by Jen Colly
Listening for the movement she’d heard a moment ago, Bette remained alert, but through the intensity, an unexpected scent disrupted her focus. It smelled like… She brought the comforter to her nose and breathed deep. Rollin. The blanket, the shirt she was wearing…it all smelled like Rollin.
She was in his home, and he was on the couch, in a position to protect her should the need arise. She had no reason to fear an intruder, not when he was near. A soft snore from the other room, a deep and rumbling sound she must have heard. He only slept.
She was safe. A sob escaped her, the relief hitting her in an overwhelming rush. Bette dropped the blanket and clapped her hands over her mouth as she tried to hold in the sound. She’d already disrupted his life completely, lied to him, taken over his home, and displaced him to the cramped space of the couch. Twice. She didn’t want to wake him.
Suddenly his large frame filled the doorway. Slow and sleepily, he rubbed his chest and asked, “You okay?”
“The blankets—” She cut off her own words to prevent any more tears, but the abrupt halt left her a quivering, gasping mess of a woman.
Rollin rushed to her side, his hands steadying her shoulders. “Hey, what happened? What’s wrong with the blankets?”
She reached out, both hands tentatively touching his chest, but when the heat of his body seeped through to her fingers, she curled her fingers into his shirt, holding tight. In a rush, before she lost the ability, she said, “They smell like you.”
“Okay,” he drew out the word, his confusion clear.
“I knew I was here. Safe.” Her voice broke on the last word, but that was fine. There was nothing more to say. She’d woken to that familiar fear, and the only thing that had made it go away was Rollin. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on his shoulder, wanting more of his comfort, but this would be enough.
Rollin pulled away and stood without warning. He’d said nothing, and Bette tried to tell herself the distance didn’t hurt, but it did. Alone in the dark, she nodded, forcing herself to acknowledge he had every right to avoid an emotionally unstable woman he barely knew.
Suddenly his arms were beneath her, and he lifted her long enough to place her on the other side of the bed. The mattress dipped in the same spot she’d been a moment ago as he climbed in next to her, and bless him, he put himself between her and the door.
Rollin shook out the comforter and pulled it over her, covering her up to her chin. Still, he said nothing, so she lay still and silent, but Rollin was restless. He tossed around for what seemed like ages, adjusting his pillow or trying to find a comfortable position while giving her plenty of space, but when he rolled over onto his back, Bette couldn’t restrain the need for simple contact.
She reached out and found his hand in the dark, and she’d thought holding it would be enough, but it wasn’t. Inching closer, she wrapped her arm around his, pressing her forehead against his arm. Touching him, being surrounded by his scent, might just keep her sane, at least for today.
Her mind bent reality, tricked her into thinking she was back home and in danger. If this kept happening, she’d lose before she had a chance to truly fight. With precious little time until the sun rose again, she would need to work fast to nurture the spark of desire she’d built with him, but not when she was in this condition. This was weak, unattractive, and a far cry from who she once was.
His hand settled over her shoulder, and his deep voice filled the room, strong and sure. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”
After several long moments his breathing evened, and as the tension eased from her muscles, Bette realized the pull of the sun had lessened. That incessant drive to walk into the sun hadn’t vanished once in his presence, which meant he couldn’t be her fated mate, but perhaps the sun only called because of how deep her fears ran. If Bette felt no fear when she was with him, then she may not need to go as far as conceiving. Perhaps the only thing she truly lacked and desperately needed to live, was security. She might need Rollin more than she could have ever imagined.
Chapter 13
Balinese
Dulcina Casteel brushed her fingers over the cool stone exterior wall of the chateau above Balinese, well out of sight from the Guardians watching the gate. She never thought she’d come back. Chasing her end goal often brought her places or circumstances, and this time was not different.
