Personal Demon (Otherworld 8)

"Lucas, I can't--"

"I am in charge, and I gave you an order."

A moment of shocked silence then, as I drew close, Griffin nodded and went into the room.

"Mr. Cortez, you don't want to do this," he said.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," I muttered.

I yanked the guard blocking the door out of the way. Carlos lay on the floor, blood dripping from his nose, eyes glued to our father as he advanced on him.

"What happened, Carlos?" my father said, voice low. "Was it because I wouldn't advance you money to buy a new sports car? Or because I stopped buying off the whores you beat up? Or because you got sick of having to work for a living? No, not work. Just show up. Because that's all I asked of you."

"Papa--" I said.

"Stay out of this, Lucas." He didn't turn from Carlos. "I gave you every opportunity. An Ivy League education...and you wouldn't show up for class. A five-million-dollar trust fund...that was gone before you turned thirty. A VP's salary, with zero responsibilities...and you whine because I expect you here by ten every morning. I always knew you were a vain, vacuous, vicious brat, Carlos, but I blamed your mother's influence. I told myself you just needed guidance. I was wrong. Your brothers, Carlos..."

"Dad, I--"

"Your brothers!" he thundered.

His hands flew up in a spell. Carlos seemed frozen, making no move to cast back, as if he'd forgotten he could, as if this was a nightmare he couldn't escape even by simply diving out of the spell's path.

So I leapt into it.

The energy bolt hit my side and I convulsed, blacking out for a split second before hitting the floor and jerking back to consciousness. Consternation crossed my father's face, then vanished as his expression went blank.

"Lucas, get out of the way."

"Yes, Lucas," Carlos said. "We wouldn't want to see you get hurt."

I pushed to my feet and got between Carlos and my father...earning a shove between the shoulder blades for my trouble.

"You heard Dad. Get out of the way. You don't want to spoil his fun. He's been dying to do this for twenty years. Dying to beat the snot out of me. Tell me how he really feels."

"Lucas, get out of--"

"No."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Carlos said. "You just can't help yourself, can you, Lucas?"

"Papa, listen--"

"Go save someone who needs saving," Carlos cut in. "He's not going to kill me. He might hate me. He might wish I was dead. He might wish he could do the job himself. But he can't. I'm all he has left."

"No," my father said slowly. "You aren't."

His gaze shunted to me. Carlos snarled in rage and I spun to stop him from attacking our father. His eyes met mine and I realized it wasn't our father he was after. Before I could dive out of the way, he kicked my feet out from under me. As I fell, his arm went around my neck, crushing my windpipe as he yanked me back onto my feet.

I opened my mouth to cast, but couldn't speak. When I jabbed my elbow into his chest, his arm tightened, cutting off my air.

"You're right, Dad," he said. "I'm not all you have left. But I can fix that."

With his free hand, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, letting our father watch as I wheezed and gasped.

"Do you know how easy it is to kill someone like this? How fast I can do it? Faster than you can cast a spell. But don't take my word for it, Dad. Give it a shot."

"Carlos, let him go. He only wanted to help. Let him go and we'll talk."