by Kristie Cook
Her gaze found Marcas, and her expression changed, going from distraught to placid, her eyes skirting the three of us before landing on Marcas again.
There was defeat in her slumped shoulders. “So that’s that then.”
Reaching out, I touched her, my fingers curling into the plain blue t-shirt she wore tucked into a pair of blue jeans.
Her eyes met mine.
"Did you know?" I whispered.
My fingers dug desperately into the material of her shirt. The cotton ripped, and I let go in surprise.
Amber’s eyes widened.
"Did you know?" I asked again.
Amber peered at the tear in her shirt before glancing back at me. She nodded.
A sob escaped me, and I chewed on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. She’d known about our parents, had known about the Demons. I wanted to yell at her, but Marcas prodded me in the back.
I yelped, and Amber’s gaze shot to his.
“Where is my brother?” Marcas asked.
Amber’s gaze slid back to mine. “I’ll take you to him.”
There was pity in her eyes. I hated pity.
Chapter 20
The curse is a secure one. It is futile to think there may be a way to reverse it. Damon isn’t just asking for war. He is going to guarantee it.
~Bezaliel~
Amber led us to the chapel. It was the last place I expected a Demon to be, but there he was, Damon and a room full of people. Marcas kept me in front of him as we moved down the main aisle of the church. I vaguely heard Amber behind us asking Monroe to stay silent. I was scared.
Marcas moved confidently. He had the kind of presence people noticed, and it didn’t take long before the room fell silent.
“What were you thinking, brother?” Marcas shouted.
I cowered. The whole room was full of sect members, men and women, Sisters and Brothers, and even teenagers I went to school with. And in the midst of them all stood Damon. He looked like Marcas. Or maybe it was the other way around. But, either way, it was obvious to all gathered that the two Demons were twins.
Damon’s eyes fell on me, and I shivered. It wasn’t because his gaze was cold. No, it was because it was warm, intent … obsessed even.
Marcas moved in front of me, breaking the connection.
“You, of all people, are aware of my intent, Marcas,” Damon answered, his voice full of an assurance no one else seemed to be feeling. The whole room was full of goosebumps, shuffling feet, and fidgeting arms.
Marcas took a step forward. “You made a mistake, brother.”
Damon frowned. Failure, as far as I could tell, was not a part of Damon’s vocabulary.
“I made no such thing,” Damon argued. “She’s from a line of Seth and the Watchers. She will bring us redemption. She will bring her people redemption.”
Marcas’ voice was suddenly in my head. "You lied to them," he argued. My eyes went wide.
"I had to, brother," Damon’s voice replied.
What was this? My gaze skirted the room, but no one else seemed to hear their voices. All eyes were on the twins.
“She will be the end of us all,” Marcas said aloud.
I glanced between the two men, both so young and so old, and I felt hatred. I wasn’t anything more than a girl. They were making me much more than that and not giving me a choice.
“Damon has a point,” my aunt spoke up suddenly. “The Watchers fell because they lay with the daughters of Cain. From them were born the Nephilim: aberrations, giants, madmen.”
My aunt moved to the front of the room. My heart hardened. Maybe it was because she agreed with Damon. Maybe it was because she was so willing to use me to save herself. Either way, she didn’t notice.
Her wave encompassed the room. “And the line of Seth became contaminated because it did the same. Sons of Seth lay with daughters of Cain and we became impure. But then, by some miracle, maybe even destiny, two people came together. A Watcher and a pure woman, untouched by the blood of Cain, of the Seth line bore two children, and the result was clear. They were not aberrations or giants or mad as the Nephilim born of the line of Cain were. Never before have the Nephilim been sane. No one thought it possible.” Aunt Kyra said.
She came to stand at Damon’s right side. The sight was unnatural—a Sethian leader and a Demon in league. It was terrifying.
"Two children?" Marcas asked Damon in my head.
Damon didn’t reply.
Marcas stared at my aunt. “It doesn’t make them saviors.”
