Between the Blade and the Heart

by Amanda Hocking

  “At least you’re not the only Valkyrie shirking your duties,” Asher muttered, causing Marlow to give him another dirty look.

  “What is it they say?” Cecily asked. “Trouble always comes in threes?” Then she tilted her head. “Or is that death?”

  “What are they doing in the city?” Marlow asked, returning the conversation to the topic at hand.

  Cecily answered, “The same thing everyone else does here—get into as much trouble as you can without getting caught.”

  “Do you know anything about them?” Marlow asked.

  “Not much.” Cecily let out a dramatic sigh. “Only one of them I’ve heard of by name—Bram Madichonnen.”

  “Have you heard if he associates with Tamerlane Fayette?” Asher asked hopefully.

  “Honestly, I haven’t heard of this Tamerlane fellow at all, and the only thing I know about Bram Madichonnen is that he’s allegedly a draugr and likes to hang out at the Red Raven.”

  “The Red Raven? Of course he does,” Marlow groused.

  I’d never been to the Red Raven, but the debauchery and sinister clientele there made it infamous around the country. It was a bar and dance club located in the Aizsaule District of the city, which had unofficially become an “impious-only” neighborhood. To top it off, the Red Raven was owned by Velnias—a demon who thought of himself as some kind of mobster.

  Cecily leaned forward and set her drink on the coffee table. “Since we’re old friends, I would hate to see you hurt. So it’s as your friend I’m advising you to tread very carefully.” The elation in her expression had fallen away, and she spoke gravely to my mother. “Draugrs are dangerous.”

  Marlow smirked. “I think I can handle an immortal.”

  “An immortal, sure,” Cecily relented, but her gaze only grew more somber. “But draugrs are something different. They can’t be killed.”

  “Of course they can,” Marlow said with more conviction than I thought she should have. “Everything dies. One way or another, we all end up in the dirt or down in Kurnugia.”

  “Why do you think I turned him into a statue?” Cecily pointed sadly to the statue. “Poor dear Armaros had grown weary of this life, but nothing else worked. The Valkyrie blade couldn’t cut him.”

  Asher leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “So you’re saying that Tamerlane Fayette is immortal and unkillable?”

  “If death marks you, and it misses you, who knows how long it will be before death comes around to mark you again?” the gorgon asked.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Once we’d all piled back into Marlow’s car and she finally got it started—it was an old Jeep, with actual tires instead of hoverpads, and it always took a few tries before it finally started up—Marlow immediately lit up a cigarillo and let out a frustrated breath.

  “So.” Asher leaned forward from the backseat. “When are we going to the Red Raven?”

  Marlow eyed him in the rearview mirror, looking at him like he was an idiot. “Not tonight. It’s going to be a madhouse.”

  “Doesn’t that make it the best time to go?” Asher asked. “It’s almost guaranteed that this Bram guy will be there.”

  “A night like tonight, it’s going to be rowdy as all hell,” Marlow explained. “It’s not worth the risk. If he hangs out there a lot, he’ll be there another night when it’s quieter.”

  Asher pressed on, “What if—”

  “I said not tonight,” Marlow snapped and put the Jeep in gear. “And that’s final.”

  The rest of the car ride across town, none of us said anything, aside from Marlow cursing at other vehicles and pedestrians that she felt were slowing her down. When she parked in her spot by her house, she grunted a quick goodbye, and then headed toward her apartment without another word.

  That left Asher and me standing awkwardly on the sidewalk.

  “Thanks for coming today.” He scratched behind his ear and glanced around. “You were helpful, I think.”

  “Yeah, no problem,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I’d done anything at all. Then I turned to walk away.

  “Are you going to the Red Raven tonight?” he called after me, and I turned back to face him.

  Under the bright autumn sun, the blue in the darkness of his eyes glimmered. A smile played subtly on his full lips, and he moved closer to me. I couldn’t help but notice that when he looked hopeful like this—his eyes both eager and nervous, his smile unsure but bold—he appeared strikingly handsome.

