I placed my palm on his scarred torso and pushed him away enough to stare into his bottomless eyes. “How do we get the Demonheart Opal before he does?”
His gaze drifted to my hand on his chest, and even in demon form, that annoying curl at the corner of his mouth upturned in response. “Now there’s my Andy,” he said.
“I know where it is—or where it will be,” I said softly. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you before.”
If he was angry that I’d withheld that information from him, it didn’t show on his demon face. “And what might this place be?”
“An auction. The Lilies are working on the details.”
Zen’s fangs gleamed in the firelight as a terrifying smile spread wide across his leathery face. “Then we must return and prepare. When is it?”
“Friday evening.”
Demonic words rumbled from his mouth. “Then we don’t have any time to waste. There is much to do before then, and we will need your witches’ help—”
“No!” I shouted, then lowered my voice. “No. We can’t use them.”
He canted his head at me, large, inhuman eyes searching mine for the reason. “I see…afraid to tell your sisters about your unholy alliance?”
“No—”
“Yes.”
“—I want to keep them out of it—”
“You don’t want to have your feet held to the coals by your guild.”
“Does it matter?”
“If we need them, then yes, it does.”
“I can’t tell them, and that’s final. We do this on our own, or we don’t do it at all.” I stood before him, hands on hips, and held my ground. He let out a huff that sounded more beast than man.
“You know they will find out eventually,” he said. For a moment, I thought I heard a hint of pity in his tone, but it faded so quickly I couldn’t be sure. “And with our bond now in place, it is in your best interest that they know, lest they attack me and wound you as a result.”
I closed my eyes, his implied scenario playing out in my mind as I tried to find an argument better than his. When I fell short, I opened them to face him. His expression beamed with victory. “I will deal with them in my own time.”
“Fine. Just be sure that you do.”
I took a deep breath and searched for something in the black abyss to focus on aside from the hulking monster I was now bound to. The flicker of flame in the distance provided a much-needed distraction, and I stared at it until my eyes ached from the strain. “I tried to call your name when Xandros attacked me,” I said softly, “but I couldn’t remember it.” He stood silent beside me and stared at the side of my face while I avoided his gaze. “We could have stopped him.”
His massive hand fell gently on my shoulder. “We will.”
The memory of my near-final moments assaulted me and my muscles coiled. Zen’s hand quickly slipped away. “Xandros heard me say your name, Zen. He knows you’re helping me.”
The demon didn’t move and I turned to find him staring back at me, burning embers lighting his black eyes. “It was only a matter of time. Don’t worry.”
I nodded, though I felt none of his confidence. “Can we keep them safe—the Lilies? Can we keep Xandros from them? I failed the other coven—I led Xandros right to them when we took to the tunnels, and he slaughtered them because of my rash behavior. I can’t let that fate befall my own…”
Silence. “I do not know.”
“Then I can’t go to the nunnery anymore. It’s not safe. I can’t lead him to them—"
“But he does not know you still live,” Zen pointed out. “We will return to the boarding house, for Xandros never knew where you lived, thanks to me. We will have an advantage over him now.”
“The element of surprise,” I said, hope stirring in my chest.
“Yes.” His voice, deep and harsh, was filled with the promise of pain, though not for me. Then, as it had once before, his mood flipped in an instant, his Mr. Henderson persona taking over the demon before me. “Now, shall we go say hello to Mrs. Whittle? I’m sure she’s distraught over your absence.”
A nervous laugh escaped me at the ridiculous timing of his words—and their truth. “You might find yourself out of favor with poor Mrs. Whittle,” I warned. “She thinks you jilted me.”
His dark eyes went wide before he laughed heartily. “Now I truly am afraid.”
“You should be.” I let my gaze drift off into the distance again. “I’ve seen her beat a man twice her size with a rolling pin until he paid her what he owed.”
“Your concern for my welfare is heartening, Andy,” he said, wrapping his massive, clawed hand around mine.
“It’s simply a matter of self-interest,” I replied. “We’re bound now, and I for one don’t wish to bear the brunt of her wrath.”
With another laugh that vibrated through our bodies—and possibly a connection far deeper than that—Zen shifted us back to New York, and the second chance at revenge awaiting us.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“You might feel a bit strange for a moment, though that may not be the case now that we’re bound.” Zen looked at me, his human façade intact, and assessed my state. He’d returned us to the back of Whittle House, as though he thought I had a fondness for the outhouses there.
“May not be the case?” I repeated, glaring back at him. “Do you know anything about our situation, or will you just be making it up as we go?”
The irritation in his expression lasted but a moment before he simply replied “yes,” then walked toward the front of the home.
“You’re impossible.”
“And now I’m yours,” he quipped in response. “Whatever shall you do with me?”
I grumbled under my breath, “I have ideas—”
“But remember—”
“It’ll come back on me,” I said, cutting off his warning. “I know, I know. I paid attention.”
He dared a look over his shoulder, dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “My prize pupil. I couldn’t be prouder.”
