Stone Cold Touch

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “There’s nothing up here.” Roth looked around, brows raised. “Except for the stink of lost dreams and wasted potential.”

  I frowned at that. “But what about down below?”

  His gaze dropped to me. “Good girl. That’s where we need to head.”

  “I’m not a dog,” I grumbled, standing as I wiped my hands on my jeans. “Why didn’t you just suggest that in the beginning?”

  Roth didn’t reply as he strode off, walking toward one of the side doors. I fantasized about drop-kicking him in his head as I followed behind him. Neither of us spoke as we entered another old, forgotten stairwell that led into an ancient, outdated locker room.

  The scent of mold and something...crusty assaulted me. I didn’t even want to breathe the combination in. Though different from the rank stench of a zombie, this smell was every bit as nauseating.

  He found another light switch and only a handful of fluorescent lights kicked on. Row after row of gray, lonely looking lockers greeted us. Half the benches were broken or rotted out and odd shadows were cast upon the lockers, but as Roth neared them, he groaned.

  “Slime,” he said, lip curling in distaste.

  I neared one of the benches. A gunky white substance ran down the metal legs. Across the board, the matter dripped onto the floor, thick and slow like honey or syrup. I swallowed. “Is this ectoplasm?”

  “Yeah, and a whole lot of it.” Roth sidestepped quickly, almost planting his boots in the puddle of grossness. “I think we’re onto something.”

  “Really?” I murmured drily.

  He snorted. “It’s amazing that no one at the school has seen this.” Scanning the slime-covered walls, he laughed without humor. “It would be kind of hard to explain.”

  “No one has any reason to come down here.” I moved forward, careful not to step on anything that might be considered sticky. “What does all of this mean?”

  Roth blew out a low breath. “Really don’t know. There are a few critters that leave behind ectoplasm. Nothing that should be in a high school.”

  Walking forward, I tried to get an idea of where the blood dripping down from the ritual would have landed on this floor of the building. After a few seconds, I realized it would have landed somewhere in the vicinity of the showers.

  I eyed the doorway that led to them. The light in there flickered sporadically. Steeling my shoulders, I forced my feet to move and cautiously entered the open showers. Most of the faucets and showerheads had been torn from the wall, leaving behind gaping holes. More gunk dripped out, sliding down the wall.

  This...this was really gross.

  “The smell is definitely worse in here...oh, and there’s your reason.” Roth placed a hand on my back, and I turned toward what he was staring at.

  “Holy moly,” I said, eyes bugging.

  At the back of the shower stalls, a mess of...something hung from the ceiling by thick whitish-gray tendrils that reminded me of a spiderweb. Except it would have to be a spider on steroids to spin something that massive. From the strings was a wrecked cocoon, its white carcass split open down the middle. The pod was hollowed out, the color of faded newspaper with a dark, oily substance splattered throughout.

  It looked like something straight out of a science-fiction movie.

  Lifting my gaze, I realized the web would be approximately where the hole in the floor above was—where I’d been tied down and that drop of blood had hit the floor.

  “That’s what my blood is capable of?” I asked.

  “I’m guessing it is under certain circumstances.” Roth walked forward. “Pretty cool if you think about it.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “There is nothing cool about my blood creating a pod that looks like something straight out of Alien.”

  “Great movie, by the way. Not the sequels, though.” When I groaned, he sent me a wicked grin over his shoulder that, in spite of everything, made my tummy flop. “Obviously, this is where our whittle baby Lilin grew.”

  “From a pod?”

  He nodded. “No one knows a lot about the Lilin. How it matures, what it looks like or anything like that. But what else could this be?”

  “There has to be something out there that can tell us.” I didn’t walk closer because being in the room with this thing was bad enough. “What about the Seer?” I asked, thinking of the kid we’d met before who communed with Xbox and angels...or something.

  Roth chortled. “This time, I think it’ll take more than a Perdue chicken before he gives us that kind of information.”

  “Then what does he want?” Frustrated, I shifted my weight. “We don’t know anything. Again. And all this little field trip proves is that my blood had the ability to create a gross-ass pod.”

  He turned, head cocked to the side. “What it does prove is that the Lilin came from here—that the Lilin was here, shortie.”

  I raised my hands. “Didn’t we already know that?”

  There wasn’t a response as he turned back to the cocoon. “This has to be proof of the Lilin, because I don’t know—”

  “Who’s in here?” A voice boomed throughout the shower, whipping me around. “Who’s down here?”

  My eyes widened as I whirled back toward Roth, who shrugged. Real helpful there. Before I could even decide what to do, a shadow fell across the wide doorway and my breath caught as a man stepped into the room.

  He was middle-aged with coppery hair and a smattering of freckles. I didn’t recognize him, but the dark blue uniform and ring of keys around his belt gave him away. He was a janitor.

