by Laura Kaye
“And don’t you dare do that spell while I’m not looking.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Graham was still green, as though he was about to throw up at any moment, and Jamie didn’t look much better. She crossed over to them. “You two, stay down here.” She wanted them safe.
“No way,” Jamie said. “I’m coming with you. I can shift and fight if I need to.”
“I don’t want you dying because of me.”
“Do you know how many demons I’ve fought since you moved us to London? You don’t want to know. I’m not giving up now and letting the fae have you.”
“And I’m not sitting around waiting to spontaneously combust or whatever it is happens to me if Christian dies. I can’t shift into anything, but I can shoot a gun,” Graham said.
“Okay.” She gave Jamie a hug. Then turned and embraced Graham.
“I’m coming as well,” Carl said. “Do I get a hug?”
“When we get back,” she said.
“Let’s go get more guns,” Piers said.
They followed him down the corridor and into the gun armory.
“I’ve got one,” she said as Piers gave her what looked like a sub machine gun. She passed it on to Graham who peered at it dubiously, but slung it over his shoulder. Jamie shook his head. “I’m going to shift remember? Paws don’t work too well with triggers.”
Piers handed her a jacket. “It’s Kevlar. Bullet proof.” He handed one to Graham as well.
Tara looked at it doubtfully. “Are they going to shoot us?”
“Who knows, but Graham has a gun, and he doesn’t know how to use it, so it’s probably best to be prepared. Put it on.” He turned to the werewolf. “Carl, you want one?”
“Nah, unless they’ve got silver, which is unlikely, I’m okay. A jacket will slow me down too much, and I might want to shift.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Piers came over to Tara as she struggled with the jacket. He brushed her hands away and tightened the buckles. She shrugged her shoulders to get comfortable, but it was heavy, constricting.
“I can’t move,” she said.
“Of course you can move.” He yanked the last buckle even tighter. “But you don’t need to move. You need to stay out of the way when the fae come.”
“Do you think they will come?”
“No doubt about it and I promised Christian I would keep you safe. So no stupid heroics.” He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. He took her by surprise, his tongue gliding between her lips to taste her, drawing back before she had a chance to object.
“Mmm, delicious,” he said, against her mouth. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you. Thought I’d better do it now, just in case.”
Presumably, just in case, everything went wrong, and they all died up there.
Piers slung a sub-machine gun over each shoulder and headed out of the door. Tara took a deep breath and followed.
They rode the elevator to the roof. Tara stood between Carl and Piers, the top of her head somewhere close to their shoulders. The air between them thrummed with excitement. Like they were going to some sort of party. A small smile played around Piers’s lips—he was looking forward to this.
Suddenly she was overwhelmed. Standing between the werewolf and the vampire, she felt small, insignificant, and immensely vulnerable. She was supposed to be half-demon and at that moment, would have given anything to feel a little more demon-like.
“I want a drink,” she murmured to herself.
She fiddled with the necklace at her throat. It had always been part of her. Now she planned to take it off, and this time it wasn’t going back on.
The time to hide what she was had passed.
From now on, people could take her as she was and if they didn’t like it they could—her thoughts ground to a halt. The fact was, not many people did seem to like her, except Christian, and he might very well be gone forever. She forced herself to finish the thought—they could kill her.
“So, who is this guy who wants to kill me? This Walker?”
Piers glanced down at her in surprise. “He’s your uncle. Well great-uncle I suppose. His brother is your grandfather.”
“And he wants to kill me?”
“He will do as soon as you take that talisman off, but don’t take it personally. He wants to kill a lot of people. Me for one.”
Tara glanced at him, and he grinned.
“Why does he want to kill you?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m just popular, I guess. Here we are.”
The elevator door opened and Tara stared out into the dark night. The sky was clear, the air cold. She stepped out after Piers. They stood on top of the tallest building in the area. All around them lay the sprawl of London, the Thames winding its way through the heart of the city, the London Eye glowing red across the water, but up here, it was as if they were alone, cut off from the rest of the world.
Everyone watched her. It was time. She remembered removing the talisman with Christian, how he had distracted her with his kisses. Tears stung her eyes, but thoughts of Christian also filled her with urgency. Even now, he could be fighting with Asmodai. Fighting with her father. Would her father sense her, and would it be enough to stop him, or maybe at least divert him? Would he come for her? According to Jamie, he had loved her mother. Would he feel something for her because of that?
Enough to give her back Christian, the man she loved.
She put her hand to her throat, lifted the necklace, and slipped it over her head. She opened up the locket and took the strand of hair from under the clip. It was the only part of her mother that remained, and she didn’t want it destroyed. Then she dropped the locket to the ground at Piers’s feet.
“Finish it,” she said.
He glanced at her in surprise. “I can see it now. How amazing—you’re a demon and the fae is there as well.” He looked from her to the talisman at his feet. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once you do, there’s no going back. What you are will be out in the open.”
She nodded. “I’m sure. Destroy it.”
