“Actually, I am. Or at least, it feels like it.”
My fingers went to the bite on my neck. She fell silent, then finally spoke softly. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes held so much compassion. I knew the vicious mark was hidden, but she seemed to know it was there all the same. I felt the sharp prick of tears behind my eyes.
“I am. I almost wasn’t. He…he called me his bride.”
I knew my eyes revealed the same fear I felt yesterday when Danté had me in his arms, leering down at me as if I were the mouse being batted around by the cruel, creepy cat.
She squeezed my hand. “I understand your fear. But we will do everything we can to keep you safe.”
“But, his bride? I mean, what the hell?” My voice lapsed into cynical humor.
Kat didn’t laugh. “When a Vessel is taken in possession by a high demon, she becomes his—body and soul.”
I shuddered, inhaling deeply and letting it go.
“Thank God Jude came in time yesterday. The demon, Danté, must’ve sensed him coming. He sifted out a second before Jude walked up.”
She gave me a warm smile. “He will lay down his life to keep you from harm. Trust me on that.”
“But why?”
“He has his reasons.”
“Which are?”
“You should ask him.”
I sighed heavily. More evasion. Well, not exactly. Perhaps Kat didn’t really know and was just putting me off.
“Now then. Let’s get started. Give me your hands.”
She held out both hands, palms up. Warmth covered me like lapping waves on a sandy beach. She cast illusion over me. A very different signature than Jude’s iron-plated vise and flaming aura.
“Do you feel it?” asked Kat.
“Yes.”
The sensation of being immersed in warm water was strangely comforting, like a baby in the womb.
“One Flamma’s cast can call to another’s, so I think it best to start this way and see if we can draw yours all the way out. Okay. Close your eyes.”
I did so.
“Now, I need you to imagine the safest you have ever felt, whether it’s a specific memory or a place or a person. Doesn’t matter. Picture it in your mind.”
She paused. I thought for a moment. The safest I’ve ever felt? My mind wandered, then fell upon a repeated memory from childhood. Mother would come into my room at bedtime and read my favorites by Dr. Seuss. Nestled into the crook of her shoulder with one arm wrapped around me and the other holding a book, I was safe and loved and completely innocent of the encroaching darkness in our future. I could hear her sweet voice crooning to me. “Today, you are you. That is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”
“Do you have it?” asked Kat, startling me from the memory. “No, keep your eyes closed. This is your safehouse. When casting illusion, especially to cast a strong shield, you must go to this safehouse. That is where you start. Concentrate on the memory now.”
I closed my eyes again. My mother’s golden-blonde hair tickled my cheek as she leaned down. She snuggled in closer and turned the page.
“There are words, chants,” Kat continued in a low voice, “chants for many different things. We hunters have our own for what we do, but there is one for casting illusion, for protection. In Latin, the words are: Per vicis quod tractus intus vestri pectus pectoris, illic est a locus qua unus must satus, intus is sperma of spes illic lies a proeliator contego frustro totus oculus. The chant means this: through time and space within your heart, there is a place where one must start, within this seed of hope there lies, a warrior shield to deceive all eyes. So, repeat the words while thinking of your safehouse.”
Thinking of my mother’s lovely pale eyes and warm smile, I repeated the Latin chant line by line as Kat said them once more. As I spoke the last line, I felt a concentration of heat pool within me, extending to Kat in a burning flash. In my mind, I saw a starburst of light, like fragments of the moon, explode into glittering brightness. She gasped and squeezed my hands. My eyes popped open.
“What? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?”
Her greenish-black eyes swirled. She shook her head once as if trying to awaken herself from a dream. Then shock melted into a wide, wide smile. She laughed that throaty laugh.
“Oh, Genevieve. I wouldn’t worry so much. Your casting is already at full strength. How, I don’t know. Simply amazing.”
I couldn’t help but grin back at her. She inhaled a deep breath. “Your defense is more than ready.”
