by J. Kenner
"Kill them," he said. "Don't fuck them."
I arched up, then met his eyes, and for the briefest of seconds the marks on my arm seemed to burn. Then there was a snap as the vision took hold, but he jerked away, and the moment was lost and, honestly, I wasn't disappointed. I didn't want to know any more. Not then. Right then, I knew all that I could handle. "You're a demon," I said.
"I'm an exception," he murmured, then closed his mouth hard over mine. I moaned, wanting nothing more than to ease into the kiss and lose myself in the touch of this man who was danger and mystery and delight all rolled into one.
I fought to keep my senses, though, and through the haze in my brain, I saw the back door open, and I saw Kiera step outside.
I shoved Deacon—hard.
His eyes flashed. "What the—"
"Kiera," I said. "Fight."
He did, making it look damn good, but I wanted no questions. Nothing that Kiera could take back to Clarence that raised suspicions. And with his back blocking her view, I thrust my knife into his hand. "Kill me," I said.
"What?"
"Kill me, goddammit, and make it look good."
"Lily," he said, and though I saw the pain in his eyes, he did what I asked. He shoved my knife deep into my heart.
And then, dammit, I died.
12
The convenient thing about being me is that death no longer sticks. So I came back, and when I did, I found Kiera crouched over me with Rose beside her, and both their expressions frantic.
"Holy crap," Kiera said, as I blinked the world back into focus. "You were dead. Fucking A, you were absolutely, completely dead."
Beside her, Rose's mouth hung open, tears streaming down her face. I reached for her, and she crouched down, her arms around me, her sobs shaking us both. "It's okay, hon," I said. "I'm fine. Swear. See?" I pointed to the hole Deacon had left in my shirt, then at the un-marred flesh beneath. "I'm okay."
She backed up and sniffed. "How?"
"Perk of the job," I said.
"Fucking A," Kiera repeated.
"Just one of my many party tricks," I said, managing to draw a smile from both of them.
"Who?” Kiera asked.
"Deacon Camphire," I said, and Rose sucked in air. I met her eyes, shaking my head ever so slightly, afraid she'd say something stupid. Like, oh, mention that she and I and Deacon had all been happily hanging together just last night.
"I thought that was him," Kiera said, apparently not noticing my silent exchange with my sister. “I saw someone running away. I was going to go after him, but Rose came out, and you were here, and—"
"It's okay," I said. "He's strong. You don't want to screw with him."
"I know. He's on Clarence's Do Not Disturb list."
"Right," I said. When I'd first become Prophecy Girl, Clarence had made it clear that I shouldn't try to kill Deacon, what with him being superstrong-demon dude. But then all that changed, and Clarence told me that Deacon had been the one who murdered Alice. A big fat lie that I'm certain he spun so that I'd take the bastard out. He did it, we assume, because he'd learned that Deacon was trying to close the Ninth Gate. But that didn't explain why Deacon was suddenly back on the Don't Kill list. Clarence had to know Deacon was still trying to lock the gates up tight. So why would he want Kiera steering clear?
These, however, were not issues that I had time to ponder. Instead, I sat up, wincing a little, and held out my arm for Rose, who pressed her head onto my shoulder. "It's okay," I said. "I'm fine. Just stiff." I drew in a breath, wanting to change the topic before this one got too dangerous. "I got that other demon, though," I said to Kiera. "How about you?"
"Nailed her," she said with a wide grin, and I realized I didn't have any way of knowing if she really had. Right then, though, I had to admit I didn't care. The darkness was still surging through me, even more intense now that the dead demon's essence had been sucked in and was filling me up, shooting down into my fingers and toes like a drug. I'd gotten a hit—that was for sure—but I still craved another. "Let's go," I said.
Kiera frowned. "Where?"
"There are more, right? There must be more?"
She grinned, slow and wide. "Look at you, all dressed up with somewhere to go."
I shrugged, then climbed to my feet. “This was your idea. I'm just trying to get into a rhythm with my new partner."
