Doppelganger Dirge: A Musical Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (Spellsinger Book 11) Page 3

“They were lovers of mine,” Lucifer said offhandedly.

  “Specificity, please. Were they lovers like Delilah? Women who you had altered to look like Elaria?” Darc lifted an ebony brow at Luke.

  “Yes,” Lucifer said immediately, without shame.

  My jaw clenched. One of the ways Lucifer had tried to get over me was to ask his human lovers to have surgeries that turned them into Elaria-copies. You'd think that they would have told Luke to shove his surgeries up his shiny ass, but to get their hands on that aforementioned ass, most human women would, evidently, do anything. I suppose, in a way, they had been like all relationships; a give and take. They got him, and he got living Elaria dolls who he could work his issues out with. Out on. Whatever.

  I probably should have thought less of Luke for it, but I couldn't. I had been through that Bliss nightmare with him and came out of it nearly as screwed up as he did. If creating duplicates of me was his way of dealing, fine. I just wish it hadn't hurt a bunch of innocent women in the process. I don't know exactly what reason Lucifer gave them for his request, if any, but I do know that he'd been brutally upfront about their relationships being purely sexual. Luke believed that his honesty relieved him of all emotional responsibility to these women, but they obviously felt differently since he went through several of them.

  I know all of this because I'd witnessed the end of his last relationship; the one with Delilah. I had, in fact, been the catalyst of that ending. Delilah took one look at my face—a face that she also wore a version of—and realized why Lucifer had put her through so many surgeries. She had not been pleased.

  Raphael slid another glance my way.

  “Raph!” I huffed angrily. “You don't think that I had anything to do with their deaths, do you?”

  “No, of course not,” he protested. “It's just that...”

  “What, Raphael?” Lucifer demanded. “Spit it out.”

  “Someone is killing women who look like Elaria,” Gage declared in a duh tone. “Golly gee, why would they do that? I know one reason springs to my mind.”

  “They're being mistaken for me,” I whispered in horror.

  “It's a possibility,” Raphael admitted.

  “A good one,” Torin growled. “It looks as if we may have found the wickedness of the prophecy. Our stones were right; Lucifer is a path to Elaria.”

  I felt sick. Not only had these women been transformed and then cast aside, but now they were also being hunted because of it. No one had warned them that my face, although nice enough, is a magnet for danger.

  “Put some guards on the surviving women,” Lucifer ordered.

  “Already done,” Raph said briskly.

  “How many more are there?” I asked, my eyes darting from Luke to Raphael.

  “Only a few.” Lucifer shrugged then added, “Hundred.”

  “What?!” I screeched.

  “I'm joking, my vicious.” Lucifer grinned at me but his smile disappeared under the weight of our glares. “Apparently the timing was inappropriate.”

  I made an amused snort then asked again, “How many, Luke?”

  “Um...” Lucifer frowned and looked at Raphael for help.

  “You don't remember how many women you had surgically altered to look like my wife?” Declan asked in a deceptively calm tone. It was the same tone he used when speaking of annihilating his enemies. “That is rather ungentlemanly of you.”

  “I remember all of them, I just... never counted.”

  “Lucky thirteen,” Raphael answered for Luke.

  “Or unlucky, rather,” Lucifer murmured.

  We all glared at him again.

  “What? That was surely appropriate.”

  Chapter Three

  “Take me to the latest victim,” I said to Raphael.

  “The hell I will,” Raphael growled. “You need to stay away from Earth until we figure this out, El.”

  “I could be your best bet at figuring this out,” I argued.

  “Help me out here,” Raph looked at my men.

  Torin started laughing. “With Elaria, it's best to choose your battles wisely, and I don't believe this one is worth the bloodshed.”

  The other men nodded in agreement.

  “Boss?” Raphael looked at Lucifer next.

  “Boss?” Gage repeated. “That's rather casual.”

  “I like it.” Luke grinned. “It's so... human. So modern.”

  “Lucifer,” Raphael dropped his voice to a dangerous level, “you don't really want Elaria in harm's way, do you?”

  Lucifer sobered. “No, I do not.” He settled his intense stare on me. “Not ever.”

  Raphael started to relax.

  “But I am not her keeper,” Lucifer went on. “If her lovers have no issue with it, I don't see why she shouldn't be allowed to help us. Especially since this may be about her more than us.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Raphael snapped. “Someone is killing women who look like her!”

  “Yes, we all heard you, Raphael,” Lucifer said serenely. “But take a look around this room. Elaria's magic alone is daunting but with the rest of us attending her, she is practically invincible.”

  “You shouldn't say such things,” Raphael whispered. “You tempt fate.”

  “I am a god,” Lucifer declared, his expression shifting to superiority and a touch of aloofness, “I make fate. I may even break fate. But I am never a slave to it.”

  Raphael swallowed visibly then slid his gaze to me.

