Demon Born

1 A gentle night breeze stirred the grapevines, which shimmered under the light of a nearly full moon. Cat Castillo stood in the covered entry of her newly remodeled home, thinking she could almost catch a glimpse of the dark fruit nearly hidden beneath those broad leaves. In that moment, she wondered if she’d made the right decision in selling the grapes, rather than attempt to continue making wine here at what had once been the Rio Luna vineyard. Sure, she didn’t know anything about viticulture, but she could have hired someone to help her. She’d been watching these vines since they began to bud in April, had shared every thrill when they reached a new milestone, experienced every pang of fear when the weather forecasts called for a late frost. After investing so much time in them, they almost felt like her children, and surely it was a terrible thing to sell your children on the open market? After that thought crossed her mind, though, Cat wanted to shake her head at herself. Of course those grapes weren’t her children. She might have helped to nurture them, but they were only a crop, an asset she could sell to help earn back some of the truly alarming amounts of money she’d spent getting the house that had come with the vineyard updated and ready to be lived in. No, although she really didn’t want to admit such a thing to herself, she knew the real reason for her current maudlin state was the news that her brother Rafe and his wife Miranda — the Castillo clan’s prima, or head witch — had just relayed at their father’s birthday dinner. Although the ostensible reason for the get-together had been Eduardo’s fifty-sixth birthday, Cat had been able to tell from the moment she’d laid eyes on them that Rafe and Miranda were bursting with news they wanted to share. It had come out soon enough — they were expecting their first child, who was due sometime around the beginning of January. And even though Cat had known this sort of announcement could come along at any time, since Miranda and Rafe had been frank about trying to get pregnant, she still couldn’t help experiencing an odd pang of…what? Jealousy? Melancholy? She couldn’t even be sure what the emotion really was, because she knew she was also happy for the two of them, had a feeling that she would be closer to this particular niece or nephew than she was to the children of her sisters Louisa and Malena. At the same time, she couldn’t quite stop herself from wondering whether she would ever be a mother herself. So far, the answer seemed to be no. Restless, Cat stepped out from the shelter of the high vaulted roof of the entryway, moving toward the orderly rows of vines that were planted to the south and east of the house and its various outbuildings. The night air was so mild, she didn’t need a sweater or shawl, despite the lightweight dress she wore, which she’d put on earlier so she’d have something nice to wear to her father’s birthday dinner. She wanted to be happy for Rafe and Miranda. No, she really was happy, only… …only she wanted that same kind of happiness for herself. It had been exciting to oversee the renovation of the house, the remodel of the winery’s former tasting room into the fiber arts studio of her dreams, but now that Cat had moved in and was here all by herself, she was starting to realize how big the house really was, how her footsteps seemed to echo off the stone floors, despite all the expensive rugs she’d bought to cover them. And night times were the worst, because at least during the day she had Roberto, the vineyard manager, and his son Miguel around the property. It didn’t feel empty the way it did now. The syllables seemed to drift on the air, barely louder than the rustle of the grape leaves in the night wind. Catalina…. She froze, heart pounding as she scanned the moonlit landscape for signs of an intruder. Everything appeared as it should be, the track that led from the house to the former tasting room empty, the gravel bleached nearly white under the light of the moon. There was no one here. Her pulse slowed somewhat, but still she stood where she was, arms wrapped around herself, the night breeze pulling at the loose strands of hair that had freed themselves from the French braid at the back of her head. No one called her Catalina except her parents. Her mother was dead, and that voice hadn’t sounded at all like Eduardo’s. It was smooth and deep, with the barest trace of an accent she couldn’t quite place. The voice felt almost familiar, and yet she couldn’t remember where she might have heard it before. It teased at her memory, plucking at threads of recollection that had been buried deeply for months and months. He stepped out of the vines, the night wind blowing his black shoulder-length hair away from his face. Cat blinked, blood in her veins going to ice, even as she cursed herself for being stupid enough to leave her cell phone sitting on the table just inside the entryway. How the stranger knew her name was secondary to the chilling realization that they were all alone here. The property was large enough that she knew her nearest neighbors wouldn’t be able to hear her even if she screamed with all her might. Then he spoke again. “Catalina. You do not remember me?” As he asked the question, he moved closer. The moonlight was bright enough that she could see the handsome, sculpted planes of his face, the sensual fullness of his lips, the faintest trace of stubble on his strong chin. He was goddamn gorgeous, that was for sure, but he still had intruded on her property. She found her voice. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.” He smiled. “Perhaps not in this guise.” It would have been easy to blame what happened next on too many glasses of wine at dinner, but Cat had drunk only one, knowing that she needed to drive back to her home in Pojoaque after the dinner in the heart of Santa Fe ended. She was, if not dead sober, at least the next thing to it. The handsome man who stood a few feet away from her shifted, his face and form melting like overheated wax. He grew taller by more than a foot, even as black, leathery wings emerged from his back, spreading out into a span that stretched more than ten feet across. His features grew harsh, monstrous, skin darkening, eyes flaring with red. And despite all this, Cat experienced only a brief rush of fear, gone as quickly as it had come. Because, incredible as it was to admit such a thing to herself, she knew this being. The Lord of Chaos, summoned by the dark warlock Simon Escobar to be his slave. That scheme hadn’t exactly gone to plan, and the Lord of Chaos had turned out to be an unexpected but very welcome ally in the Castillo clan’s fight against Escobar. His voice echoed in her head. You know me. Yes, she replied. Why the disguise? I fear I am somewhat conspicuous in my natural form, he said. I thought it better to blend in. And just like that, he was once again human in appearance, if one of the best-looking humans she’d ever seen. Despite herself, Cat grinned. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re still pretty conspicuous in this form.” The Lord of Chaos looked down at the human body he now wore. For the first time, Cat realized he was wearing a plain black T-shirt and dark jeans, motorcycle boots covering his feet. “Am I?” he asked. “I did not have much frame of reference, so I chose something that would be agreeable to most of the people I met.” Oh, it’s agreeable, Cat thought. Maybe a little too agreeable. Because…damn. “I can see why you’d think that,” she said. “But…why are you here?” He frowned slightly, and she wished she could take back the question. It had sounded pretty rude, as though she didn’t want him here, that she thought he was intruding on her solitude uninvited. And although it might have sounded strange to admit she was happy to have a disguised demon lord suddenly show up on her property, she actually was glad to see him. Even in the brief exchanges they’d shared when they were working to defeat Simon Escobar, she’d felt strangely comfortable with the Lord of Chaos, which she guessed was not the normal reaction to the presence of that sort of being. “I mean,” Cat went on hastily, glad that he hadn’t replied right away, “it’s been eight months. You said you were going to find someone to help you get back to your own world, and so when none of us heard anything….” “Yes,” he said, sounding more resigned than anything else. “That endeavor did not go precisely as planned. I found no one who could assist me, and so I thought it best if I returned here. At least you and your brother and your prima know what I did to aid you in your fight against Simon Escobar, and so I hoped….” The demon lord stopped there, as though he was vaguely ashamed that he’d been forced to return here once all his options had run out. A stir of pity went through Cat, and she said quickly, “Yes, we do know, and we’ll never forget. Why don’t you come inside?” He hesitated, his gaze moving from her to the warm yellow light that spilled out of the living room windows of her house. “Are you sure?” “Of course I’m sure,” she replied immediately. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some tamales my Aunt Rosa sent home with me. She thinks I’m living on frozen food and yogurt out here.” Which isn’t all that far from the truth…. “I don’t know what a tamale is,” the Lord of Chaos said, a frown once again pulling at his brows. “Well, then,” Cat responded, “you’re definitely coming in.”