I found myself nodding. The man might be a Demon, but I was inclined to agree with him. Even if I had no idea what I was agreeing to.
“Doesn’t it?” Damon asked.
His obsessive gaze raked over me again, and I fought not to shiver. Marcas moved closer.
“If a Watcher and a Sethian descendant bore two pure children, what would happen, brother, if a Demon son of Cain were to mate with a Naphil daughter of Seth?” Damon asked.
I froze. What? Mate? Jesus! Was he serious? So he thought mixing our blood would cancel out one of the genes, possibly the cursed? I edged closer to Marcas. His brother was flipping nuts.
“It would condemn us all,” Marcas answered. He looked toward my aunt. Her gaze met his defiantly. “What has he been telling you?” Marcas asked.
She shifted, her gaze moving briefly between the brothers before she stared once more at Marcas.
"Don’t go there, brother. You think they’d believe you when I have possession of their leader?" Damon warned inside my skull.
I shook my head. Was I hearing things or were they really talking? Possession?
Marcas ignored his brother. “You would sacrifice your own family to redeem a Demon?” Marcas asked my aunt.
Kyra stiffened. “It isn’t a sacrifice. It’s her duty. We could shift the balance back to the side of good. If one Naphil daughter of Seth were to marry a pure male Seth descendant and the other a cursed line, it could redeem us all. It would restore the balance. It wouldn’t rid the world of Demons, but it would rid the world of your cursed line.” She looked at me. "Don’t you see that?"
I looked away, tears burning the back of my eyes. This was my aunt. This was my mother’s sister. My father was alive, my mother was dead, and my aunt was giving me to a Demon. My heart tore. I glanced around the room, my gaze finding my sister. Amber’s head hung, her eyes on the floor.
Marcas pulled me in front of him, and I looked up at his chin. His face was creased with anger.
“He has you brainwashed. Do you all seriously believe mixing our blood would erase everything? Fix it all? It’s a curse that can’t be undone. Do you believe our line would let it happen without a fight? There are many of us who don’t want change,” Marcas roared.
There was no response.
Kyra stepped down from the dais. “There’s never a guarantee with anything. But it’s worth a try. It would be a huge step in our war against all of your kind. Do you realize how many Demons this would destroy? It could make your line extinct!”
Marcas laughed. “And you think Damon is giving you the tools to accomplish this? You’re asking for a war. And it won’t just be Demon lives lost."
His eyes moved to encompass the whole room. “And if it didn’t work? What would you do with the child?”
Again, no response. Nausea engulfed me. They would sacrifice the child, destroy it. I could see it in their faces.
The silence fanned Marcas’ fury. “You would destroy what you are so willing to create?” His gaze flew to my aunt. “And why Dayton then? Why was she chosen to redeem the sons of Cain?”
I glanced up, both wanting to know and dreading the answer. I felt more than saw Monroe take a step forward, but I shook my head. I felt broken, but I was strong enough for this.
Kyra looked at me before averting her gaze to Amber. It was the way her gaze took Amber in that brought realization. It washed over me with a heat that burned my soul.
“I’m not good enoug
h for the Sethian line,” I whispered.
The truth pierced me in the gut. My cursing, my attitude maybe, my lack of humbleness …
“I was never good enough."
I wasn’t good enough because I was never willing to give up who I was as a person for a cause I wasn’t sure I believed in.
Marcas glanced at my aunt. I knew he saw what I saw. I knew he knew what I knew. But no one knew the shame I felt at being considered lesser. I wonder if my aunt knew I had always had the same faith as my sister. I had just always believed that God loved us for who we were, not for what we could do.
Amber looked up then, tears tracking down her cheeks. I didn’t blame her. She wasn’t at fault.
“I see,” Marcas said. “I think I see.” He stared at my aunt. "You should have considered your choices better."
He glanced between my sister and me. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t read.