She looked me up and down, then stepped close, her gaze warm and appraising. "I wasn't sure at first," she said. "Thought maybe you were all hype. But you'll do. Man, oh, man. You'll seriously do."
“I missed that last one," I said. "Missed him and ended up dead."
She shrugged it off. "Apparently, being dead didn't take. And like I said, you don't want to take Deacon Camphire out. Too risky."
I thought about that some more as we headed back inside, frowning as a new thought hit me. Maybe it wasn't me and Kiera that Clarence's Don't Kill order was protecting. Maybe it was Deacon.
I shook it off, because no matter how much I wanted the truth about Deacon, just then there was something I wanted a whole lot more. "Come on," I said to Kiera. "Find me another."
"You got it, girl."
I looked sideways at Rose, who stood straight and silent. I needed to get her home. Needed to take care of her.
But I couldn't think about that. Couldn't think about anything but the need for the slow, cold burn of the kill.
"We're staying just a little bit longer," I said. She tilted her face up to meet my eyes, hers clear and more focused than I'd seen in a year.
"Good," she said, the harshness in her voice like a knife to my heart. "Kill more of them. Kill them all, and this time let me watch. Because I don't think I'll be happy until they're all dead."
My mouth was dry, but Kiera let loose with a guffaw. "Listen to the kid. She's got balls."
Except I didn't want her to have balls. "No, I—"
"There," Kiera said, pointing at a lanky man who was stumbling out of the club, a bottle of beer tight in one hand.
"No. Forget it. I changed my mind."
I shook my head, but Rose grabbed my arm. "Please," she said, her voice plaintive. “It's like you're killing him."
And though Kiera might not have understood, I knew Rose was talking straight to me. Talking about Johnson. And, yeah, I understood. I hated it, but I understood.
Except Rose didn't get what she wanted. Because as I took my first step toward my new quarry, a sharp stab of pain doubled me over.
"Lily!" Both Kiera and Rose gathered around me. "What is it?"
"My arm," I whispered, barely able to force the words out. "Oh, God, oh, God, I think it's on fire." I scrambled to shove up the sleeve of my duster to reveal my forearm, the first image now red and raw, as if someone had taken a branding iron to my skin.
"Oh, wow," Kiera said. "He told me about that. He's trying to find the bridge, right? Trying to conjure a bridge despite the protections?"
I nodded, trying not to grit my teeth. "That's what he said. Maybe this means he found it." I clenched my fist, trying desperately to block out a pain that was so intense I was seeing the world in shades of gray and red.
"So what now?" Kiera asked.
"Now I go," I said, realizing that as much as I hated the fact that I was a walking cliché of Beam Me Up, Scotty, this was actually going to work out pretty handily. Being a double agent stuck with a partner was damned inconvenient, but I couldn't pull her into my own skin, and that meant I couldn't take her across the bridge with me. Whatever I had to do on the other side, I could do it in secret.
For at least a little bit, I could drop my cover. Color me supremely happy.
"You're going to have to hold on to me until I'm through," I said. "That's how I find my way back."
She looked mildly concerned about that, and I'll admit that I was petty enough that her discomfiture gave me a small thrill. After all, so far she'd definitely come across as the cooler one in our dynamic duo. Now it was my turn to show just how uber my Ü
ber-girl-superchick routine could be.
She held my hand, and Rose held tight to the back of my shirt. "It'll be okay," I said.
"It better," she retorted, and though I listened for a warning from Johnson, I heard none. Just my sister, wanting me to come back. I smiled. "I swear," I said. "I'll be back before you know it."
Actually, that wasn't entirely accurate. The bridge crossed space, not time, and if it took me a while to find the relic once I crossed over, they'd be standing in the middle of the parking lot, babysitting a glowing, spinning vortex.
Probably better to find someplace more private.
"Ladies' room," I said, and we all bustled in that direction, then squeezed into the handicapped stall, ignoring the curious looks from the girls gathered in front of the mirror adjusting dresses and skirts.