  “It'll be fine, Raph,” I said lightly in an attempt to disperse the pall Luke had just hung over our heads. “We go, I sing, we follow the trace of the assassin, and we make him sing too; like a canary. Simple.”

  Raphael grimaced at me. “Nothing is ever simple with you, El.”

  “Valid,” Gage murmured.

  I rolled my eyes at Gage before responding, “Just take me to the crime scene.”

  Chapter Four

  “This is surreal,” Declan whispered as he stared at the corpse.

  The woman was sprawled in a puddle of blood, eyes closed and lips parted. She'd been shot. Repeatedly. In the throat. If I hadn't already been certain that this was about me, that wound would have cinched it. Whoever killed Delilah believed she was me and knew to silence her as soon as possible. It was a good plan to kill a spellsinger; take out our vocal cords and we can't make magic. Although, I wasn't entirely sure that would work with me. I've projected my voice before, into water no less. Did I need vocal cords to manifest my voice? Who knows? Magic is tricky. But I suppose that's a moot point; take out my throat and you've practically beheaded me. My body is immortal now, thanks to my stint as Faenestra, but even I can't come back from a beheading.

  I glanced around. Although not exactly spotless, the apartment was untouched. The only damage seemed to be to the body. Nothing was overturned or broken, not even the front door. The killer must have been let in by the victim. Either that or he used magic to open the door. Or perhaps even a charm to travel directly into the apartment. Then he—or she, let's not be sexist—shot Delilah before she could react.

  “Even at this distance, she really does look like you.” Torin leaned over the body. “It makes my stomach churn.”

  “It's because her eyes are closed,” Lucifer noted. He added in a wistful tone, “Not even contacts could mimic Elaria's eyes.”

  My men shifted heavy glares to Lucifer.

  Lucifer cleared his throat. “But yes, it's remarkable what human surgeons can do with a touch of my light to aid in the healing.”

  Declan was right; it was surreal to see Delilah dead. Like standing before my own corpse. I felt like a ghost. I shook off the eerie shivers.

  “All right, give me some room.” I waved the men away.

  They took a few steps back.

  Kyanite was already prepared with my chosen song. As soon as I was ready, the shocking grate of the intro to “Running From the Night” by GAITS grated through the room. With it, my Spellsinger magic rose, thrummi
ng impatiently in my throat as it waited to fill my words. I began to sing, a soft heartbeat of drums pulsing low beneath my voice. I cast the lyrics out like a fishing line to hook my victim. There was no running or hiding. Time had run out for the killer. My magic would find him and end this before it had barely begun.

  The drums rose aggressively as my magic carried my spell. I closed my eyes and followed it. We rose. Hovered above the room, rising with the crescendo. I promised a hunt, threatened to kill. Power vibrated out of me and into the world. I waited expectantly for it to take me to the assassin, but it only churned and twisted, swirling around the ceiling like a caged beast. I sang on—pressed on—but the song only continued to circle.

  It failed me. My magic had failed me!

  As I let the music fade away, I realized that this wasn't going to be simple at all. Perhaps Raphael had been right, and we had tempted fate with our cockiness. Whatever the case, I had nothing to go on. No trail to follow and no way to find this wicked thing that hunted me. Was it that powerful then? Had it blocked my search? No, if there had been a ward in place, I would have felt it. So what then?

  I opened my eyes and stared bleakly at the hopeful faces of the men around me.

  “It didn't work?” Declan asked in shock. “Were you blocked?”

  “The killer was never inside this room,” I concluded in epiphany.

  I looked down at the body, at the gunshot wounds, in particular, then cast my gaze around the room until it landed on an open window. I went to stand at the window and stared across the street at an apartment building.

  “A sniper,” Raphael murmured as he joined me. He leaned out and looked from side to side. “He could have been anywhere. A professional could have made that shot from several vantage points; Delilah was only two feet from the window.”

  “Can we search the buildings?” Torin asked.

  “You mean; go into every apartment and have Elaria sing until she connects with the assassin?” Raphael asked in a dubious tone.

  “I see your point,” Torin said stiffly.

  “We're leaving now,” Darcraxis announced as he pulled me away from the window and put himself between it and me.

  Gage lowered the window pane and shut the drapes before he gave me a stern look. The easygoing lover was gone, replaced by the Griffin warrior. “He's right. Everyone, get back to Kyanite.” When we just blinked at him, he added, “Now!”

  I didn't bother to argue. I lifted my traveling stone from where it hung on my neck along with my contact charm and held it tightly, focusing on the living room of my tower in Kyanite. I was shooting through the Veil in seconds, away from the corpse that wore my face.

  Chapter Five

  We all made it safely to Kyanite; including Lucifer and Raphael.

  I blinked at them. “Oh, I didn't realize you'd be joining us.”

  “He said to meet here.” Lucifer looked at Gage. “I assumed he was including us in that statement.”

  “I was,” Gage confirmed. “We need to talk about this.”

