2. Darkness in the Blood Master copy MS 5 (27 page)

Asheroth beamed. “Exactly, Ethan. You understand completely how important it was to rescue the cat.”

I groaned and stuck my head under the bed, talking to Abigail in a singsong voice. Eventually she did come out, and snuggled up to my stomach. She hissed at Asheroth every time he came near me. I would never admit it, but I was grateful he’d gone for her.

Ethan continued to watch us mournfully from his corner.

After Asheroth announced that it was dinnertime, I knew it was getting close to dark. Time to put my plan in motion. I felt Abigail’s rumbling purr against my stomach and closed my eyes tight. I was still determined to go. They’d hurt me.

But I loved them still.

“I think I am hungry after all,” I croaked. I hadn’t said a word in what seemed like forever. My throat felt like sandpaper and sounded worse. I let my fingers trail through Abigail’s fur as I rolled flat on my back. It was easier to lie back and look at the ceiling than tell lies to their faces. “Is there anything to eat? I don’t really care what.”

I didn’t even to try to sound pathetic. It came out naturally.

Asheroth was beside me, Nephilim-quick. “Of course,” he said, smiling down at me. “I’ll make you something. Or perhaps you’d prefer delivery. I know a place in Tokyo.”

I nodded. I tugged on the t-shirt Cassandra had given me in what seemed like another life. “I could use a shower. And something to wear.”

“You’ve got plenty of new clothes,” Asheroth soothed. “I’ll take care of everything else. When you’re ready, I’ll be just upstairs. Just call if you need us.” I nodded.

Ethan said stonily, “I’m not leaving.”

The red-clad Nephilim spun on him. “She has to get dressed. She wants privacy.” Ethan didn’t move.

I stared back at Ethan. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said again.

For a moment, I saw images of death and burning, and I winced. He saw it and jerked back like I’d hit him. Amazing, I thought. How could I possibly have known that we could hurt each other in exact proportion to how much we loved?

“Please,” I whispered over cracked lips. “Leave.”

That, too, he took like a blow. “Don’t do this,” he said, leaving his corner for the first time all day. I found myself sitting, facing him. Our knees almost touched. I didn’t remember moving. “Don’t leave.”

He knew. I could see it in his eyes, in the careful way he swayed towards me. Somehow, he had figured it out. But he wouldn’t tell. He’d had hours to tell, and he hadn’t yet.

He was going to let me walk away from him and into his version of Hell if that’s what I wanted. He was going to let me go.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

If I sat there looking at him much longer, I was going to break down and confess, or scream and hurt him. I wasn’t sure which, and I didn’t want to find out. I ran for the bathroom and stood motionless under the steamy water. I hadn’t really intended to take a shower, but I had to get away from that room and the people in it. I started breathing again. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.

There was a plan. It was time to put it in action.

When I came back out, wrapped in a fluffy towel as white as the bed, Ethan was gone. I pawed through the ridiculous piles of clothes Asheroth had brought. I dressed as sensibly as possible, since everything appeared to be from French boutiques. Dark jeans with what I hoped were rhinestones on the pockets went underneath a whisper-light cashmere sweater. Leather boots with a little too much style for an escape plan were next. I thought about the fact that I was entering a potential combat situation that I knew very little about and stuffed my pockets with the few useful items I could quickly lay my hands on. Last of all was the belt Cassandra had given me. I slipped Katerina’s sheathed silver daggers into the loops at the small of my back and pulled my sweater over them.

I left Ethan’s black leather jacket in the center of the bed. He might need it back. Abigail nuzzled it and lay across it with a proprietary flick of her tail.

I smelled bacon and coffee. They really were cooking for me. For a second, I felt terrible. And hungry. But it passed. I dug through the box of art supplies for the turpentine, cracked it open, and stuffed the first scarf I thought would burn down its neck.

The portrait room was unlocked. I wondered what Katerina, my assassin ancestress, would have done in my situation. I was counting on Asheroth’s attachment to her portrait. Don’t let me down, I thought at her. This is my first demon-killing mission. I lit the scarf and threw it carefully away from her portrait, towards a cloth sofa I’d once occupied lifetimes ago.

God bless modern construction. Before long, the fire alarms went off. I hid in the bathroom under the stairs and silently prayed while Ethan sped down the stairs, beating on doors. I’d locked every single one. He began methodically breaking them down when I didn’t answer. Asheroth used portals to move from room to room trying to find me.

