Eventually Zeke shrugged. “I got nothing. Not if we’re going in after hours.”
Piotr nodded and leaned forward. “We could mock up credentials from Armitage for one of you, and I’m getting the tour because I’m thinking of investing in the shelters.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you never tour these kinds of things yourself.” Seth chuckled. “You’d send Andi.”
Piotr shrugged. “True. Any better ideas?”
Micah sighed. “I’ll handle entry. You two find out what’s in the missing space.”
Neither Zeke nor Piotr seemed entirely happy about that, but they went along with Micah’s ruling.
“Then we have a plan?” Gabriel looked around at them. Damien nodded once, giving his approval for what they’d come up with as the others did the same around him. “Good. I’ll remain here and prepare for any injured or deceased brothers and sisters.”
Ugh. Damien didn’t want to find anyone dead, but the possibility was high. “Then I think we should—”
The sound of a gunshot had him on his feet. The last person in the house who’d had a gun had been Sam. He raced toward the sound, praying he’d find the woman he was coming to love alive and well or there would be hell to pay.
“The basement? Why would Sam be in…?” Seth’s horrified voice trailed off as they all remembered what, or who, was still down there.
They’d left the fucking boogeyman down there and hadn’t warned either the children or Sam not to go down there, damn it. Damien stopped at the top of the steps when he saw Don Pablo there, Nate’s tiny T-shirt bound around his neck. The Chihuahua barked at him and trotted down the stairs, obviously expecting Damien to follow him.
Follow him he did. Damien rushed through the door and pounded down the stairs, ready to tear through the Shem and leave him in tiny, bloody pieces if he’d hurt Sam.
What he saw nearly brought him to his knees.
Rafe was down, out cold in front of the children, who also appeared unconscious. Precious held back the shackled Shem, barking and growling whenever it tried to get close.
Sam stood off to the side, her gun pointed at the Shem, her legs braced apart and her aim steady despite the paleness of her face. “No,” she said, probably in reply to something the Shem had demanded.
“You think you can take me, little human?” He smiled, and Damien almost lost it. The Shem was thin, starving, and ready to take them all on if it meant he could feed. They should have killed him before now rather than leaving him for Gabriel to continue questioning, but hindsight was twenty-twenty. “You’re lunch to me, nothing more.”
Fuck. That.
Damien shot the thing in the arm, smiling in satisfaction as it screeched. Its skin bubbled and popped in reaction to the holy water, but that wasn’t the only horrible thing that happened.
The Shem began to speak, using words no mere mortal could withstand. The Shem was using the infernal tongue, and unless Damien stopped him, Sam would be dead.
Chapter 21
Sam rushed from the dining room, her face on fire. What the hell was wrong with her? If Beth found out she’d practically curtseyed in front of her boss, Sam would never hear the end of it. God, her dorkiness was off the charts.
She headed for the kitchen and a nice, tall glass of ice water. Maybe that would cool her down, or at least give her a few minutes for her hands to stop shaking. She hated being around too many people. While she was beginning to get to know Damien’s friends she still wasn’t entirely comfortable around them. She’d much rather be in a small room surrounded by computer screens, playing video games or hacking something that would give the NSA and Damien an aneurysm.
Hoping Abby and Beth were busy in the backyard, Sam made her drink and took a long swallow. She was about to take another sip when a strange noise caught her attention.
Sam tilted her head, unsure of where the sound was coming from. Was it from the dining room, where the men were? Were Abby and Beth about to come through the back door?
When the sound didn’t repeat, Sam shrugged and took another drink. It must have been the men in the other room.
But then the sound repeated, and this time it was slightly louder. Sam took a step toward where it had been coming from. The basement? Was that it?
The Shem was down there, wasn’t he? Or had Gabriel killed him already? Sam wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Hell, someone could be trying to break into the mansion from the basement, someone after her. She reached behind her, where she’d tucked her gun when she’d come inside. Thank goodness she hadn’t left it with Beth and Abby, because she was almost certain she was going to need it now. She pulled it out, set the glass of water on the countertop, and moved toward the…
Oh, shit.
The open basement door. She was positive it had been closed when she came in to talk to Damien and the others, but now it was standing wide open, and sounds were coming from downstairs. Bad sounds, whimpering and full of pain. Human sounds. Biting her lip, Sam whistled for her dogs.
Precious was barking and growling downstairs, and she didn’t sound happy. Sam couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Precious growling like that. In fact, she was pretty sure Precious had never made those sounds.
Within seconds, Donny came bounding up, tugged urgently on her pants leg, and then headed back down the stairs.
Sam followed, swallowing her fear the entire way. Donny had the one thing that ensured Sam would follow him down without a sound. Around Donny’s neck was Nate’s T-shirt, tripping him the entire way.
“Nate?” Sam called softly for the young boy as she got to the bottom of the stairs.
There was no reply, but Donny trotted farther into the dimness, yapping when she didn’t immediately follow.
Where the hell was Rafe? Wasn’t he supposed to be watching the children? Had he fallen asleep, succumbing to his injuries? Was he down here as well, unconscious—or worse, dead?