  “Actually, I think I should check in with the angels guarding the ten survivors,” Raphael said. “I need to warn them to be on guard for snipers.”

  “Go.” Lucifer nodded curtly.

  Raphael spread his wings as a glow drifted down from the ceiling to envelope him. As his wings came down, he rose and his body faded into the Veil. Before Raph hit the ceiling, he was gone entirely. Yeah; Angels navigate the Realms with their wings. They don't need traveling stones. It's one thing I think Lucifer had done better than Darc and I, as far as creating a race is concerned. Magic, veil-crossing wings; yep, I was a little jealous that I hadn't thought of that.

  “Sit down, everyone.” Darc waved at the couches. “I'll pour us some drinks.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured as I took a seat between Torin and Declan, taking their hands automatically.

  Darc headed to the little sideboard that served as a bar. He started doling out glasses of sola—a Shining One alcohol similar to brandy. Lucifer chose a couch across from us, and Gage took the armchair between. After the drinks were passed out, Darc joined us, and we stared somberly at each other while we sipped.

  “A Beneather assassin who uses a sniper rifle,” I mused since no one else seemed to know how to begin. “Unusual, don't you think?”

  Lucifer nodded. “Why not magic?”

  “Perhaps they thought magic would be futile against a woman with the power of a goddess?” Darc suggested.

  “Sometimes the simplest way to kill someone is the most effective,” Gage agreed. “A gun is a human weapon but it's modern and has proved its prowess on countless battlefields. It can be fired from a distance and leave no trace of its user beyond the bullets it shoots. In some ways, it's superior to a magical attack.”

  “As long as the subject doesn't have magic to protect them from such an attack,” Torin added as he shifted his stare to me. “I think it's time we made some armor for you, little bird. A gorget, to be precise.”

  “A what?” I blinked at him.

  “Throat armor,” Gage translated.

  “That's a fantastic idea.” Declan cocked his head at me. “Some Shining One steel enchanted with protection magic.”

  “Forget the steel,” Torin scoffed then grinned at me. “All she needs is an onyx necklace; a choker.”

  “Beauty and function,” I noted. “I like it.”

  “I'll start on one immediately.” Torin leaned forward to stand, but I put a hand on his knee to stop him.

  “After we finish talking about this,” I said gently. “I'm safe here; there's no need to rush.”

  Torin nodded but lines of worry etched his face.

  “Hey, this isn't about saving friends or family,” I said. “I don't need to be reckless this time. I'm staying put. I promise.”

  “Okay.” Torin relaxed a little more.

  “As much as I regret their deaths, at least they've provided us with a warning,” Lucifer pointed out.

  “I'm sorry.” Declan blinked at Lucifer with the arrogance only Shining One Royalty can manage. “Are you implying that we should thank you for making doppelgangers of our wife to slake your lust upon?”

  Lucifer grimaced. “No, of course not. Only that there is a silver lining to this tragedy.”

  “He's right.” I surprised everyone by saying. “I could have been the one shot in the throat. Several times. Instead, we know enough to protect me. This is indeed a silver lining to an otherwise horrific situation.”

  “Disgusting situation, more like,” Gage grumbled. “Who does that; create replicas of a woman to have sex with?”

  “Gods,” Lucifer declared with an arrogant twist to his lips that started twitching with restrained mirth.

  I chuckled, and my men swiveled their irritated stares to me.

  “Oh, come on,” I whined. “He's come a long way and dealt with a lot of shit, give Luke a break.”

  “Thank you, my vicious,” Lucifer murmured.

  “Will you stop calling my wife by a pet name?” Torin growled.

  “I can't.” Lucifer sighed dramatically. “It's become a habit now. Like lifting my wings when I shower.”

  Well, that's going to be a hard image to banish from your mind, RS said tauntingly.

  I would have said something in rebuke if she hadn't been right. As soon as Lucifer mentioned showering, I pictured him in the spray; steam rising to coat his raised wings, water sluicing off his body, and his elegant hands sliding over himself. I had to swallow past my dry throat. What the fuck? That nightmare must have really messed with me.

  “Other habits can be formed as well,” Declan said casually as he narrowed his gleaming, amethyst eyes on Lucifer. “In fact, I feel one coming on. It involves my fist and your face whenever you call my wife yours.”

  “Your fist can't hurt my face,” Lucifer said serenely. “Even with all of your Shining One magic behind it.”

  “Let's test that theory.” Declan stood, his shoulders bunching, and a
steel gauntlet manifested over his fist.

  “Stop it!” I jumped up and went to stand between them. “Lucifer, I hardly think that calling me by my given name is an outlandish request.”

  “On top of everything else you've heaped upon me it is,” Lucifer protested.

  “Luke,” I growled.

  “One tiny familiarity,” Luke went serious. “That's all I ask for.” He looked at my men. “You have everything else, but you can't give me this?”