"So go," Kiera said, though I wasn't sure if she was anxious to see me do my stuff, or because she wanted out of the cramped little stall.
I pressed my hand to the still-aching mark, drew in a breath, and waited for that sharp tug around my middle, then the sensation of being jerked by the umbilical cord into another world.
It didn't come.
"Nothing," I said, slapping my palm down and trying again. "Dammit, there's nothing."
Kiera sighed. "Come on," she said, her tone suggesting that she'd been partnered with a complete and total loser. "Let's go see Clarence."
13
Zane's basement looked just like it always did. The training ring in the middle. The gray cabinets that I knew were filled with a variety of unusual and lethal weapons. The man himself, standing dark and tall, with catlike grace and commanding sensuality.
The only thing different—other than the presence of Rose and Kiera—was the large red circle that had been painted on the floor.
“That's only paint, right?" I asked, eyeing it suspiciously. Actually, it was a dumb question. If it were blood, I would have smelled it. If it were blood, I'd be craving it.
I looked over at Clarence, who was walking beside it, mumbling something to himself. "So, what exactly is that?”
"The bridge, ma Cherie," Zane said. "It is the path to your destination."
Behind him, Rose was curled up on a bench, her head on her knees. At his words, though, she lifted her head and her expression was sharp. It reminded me of a wolf. A predator. And the wolf had something in its sights.
"I thought I was the bridge," I said. "I thought I traveled through the portal on the tattoos."
"The protections," Clarence said, by way of explanation. "Now you're the navigational system, not the train."
"But I went once," I complained. "I dove through my arm, and I saw those funky cave buildings. Why couldn't I go again?"
Clarence looked at me, his expression stern. "You went once. You saw too much. Do you think the magic will willingly let you return?"
"Enough with the fricking metaphors," Kiera said, stepping up behind me, her hand on my shoulder. "What are you talking about?"
"As a rule, Lily's gift allows her to both find objects and travel through the locator tattoo to the object's location. The image becomes a portal," he said, and I provided the visual aid to his little speech by holding my arm out. "But whoever hid away these relics was clever. Nefarious. And very, very careful."
"She can't get there," Kiera said. "That was what you were trying to do in the bathroom."
I nodded. "Didn't work."
"Couldn't work," Clarence said. "The protections are too strong."
"Can't you fight them?" Kiera asked. "Find some sort of mystical mumbo jumbo to take them down?"
"Probably," Clarence said. "With enough time. But we don't have time." He looked back over his shoulder to one of Zane's gray weapons cabinets. Zane had taped a calendar there, the kind with a photograph on one page and the month displayed below it. On this one, the photo was the famous poster of a cat struggling not to fall from a bar, along with the caption: Hang in there, baby.
But it wasn't the cute cat that had us all suddenly somber. It was the date circled in red—the next full moon, and it was fast approaching.
I nodded at the circle on the floor. "So this isn't about removing the protections?"
"This is about sneaking in around them," Clarence said. He looked from me to Kiera. "You two ready?"
"Wait," I said. "She can come, too?"
"That's the beauty of my solution," he said with a smile that turned almost immediately into a frown. "It's also the curse."
"Explain," I said, sharply.
"I'm using your arm to aim the bridge in the right direction, but it's an open doorway now, not a private portal through the map on your arm."
"So?"
"So you may not be the only ones who use it to travel."
I held up a hand. "Wait. What?”
He had the grace to look sheepish. "If they're paying attention, other demons might recognize the energy. They might follow you. And they might try to get to the relic before you do."
"Are you kidding me?" I gestured between me and Kiera. "You're not sending only us, right? I mean, we're going with a team, right? An army? You do have another group to go in with us, right? I mean, have you seen what's out there?"
He looked from me to Kiera, his forehead creased.
"We ran into a little trouble," Kiera said, then pulled out her knife and started to clean under her fingernails with the blade.