“Really?” I heard my voice squeak. “So I could shield myself entirely from demons finding me now in public?”
“Oh, yes. If you shield yourself in this capacity, they’ll only see a pretty girl, nothing more.”
I was beaming.
“Now that your defense is in order, tomorrow, we will work on offense. Yes?”
“Yes.”
As she told me farewell and sifted out of the courtyard, I decided I truly liked Kat. She was genuine and compassionate. I grimaced at her ability to disappear and go wherever she wanted. Like Jude. I wondered how someone got that power. That would certainly come in handy.
I glanced at Eros and Psyche, frozen in passion, then went to find Jude. I was hoping he was watching television or something, but then I hadn’t seen a television anywhere in his house. What I didn’t want to do was interrupt another of his swordplay episodes in his training studio, all sweaty and half-naked.
Of course, that’s exactly where I found him.
Thankfully, he had his shirt on this time and was kicking a punching bag in the center of the room. Okay, kicking was putting it mildly. Tool’s “Schism” pumped through the room. At the end of each line “I know the pieces fit”, Jude would kick the hell out of the bag. The bag fell all the way to the floor with each roundhouse, slowly righting itself before he’d smash it again.
“What did the poor thing ever do to you?”
He snapped up, broad shoulders tense, face guarded. He walked to the iPod station and stopped the music. “How was the training?”
“Enlightening.”
He moved toward me in a smooth, slow manner. I’d seen that movement before. I watched this show on the Discovery Channel once where a lion walked into another pride to challenge the male leader and take over. His gait was sinuous, almost sultry, in his determined stride. I held Jude’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated. Well, trying anyway. He stopped only a few inches from me, totally in my personal space, where he seemed to like to be.
“Enlightening how?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that I was ageless?” I bit out the last word as if it were offensive.
“Because there are some things you are not ready for.”
“How old are you?”
“Very.”
“Ha. Something else I’m not ready for?”
“No. I just don’t particularly like your attitude at the moment.”
“Is there anything else you deem me not ready for?”
His eyes flickered down my body and back up in a flash. “Yes. For now.”
“You’re infuriating, you know that? You’re really good at giving orders, making demands and dragging my ass to every hellhole in town, but you can’t answer a simple question of mine.”
“Not can’t. I won’t. At the moment.”
I was fuming. My mind and mouth switched gears, continuing to attack. “Why didn’t you warn me about Danté?”
I hadn’t seen him move, but he was imperceptibly closer. I could feel the heat radiating off his chest, pressed only an inch from mine. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you didn’t warn me demons could shape-shift into the appearance of other people. Like you.”
“They can’t shape-shift into just anyone. And I didn’t know the one who was hunting you was that sick fuck.”
He spat the last word with so much venom. His irises had gone super-black, and I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but so
me inner demon (pardon the pun) was poking me with a pitchfork and egging me on.
“You didn’t tell me that he wanted me for his bride either. I mean, hell, he got to sample the goods and everything, and I didn’t even know who it was that I was—”
His hands shot out, gripping my upper arms. I swear I saw flames licking around his shoulders, but I didn’t budge. I couldn’t if I tried. His fingers dug into my skin. There would definitely be bruises there tomorrow.
“What did you just say?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Answer me.”
His voice had dipped to that low, gravelly pitch. Full of trepidation, I could barely whisper when I finally replied, “I thought he was you.”
The storm raging in his eyes stilled. For a fraction of a moment, he held me there in his burning gaze. He struggled with something, though I didn’t know what. Finally, his brow softened. His grip loosened. Yet there was an edge of danger flaring between us, igniting to a melting point. One hand came up and tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. Slow and steady. I felt as if I’d been burned where his finger traced along my skin. Pleasantly so. The same arm snaked around my waist, his hand pressed at the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. I gasped. The other hand dropped my arm, gripping my hip instead. His thumb pressed against my pelvic bone. I resisted the urge to squirm. He dipped close to my ear, his breath hot against my neck.