  “Are you going?” I asked.

  “I was thinking about it.” He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek, before asking, “Would you care to join me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Now?”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s too early, and we can’t go dressed like this anyway.”

  He glanced down at his jeans and distressed jacket. “Why not?”

  “It’s the Feast of the Dead. It’s like demon New Year for them,” I elaborated. “You gotta dress up for it, or you won’t even get in the door.”

  “I guess I’ll have to dig out my Sunday best, then,” he said.

  “Do you wanna meet me at my place at nine, then we can head out?” I suggested.

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  I started to walk away, then stopped and called back to him, “Oh, and this should go without saying, but don’t tell Marlow.”

  He waved in confirmation, and then he disappeared into a crowd of costumed characters. Presumably they were performers from the parade, based on their bright makeup and ornate regalia.

  Back at the apartment, Oona interrogated me about visiting Marlow, and I filled her in as best I could, including all the details about meeting Cecily. After that, I enlisted her to help me get ready for the Red Raven. It wasn’t the kind of event that I could skimp on.

  Oona shaved the left side of my head, because Marlow had been right—it was getting long. Then she pulled out a dress that her mom had designed specifically for me.

  This dress was a little black number with cutouts on the side and opaque black fabric laid at angles all over sheer black mesh, so it hinted at more skin than it actually showed. The sleeves were long mesh, hiding the bruises and injuries I’d suffered in the Amaryllis Mori encounter, but the hem was short and only hit my mid-thigh.

  As I stood in front of the mirror, fixing my eyeliner and reapplying my Velvet Vampire lipstick, Oona stood behind me with her arms folded over her chest and a self-satisfied grin on her face.

  “You’re lucky you have me,” she said.

  I looked at her in the reflection of the mirror and said, “I know.”

  “You’d be totally lost without me,” she reiterated.

  “I really would,” I agreed with a laugh.

  “You could show your appreciation a little more.”

  I turned back to her. “Hey, I made you breakfast this morning, and I helped you work on your term paper for your Miracles and Visions course.”

  “That is true.” Oona considered this for a second. “But I did stitch you up last night and shave your hair today, and I helped my mom make you that dress that looks amazing on you.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll take you out for drinks this week?” I offered.

  “Deal.” She held out her hand to me and I shook it. “You really do look great.”

  “Thank you. You look…” I glanced down at her old leggings and oversized Ravenswood Academy T-shirt before deciding on the word, “… comfy.”

  Oona laughed. “Thanks. That’s the look I was going for. Bowie’s often impressed by this.”

  “I would invite you to join us, but…”

  “No. I get it.” She sat back on the couch. “I don’t wanna get killed or punched in the face. Are you sure it’s safe for you to go out tonight? I mean, if Marlow says it’s too dangerous…”

  I pulled my knee-high boots out of the pile of shoes by the door and sat on the couch beside Oona.

  “It’s not that she thinks it’s too dangerous
,” I explained as I pulled on a boot. “She just doesn’t want to deal with all the crowds and traffic. Plus, she really hates the Feast of the Dead.”

  “How come?” Oona asked.

  “Because of everything I just said. Actually, now that I think about it, she hates most holidays.”

  “She sounds like a real hoot to have grown up with,” Oona said dryly.

  “You know it.”

  My right boot had gone on easy, but the left boot was a fight because my calf was still swollen and tender. I had to be careful, but I couldn’t go out with a bloody bandage exposed, so I had to hide it under my boots.

  “Marlow’s anti-holiday rhetoric aside, it is going to be dangerous out there,” Oona said. “The Red Raven isn’t exactly known for being civilized.”

  “I know, but I can handle myself, and I’ll have Asher with me.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t really know Asher that well,” she pointed out. “Can he even fight?”

