Burning Ash

by N. J. Walters

  “No.” It was the opposite.

  They’d drawn blood, ripping and tearing at each other like animals. Both had suffered broken bones, but they were so old they healed almost immediately.

  Was he strong enough to kill Eric?

  “You’ve been hiding from me.” Over the centuries, he’d caught the occasional blast of hatred directed toward him, but he’d dismissed it. Not like he was a favorite among his own kind. Now he knew why it had seemed almost familiar at times.

  “No, brother, I’ve simply been savoring your guilt and self-loathing. It tastes positively divine with a good 1890 blood. I keep a stock on tap. So many good vintages at home in my cellar.”

  His brother had drained people and bottled their blood, something strictly forbidden. “I could have saved you.” That would haunt him for the rest of his days. If only he’d found Mosi before he’d gone down this dark path.

  His brother sneered.

  Or not. His brother was evil. He’d seen it in his heart.

  “Save me?” He laughed again, but there was no joy in the sound, only malice. “You can’t even save the woman you love.” He leaped toward Jo.

  “No!” Asher lunged forward with his arm extended. Eric ran into it and flew into the air before slamming down onto his back. He quickly rolled to his feet but was rubbing his neck. He wasn’t laughing any longer.

  “That’s it. Give me a decent fight.”

  Ignoring his brother’s goad, he positioned himself in front of Jo. He drew his experience around him like a cloak, cutting off all emotion. The hot blood in his veins cooled, the fury pounding in his veins became an icy calm.

  Focus.

  He could not afford to make a mistake.

  Jo’s life was at stake.

  “What are you waiting for? Coward.”

  He shut everything else out. Drawing a deep breath, he curled his fingers inward. “Come and get me.”

  Eric flew at him, talons extended, teeth flashing. Swerving out of the way would give him a clear path to Jo.

  Asher took the hit. Claws ripped the skin from his chest as Eric desperately dug for his heart. Pain speared outward, radiating throughout his torso. He accepted it, used it to strengthen his resolve.

  He slashed at his opponent’s unprotected neck, striking hard and deep. Blood sprayed from the wound, forcing his brother to retreat. “You can’t win.” Psychology was as much a part of fighting as physical skills were, and Asher had honed both.

  “You should have saved me.” A bloodred tear rolled down Eric’s face. For one brief moment, Asher flashed back to the morning after the massacre, the faces of his dead family staring up at him in silent accusation.

  Remorse and guilt smashed through the layer of ice around his heart, shattering his detachment. “Mosi.” Blood rolled down Asher’s forehead from an earlier cut to his head, his body ignoring the minor cut as it worked furiously to heal the huge gouge in his chest.

  Sweat stung his eyes. Killing his brother would destroy something in him, but there was no other choice. “I’ll make it quick,” he promised.

  “So will I.” Eric leaped up and over him rather than trying to go around.

  Jo! He whirled around and slammed his fist through his brother’s back, gripping his heart.

  Jo yelled, but not in fear. No, this was the cry of a warrior. Her blade sliced through the air and into Eric’s neck. Asher yanked out the heart just as his brother’s head fell to the ground.

  It was over.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I helped kill his brother.

  She bit her lip. Not exactly a great way to further a relationship.

  I should have trusted Asher.

  He hadn’t hesitated to rip out the heart and toss it aside. It was the one time she should have some regret, because he was someone Asher had cared about. But he was determined to kill her, and Asher, and she wasn’t going to let that happen.

  Gut churning, her breath caught in her lungs. He’s never going to forgive me for this.

  At least Asher was safe. For now.

  Her hand shaking, she pointed the tip of the sword toward the ground and lightly leaned on it for support. Wouldn’t do much for her rep as a hunter to collapse in a heap.

  Asher crouched and gently picked up his brother’s head. “He killed her.”

  The lump in her throat threatened to choke her. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  He set the head near the body, which was already crumbling into dust. “So much time and life wasted because of anger. I never really had a brother, not then. I do now.” He stood and turned toward Maccus.

  The big guy was frowning. “You did the right thing.” Maccus was still alert, still scanning the area for any threat.

  “Doesn’t make it any easier.” Asher raked his fingers through his light hair and closed his eyes.

  She longed to wrap her arms around him and promise that everything would be okay. The vibrancy, the energy she associated with him, was missing. He seemed tired, worn down.

  “It’s never easy,” Maccus continued, “but you always do the right thing.” His voice was gruff, but it was clear he understood what Asher was going through.

  That was why he hadn’t interfered. She rubbed her free hand over her face. What a mess.

  “I’m not sure he was behind the emails and the contract on Jo’s life. Your relationship with her brought him out of the shadows. I think someone else put you two together.” Maccus’s face was grim. “That comes back to someone wanting to mess with the Brotherhood.”

  Couldn’t be easy, could it? But his logic made sense.

  Asher nodded and finally faced her. He was expressionless, his brown eyes lacking their usual sparkle. She may as well have been a stranger and not his lover.