Piers raised his foot and ground his heel on the crystal. She heard the crunch as the thing disintegrated. “Is that enough?” she asked Jonas. “Is the spell broken?”
“It’s more than enough.”
“So what happens now?”
“Now we wait and see who finds you first.”
…
Falling back under the storm of savage blows, Christian accepted it was only a matter of time. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, blinding him, and he wiped it clear with the back of his hand. The attack was relentless now, soon it would be over, but something inside him refused to give in. He rallied, cursing and slashing with his blade, standing his ground.
Asmodai threw back his head and laughed.
“You’ve been a good opponent, but you can’t beat me.”
“Fuck off,” Christian snarled and raised his blade.
Asmodai came for him. The crimson sword beat him down until he stood exhausted, breathing hard. Asmodai raised his sword for what Christian knew would be the final blow. He held it high above his head but at the last moment, he stumbled and fell to his knees in front of Christian.
Christian stepped back. He raised his own sword and was about to bring it slamming down when something stopped him.
Triumph gleamed in the demon’s eyes.
“My daughter is alive,” he said, and his voice rang with wonder. “She has destroyed the spell. She is no longer hidden from me.”
Christian frowned. He was getting a bad feeling about this. He watched warily as Asmodai rose to his feet.
“Put down your sword, Christian Roth. I have no time to kill you now. My daughter might need me.”
“Your daughter?”
“Yes. Mine and Lillian’s.”
Christian’s sword clattered to the floor. He stared at Asmodai, rank horror churning in his belly. Shock washed over him, threatening to drown him in
a tidal wave of disbelief. He searched Asmodai’s face, hunting for any small hint of similarity, but there was nothing of Tara in him. “It’s not possible.”
Regarding him curiously, Asmodai put down his sword. “What, exactly, do you find impossible?”
Christian laughed, but the sound was void of humor, harsh in his ears. Why had it never occurred to him? Then again, why should it? He was in love with the daughter of his worst enemy. The daughter of the demon who was about to finish him off.
“Shit,” he said. How would Tara feel? Her own father had, if not murdered her best friend, at least arranged and condoned that murder. And now her father would be responsible for killing the man she loved. He laughed again and Asmodai’s eyes narrowed.
“Speak,” he growled. “Or I will kill you.”
“And will you tell your daughter that you killed me? At the same time you tell her you ordered the death of her best friend? It would have been her, you know. It was only by error that she wasn’t taken. Your own daughter raped, mutilated, and killed at your command.”
“What do you know of my daughter?”
Christian smiled. “She looks like her mother.”
“What?”
“She’s beautiful, and she has nothing of you in her.”
Asmodai’s dark eyes glittered. “Tell me what you know of her.”
“I love her. I came here tonight to save her life.”
“What is her name?”
“Tara,” Christian said and grabbed his blade. Asmodai tensed, but made no move when Christian sheathed the sword. “Kill me if you like. If not, I’m going to see if I can get to your daughter before the fae kill her.”
“The fae know of her?”
“The Walker is already close by. He’ll have sensed her at the same time you did and he will kill her.”
“You know this for sure? She is his niece.”
“I spoke with him tonight. We made a deal. Part of that deal is that Tara never takes off the talisman, never reveals what she is.”
“So why has she removed the spell?”
“My guess is she’s found out what I’m doing and this is her way of calling me back.” Christian’s frown deepened as something occurred to him. “Or maybe, she’s found out about you, that you’re her father, and she’s calling out to you. Maybe she thinks she can appeal to your better nature.”
“Why would she wish to do that?” He searched Christian’s face. “Let me ask you one question, Christian Roth. You claim to love my daughter. Does she love you?”
“Oh, yes.” Christian smiled. “She’s going to be really pissed that you killed me.”
Asmodai pursed his lips. “Well, perhaps I should wait until I know her a little better, and perhaps, until she knows you a little better, by then I’m sure my killing you will be far more understandable.”
“No doubt. So what now?”
“I’m coming with you. I need your help to exit the Abyss.”
“One of the reasons I came here tonight is to prevent a full-scale war breaking out.”
“There will be no war. I will find my daughter, prevent her death, and bring her back where she will be safe from the fae.”
“You plan to bring her back here?”
“Of course. She’s my daughter.”
“She was brought up believing herself to be human.”
“Thanks to you, I know nothing of her.” He sounded bitter. For the first time Christian saw things from the demon’s point of view. To be dragged from the woman you love and to be able to do nothing to save her.
“Did you know Lillian was carrying a child?”
Asmodai nodded. “She was excited. When I knew we would be separated, I wanted her to return to her people, but she refused. She said they would take her back but only at the price of our child. It was a price she was unwilling to pay. I thought they had both perished. Once the portals opened again, I sent whoever could go to search for them, but I found no trace. Until a few months ago when I sensed her.”
“She took off the talisman, a spell her mother had made for her, that hid her true nature.”
“Lillian is dead?”
Christian nodded. “She died giving birth, all her strength was gone.”