In Paris, she’d heard whispers of Jericho coming straight from the mouths of demons, and while she’d hoped they would lead her to the fabled city, they’d led her home. Bits and pieces of what she’d overheard had been correct. Vidor, the vampire who had somehow co-ruled alongside the demon king, had a child. This child had become the Lady of Balinese. Armed with this small truth, a single demon had convinced several others that as Vidor had promised them Jericho and had yet to deliver, his child must have the location.
Doubtful. If Cat had known the location, she would have hunted down the demon nest years ago. Still, Dulcina had watched this demon carefully, gleaning information. Though before the night had ended, the demon had fed from a human, leaving it to die. The demon had killed, perhaps not on purpose, but in the end it didn’t matter. The demon was a liability, a connection to a vast underground world of both demon and vampire, a world humans could never comprehend, and therefore could never discover. Now the demon was marked for death.
As a Stalker, it was her right and duty to take the demon’s life, but she’d waited, hoping it would lead her to answers. The second the sun blinked out of the sky, the demon slipped from its daylight shelter and hurried north. She’d thought for a moment she’d gotten lucky, that perhaps the creature would bring her to Jericho, but it eventually veered west. The demon had come straight to Balinese.
Dulcina dropped her hand from the outer wall of the chateau. Inside the city, below her feet, a demon ran free when it should be dead. She’d let her personal objective get in the way of her duty, and now demons were once again after her family. And again, Dulcina was caught smack in the middle.
Embracing her Spirit, Dulcina fell through the soil, and into the city. Stalker law gave her full jurisdiction to kill the demon, no matter where it ventured. Even within vampire cities. Most would back out, leaving a kill within a city to the Stalker Lord’s assassin, but Dulcina wasn’t the kind to shy away from confrontation, or death.
Several levels down, she paused. As a child, she’d explored nearly every corridor in the city, and she knew where to hide and how to get out, all from the map she’d made in her head. She was her own navigational system. Dulcina didn’t just know where each corridor would take her, she’d memorized where her Spirit could take her, whether it be up one level or down six. Soren had taught her the trick, trained her to always be prepared, to observe and plan even when no need was in sight. His training had served her well above, when she’d had to map an entirely different kind of city.
Dulcina had picked up a few Stalker tricks as well. Keeping her body generously fed with blood made everything easier. She moved faster. Healed quicker. Even taking Spirit had become more reliable, though she rarely used the tactic. She preferred to face an enemy head on. Still, honing the ability was not something to neglect.
Traveling the main corridors of the third floor in Spirit, Dulcina was mindful to avoid any passing pedestrians. The cool air of Spirit tended to spark panic when it made contact.
The demon wouldn’t have come this deep into the city, but a thorough sweep might give her the chance to catch the demon in motion, to see in which direction it had come from. Yes, Balinese was massive, but unless the demon remained hidden in Spirit, she could easily find it. Dulcina had memorized the demon’s face. The ugly, dark-haired bastard with a crooked nose might well be able to hide the color of its eyes, as many of them could, but he couldn’t change his face.
A pass through the third-level main corridor revealed nothing. No abnormal activity or conversations suggesti
ng she might have been too late. Finding the right spot, she floated up and into the first level and into the dining hall. The nobility would be gathered at this time, taking advantage of the feast to socialize. Even at breakfast.
Her family would be here, but she felt no need to visit. There was no longing for open arms and a warm greeting, at least, not on her end. She was here to do a job, nothing more. Dulcina loved her family, but she wasn’t what they needed right now. They’d come so far, had a good number of peaceful years, and Dulcina would only be a reminder that demons still existed beyond their walls. As long as she could snag this demon before it was seen, they could go on with their lives, trusting in their barriers and Guardians.
She shifted through the wall, instantly greeted with the familiar sight of the dining hall. Nobility chattered away after the meal, and several members of her family were seated at the head table. Navarre and Cat were side by side. Maeryn and Oriana joined them. Dulcina remained in Spirit. The demon might recognize her from above. Not that any had crossed her and lived, but demons tended to watch from the shadows, same as she, and she wouldn’t risk tipping it off.