"A little?" I countered. "Guy was seven feet tall if he was an inch, had a face covered with warrior-style tattoos. He wielded a blade taller than I am without even popping a sweat. Oh, and he had superhero hands."
"He had what?"
I held my hands out, demonstrating. "That's all he did. And Kiera's car started backing up toward him."
Clarence's face went tight, and he turned around, his shoulders hunched as he paced, his chin cupped in his palm.
"So we're getting someone else, right? Because I don't want to meet him again in a dark alley, much less on a dark bridge."
"Sorry, girls. You're the dream team."
"But—"
"My hands are tied," he said, shooting both of us a significant look. I wanted to argue, really I did, but I knew better than to think it would do any good. The bigger question was why. If finding these relics was so damned important, then why only send me and my sidekick?
Not a question I had time to ponder. Because Clarence had effectively cut off any more discussion of the subject. By then, he was walking the circle, dropping a fine yellow powder on the red line. "I need your arm," he said, fixing me with a stern expression.
"Right," I said, absolutely certain that this was not going to be fun. "Hang on." Before he could protest, I hurried across the room to Rose's side. I tilted my head sideways to face Zane. "You'll stay with her?"
"She is important to you?"
"She's my sister."
He cut a quick look toward Clarence. "And that is not a problem?"
I drew in a breath. "We came to an agreement."
He nodded, and I wondered if he was thinking about his own deal with the devil. The one that kept him stuck down here in the basement, training warriors until the day when the job was finished and the Powers That Be would grant him the thing that he so craved: mortality. "I will watch the child," he said.
I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him that she was more than a child. Because I couldn't help but wonder: Was he really aligned with Clarence, or was he just getting by to get by, wanting to be released from his cell? Wanting to die?
I couldn't say a word, though. Everything I suspected about Zane was just that—suspicions. For all I knew, he was as vile as Clarence or Johnson or Penemue. Reveal the truth, and I risked both my neck and Rose's.
So instead, I simply said, "Thanks." Then I turned to Rose. "Give me a hug," I said, and she melted into my arms, hers tight around my neck. “I'll be back," I said, whispering in her ear.
"You feel almost as good as your sister," came the soft reply, and I froze, then drew upon
all the strength that had been crammed into my body not to bolt.
Instead, I whispered back, calmly and coolly. "You get the fuck back inside and you stay there. Because if you even think about peeking out in front of Zane, he will kill you without hesitation. And I swear, I will hunt down that freakish body of yours, and I will make it my mission in life to finish the job. Do we understand each other?" Silence. "Do we understand each other?"
"Lily?"
I sagged, holding on tight to her, because that was Rose. That was my sister. And she was back in the forefront, and that bastard was under again. "I'll be back," I said. "Zane's gonna take care of you."
“I’m scared."
"Yeah," I said, leaning back to look at the bridge of her nose, avoiding her eyes just in case. "I'm scared, too."
I stepped away, then held out her hand for Zane. He took it, with a quick nod to me, and I suppressed a wave of gratitude. I didn't know whose side he was on—not really. But I was certain I could trust him to protect Rose.
"Okay," I said, turning back to find Clarence impatiently tapping his foot. "Where do I go?"
"Right here," he said, pointing to the center of the circle. His finger shot out toward Kiera. "Ah, ah," he said. "None of that sarcasm. Not today. Not with so much riding on this."
She shrugged, then mumbled an apology, and for a moment I was completely lost. Then I realized what had happened—Clarence had gotten into her head, exactly the way he used to get into mine. As with Zane, I didn't know if Kiera was really on my side or not, but right then, she had my full sympathy.
"Kiera, you're here, just left of center. Lily, take a step back and hold out your arm. I want the mark over the center point, just the mark. That's it," he said, as I moved into position. "Perfect." He scurried backward until he was out of the circle.
"Uh, what now?" I asked.
"It's your blood, Lily," he said, which I probably should have known. These days, pretty much everything was about my blood.