"He’s misled you," Marcas said. His gaze went to Damon. “I’m leaving, brother. And the girl leaves with me.”
My brows rose. I’d agreed to go with him, but he didn’t have to sound all "me man, this be my woman" about it.
Damon stepped toward us, and I fell backward. I wasn’t crazy about either man, but Marcas was definitely saner.
Marcas’ hand found my arm, and he pulled me into him. My body was suddenly flush with his, my head below his chin. I shuddered. The movement felt too intimate for me, but I didn’t move. Something told me it was important not to.
“Where do you expect to go, Marcas?” Damon asked coolly.
I could feel heat and the quivering restraint of anger moving through Marcas’ muscles and my heart rate sped up. If he noticed, he didn’t react.
“To fix what you messed up,” Marcas answered.
Damon’s eyes slid to my face. I fought not to look away. “You are the elder by minutes, Marcas. It needs to be your blood, but if you won’t finish what we started, I will. You will bring her back to me,” Damon ordered.
I stiffened. “I don’t belong to you, you imbecile!”
My rebellion might have been so much more effective if I wasn’t hugged up to Marcas’ chest, but I was tired of the ‘Barbarian He Man’ routine.
Marcas’ arm tightened on me in warning.
Damon laughed. “You will bring her back to me,” he repeated, his voice full of glee. Had I entertained him?
“If the damage can be undone, brother, she is yours,” Marcas replied.
Monroe cried out from behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. I was what? The bastard!
I turned toward him and tried pushing away, but his arm was like iron.
I settled for elbowing him in the ribs. “Damn you!” I growled against his chest.
Damon moved toward us, his warm breath suddenly fanning the back of my neck. It took all the fight out of me. Marcas didn’t move.
“Then go, Marcas. But once the bond is broken, I will know it. And I will bind her to me,” he warned. I felt more than saw his gaze move to my back. “You will return to me, love. Don’t doubt that.”
I fought not to turn around and glare. “I’m all aflutter,” I hissed.
Marcas shifted, his jaw tensing, and I wondered if I’d amused him. Damon was silent.
Marcas released me, moving behind me, so that I was facing the door. “Move, Blainey,” he whispered.
I didn’t argue. I walked. Monroe fell in behind us.
Fear gripped me. "He’s just going to let us go?" I whispered.
Marcas pushed me. "For now."
I stumbled forward. Monroe ran to catch up. We were silent only until the door closed behind us.
I glanced at Monroe. “What the hell was that?” she and I asked Marcas simultaneously.
Monroe glanced behind us. "Why isn’t Damon coming after us?"
We shared the same fear.
"He will," Marcas answered.
I stopped walking. "What does that mean?"
Marcas grabbed my arm, forcing me forward again. "Leave it be. My brother is the least of our concerns. When the time comes, I’ll deal with Damon."
I didn’t have to look at Monroe this time to know she felt my frustration.
The least of our concerns? What could be worse?
Marcas pushed me again.
“Could you quit?” I asked.
Monroe took me by the hand and we dashed toward the car. It looked more welcoming than it should. We all climbed in.
I turned on Marcas. “What was that?”
Marcas started the car and backed out of the drive. “That was me trying to figure out how to get rid of you."
My eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s comforting. At least one of you doesn’t want to impregnate me.”
Monroe snorted from the back seat.
"And the voices in my head?" I whispered. "I heard—"
Marcas’ hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Nothing. You heard nothing, Blainey."
I looked away, shuddering as I thought back on the chapel. This wasn’t Rosemary’s Baby. I was not about to carry any Demon’s child for any reason good or bad. Heck, I still had yet to make it past first base with a guy. Not because I was some goody two shoes. I was just picky. And my first time was so not going to be because a Demon claimed he had "bonded" with me.
“That was enlightening,” Monroe muttered.
I looked at Marcas. “Where are we going?”
Wariness gripped me.
Marcas turned the car toward town. “We’re going to work on getting unbound.”
I lifted a brow. Well, that didn’t sound so bad.