  “I’m not sorry,” she blurted. Lines appeared between his brows and he frowned. “I mean, I am sorry you had to kill him. But not that I interfered. I had your back and until the last minute—well, he was your brother. I had no idea you’d be able—I mean—never mind.”

  He cupped one side of her face, thankfully with the hand not covered in blood. She swallowed heavily but stood her ground. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger.”

  She gave a snort. “I’m a hunter. Every day is dangerous for me.” Now if only she was half as confident as she was pretending. Her insides were quaking. He’d said he loved her. Would he still?

  A smile played at the corners of his lips before vanishing. He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. She leaned inward, wanting more of his touch.

  “There’s no one I’d rather have guarding my back.” The turmoil roiling around inside her settled. The relief brought tears to her eyes.

  “Asher.” She threw her arms around him. His warmth and strength seeped into her. They were both still alive.

  “I know.” He held her so tight she knew she’d have bruises but didn’t care. “I’m sorry he tried to kill you.”

  “I hate to break this up, but Maccus is right. This isn’t over.” Morrigan stood a few feet away, a sympathetic expression in her eyes.

  Jo sniffed and straightened. “She’s right.” There wasn’t time to get emotional or deal with this now. And she would not break down in front of Asher’s badass friends.

  Refusing to consider what might have happened, she turned her attention to the problem at hand. She took a shaky breath. “So, what do we do? You still want to send a picture of me to whoever is behind this?”

  “Want to? No, but it may draw out whoever is behind this. I want this done.” Maybe it was due to their blood connection, but beneath his calm exterior she sensed a bubbling cauldron of sadness and anger.

  She wanted the threat over so they could figure out where they stood. Everything was spiraling so fast, there was no time to think. Which reminded her. “What happened at Bernard’s?”
/>   Please don’t let there be any more deaths.

  “No sign of anyone.” Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he motioned for her to lie on the ground.

  “It’s nasty down there.” Stupid, considering she was sweaty and speckled with blood.

  He frowned.

  Suck it up. She lowered herself, ignoring the less than pleasant aroma around her. “We’ll need to check on Bernard and his family.”

  “Later.” Asher walked around her.

  “How do you want me?”

  His eyes blazed with lust and the corners of his mouth twitched. “That’s a loaded question.”

  This was the Asher she knew and loved. The tightness eased from her chest, and she flashed him a quick smile.

  “For fuck’s sake just take the picture.” Hands on his hips, Maccus glowered at them. “This isn’t the time or place for what you’re thinking.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Morrigan interjected. “I have a fond memory or two of an alley.” Then she frowned. “Bad ones, too.”

  “Turn your head toward me,” Asher told her. “Needs more blood.” He slit his own wrist, and when it welled up, he sprinkled some on her face and chest.

  “Gross.” It wasn’t. A part of her wanted to lick the drop that landed on her bottom lip.

  “Authentic,” he corrected. He made her move her arms and legs several times before he was satisfied.

  “Hurry up. It’s cold, not to mention disgusting, down here. I’m gonna need to stand in a hot shower for at least thirty minutes to decontaminate,” she muttered.

  “Try not to look so animated.” His dry tone made her smile. But then he had a way about him. She forced her body to go limp and held her breath. “Perfect,” he praised as he snapped several pictures.

  As soon as he was done, she surged to her feet and swiped at her clothes, but the blood had soaked into the material. Not to mention the dirt and whatever else might be on the ground. “I look like I just left a slaughterhouse,” she muttered. It was dark enough that the blood wasn’t readily visible, but it was still disgusting. She shoved her bloodstained fingers into the pockets.

  Asher finished texting the picture before sliding the phone into his pocket. “Now we wait. See if anyone shows. And while we do, I think it’s time Maccus came clean about what happened with Alexei. Whatever is going on with the Brotherhood, I—no, we—deserve the truth. Things might have unfolded differently if I’d been aware of the situation.” There was a note of command in Asher’s voice that gave Jo pause. She didn’t think many people dared tell Maccus what to do. It was tantamount to suicide to push him.

  Yet Asher didn’t back down. Her man might look more GQ than Tattoo Monthly, but he was just as tough and badass as Maccus.

  There was also respect between the two men.

  She really was rocking with the big boys now. At least, temporarily.

  Asher wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. He ran his hand up and down her arm, as if reassuring himself that she was still there. She could only imagine what he’d gone through when he’d discovered her missing.

  “Alexei went to Alaska to research a contract,” Maccus began. “It proved to be less than legitimate. The ones behind it were dealt with, but they weren’t the sort who would reach out to the Brotherhood.”

  “Who were they?” Jo asked.

  He only shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. They were nudged in that direction by someone else.”

  “But this is different. We can’t figure out who is emailing me and Asher or who put the contract out on my life.” And that left them spinning their wheels and waiting for the next disaster to strike.

  “You have an idea of who it is, don’t you?” Asher pointed his finger. “I want a name.”

  Maccus’s face went stone-cold. “No.”

  Jo threw her arms around Asher’s waist to hold him back. The last thing they needed was to fight amongst themselves. “Whoever is behind this, you’re giving them exactly what they want—dissention in the Brotherhood.”