  “He seemed to handle himself when we scuffled.” I’d finally gotten both boots on, so I turned to look over at her. “Plus, he was a Vörðr.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really?”

  “I mean, I think so. He has a paracord bracelet with the Vörðr insignia on it, and I just get this vibe from him. It would also explain how he was able to get some of the classified information he showed me.”

  Oona thought about it and nodded. “Well, you did describe him as battle-weary before. You’ll probably be safe, then.”

  “I think we can manage it,” I said, hoping that I sounded more convincing than I felt.

  If Oona noticed my ambivalence, she didn’t say anything, and thanks to the knock at the door, she didn’t have time to.

  I answered the door to discover Asher standing there, clean-shaven and more handsome than ever. He wore a perfectly tailored suit that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered to his narrow waist. It was black on black, and he’d left the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing just a hint of his chest.

  I hurried to pick my jaw up off the floor and managed a smile before teasing, “So you can knock after all?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled crookedly, and I felt his eyes going up and down over me, causing a warm flush to spread through my body. “You look … you look great.”

  “Thanks. You clean up nice, too.”

  “I’m Oona Warren, by the way,” she interjected, pushing herself between me and the doorframe to extend her hand toward Asher. “Marlow’s best friend and roommate.”

  “Asher Värja.” He smiled as he shook her hand.

  “Take care of Malin, will you?” Oona asked, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Of course.” He stepped back and motioned to the hall. “Shall we?”

  “Be safe, you two,” Oona commanded as I grabbed my bag. “And don’t stay out too late. The real trouble always starts after midnight.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Somehow, the Aizsaule District always seemed darker than the rest of the city. Maybe there was a hex over it, one that sucked up all the light. Even the sky above looked darker, without a single star showing.

  The Red Raven was built out of some kind of shiny black stone, with an animated neon red bird above the door, moving up and down as if picking at the patrons. Two red searchlights roamed on either side of the door, but it wasn’t as if the place needed help attracting more customers. There was already a line down the block, with all sorts of humans and supernatural beings dressed in their most gothic haute attire.

  Fortunately, Asher and I looked good enough that we didn’t have to wait very long. We’d been queued up for a little over a half hour, which wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the two Aswangs standing right behind us.

  The Aswangs were particularly horrifying-looking humanoid creatures. The bottom half of their head was all mouth, filled with many jagged teeth and a long, serpent-like tongue. They also smelled like sulfur and rotten meat, and the two behind us had a particular lack of understanding of personal space.

  They kept creeping up toward us, almost pushing Asher and me forward. He put his arm around my waist and moved back a bit, putting himself between me and the Aswang duo. It wasn’t necessary, since I didn’t need him to protect me, but I still thought it was a nice gesture.

  And I especially enjoyed the way his hand felt on the bare flesh of my skin, exposed by the cutaway in the dress.

  Periodically, a doorman walked down the line, plucking out those he deemed worthy enough for the Red Raven. He came over and motioned for Asher and me to go on in, and the Aswangs behind us let out an annoyed shriek, so I smiled and flipped them off.

  Inside, everything was dim and glowing red, reminding me of an old darkroom for developing camera film. The Red Raven had several rooms—some private and off-limits, others looking far too S&M for my tastes—so we decided to bypass them and head for the largest main room.

  It was about half the size of a football stadium, with a large dance floor in the center. A long backlit bar took up one whole wall, while booths and tables were lined up against the far wall and in the balconies that wrapped around the length of the room.

  A stage at the end of the room had a band playing. The lead singer was a beautiful siren, accompanied by thrashing guitar players, a drummer, a keyboardist, and a DJ. The music was pulsing techno, with her melodic voice carrying through it.

  “So how do we want to do this?” Asher asked, his voice in my ear and his hand around my waist, pulling me close to avoid us getting trampled at the edge of the dance floor.

  “Let’s go to the bar and start asking around,” I suggested.