It was too easy to slip up the stairs and out the empty casement. I heard Abigail spitting and hissing as I went. Good girl, I thought, amused. Someone was going to be sorry for rescuing her twice in one day.

I sprinted into the tree line. I just had to make it into the forest, past the mist wall, Dr. Christian had said. If I could do that, they would find me. The mist wall was designed to keep them out more than it was to keep me in. I just had to run in the opposite direction from Whitfield. At least, that’s what I hoped.

South. I had to run south. My sense of direction had never been all that accurate, but I used the St. Clare for orientation. The forest grew thicker as I ran. Pines and oaks grew thicker and taller around me, the forest floor littered with fallen branches and piles of leaves and dense undergrowth in places. My hair got caught on the lower hanging branches and pulled painfully, but I kept running.

The mist grew thicker as I ran. White tendrils of it snaked through my hair, across my skin. Soon it grew so heavy it felt as if I was breathing through a wet blanket. I was forced to go slower because I could barely see. But I kept moving. I was too afraid not to; it was entirely possible I might get so lost now I wouldn’t find either Dr. Christian or my way back to Asheroth’s compound. Given what I’d learned about travel between the compounds, there was no telling where I might accidentally end up.

The mist thinned the further I pushed, but it was still hard to see. I began to hear strange noises, almost as if there were people whispering all around me. It reminded me of the very first time I‘d dreamed of Jack. The same muted whispering voices had urged me onward then, too. But then sometimes they would grow softer and I knew it was nothing but trees. I had no house or river to orient me now, so I could only hope that the vague sense inside me urging me forward was pointing me south still. I heard the unmistakable call of wolves, far away. The mist had thinned enough to make it possible to see tree trunks, so I began to run again. I did not want to encounter wolves, supernatural or mundane.

And then I hit a tree so hard it knocked me flat on my back. I fell so hard I was momentarily blinded and had to struggle for breath. When I could see again, I was almost sorry.

It wasn’t a tree. I’d run straight into someone I knew. Someone I didn’t like very much.

I’m sure the feeling was mutual.

The Dark Nephilim in the snakeskin jacket who had fought with Asheroth against Ethan and I last winter smiled at me. Most unpleasantly, I might add. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded between ragged breaths.

“Hello to you too,” he said. He held out a hand. I stared at it, incredulous. He grinned. “I’m the delivery service. What’s the matter? Not who you expected?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

The Twilight Kingdom

The Dark Nephilim tried on a smile. It looked as if it wanted to squirm away. “You aren’t planning on being difficult, are you?”

I swallowed my anger, fisting my hands against the Shadows. Not yet. “We had a bargain,” I said as calmly as I could. “No difficulty on my end if there’s none on yours.”

“Ah well, there’s the thing,” he said, shifting his weight. “Belial never had any intention of letting the little one go. Why would he, when she’s cooperating so nicely?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, letting my hands swing loose. Let the Shadows flow if need be. “This is ridiculous. I suppose your buddy is hiding in the trees, waiting to drag me down to the Dark Realms, kicking and screaming, while you keep the girl? I’d be alarmed if your plan was even the slightest bit original.”

“Now honey,” he said, advancing on me. “Don’t be that way.”

“She’s right,” drawled a familiar voice from the mist-shrouded trees. “A terrible plan. Did you think of it by yourself? Or did Nerius? I thought the two of you shared a brain.” A bone white body wrapped in red leather launched itself from the trees, landing between the Dark Nephilim and me. “Caspia,” he said evenly. “You forgot your jacket.” A pile of black leather landed at my feet in a thud. “Please put it on.”

“Oh,” I said stupidly. At that moment, Asheroth frightened me more than anyone else.

“Are you deaf?” he asked. He and the Nephilim in snakeskin had backed slightly away from me and adopted a slow but intense circling pattern.

“Maybe,” I admitted, but I scooped up the familiar, beloved pile of fabric. I held it to me like a teddy bear.   

“Nerius isn’t here, Ash,” the Dark Nephilim hissed. Asheroth’s diamond eyes narrowed to slits.

“He hates it when people call him Ash,” Ethan whispered in my ear.