“I felt it. I knew she was dead. So will you assist me, open the portal so I may enter your world?”
Christian nodded. “If you swear to return here afterward.”
“I swear.” Asmodai picked up his sword. “Now, let’s go.”
…
Tara kicked the shards of broken crystal littering the ground at her feet then glanced back up at the faces surrounding her. They were all examining her as though she were some sort of peculiar laboratory specimen. She scowled.
“It’s quite amazing. So obvious really, it seems like we should have been able to see it all along.” Carl studied her face closely. “You don’t look any different, but you are different.”
“What?” she snapped. “Never seen a half-demon, half-fae before?”
“Demon-fae, they used to call them,” Piers spoke softly.
Tara’s eyes widened. There was actually a name for what she was. Perhaps she wasn’t such a freak after all. “There are others like me?”
“There were, long ago. It was inevitable—demons have always had a hankering for fae women.” His eyes drifted down over her body. “Not that I blame them.” He licked his lips and leered.
“If they’re immortal, are they still around?” She could hear the eagerness in her own voice.
Piers shook his head. “Not anymore. The fae hunted them down and slaughtered them as part of the Accords. They claimed that as long as the demon-fae existed, the Faelands would never be safe from attack. The fae have always hated to mix their blood.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “I’m beginning to dislike the fae.”
“Join the club.”
They fell silent. Up here, high above the streets, all was quiet. Far below, she could hear the faint hum of traffic. She rubbed her hands up her arms. Her body was rigid with tension and a tight knot of nausea burned in her belly. She wanted something to happen. Anything was better than this waiting. Though most of all, she wanted Christian to magically appear, and everything to be all right.
She raised her head. There was a change in the air.
Piers stepped closer. “Do you feel it?”
She nodded. “What is it?”
“Our first visitors, and I’m guessing it’s not your dad.”
“Don’t call him that. He’ll never be anything to me.”
Piers pointed. “Over there.”
At first, Tara saw nothing different. Then the air thickened until it was a tangible thing, like smoke and mist. She stared as the figures formed within the mist.
Tara’s hand dropped to the gun at her waist, she fingered the grip. “Can’t we just shoot them now?”
Carl laughed softly behind her. “I think I might have mentioned it before, but you’re a bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?”
Tara glowered at the “little.” “You’re not the one they’re here to kill. I don’t see anyone referring to you as an abomination.”
“Not and living. And no, unfortunately, we can’t shoot them yet. Bullets would go right through.”
The figures solidified.
“Now, we can shoot them,” Piers said. “Though it’s hardly a permanent solution—kill them here and they just re-manifest in the Faelands. I think we’ll see what they have to say first.”
“Is one of them the Walker?” Tara asked.
“The tall one in the middle. He has a bit of the look of you, don’t you think?”
Tara studied the man. This was her uncle, and he was one of the most beautiful beings she had ever seen. Tall and willowy, pale blond hair pulled back from his face to show high cheekbones and slanted grass green eyes. Her eyes.
He was dressed in tight black pants, long leather boots, and a loose white shirt. A long sword hung buckled from his waist. At each si
de stood another armed man.
All three were expressionless.
“Stay here,” Piers said and stepped forward. “Walker.”
The Walker’s eyes locked with Tara’s. They widened as he took in her appearance, and she saw recognition flare in his face. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out, or draw her gun and shoot him, but she let the hatred show clear in her eyes. She wasn’t going to cower, or beg for her life. This was the man ultimately responsible for her mother’s death. If it hadn’t been for him, and beings like him, her mother would have gone home and been safe and cared for. How different would Tara’s life have been?
“If looks could kill,” Carl whispered in her ear.
Tara forced her gaze away. “I don’t like him,” she said.
“I think the feeling is mutual.”
“Yes but the difference is I’ve got a good reason to hate him, whereas he’s just a narrow-minded, bigoted bastard.”
He laughed softly. “Shh,” he said. “Let’s hear what they have to say.”
“Where is Christian Roth?” The Walker asked.
Piers looked around the rooftop with exaggerated care. “Not here.”
“It’s only hours since he gave his oath and it is already broken.”
“He had a little demon problem to sort out, and your niece refused to cooperate with the plan. I guess being a pain in the ass must run in the family.”
“My niece?” His gaze ran over Tara, coming to rest on her face. “It’s curious, but obviously fae blood is stronger than that of demons. She could pass as fae.”
“No, thanks,” Tara muttered.
His brows drew together in a frown, and his eyes narrowed. The Walker turned back to Piers. “Hand the abomination over to us and we will forget this. You and your people can go.”
“Thanks,” Piers said dryly. “But they’re not ‘my people,’ and I’m curious. What do you plan to do with ‘the abomination’?” He glanced at Tara as he spoke and winked.
“Destroy her, of course.” He gave Piers a considering look. “Unless you prefer to kill her yourself. Her blood should be…” He studied Tara for a moment. “Interesting. I remember you had a fondness for the demon-fae.”
“You’re a piece of shit, Walker, you know that?”
