Redemption (A NOVEL OF THE SEVEN SIGNS) (39 page)

Still, part of him
wanted
to do it alone. Fluvium was his, and only his. And this time, Japheth knew exactly where Rose was. He wouldn’t let her distract him.

Not until you have to kill her, Jae. How’s that working out for you?

He gritted his teeth. He could just…let her go. Pretend she’d escaped. Look the other way for a second while she disappeared. Who’d ever know?

You’d know,
whispered that voice, and try as he might, Japheth could find no answer.

He’d know, all right. And heaven saw straight into the tarnished depths of his heart. There’d be no hiding. No pretending his dishonor away. After fourteen hundred years of truth? He was the world’s worst damn liar.

So why the hell had Rose believed him?

Because she wants to, that’s why. She wants to believe you’ll save her. She’s screaming out for help, and you’ll use her up and toss her bleeding into hell. Nice work, angel. Very noble
…

He gripped the hatch’s edge and vaulted through into the light.

He landed on a metal catwalk, barely wide enough to flare his wings. A long narrow chamber, metal walls glistening in reddish light, bunches of three-foot-thick steel pipes snaking into the distance. The pipes were pierced at intervals with bolts and wheeled valves, flanges and welded ladders, gauges and safety warnings.

Damn, it stank. Dirty charcoal gritted his mouth, crawled over his damp skin. Hellsmoke blanketed the ceiling, only four or five feet clear of the floor, and the walls shuddered, threatening, closing in…

Breathe. Don’t freak out. Cold. Quiet. Nothing to fear
…

Rose grabbed his hand, and he heaved her up beside him. She clambered over the edge, and wiped the ash-slick mess from her hands. “Demonslime. Yuk. Why do we have to be so gross?”

“Could be worse. At least he’s not poisoning the sewers.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Thanks for that.”

“Just stay behind me until we see what’s going on, okay? And peel your eyes for the vial. If that stuff gets spilled, it won’t be pretty.” He crept beside the big bunch of pipes. Sweat slicked his warm sword grip. He should wipe it off…but too soon, he reached the end of the huge pipe, where it curved at a ninety-degree angle and plunged through a hole in the floor deep into the earth.

Ahead, an evil bonfire roared, spreading a pall of black smoke. The fire stank like pork crackling. Those were bodies burning. Human bodies, charred and broken, flesh melting from the bones.

His sword flared brighter, angry. Not an illusion. A hungry, righteous blue gleam, howling for demon blood.

His muscles ached for action. Hot glitter tingled into his skin, obliterating everything but his pulse, his senses, the ruthless undercurrent of rage.
For me. For Rose. For all the lives you’ve ruined.

He gasped as it took him, that black urge for slaughter. Horror, passion, dreadful heat in his blood. His muscles swelled. He was hard, quivering, on the wickedest of edges. In that moment, he knew how Dashiel felt. Glory, a beautiful drug, liquid ecstasy in his veins. Fight, fuck, bleed, die. All the same.

Japheth drifted around the corner, sword in hand, more hungry beast than angel.

*   *   *

Rose peered around the corner, and her throat parched.

Blood everywhere. Pooling on the floor, splashed over the curling pipes, dripping from the ceiling like an evil cartoon house of horrors. Her vampire senses growled. Torn human flesh, heartbeats like panicked drums, half a dozen or more in close proximity…

But where were the vampires? Who was doing all the killing?

Ahead of her, Japheth crept, wrapped in sparkling blue death. She strained, hunting that evil rhythm, the sweet harmony of vampire heartbeats…

Her ears prickled. A single pulse, swift and light. Just one vampire? For all that blood…?

The smoke pall rolled, and parted, and velvety black compulsion crawled up Rose’s throat to throttle her. She stumbled back, sweating, but too late.

Atop the mass of welded pipes sat Fluvium.

Leaning on one elbow, legs outstretched. Firelight caressed his night-purple hair. This time, he’d dressed like a dude from a Sergio Leone Western, complete with moleskin shirt and tall spurred boots, a red bandanna knotted around his neck.

He grinned at her—such ugly, gloating eyes—and tipped his dusty cowboy hat. A pair of antique six-guns hung from crossed belts over his hips. “Well howdy, partner. Just in time! And you’ve brought me a gift!”

Japheth spat, and it burned a smoking hole in the steel. “Happy birthday, hellshit. Come get it.”

Excruciating movie reels of hell seared into Rose’s brain.
Fluvium’s evil smile, the exquisite pleasure of his touch, the steaming horror of blood…

She wanted him. She loathed him. Salty sickness watered her guts. She tried to speak, say anything to forestall her master’s wrath…

But Fluvium glared at Japheth, and the stinking air shimmered black. “But it’s not wrapped properly, Rose. He’s not cursed! I give you one simple task, and you screw it up. Honestly. What did I ever see in you?”

And swift as a striking hawk, he hurled a glittering hellspell.

“Heads up!” Japheth’s aura flashed bright in warning.

But too late. Gritty fire exploded over Rose’s face. The hellspell cackled, crawling up her nose like tear gas. Her eyes poured. She choked, waving frantic hands, but she couldn’t help it. Her legs buckled. Her knees hit the floor, a sick jolt that pierced her bones like a hot blade, and she screamed.

*   *   *

I’m not cursed.

Japheth shuddered, his sanity cracking.

Fluvium’s hellspell crawled over him, into his ears, up his nose, into his mouth. Pain, witless confusion, blindness. Demons’ tools. He fought it, a flash of blue fire that seared the grit from his skin. But his thoughts scrambled, a lunatic’s crayon scribbles.

Rose meant to trick me all along. He sent her to tempt me. She’s still his creature.

But I’m not cursed…?