Sam whistled again, and Donny came trotting back. “Go, Donny. Fetch Damien.”
Donny tilted his little head, his ears wobbling.
Sam knelt in front of Don Pablo. “Go. Fetch Damien.”
Donny scrambled for the stairs, his nails scratching the wood as he made his way up.
Sam took a deep breath and began walking forward, her gun down and to the side, her finger away from the trigger but close enough that she could slide it forward and around. The last thing she wanted to do was accidentally shoot one of the children or Rafe.
Precious growled, the sound low and threatening.
Okay. Sam took another deep breath, the fear beginning to swamp her. Precious had something scary with her, and it sounded like she was protecting someone. The kids, more than likely. That meant Sam was going to be the only one standing between whatever it was and the children, unless Rafe was in there as well. And if Precious saw the need to protect the children with Rafe in there, then Rafe was in no position to help them.
Shit. This was bad, so, so bad, and she was an idiot for doing it, but…the kids. She couldn’t leave the kids or Rafe. Donny needed to hurry and get Damien, or she was up shit creek without a paddle. Damien would take one look at that T-shirt and come running to the rescue. If she could keep the kids safe until the cavalry arrived…
Argh. Until she went in, she’d have no idea what she was facing. Better to move forward, no matter how frightened she was, than to stand there helpless and possibly lose the children to a fate worse than death.
The first step was the hardest. Forcing her body to move forward when everything in her screamed to go back was physically painful. She fought against every survival instinct she had just to put one foot in front of the other. She was trembling so hard that if her finger had been on the trigger she might have accidentally shot herself in the foot. Her vision was black at the corners, her breaths fast and loud. She held her gun at the ready, her eyes adjusting to the barely there light as she followed the sounds of Precious’s barks and growls.
“Stupid animal,” a voice hissed.
“Not so stupid.” Sam raised the gun. “Get away from the kids.”
The figure turned, revealing what looked like a nightmare. Its lips were blackened, its skin pale yet blotchy at the same time, with a fine green sheen. Fangs protruded past its lower lip, and the shadow of wings seemed to reach for her like the talons of some massive, evil bird of prey. Only the shackles on its hands and feet kept it from coming for her, but the blackened talons he sported instead of fingernails told her she’d be shredded if she came within swinging distance.
Sam fired a warning shot at one of those shadow wings, surprised when the creature only laughed. So much for winging it. She pointed the gun at him once more. “Get away from the children, asshole.”
He hissed at her. “Let me go, and I might let you live, little human.”
She braced the gun against her palm, well aware she was dead if she gave him what he wanted. If she was forced, she’d take the shot and blow his head off. She’d never killed anyone, but to save two innocent babies?
Fuck yes, she’d shoot him. Letting him go wasn’t an option. At least if Precious was protecting them, the kids and Rafe were still alive. Probably. Hopefully. Damn it. She braced herself and replied, “No.”
Pure rage flowed over his features. “You think you can take me, little human?” He smiled, and it was as if a thousand ants began crawling over her skin. “You’re lunch to me, nothing more.”
Another shot rang out, only this time it wasn’t Sam who pulled the trigger. The Shem screamed in pain, clutching his arm and screeching in a language that ripped through her and sent her to her knees. Those thousand ants became a million, trillion ants, each burrowing their way beneath her skin and into her brain. They ate at her eyes, her fingers, her lungs, everything burning away under the acid of words that should never be spoken in the mortal world. She was dying under the onslaught, unable to breathe, to move, to feel anything beyond the agony of being shredded from the inside out. A million voices sang a hymn of horror, and her soul understood that it was the only sound she would hear for the rest of eternity.
Fire. The words were fire, burning her away, leaving nothing behind but ash and smoke. Ice froze the smoke, the ice cracking under a hammer beat of pain, swirling away into the darkness and leaving…nothing.
As abruptly as it began, it stopped, and the absence of pain was almost as bad as the pain itself. There was a throbbing ache inside her, slowly diminishing until nothing was left but blessed darkness and silence. She didn’t care if she was dead or alive, so long as the pain did not return. She had no lungs to inflate, no heart to beat. She had no eyes to open. Hands and feet were foreign concepts, as far away as another galaxy. She’d been consumed by the evil that had surrounded her, and nothing could bring her back.
She was nothing, and for an infinite second she was grateful for that.
Or so she’d thought, until a golden light surrounded her, soothing away the emptiness, filling her with sensations. Soft words brought feeling, sensation back, pins and needles making her scream—
And she had a voice again, one that hurt her yet couldn’t be silenced.
The golden light filled her, taking the ash and smoke and ice and fire, surrounding it and bringing it together until she had arms to defend herself with, had eyes and ears to remind herself that she was real. The voice repelled the ants that ate her skin and her brain until she could think, her thoughts bleeding and limping but there.
She wasn’t whole, not by a long shot, but she existed. That was something—she’d never thought she’d be again.
She opened her eyes to find Damien crouched over her, speaking to her in a language that should have deafened her, but he controlled the words, kept them from doing her further harm. Instead, his voice rocked her gently, giving her back the life she’d thought had been consumed. She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he continued to croon in her ear, soft, golden words that did more than heal the body, that were a balm to the soul.