“And how are we supposed to do that?” I asked. He looked at me then.
“We look for the impossible and do it without getting ourselves killed."
I glanced back at Monroe.
“Oh okay … well then.”
Chapter 21
Creatures were created to protect humankind both from themselves and from the war they are unaware is raging around them. These creatures are guardians. They are born and raised to know their role. It is ingrained in their nature. They are gargoyles.
~Bezaliel~
We had passed three road signs before I realized where we were going.
I glanced back at Monroe wildly before looking at Marcas. “The airport?”
He didn’t glance my way. “Going by plane is a lot more comfortable than me flying you myself,” Marcas answered.
Memories of the night I’d met him at the bar assaulted me, the part where I had been convinced we’d flown to my bedroom. So, it hadn’t been a drug induced hallucination? He could fly!
“Why do we need to fly anywhere?”
He glanced at me. “You want reasons? You’re not safe here.” He exhaled. “I have a friend who may be able to help us.”
Monroe was way too quiet in the back seat.
“Why isn’t it safe?” I asked.
Marcas sighed. I was getting a lot of that from him. But what was I to do? I still didn’t understand any of this. And I was a question asker. I hated girls who just sat back and let things happen to them. I wasn’t one of those girls.
“Damon may be ecstatic about the bond he’s created but, by doing so, he’s incited war. There are a lot of people and Demons who are going to want you dead. Given that and the bond, I’m not sure what that would do to me,” Marcas answered.
I glanced at him. “Glad to know you care.”
“I don’t.”
My jaw tensed, my next words whispered on an exhale. “Kinda figured that.”
My gaze went to Monroe in the backseat, my eyes falling to the cell phone sitting idly in her hand. The text screen was lit up. She glanced my way and caught my eye. No!
She nodded.
My eyes narrowed on hers before turning around, my gaze back on Marcas. “Are you a vampire Demon?”
“Vampires don’t exist,” he answered.
I snorted. “Then what was with the whole drinking my blood thing at the bar?”
There
was no sarcasm. Just curiosity.
Marcas glanced in the rearview mirror before answering. “It’s a curse. Any son of Cain craves blood. It isn’t a necessity. We don’t need it to live, but we do crave the taste.”
I stared at him in horror. “Seriously?”
His lips quirked. “You won’t start craving blood.”
I wasn’t reassured. “How do you know? Have you ever been bound to anyone before?”
He glanced at me. “If you were going to crave it, you’d already know.”
A red glow consumed his gaze, and I shivered. This, I was going to have to trust.
Marcas glanced in the rearview mirror again. It was the second time I’d seen him do it in the past few minutes. My gaze followed his.
Monroe stared at the back windshield. “I think we’re being followed.”
Headlights glared behind us.
“Put your seat belt on,” Marcas ordered.
Monroe didn’t argue. The click was audible in the silence, signaling an end to a moment.
A squeal filled the air. The car behind us swerved into the next lane, its engine revving.
“This can’t be good,” Monroe shrieked. She tended to state the obvious when she was afraid.
Marcas revved his own engine, his foot flooring the gas.
My head slammed back against the headrest, the impact forcing my shoulder against the door. The other car sped up and veered into Marcas’ bumper.
Marcas fought against the impact and recovered.
“What do they want?” Monroe cried.
Marcas pressed the gas, his gaze moving from the front windshield to the side window. He tracked the other car as if it were prey. Something told me I should be comforted by this, but I wasn’t.
The following vehicle fell back, and then edged closer again. We came up on a bend, both cars careening around it so fast I was sure two of our tires came off of the blacktop. I barely managed to keep my head from banging into the passenger side window. My stomach churned.
“You’re going to get us killed!” Monroe shouted.
Marcas pulled the car out of the curve and lurched into the other lane in front of our pursuer. The other vehicle pulled up close again. The grinding sound of metal against metal vibrated throughout the car. I braced myself against the dashboard.