“Hold on tight, Genevieve,” he whispered, pressing me hard against his body. His lip grazed the sensitive shell of my ear. A warm tingle bloomed down low. “I wouldn’t want to lose you in the Void.”
“Wha-what?”
My brain had stopped functioning for a second. The exquisite torture of his body against mine had caused all circuits to misfire. Then I realized what he meant a split second before it happened. All air was sucked from my lungs. I wrapped my arms around his neck. A soft pressure seemed to fold me inward, pressing me into an enveloping darkness. We slipped fast, so fast, through a black void. Not all black. Unidentifiable images flitted by in flashes of white and gray. I had no idea what they were. Feeling the onset of motion sickness, I squeezed my eyes shut and clung to Jude. I felt the pressure of his unrelenting grip. Caged in muscular arms, I felt safe, despite the unnerving sensation of weightlessness as we crashed through time and space.
A soft whoosh, pressure gone, and all was still. I realized then I was panting with my forehead pressed into the center of Jude’s collarbone.
“Breathe, Genevieve,” he said huskily. “You’re home now.”
I opened my eyes. We were standing next to my bed in my apartment, my beige goose-down comforter half hanging off the bed. Some of my clothes were junked in a pile, including the last T-shirt of his I’d borrowed. I still clasped him around his neck, fingers laced at his nape, my body pressed intimately to his. I let go at once, stumbling back awkwardly. A crooked smile spread across Jude’s perfect face.
“Why don’t you give me some warning next time?”
“I did. I told you to hold on.” Still smirking.
“More than ten seconds’ warning please,” I said in a syrupy voice with a wide smile.
He chuckled. “Fine. At least ten seconds. Do you have class tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “I work at the dojo in the afternoon.”
“What time?”
“My first class is at one o’clock.”
A curt nod. “I’ll meet you back here in the morning for training with Kat, then drop you off at the dojo.”
I realized that he planned to escort me every place I planned to go for like effing forever. I rolled my eyes. “You know, Kat said my illusion casting is perfect. Maybe I don’t need an escort everywhere I go.”
“Mmm. I am sure you think that.”
“Seriously, Jude, I can drive myself to your apartment.”
“I am sure that you can. Nevertheless, I’ll be here at eight in the morning. You have my number. Call me if you plan to leave the apartment.”
I nodded, glancing at my shoes for no reason at all. He stepped closer. I fought the urge to retreat. He tipped my chin up with one finger.
“Genevieve,” he said, the scary vibe back in his voice. “Call me if you plan to leave this apartment.”
“I will.”
Maybe.
While still staring into my eyes, he sifted out with a snap. That was a little disturbing, to put it mildly. I sank down onto my bed, thinking of Malcolm. I’d promised him a movie date. Date. Yes, it would definitely be a date, and I was still trying to figure out how I felt about that. I certainly didn’t want Jude tagging along, watching from the corners, making Malcolm want to spit fire. For some reason, the idea of Jude hovering over us made me extremely uncomfortable. And I liked Malcolm as a friend. Maybe more. Jude wanted to control my every move. For my protection, of course, but Kat herself said I was more than able to shield myself from demons finding me. But, what if that demon prince came back?
“Arrgh!”
Okay. I’d have to tell Jude, but I was too cowardly to do it in person. So it had to be another text.
Me: I’m meeting a friend for an 8:00 movie tonight at the theater on Prytania.
Jude: A friend?
Me: Yes. Please be discreet, if you come.
A lengthy pause as I turned on the hot water in the shower. Finally, my phone bleeped again.
Jude: I’ll be there. You won’t see me.
I totally did not get a smiley face this time. “Okay, then. That’s sort of encouraging and disturbing.”
Taking a deep breath, I headed into the shower to get ready for my date.
Chapter Thirteen
“I still can’t believe you threw popcorn at those girls texting in front of us.”
“They asked for it. I mean, come on! How can you possibly do anything else while Gandalf is kicking ass onscreen?”