I started to reply, but bit down on my lip instead. If we were going to get anything done, petty arguing was not the way. “So, how do we move forward from here?” I asked, trading my hostile tone for a businesslike one. “Must we always be together? Because that will get rather tricky.”
“No,” he said as he rounded the corner to the entrance. He climbed the steps and reached for the door, only to stop short. “Except for bedtime, that is…”
My attempt to be calm and productive flew out the window in a flash. His incorrigible smile pushed me over the edge, and I punched him in the shoulder just as Mrs. Whittle threw open the door. Dull pain bit into my own as a result, surprising me, even though it shouldn’t have. But the speed and strength of the delivery had been unexpected, leaving Zen and me both rubbing our right shoulders in unison.
“Miss Nightshade!” she cried, clutching her chest. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.” Her pale blue eyes fell from mine to Zen, and her concern evaporated. “And you, Mr. Henderson—are you to blame for her disappearance?”
“No, Mrs. Whittle,” he said, attempting to placate the old woman. “Everything is—”
“Because if you’ve harmed one hair on this poor girl’s head, I will haul you down to the police station myself—”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Whittle,” I said, stepping in front of Zen. I saw the rolling pin in her right hand and didn’t want to be beaten with it indirectly through my bond with the demon. That was not the welcome home I wanted. “Zen—I mean Mr. Henderson—is not to blame.”
“Then where have you been all this time, dear? You’ve had two callers—female friends of yours—come here looking for you.”
“All this time?” I asked, my confusion plain in my tone. I felt Zen’s hand on the small of my back, gently ushering me past the old woman into the foyer, but she wouldn’t budge until she got her answer. “I wasn’t gone that long…”
Zen went rigid. Mrs. Whittle’s
anger gave way to concern yet again. “Miss Nightshade, you’ve been gone for two days.”
“Two days?” I cried, unable to suppress my shock.
“She’s been at Bellevue this whole time, Mrs. Whittle,” Zen said. “I stayed there because things looked grim for a while, but then she made a quick recovery, and now here we are, begging your forgiveness. I should have sent word, but I guess I just didn’t realize how close you were to Miss Nightshade.”
The poor woman stood silent for a moment, then did something most unexpected. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me so tightly that I wondered if Zen was struggling for breath, as I was.
“Oh, my dear girl, I’m so glad you’re all right. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.” She pushed me an arm’s length away to inspect me herself, as if the doctors at Bellevue might have overlooked something. “You must be starving. Let me make you some soup.”
“I’m really fine—”
“You look too thin,” she said as she stormed toward the kitchen. “You need to eat.”
“Honestly—”
She wheeled on me in the blink of an eye, rolling pin pointed at me in a threatening manner. “I’ll hear none of that. Now, upstairs with you to freshen up and rest. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”
“How very gracious of you,” Zen said, gesturing for me to head to the stairs.
“I’m so sorry for my behavior,” Mrs. Whittle said to him. “I thought…after you disappeared the other night...”
“You thought I’d jilted poor Miss Nightshade. I know. I would have thought the same. No need to apologize.”
She looked satisfied with his response and rushed off to make her soup. My stomach growled at the idea of eating. I really hoped it would be her chicken with noodles. Nothing was better than that.
“Let’s get upstairs before she changes her mind and decides to put that rolling pin to use,” he said in my ear before heading past me to the staircase. I followed in silence, a tornado of disbelief still swirling in my mind. Two days…how was that even possible?
I unlocked my bedroom door while Zen waited patiently. Once it was open, he pushed his way inside. “After you,” I said, sarcasm thick in my tone. He took a seat on the end of my bed while I closed and locked the door.
“I imagine you have questions—”
“Questions? Yes, I definitely have questions—”
“—and I’d planned to tell you about this tiny detail before we returned—”
“—not the least of which is—”
“—but Mrs. Whittle beat me to it.”
“—how did I lose two days?”
We stopped talking over one another long enough to let the silence stretch out between us. Then he broke it with a truth I couldn’t quite fathom. “Time is…strange in my realm. It moves differently—not linearly, as it does here.” I tried to make sense of his words but couldn’t. Seeing my confusion, he tried again. “I had hoped this wouldn’t happen, but it seems as though time passed slowly while we were in my world, while here, it passed as it should.”
“Are you saying that, in that brief time we were in your realm, two days went by here?”
He nodded. “Essentially, yes.”
My jaw fell open for a fraction of a second. “What am I going to tell the others?” I asked, anxiety rising in my chest. I had already lied about so many things. I couldn’t continue down that path forever, but I knew that there was no way I could tell the Lilies the truth now.
At least not the full truth.
“Tell them what I told Mrs. Whittle,” he suggested.
I shook my head. “They’ll never believe it. Grisholm would have found me easily there.”
“Grisholm?”
“A story for another time.”
“Why Andy my dear, is there another man in your life?”
I quirked my brow at him. “I have no men in my life.”
“You have me now—”
“But you’re not a man, remember? I believe you’ve been quite insistent about that.”
My challenge was met with a grin. “Touché, Andy. Touché…”
I smiled back with satisfaction until a grim memory crossed my mind: the dead witches. “Shit!” I yelled, unlocking my door.