  The bartender immediately came over—a chubby woman with blue streaks in her jet-black hair. She leaned over on the counter, letting her large chest spill onto the bar from her skintight top. Something in the way she moved, the sultry turn of her lips, and the lure of her pheromones let me know instantly that she was a succubus.

  “What can I get you?” she asked through her byzantine lipstick.

  “What do you recommend?” I asked, trying not to be enchanted by the look in her eyes. As with the venom of the Jorogumo, I wasn’t entirely immune to the charms of the succubus, but I did have a stronger resistance than the average human.

  She pointed to a smoky red drink that another patron was drinking. “The Diablo’s Dream is the special tonight.”

  “Two of those,” I said.

  She smiled wider, and I wanted to melt into a puddle of goo. “You got it.”

  “We shouldn’t get drunk,” Asher murmured, and the sound of his voice pulled me from the minor spell that the bartender had put me under.

  “Drink slowly, then,” I replied.

  When the bartender returned, she set the drinks on the bar, and before she could even tell us how much it was, he set a fifty-dollar bill in front of her.

  “Thank you.” She smiled as she put the money in her bra.

  “We were supposed to be meeting someone here.” Asher leaned over the bar so she could hear him better. “He’s supposed to be a regular. Maybe you know him?”

  She shrugged. “I know some people. What’s his name?”

  “Bram Madichonnen,” Asher said, while I tried my drink. It was all cherries and spice, but there was something else in it. Something thicker, warming my skin.

  Her smile instantly fell, and the enchantment disappeared from her eyes. “Never heard of him,” she replied blankly. She tapped the bar once, then started walking away. “You two have a good night, now.”

  “That was weird,” Asher commented after she’d gone.

  He left his drink at the bar, while I continued slowly sipping mine as we wandered around the room. We tried to seem casual, like we were just two people here celebrating the holiday, and we got a few demons and cravens to talk to us.

  But as soon as we dropped Bram’s name, the conversation would grind to a halt. No matter how much either Asher or I tried to flirt and play it off, it always ended the same.

  “Th
is isn’t working,” Asher commented.

  “Maybe we should try loosening up more,” I suggested.

  I’d just finished my drink and left the empty glass discarded on a nearby table. Between the alcohol and the music thumping through the room, I felt fiery and free. A carnal heat rushed through me, setting my skin ablaze, and desire swelled in the pit of my stomach.

  Asher leaned against the bar beside me, and even in the darkly lit room I couldn’t help but notice how sexy and strong he looked. His suit fit him to perfection, hugging his muscular frame.

  I’d been standing beside him at the bar, but leaned into him now, letting my lips brush against his earlobe as I whispered, “We could dance.”

  “We could,” he murmured, and that was all the encouragement I needed.

  I swayed my hips as I danced closer to him, subtly rubbing against him, and I put my hands on the lapels of his jacket. His hand was on my hip again, cool against my warm flesh, and I pressed against him as I danced. He pulled me closer, so close my lips were almost touching his, and I wondered what his full lips would feel like against mine.

  Before I could find out, I stepped back from him. The air felt thick and electric, and I needed to put distance between us so I could think clearly again, because thoughts of Asher and what I wanted to do to him were clouding my mind.

  Still dancing suggestively, I backed away from him, and he leaned against the bar, watching me with a mixture of bemused desire darkening his eyes.

  He mouthed the words Watch out, but it was too late. I bumped into someone, their body firm and unyielding behind me, and I turned around to see Arawn—a demon powerful and famous enough that I recognized him immediately.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Under the red light of the club, his long white-blond hair glowed a dull crimson. He wore a suit made of pure white, clashing with the color scheme of nearly everyone else here. He was handsome, the way many demons were, but his smile managed to freeze the heat inside of me.

  “Are you having a good time?” Arawn asked in a voice like satin.

  “I am,” I said, pushing down the chill inside me and managing a flirtatious laugh. “How about you?”