First, I screamed. Ethan anticipated that; his warm hand was right there over my mouth. Then I spun around, completely disregarding the danger behind me. “What are you doing here?” I hissed. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again.”

“Sshh, Cas, it’s ok,” he whispered. He turned us sideways so neither one of us had our backs to danger. “Your Jack told me. He’s come to me twice now since you dreamed up this stupid plan. You can’t think he’d let you just turn yourself over like this. That either of us would. I’m sorry it’s come to this. I didn’t… I wouldn’t…” He squared his shoulders against mine. “We’ll figure it out, ok?”

For the first time I looked at him, really looked at him, in the moonlight. He held a gently curving blade, shining silver like my twin daggers and etched with designs like the ones on Jack’s skin. It was beautiful. “My God, you’ve got it,” I whispered, awed. “Azazel’s blade. And whose jacket is that?”

“It came with the sword. I assume it belongs to your Jack.” He said his name with only a slight twist of his mouth.

“He’s not my…” I started to say, but then Asheroth and the Dark Nephilim went for each other. Ethan took his old jacket, mine now, and held it out.

“He’s right about this. You really should put it on. What were you thinking?”

“I was leaving it for you,” I said as the two Nephilim, one mad and one Dark, fought each other in a fast-moving blur. Ethan had a funny look on his face as he helped me into it.

And then I saw her, a child among the trees. With long blond hair and wide, terrified eyes, she froze as soon as she realized she’d been spotted. “Hey!” I called, elbowing Ethan. “Caroline! Wait! Don’t go anywhere! We’re here for you!” The girl stood perfectly still against one of the larger trees. She didn’t run, but she didn’t lose the look of terror either. “Do you see her, Ethan?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said uneasily. I started for her. I hadn’t gone four steps when he grabbed my forearm, hard. “Caspia, wait! Something’s not right.”

The girl’s face fell. “I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper so soft I almost didn’t hear her. “I don’t want to. But he’ll hurt my dad.”

I have never seen such a look of pure torture on a child’s face. I ached for her. I wanted to do anything to erase it. “What is it, sweetie?” I asked, starting for her again. “Don’t be afraid. You’re safe now. You can come with us, and we can take you to your dad.”

Then I heard the howling. Deep, rumbling howls that raised chills all along my neck and spine and settled in my bones like the dampest winter cold. On and on it went, like tornado sirens but lower and getting closer by the minute, promising that skin would tear and bones would crunch.

“Caspia,” Ethan said. He was white with terror. He shoved me behind him, Azazel’s blade raised before him in both hands. “Run.”

“What?” I staggered and almost fell. The inhuman sounds grew closer. “What is it?”

“Hellhounds,” he said. He stared at the girl. “You’re the kidnapped girl. Caroline. Your gift is animals, and he’s using you to control Hellhounds.” Ethan planted his feet and stared through the trees. “Caspia. You have to warn the town.”

“He’ll hurt my dad,” the girl said. She sobbed, her back plastered against a tree trunk. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to, but the lady has to come with us.”

Arms wreathed with expensive, familiar cologne snaked around my waist. “Miss Chastain. Hello again,” Dr. Christian said against my ear. “You’re doing very well. Just a little bit more of this unpleasantness, and we’ll have you safe and sound with Belial.” His hands held my wrists in an iron grip. Paralyzing cold pinned me against my former professor.

“Ethan,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “Meet Dr. Christian.” White cold exploded behind my eyes, like the worst slushy-induced brain freeze on earth. My knees buckled.

I could see the first of several dark shapes hurtling towards us through the trees. Ethan swore, torn between the approaching threat and the one holding me motionless beside him. “Asheroth!” he screamed, and turned his back on the Hellhounds. “Let her go,” he warned, advancing on Dr. Christian with blade extended.

The former professor’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard about you. I didn’t believe it at first. But you really are mortal.” He said it like a curse word. “Your brother will be disappointed. It will make killing you less sporting.”

Brother? Um, what?

Dr. Christian ran his fingers up the back of my neck like spiders, gathering my hair in his fist. He pulled my head up so hard it hurt. “I hope he doesn’t take it out on her.”

Ethan growled like the Nephilim he’d been. “He won’t touch her.” One quick downward slash, almost too fast for sight, proved that Dr. Christian was mortal. Red blood soaked his expensive pants leg in one long ugly gash.