  As his gaze flicked behind me, I felt Roth move close. Without looking, I knew when he’d walked to my side it was with pure, predatory grace that would make any human or nonhuman wary.

  The janitor folded his arms across his chest.

  Roth dropped his arm over my shoulders and hauled me up against his side. I stiffened as he slid his hand up my back, balling his fist in my hair. “We were looking for a private place...you know, so we could be alone.” He dipped his head to mine, sending raven-colored locks across his forehead. “Then we saw all of this and kind of got distracted by the weirdness. Isn’t that right, baby?”

  My jaw ached from how hard I was squeezing it. What Roth was doing was totally unnecessary. I’d seen him get in people’s heads and send them scurrying in the other direction with a few well-placed words. Hadn’t he just done exactly that with Mrs. McDaniel? Touching me wasn’t needed.

  But since he’d started this game...

  I slipped my arm around his waist, digging my fingers into his side. When a low rumble of warning radiated from his chest, I smiled brightly. “Yes. So right, honey.”

  The janitor snorted. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Not exactly the response I expected. I started to pull away, but Roth’s hold tightened. As the janitor unfolded his arms, I finally saw a name stitched onto the front flap of a wide pocket. Gerald Young.

  “No need to make up stories.” Rolling up his sleeve, he revealed a tattoo in black ink—four loops joined by a small circle. It reminded me of a pinwheel, and something about it was vaguely familiar. When he looked back up at us, his eyes were the color of warm cherries. “It’s about time someone checked out the mess down here.”

  Roth sucked in a breath and muttered, “Witch.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Witch.

  I gaped at the janitor. If my ability hadn’t gone all wonky, I might’ve known that something was different about him because the auras of witches—real, honest-to-goodness witches—had to be different. Because a real witch was capable of some really rad things—spells, healing charms, creating fire from air and general badassery that made me envious of, well, all that badassery. But I’d never seen a witch before. The likelihood of seeing one in this day and age had to be equal to winning the mega-jackpot lottery or actually spotting the Loch Ness monster.

  “You’re really a witch?” I said, sounding kind of stupid. “I thought most of your kind had died off.” Like during
the Middle Ages...

  A wry smile formed on Gerald’s lips. “We’re still kicking.” Rolling down his sleeve, his gaze shifted to Roth. “But we’re careful.”

  “Understandable,” replied Roth. He finally removed his arm, and I put about a foot of space between us. “Wardens have never looked too kindly on witches, now have they?”

  I frowned, and it intensified when Gerald nodded and said, “No, sir.”

  “Why?” There wasn’t much known about witches. Or at least I hadn’t put the effort into discovering more about them.

  “Witches aren’t rocking all-human DNA.” Roth eyed Gerald with a measure of respect. “Although they don’t claim their other half, witches have demonic blood in them.”

  My head swung toward him sharply. “What?”

  Roth nodded. “Witches are the offspring of demons and humans, shortie. Not that they’re exceptionally proud of that little fact. Sometimes they’re first generation, and other times, they had a demon in the family somewhere way back. The blood might not be as strong, but it’s there. How else do you think they get such awesome magical abilities?”

  I blinked rapidly. “Did not know that.”

  “How about you?” Roth leaned forward. “Gerald? Are you first generation or was it a great-grandpappy dipping the quill where he wasn’t supposed to?”

  I thought it was strange that Roth didn’t automatically know what Gerald was with all his awesome demon greatness.

  Gerald must’ve read my mind, because his grin went up a notch. “Demons can’t sense us. We have charms preventing that, because we really aren’t on Team Demon. More like Team Mother Earth, but to answer your question, it was a grandmother—a Fiend. Had a child who was a witch. That witch was my mom.”

  Roth rocked back as he folded his arms across his chest. “Cool. Anyway. Back to the whatever this is.” He jerked his head toward the creepy cocoon. “I’m assuming you realize that ain’t normal?”

  He laughed drily. “Far from it. I’ve been keeping an eye on it since I found it—about two and a half, three weeks ago.” His gaze landed on me, and my shoulders slumped. “Not sure what it is. No one in my coven knows either, but that’s not all.”

  “It’s not?” murmured Roth. “Oh, goody.”

  “Nope.” He turned. “Follow me.”

  I glanced at Roth and he nodded. Deciding to see this through, I followed Gerald back into the main room. It was a little odd that Gerald knew what we were—what I was. It shouldn’t make me feel weird, but I’d always had the upper hand before when it came to sniffing out the not-so-normal.

  Gerald stepped around the slime coating a bench and stopped in front of a closed locker. “All this ectoplasm can’t be good, right? At first I thought it had to do with that thing in there, but I’m not so sure now.”

  Roth stepped forward, straining his neck. “Why not?”

  “Easier to just show you.” Stepping to the side, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a red hanky. Using it, he carefully and very slowly opened the door.