Zen was suddenly before me, holding it closed. “What is it?”
“The witches—from the apothecary—their bodies are still in the tunnels...or at least they were two days ago…” His harsh expression softened, if only slightly, and I assumed my sadness was reflected in my eyes. “I can’t leave them there. I have to make sure Hazel has laid them to rest.”
“Then I’ll go with you.”
“To the guild?”
“Andy, you have to tell them—”
“I said I would deal with it—”
“—and this is your chance. It’s not safe for either of us with them in the dark.”
“They’re my family. Just let me go deal with them,” I said. When he didn’t move, I slid a dagger out from under my coat. “Do not underestimate my stubbornness, Zen. I’m not known for sound decision-making. I might just be crazy enough to stab us both to make my point.”
“That seems a touch dramatic,” he said, backing away from the door.
“Consider it a reminder: I don’t answer to you. I don’t work for you. And you don’t own me.”
“Nor do I want to,” he replied, dark eyes smoldering. Then his hand wrapped around my throat as he plucked the dagger from my hand and pushed me back into the wall. He held me there, breathing hard as his fingers flexed against my fragile skin. “But I don’t answer to you, either, and you aren’t the only one of us willing to make their point recklessly.” His flaming irises were dangerously close to mine as I struggled to breathe, while he did not. “Consider this your reminder.”
He released me and backed away, eyes closed, body tense. Before he changed his mind, I unlocked the door and raced into the hall. I was halfway down the stairs before I heard so much as a floorboard creak above. Zen never followed, even as I crashed into Mrs. Whittle on my way out the door, apologizing (yet again) until I was safely outside. With renewed strength and motivation, I ran through the city to the guild, never looking back.
I knew Zen hadn’t come after me.
And that knowledge gnawed at the emptiness in my chest.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I’d expected the interrogation of a lifetime when I walked through the secret door, but the silence that accompanied my entrance was far worse. Every Lily in the room just stared, slack-jawed and pale, as though they’d seen a ghost. Apparently, my two-day disappearance while demons were loose in town and witches were going missing had given them quite a scare, which only made the guilt swimming in my gut worse, though in fairness, I hadn’t exactly gone voluntarily—a point I couldn’t easily share with them. I suddenly wished I’d run more slowly so I could have concocted a story before I’d arrived.
Hindsight, though clear, was useless.
“You’re alive,” Ivy finally said, forcing the words through a tight throat. Hazel forewent words altogether and dove at me, arms wide. She knocked me back a step or two when she grabbed hold, clutching me like a small child.
“What in the actual fuck, Oleander? We’ve been worried sick—”
“I couldn’t find you,” Petal said woefully as she stood with Willow at her side, the duo’s arms intertwined, their faces gaunt and filled with sadness. “Where on Earth have you been?”
Truth with a lie…truth with a lie. That would be the only way to appease them.
“Not on Earth,” A collective gasp tore through the room as they all realized the implication. “I was taken again.”
“Oleander,” Ivy said, tears welling in her eyes.
“I’m fine. I got away.”
“Come sit down.” The demand underlying Ivy’s concerned tone was clear, so I made my way to the velvet armchair and did as she asked. A little compliance on my part would go a l
ong way toward keeping the peace and minimizing the damage my actions had caused. But I still had to tell them of the dead witches. “Tell us what happened,” she prodded gently as the Lilies drew closer.
So I did—in a sense. I told them about fleeing to the tunnels and the young witch that had helped me. About my guilt when I’d learned that she and the rest of her coven were missing. About my return and finding them all dead. And about Xandros appearing from nowhere and whisking me away.
The four of them remained silent for far too long, each attempting to absorb what I’d said, until finally, Hazel spoke. “But how did you get away?”
I shrugged, allowing the weight of everything that had happened—both lie and truth—to draw my shoulders forward and make me look weary. “I don’t know. I just did.”
“Perhaps they need you here for some reason,” Ivy mused. “Did the demon say anything to you?”
“No.”
“Did he…do anything to you?” Willow asked so softly that I barely heard her. She reached over and wrapped her tiny hand around mine, squeezing it gently. “Harm you…?”
I squeezed it back, guilt welling in my chest. “No, Willow. I’m all right. Everything’s fine, I promise.”
Lie. Lie. Lie.
“I should alert Grisholm,” Ivy said, walking over to the massive table near the center of the room. “I swear he’s enlisted everyone who has ever owed him a favor in search of you.”
“I’m sorry.” And I was. Sorrier than they’d ever know. Sorrier than I could ever tell them.
“Poor Petal nearly burned herself out trying to find you.” She pinned me in place with her concern-filled stare. “I don’t want to hear a word about her using her abilities to search for you, either. That hardly falls under the taboo of using your powers on a sister witch.”
“I know—”
“I should have had her do it the second you stormed out of here, unwilling to disclose where you were headed. Had I done so, none of this would have happened.”
A Curse of Nightshade (Witches of the Gilded Lilies Book 1) Page 14