  “She’s right.” Morrigan wrapped her arm around her man’s rather large bicep. “You know she’s right.”

  “You can’t kill him,” Maccus insisted. Even Jo heard the emphasis on the word “can’t.”

  That gave Asher pause. “Fuck me, it’s a bloody god, isn’t it?” He dragged his fingers through his hair and paced.

  “In his mind he’s a god, but I have no proof.”

  A cold sensation crept over Jo’s skin. A shiver skated down her spine. A huge pressure built in her head.

  Could be delayed shock or a normal tension headache. God knows, she’d dealt with more than her fair share of that these past few days.

  Her sword was in her hand, and her fingers gripped the hilt. The blade was matte, so it didn’t gleam in the meager light of the alley. Good hunters made sure they weren’t detected. Shiny blades were for fools and collectors.

  She’d held it so many times, both in practice and during a kill, that it was an extension of her hand. She knew exactly how to swing it to decapitate.

  That was her job, her mission.

  Kill the demon and avenge us. Her father’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

  Jo shook her head. A sharp pain seared into her brain. Her father was dead. Why was he talking to her?

  He must die. Her mother’s voice was a sigh on the wind.

  No! Asher wasn’t like the one who’d taken her parents. He was kind and intelligent and sexy.

  Breathing was almost impossible. Her lungs ached, starved for air. Someone called her name from far away. Her mother’s screams echoed in her ears, blocking out all else.

  Kill him.

  She shook her head, but the voices only got louder, more insistent. The sense of invasion, of wrongness, was overwhelming. Her sweet mother would never put her in harm’s way. Never tell her to hurt another.

  Too late. The voice was alien and filled with gleeful malice. Tension spread down her arm, the muscles twitching and flexing.

  “Jo, what’s wrong?”

  She raised her head and looked at Asher, but her vision was foggy, as though there was something, or someone, between them.

  What was happening?

  She gritted her teeth, trying to take back control of her body. Sweat popped out of all her pores. The more she fought, the greater the pain in her skull. Something trickled from her nose. Her eyes burned. Her ears popped. The pressure grew until she feared her skull would burst.

  Asher came toward her. The sword started to swing, aiming not at his heart, but his neck.

  Even an immortal could die.

  “Get away.” She managed to push the words past her lips.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” He kept coming, concern filling his beautiful brown eyes.

  Too close. He was too close.

  Her arm rose of its own volition. He wouldn’t defend himself, not against her. Oh God. She was going to kill the man she loved.

  I love him.

  She fought back, the tendons flexing in her neck, the muscles in her arm screaming. Giving a primal yell, she threw herself to the ground.

  “Jo.” He was by her side, reaching for her. “What’s wrong?”

  The sword swung. Horrified, she tried to shove him away. The blade cut through the air.

  Thick fingers manacled her wrist. Jo heaved a sigh of relief, even as her body fought Maccus’s hold.

  “She’s trying to kill you.” Maccus sounded more intrigued than angry.

  “No, she’s not. Someone is trying to use her.” Asher wiped at the blood dripping from her nose. “Fight it,” he ordered. “You’re a hunter, not a victim.”

  His faith in her hardened her resolve. I can do this.

  In her mind, she built an image of another sword, this one bright and golden, shi
ning with power. It was the complete opposite of the one she used for hunting.

  Turning, she faced her unseen foe. She raised the weapon high and slashed, moving forward. A yell of frustration echoed in her head. Was it her, or whoever possessed her?

  As quickly as it had begun, the presence, the pain, the pressure disappeared like the popping of a balloon.

  Her fingers ached, the hilt of the sword digging into her skin. It took an effort to get her fingers to open. The blade clattered against the pitted asphalt.

  When Maccus released her, Asher dropped to his knees beside her and yanked her into his arms.

  “What the hell was that?” Heart racing, lungs pumping, she gripped the front of his shirt and dragged him closer. “Someone tried to use me to decapitate you.”

  His eyes darkened. “I’m so sorry.”

  She’d tried to kill him, and he was sorry?

  “Get me up.” She put her hands on the ground and pushed. It was harder than it should be. If she’d run a triathlon in record time, she wouldn’t be any more exhausted than she was now.

  He put his hand on her back and helped ease her to a seated position. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  She nodded, ignoring the sweat and dirt coating her skin. It would take more than a shower to rid her of the horror of this night. After a couple deep gulps of air, she settled.

  “Pressure in my head. Cold. It was so cold. There was a fog, a filter between me and everything. I was aware of my sword in my hand. It was familiar. Then I heard my father’s voice. Then my mother.” Horror filled her as she stared at Asher. “They told me to kill you.”

  He was the calm in the midst of the hurricane swirling through her. Unlike her, he appeared completely unruffled.

  She licked her dry lips and swallowed. “When I resisted, the pain got worse.” She brushed her fingers over her upper lip, wiping away the last trickle of blood from her nose. “I thought my head would explode.”

  “Someone or something possessed you.” He lifted her into his arms and stood. The urge to rest her head on his shoulder and let him handle everything was so very tempting.