Dulcina skirted the edge of the room, far away from guests, keeping a sharp eye out. The only one acting suspicious tonight was Maeryn, but then Dulcina was familiar with the fidgety trait Maeryn had adopted when Jovan was nowhere to be found. He must have either not shown up, or left without saying goodbye. These little things always worried Maeryn.
Standing and excusing herself, Maeryn left the table, walked by Dulcina’s invisible Spirit on her way out of the dining hall. Normally, she wouldn’t give this a second thought, but as there was a demon in the city. Dulcina had to weigh the odds.
Her family would be safe enough here in the dining hall. Not necessarily because a Guardian had been posted at the door, but because the wide array of pointy objects on the table before Cat.
Maeryn’s abrupt departure wouldn’t be an issue under any other circumstances, but only Dulcina was aware of the demon inside these walls. As she followed after Maeryn, Dulcina purposefully skimmed a little too close to Dario where he stood guard at the door. His spine straightened, the only hint that he’d felt the change in temperature.
She knew Dario well enough to trust his Guardian instincts, and before she’d even left the room, he’d proved her right. Dario pulled out his radio and called for backup.
She’d assumed Maeryn would head home, but she’d gone the opposite direction, toward the aristocratic homes. Dulcina stayed back a fair distance when Maeryn knocked on a door. The Ashford home. The door swung inward and Gian popped his head out.
“Is Jovan with you?” Maeryn asked.
“Haven’t seen him,” Gian said, but kicked his door open farther. “Come on in and I’ll give him a call.”
“No, don’t bother,” Maeryn said, and even the sigh she released sounded disappointed as she turned away.
“Hey, we’re still on for Friday, right?” Gian called after her. “I mean, I know there’s zero chance we’ll let you pick the movie after that last disaster, but will you come anyway?”
Maeryn turned back and smiled. “I wouldn’t dare miss it.”
“Good. I’ll be nice. I promise.”
“You always promise.”
“And for some crazy reason, you always believe me,” Gian said. “One day you’ll learn.”
Maeryn laughed as she shook her head. With a small wave, she walked away, but again, she did not head home. Taking the stairwell at the end of the corridor, she went down to the next level. Looking for Jovan? Dulcina could think of no other reason for her to come down here, and Maeryn simply didn’t take risks unless Jovan was somehow involved.
Dulcina knew right where that demon was headed, needed to get back up to the dining hall and stop it before it decided to strike, but she felt it necessary to make sure Maeryn reached…wherever she was going.
Not many people moved about the corridors near mealtime, but there were a few roaming around, heading home after joining friends. Introverted as she was, Maeryn looked, Maeryn looked up at each person she passed. Maeryn preferred to keep her eyes downcast, avoiding contact and interaction. Cat and Soren had worked hard to train her to remain aware of her surroundings.
Up ahead, the same demon she’d followed from Paris, complete with that familiar lope, approached Maeryn, his crooked nose undeniable confirmation. Dulcina had her demon. It walked confidently as it kept to the left, giving Maeryn plenty of room. As the demon passed, Maeryn glanced up, just as she’d been taught.
Dulcina prepared to shift directions, to follow the demon, but its eyes flickered red. Nothing blatant or aggressive, but what seemed like a lack of control.
Maeryn saw it too. A frightened squeak escaped her as she raced for the nearest emergency button twenty feet ahead.
“Damn it,” the demon ground out the words and gave chase, pulling a knife. Maeryn was no match for the demon’s long, powerful legs, and it was on her heels in no time.
Maeryn had barely made it to the button when the demon took a swipe at her. Maeryn dodged his reach and dropped to the floor, the blade glancing off the stones over her head. If the demon hadn’t been marked for death before, this would have clenched the sentence.
The demon stood over Maeryn, the metal blade glinting from the overhead light, and it said to her, “No one can know I’m here.”
Dulcina positioned herself behind the demon. God, she loved being tall. Swift and sure, Dulcina fell from Spirit and twisted her fingers in the demon’s hair, holding it tight from the left as she jammed her Bowie knife cleanly through the side of its neck.
