched from his embrace, found her feet and turned her back on him, something she normally wouldn't have done. Trust no one but myself. Well, and Fluffy. But this man wouldn't hurt her; she knew it with every fiber of her being.
Besides, Fluffy stood guard over her. He perched at her feet, his fangs bared in warning.
"Do you know who I am, goddess?" McCadden asked softly.
"I..." Narcissism used to wipe her memory the way Misery so often wiped Cameo's. Only, he hadn't wiped away the good times in an effort to keep her mired in regret. He'd only erased the things she'd done to ruin her high opinion of herself, all in an effort to keep her prideful. A condition she'd once lauded. I'm wonderful. Why fight it?
Sooner or later, pride always led to a very hard fall.
One day, Narcissism had realized Viola's happiness tainted his own. He strengthened only when he tore others down. Including his host. He enjoyed his power only when he purposely weakened others. Again, including his host. He felt in control only when he caused others to lose theirs. Yep, including his host.
That was the nature of a demon. Of all demons. The fiends weren't something you could accept and placate. They weren't cuddly teddy bears who just needed the love of a good woman. They weren't an evil that could be used to your advantage. They destroyed. Always. They ravaged, plain and simple. And they only ever craved more destruction, more ravaging.
Sometimes, when the last of Viola's pride burned to ash, Narcissism weakened and retired to the back of her mind, his presence barely discernible. She would remember the things she'd done and said and her heart would shatter. She would fall to her knees and sob, forced to acknowledge that, by yielding to evil, she had become evil.
But the demon always rebounded, and the cycle always began all over again. Build her up, tear others down. Tear her down. Heartache to rival Cameo's. A resurgence of pride.
This was a time she wanted to fall to her knees and sob. Not that she would ever do so in front of an audience, especially an audience that included McCadden. The foolish male would do everything in his power to comfort her.
She deserved no comforting.
"Yes," she said. "I do."
"I'm glad."
"Don't be." She wrapped her arms around her middle to mask her trembling. She had picked up the piec
es of her shattered heart countless times, and she could do it again. "I've already proved I'm your downfall."
When he offered no response, she padded through the office. The spacious enclosure had a high, domed ceiling, bookshelves framed in gold and columns carved to resemble specific immortals. She recognized Thane, Bjorn and Xerxes, but not the female who appeared to be engulfed by flames.
Obviously a Phoenix...Thane's wife? Yes, yes, of course. According to gossip, the most angelic-looking of the Sent Ones was utterly besotted with his fiery Elin. Why wouldn't he erect a statue in her image?
Oh, to be loved in such a way.
I love you, the demon said.
Liar!
"You were already my downfall," McCadden said, his voice soft.
The words ripped her from her momentary reprieve.
He'd meant what he'd said literally. He'd given up his place among the Sent Ones, allowing his wings to be cut from his back, his position in the armies to be stripped, and his home to be given to another, simply for the chance to be with her.
Narcissism had fed off his adoration. Sent Ones were his favorite snack, after all. Maybe because Sent Ones carried a piece of Love in their hearts, a gift of their exalted bloodline. They were children of the One True Deity, who was more powerful than the Greeks, the Titans and any other race of immortals. Demons despised the One True Deity and his followers, and took great glee in meting their destruction.