He didn’t get it. All that mattered was the vial. And he couldn’t see it. Not in Fluvium’s hand. Not on the floor. Not by the jumbled pipes.

Okay, then.
He dropped his sword, swept his wings back and leapt.

Slam!
He collided with Fluvium, knocking him flat atop the pipes.

The demon’s body was hard, whippy with muscle. But Japheth was stronger. He grabbed a flailing wrist, and
slammed it down on the pipe.
Crack!
Fluvium’s forearm snapped. Bare skin sizzled. Japheth whipped his dagger from his vambrace, and jammed the point under the demon’s chin.

Hatred boiled in his veins, and sweat poured from his face. God, he wanted to slit the prick’s throat and bathe in his boiling blood.
That’s for making her scream, hellshit. For making her a monster
…“Where is it?”

Fluvium struggled to breathe, but his eyes glinted with rainbow glee. His hat had fallen off, and his purple hair glared wild. “Where’s what?”

Japheth banged the demon’s head into the steel. His knife sliced deeper, and poisoned blood steamed. “Where’s the vial, asshole? Before I gut you like a fish—”

Fluvium winked, and vanished to ash.

Japheth thudded into the pipes where the demon had lain, and his blade screeched on empty steel. He whipped into a backwards somersault, landing with a twist on the steel floor…

Crap
.

Fluvium leered at him from the catwalk. His broken arm had mended, and Rose knelt at his feet, shivering in a puddle of blood. She stared, blinded by wicked demonspells, seeing only the nightmares the bastard was feeding her…

Fluvium bent over to lick her ear, and traced one long gun barrel against her cheek. “Mmm. She tastes good, don’t you think? Perhaps I’ll eat her, if you don’t behave.”

Japheth’s fist clenched, so hard his dagger’s hilt warped. So easy, to sacrifice others for the mission. To let this woman suffer so the world could be saved.

It wasn’t fair. But it had never bothered him before. He’d never wanted to forget the mission, save the girl, scream a final fuck-you prayer to heaven.

“Get off me!” Rose struggled, fighting to stay lucid. But Fluvium planted a hand on her shoulder, effortlessly forced her down, ground his foot on her calf until something crunched.

Rose’s face drained white. But she wouldn’t scream. She gritted her teeth, shaking with the effort. “Son of a
bitch
!”

Fluvium nipped the side of her neck. Blood oozed. He
licked it, lingering. “Play nice, minion, or I’ll flay the skin from your face until you beg me for death! Sound fair?”

Japheth crouched, tense.
Sword at the catwalk’s edge. Try a flash? Jump him? Throw, and hope I hit something that’s not her? All shitty options. Where the hell is that vial?

“You afraid of me, demon?” he threw back, stalling. “Why don’t you let her go and fight me face-to-face?”

“Because you’d win?” Fluvium’s laughter clanged. “How dumb do you think I am? No, we’ll do this my way. And I’ve got such a surprise for you both!”

He spun his six-gun into its holster—did he practice that?—and whistled, a ripping shriek that curdled Japheth’s breath. “Come out, sweetling,” Fluvium called. “Come meet the family. And mind your manners, like Daddy showed you.”

Japheth primed his senses, ready for whatever foul hellbeast the demon had summoned.

A dark shape crawled on all fours from the shadows. Its small, naked body dripped crimson. Wet ringlets dangled over its forehead. Slitted eyes glinted wickedly in the firelight. Its tongue lolled, drooling, and it licked its sloppy fangs and grinned.

A girl.

A little vampire girl. And in one hand, it—she—clutched a bloodstained golden bottle.

Japheth stared, his pulse thudding. He’d seen a holy vial before, at Quuzaat’s dirty sabbat. Ten inches high, round like a globe at the bottom and narrowing to a long spout at the top…and it
burned
, angry white-hot flames that licked up the little vampire’s arm.

But the girl-creature didn’t flinch. She just crouched in loving firelight, and gazed up at Fluvium with wide wet eyes. “Daddy,” she lisped, fangs too big for her mouth. “I’m hungry.”

“I know, darling,” Fluvium soothed. “We’ll feed you in just a second. First, come say hello to Rose.” His grin sharpened, cruel. “You remember Auntie Rosie, don’t you, Bridie?”

CHAPTER 35

Razors sliced living flesh from Rose’s brain.

A howl split her ears, some horrid cacophony straight from the stinking bowels of hell, and her mouth gaped wide.

But she was already screaming. And Bridie—this
thing
the curse had made of her precious child—just grinned at her, and giggled. “Auntie Rosie,” it gurgled, blood drooling on its dimpled chin. “Let’s play hide-and-seek! When’s Mommy coming home?”

“Aww, that is
so
cute!” Fluvium grinned. “Seriously, I’m dying from the fucking cuteness over here. Isn’t she adorable?”

Dimly, Rose heard Japheth curse, sibilant words in some ancient language that seared her skin with unholy fire.

“You sick bastard. You did this to her!” Her voice ripped ragged, and she leapt up to tear Fluvium’s face off with her bare hands…but her sprained calf shrieked, and folded. She collapsed, dizzy with agony.

Fluvium laughed, his hair smoldering. He got off on her pain. “Oh, no, Rose. It’s much worse than that.” He yanked her hair, dragging her ear to his lips. “
You
did this,” he hissed. “Don’t you remember?”

“No.” She formed the word, but no sound came out.

“You ate her. You were so
hungry
, isn’t that right?” Fluvium whined, mocking. “Poor
you
. You couldn’t
help
it. You stumbled home in a sweating fever of thirst and there she was, so sweet and tasty and innocent. She smelled so good, didn’t she?”

Rose struggled, drowning in bloody memories. She’d thought Bridie was dead. Already in hell. But this…

She’d made her sister’s child a vampire. Infected her with this horrible thirst, and turned her into a monster.