So close now, she whispered into its ear, “I know.”
The demon gaped, its jaw bobbing as it tried to speak. No sound came, and as its body went limp, it slipped off her blade and crumbled onto the ground. It wasn’t dead, but its body was useless, the spinal cord severed.
Maeryn flinched at the clatter of the demon’s knife skittering across the floor, the discarded weapon enough of a strange occurrence to coax her into looking up.
“Dulcina?” Maeryn asked, her voice thin, shaking. Then a second later Maeryn leaped to her feet and squeezed Dulcina tight. “You’re really here?”
“I’m here, kid,” she said, stretching her arm out to push the button behind Maeryn.
Dulcina couldn’t kill the demon now, not with Maeryn as witness. Maeryn was a strange one. Terrified of demons, wanting them dead, but not wanting them hurt. She couldn’t stand to see any creature in pain. Maeryn would need a different kind of closure only the law could bring, and for her, Dulcina would relinquish the kill.
Chapter 14
Balinese
Rollin sat at his kitchen bar, his hands curled around an empty mug as he stared into the open doorway of his bedroom. There was nothing to see, except the opposite wall and the foot of the bed. The sun had set over five hours ago, and Bette had yet to wake, but he’d been up and on edge for hours.
Soren had called. Dulcina was back, at least for now, and she’d tracked a demon here all the way from Paris. That demon had somehow gained entry to the city and had almost harmed Maeryn. No one had been hurt and the demon was set for execution. The situation was handled. His concern now settled on Bette.
Just because a demon hadn’t been found in the forest after Bette’s mad dash to Balinese, didn’t mean she hadn’t been spooked by something, or hadn’t encountered a demon in the past. Rollin knew better than anyone how the mind refused to let go of certain traumas.
If her reaction to the benign sound of pipes heating the floor had anything at all to do with a genuine fear of demons, then Bette would be a complete mess if she found out one had been within these walls. Whatever Bette’s fears, they were real to her, and Rollin had no intention of amplifying them with news of a demon.
Not that she’d been awake to avoid telling. The execution would be ov
er in an hour, and soon the whole thing would blow over. Demons weren’t exactly a rarity anymore. A corner of his lips pulled deeper into a frown. The call from Soren hadn’t woken her, or Rollin’s voice projecting one side of a rather panicked conversation. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it if she’d only just fed, but she should have recovered by now.
Even an hour ago, when he’d given up on keeping quiet and rummaged through the cupboards, she hadn’t stirred. The smell of tea brewing didn’t wake her either. Bette slept like the dead, as if sleep and maybe safety had been luxuries she’d never had.
The doorknob to his home rattled as someone tried twisting it open. An angry growl carried through from the other side of his door, and a moment later, Jovan appeared inside his home, face red and fists clenched.
“Where’s Maeryn?” Jovan demanded, ignoring Rollin as his keen eyes searched the room.
Oh, no. This was not happening. Neither Jovan’s anger, or the topic of demons was welcome inside his home. Rollin barreled through his living room, charging straight for his intruding brother. Taking a firm hold of Jovan’s shoulders, he steered him around and shoved him out the door and into the corridor. With his door now shut, Rollin felt marginally more prepared to have this conversation.
“Maeryn is fine. She’s resting,” Rollin said. The words had barely left his mouth before Jovan tried to march past him to get back inside. “Not here.”
“Then where? She’s not with Navarre and Cat.”
“Cat was…being Cat, and you know how that can be too much for Maeryn. She went to Soren and Faith’s.”
Jovan’s jaw locked tight, and through teeth clamped tight, he demanded the answer to a single question, “Did the demon touch her?”
“No,” Rollin said firmly. “I would have told you. Eventually.”
Jovan’s accusing glare landed heavily on him and he stepped right up to Rollin, until they stood toe to toe. “The execution is in an hour. Why wait, brother?”