I laughed, totally loving Malcolm’s gushing rant on Jackson’s latest masterpiece. We sat across from each other at a small two-top in the back of the bar. Evanescence’s “Lacrymosa” crooned out of the jukebox next to the pool tables, where a few steroid boys yelled and laughed a little too loudly at their own antics. With the exception of a few other groups of two and three, the crowd was sparse.
I’d felt Jude’s presence all night—sometimes closer, sometimes farther away. Just as he’d promised, I never saw him. Even so, I continued to glance around, wondering how he hid from view so well, wondering what he thought or might say about my outing with my “friend”. The anticipation of our eventual tête-à-tête had my nerves on edge.
“You’re so much fun,” Malcolm suddenly blurted, taking hold of my hand across the table.
“Thanks.” The mood shifted from silly to serious. “You are too.”
He rubbed his thumb softly across my knuckles. His hand wasn’t clammy like the first time on the Riverwalk. His gaze held mine with a tender smile, his lips quirking up more on one side. I’d never noticed his eyes before. They were a shade of bluish green that changed hue in certain lights. Here, in the corner under a yellow lamp, they shone dark green, and were steadily fixed on me. I glanced down, my heart pounding in my chest. Not from butterfly feelings about Malcolm, but from what a certain stalking demon hunter might think of Malcolm holding my hand.
“I’m going to…” I pointed toward the restrooms, smoothly pulling my hand from his as I stood.
He nodded. “One more round?”
“Sure. One more.”
Malcolm headed to the bar, while I zigzagged around tables and through the pool area to the hall leading to the restrooms. I saw one of the muscle meatheads nudge his friend. Their attempt at low-talking was sadly inadequate.
“Nice.”
“Think she’d want to play with my pool stick?”
A vulgar gesture, I’m sure, sent them all into raucous laughter. Drunken idiots. Why must guys do stuff like that? I wanted to scream at them, Can you please ogle me in a less conspicuous manner? But of course that would
defeat the purpose. And there’s no way they’d know what the word “conspicuous” meant.
I glanced to the right, avoiding their idiocy. One of their friends slouched over the front of the jukebox with both hands splayed on the top. His broad frame and beefy arms tensed as I passed, swaying slightly from side to side. The hazy light from the jukebox shone on a sickly pale face, eyes squeezed shut. I walked faster, afraid the guy might puke.
Zipping around the corner past the employee-only closet, I found the women’s restroom last on the left—a three-stall space, slightly roomier than one might think for this little dive. I did my thing and checked myself in the mirror while washing my hands. Glassy, dilated pupils around black-lined eyes radiated come-hither—the effects of lots of laughter, three beers and good company with a hot guy in a cozy place. I flipped the dark waves of my hair back over my shoulder and smeared balm on my lips, shoving it into my back pocket as I swung open the door.
“Ahh! Oh my God. You scared me.”
Big-and-beefy jukebox boy straddled the doorway, both arms gripping the frame. His head drooped low as he stared at the floor, swaying slightly.
“Dude. The men’s bathroom is behind you.”
He didn’t move. Well, except for the slow leaning of his body.
“Dude!”
I didn’t want to push on him for fear he’d tip over and never get up. Then I’d have to do the polite thing and go tell his perverted friends to come and get him.
“Hey,” I said, reaching out to tap his shoulder.
The second I touched him, a huge hand gripped my wrist. He snapped awake, reaching for my other arm. Piercing, blood-red eyes bore into mine.
“Oh, hell no.”
I kicked out, aiming at his groin. He blocked with his other hand. I twisted out of his grip, elbowing him in the chin and scurrying against the farthest wall. Trapped in this too-close space, I quickly scanned the room for some sort of weapon. Nothing.
He stepped fully into the room, closing the door and sneering with delight. It was then I realized my VS was no longer humming under my skin. Shit. Somewhere between the movies, beers and Malcolm’s sweet smiles, I’d lost concentration and let my shield slide away.
Forged in Fire Page 13