  “Hell,” muttered Roth.

  Being incredibly short, I couldn’t see around either of them. Sighing, I moved to Roth’s other side and immediately wished I hadn’t.

  Crammed into the locker was a thing—a creature I’d never seen before. Its body was the color of spoiled milk—off white and sort of lumpy looking. No visible hair or definition on its slender and tall frame. Looked to be about six feet tall and no wider than two feet. Arms were folded across its chest and its head was bowed down. No facial features at all. We’d found the source of the slime. The gunky white liquid dripped from barely formed feet.

  My stomach turned. “What in the Hell is that?”

  “Good question.” Gerald closed the door quietly. “It’s not the only one. Almost every locker down here has one in it.”

  “Oh...” My eyes widened. “And you didn’t think about saying something?”

  “To who?” Gerald turned to us, eyes sharp. “The Wardens would likely kill us on the spot for the blood we carry and demons would likely kill us for sport. And I have no idea what these things are. Neither does anyone in our coven. We’re not about indiscriminately killing things.”

  “Tree huggers,” muttered Roth, which earned him a hard glare. “What’s in that locker isn’t Santa Claus or the damn Easter Bunny.”

  A shiver danced down my spine. I had a really bad feeling about this.

  “And maybe if you knew what that cocoon was, then you’d understand that this—” Roth continued, waving his hand at the lockers “—isn’t something you want infesting a school full of humans.”

  Gerald’s shoulders stiffened.

  “That cocoon is from a Lilin being birthed.”

  When those words left his mouth, the blood drained from Gerald’s face and he looked faint. “The Lilin?”

  “You know of the Lilin?” I asked, jumping on that. “Any specifics?”

  He nodded eagerly. “Some of the covens, the more extreme ones—not ours, but others—believed that Lilith got the crappy end of the deal. That she is the mother of us all.”

  I arched a brow at that.

  “We don’t worship Lilith—not us, but...” He glanced back through the doorway leading to the shower stalls. “A Lilin here?”

  “We believe so. For obvious reasons, we’d like to find it.” Roth’s eyes narrowed. “But what, Gerald? You were going to say something else.”

  He swallowed, suddenly nervous. “There is a coven near Bethesda that worships Lilith. If anyone knows of a Lilin...”

  “Or if a Lilin has sought refuge...” My heart jumped with excitement. “It’d go to them, because maybe they’d sympathize with it.”

  Gerald started to sweat. “But you don’t understand. They aren’t like me or like my coven.”

  I glanced at Roth and he smiled, flashing a row of white teeth. “In other words, they’re the wicked witches of the west.”

  “Yes, and I know what you’re thinking—about going to them. I wouldn’t advise it. They’d welcome him.” He nodded at Roth. “But you? You’re part Warden. I can tell. They’d skin you alive.”

  I started to tell him that I was also Lilith’s daughter, so they should totally love and hug me, but Roth shot me a look of warning. “How would we find this coven?”

  He inhaled deeply. “They have a club near the Row Cinema. You’ll know which one by the symbol.” Gerald pointed at the mark his sleeve now concealed. “Who you need to speak to—their crone—will be there during the next full moon. And don’t even think about bringing a Warden in with you guys. She’ll be bad enough.”

  Roth’s lips curled up in a delicious smirk as he turned golden, dancing eyes on me. “That’s perfect.”

  Grrreat.

  “But back to those things in the lockers?” All serious-faced again, Roth pinned Gerald with a hard look. “They’re Nightcrawlers in metamorphosis, and I hate to think how many of them might be ripe.”

  My stomach dropped as horror punched straight through my stomach. Nightcrawlers, like Hellions and Rack demons, were demonic creatures that were created in Hell and forbidden to be topside. Besides the obvious fact they didn’t look human by a long shot, they were extraordinarily dangerous. Like Hellions, they were strong and ferocious, but even worse was the venom they carried in their saliva, which could paralyze their victims.

  So that the Nightcrawler could feed on them while alive. That’s what they did down below, torturing their prey for an eternity in Hell.

  And they weren’t biters like Poser demons were. They had this impressive projectile-spitting thing going on, like those creepy little dinosaurs in the Jurassic Park movies. If their saliva got on your skin, stuff went downhill fast.

  Gerald glanced over his shoulder. “I didn’t know. None of us knew what these things were.”

  “Obviously,” Roth muttered. “We need to seal this area off and—”

  A loud crash startled us. Spinning around, my breath caught as I sought out th
e source of the noise. The sound had echoed, making it difficult to determine where it was coming from.

  “Could anyone else be down here?” I asked, already fearing the answer.

  “No.” Gerald wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “No one comes down here. I only did by accident when I discovered this.”

  Roth frowned at the sound of metal creaking, a tick-tacking of old hinges. A shudder worked its way through me. There was a beat of silence, and then the sound of heavy, even footfalls.