Damien took a shuddering breath. His entire body shook as he pulled her closer, maneuvering her until she was on his lap. She buried her face against his neck, desperate to feel him skin to skin, to know that she was alive and whole once more.
“What the fuck happened?” A new voice, grating across her skin, making her shiver against Damien. Zeke stepped over to them, sinking down in front of Damien and stroking his hand across her hair.
Razor blades scraped along her scalp, digging through blood and bone. Sam cried out, unable to keep herself from shying away from the pain of Zeke’s touch.
“The Shem spoke in his own language,” Damien whispered. Even his voice pained her, made her flinch. “Shh.” Damien rocked her softly. “We need Gabriel.”
“I’m here.” The leader of the Nephilim took Zeke’s place. His hand, his voice…neither hurt her. She turned to Gabriel and stared into his strange violet eyes. “You’ve been damaged by the Shem’s words, Samantha. Damien has begun the healing process, but things others think nothing of will pain you for a day or two. Stay close to Damien, keep him in your heart, and listen to his words. They will heal you far more than anything I could do will.”
Sam forced words past the lump in her throat. “The Shem?” The words scratched her throat, making her wince in pain.
“Dead.” The harsh tone of Damien’s voice made her want to cry. “His words can never harm you again, I swear it.”
“Damien.” She looked up at him, into those precious blue eyes of his, and cried. “I hurt.”
His arms tightened around her, but she ignored the pain. Gabriel said she’d get better, and she believed him. “You were so brave, Sam. I can’t believe you tried to save Rafe and the kids by yourself.”
“I sent Donny to get you.”
At the sound of his name, the little Chihuahua nuzzled his way onto Sam’s lap. The dog then began licking her chin, making her laugh. The small pain of his touch was worth the love the dog was showing her.
Perhaps that was the difference. The touch of love was softer, less like scraping across exposed nerves. It was still painful, still made her want to shy away, but there was a sense of healing in Donny’s innocent show of love.
“He led us down, showed us where to go.” Damien petted Donny. “He’s a good dog.”
Donny huffed, licking Damien’s hand before he hopped off Sam’s lap.
“Precious was trying to keep the Shem at bay so he wouldn’t hurt them anymore.” Sam glanced over at her pit bull, smiling when she saw Zeke praising the dog. Precious was on her back, enjoying the belly rub Zeke was giving her.
The other Nephilim were tending to Rafe and the children. Gabriel seemed especially worried over Rafe, who looked worse now that the Shem darkness was gone. He must have gone a round or two with the Shem before being knocked out.
“Where’s…it?” Never again would she call it a him. That particular Shem would probably haunt her for years, unless Damien’s golden words could heal even that terror.
Damien didn’t reply, but the expression in his eyes was both terrible and fierce. “He dissolved. We just have to mop him up and he’ll never haunt you again.” He glanced at the others with a scowl. “I’m taking Sam upstairs.” Damien stood, cradling Sam in his arms. “Call me if you need me.”
Gabriel nodded, dismissing them. Damien carried Sam to the stairs, not even straining with her weight.
“I can walk.” Or at least she hoped. If Damien set her down and her legs went out from under her she’d be totally embarrassed.
“Not right now, Sam.” Damien climbed the stairs, the tension in his voice making her shiver with pain. His displeasure burned along her skin, a live wire of tingling nerves. It rivaled the worst time she’d banged her funny bone. The
door was still open, so he strode right into the kitchen without missing a beat. “That Shem could have killed you.”
She shuddered at the thought of what the Shem had wanted from her. She’d seen the hunger and hatred in its gaze. “I couldn’t leave Rafe and the kids. He would have killed them if I hadn’t gotten there. Precious, too.” Her own voice was gravel and dust pouring down her throat.
Damien growled. Behind him, Precious answered him with a bark that made Sam nearly jump out of her skin. “I know why you did it, and that you sent Donny to fetch me, but Sam?”
“Yeah?” She didn’t want Damien angry at her, but it looked like she wasn’t going to get her wish.
“Next time you come and get me yourself.”
“It would kill you to lose one of your brothers. I couldn’t let that happen.” She’d seen how happy Damien was when Rafe came home.
Damien stopped walking and stared down at her. “You think I need Rafe more than I need you?”
Sam shrugged. Ow. “I don’t know. What do you want me to say?”
Damien shook his head. “You have no idea what you mean to me, but you will.” He began walking again, heading up the stairs toward the bedrooms. “You will.”
Chapter 22
He lay her on the bed, still horrified at what he’d found in the basement. He was even more determined Sam would never face off with a Shem again.
Goddamn it, why had she gone down there? He’d been mere steps away, with his brothers! “Stupid,” he muttered, pulling her shoes off and dropping them on the floor.
“Ow.” Sam rolled onto her side, curling around her stomach. Her expression tore at him, making him wish there was some way he could bring that fucking Shem back to life just so he could kill him all over again. Fuck Armitage and the information they might have been able to get out of him.
He took a deep breath when she whimpered in pain. He had to get his anger under control. Anger would only cause her more pain. He had to let it go, let her actions flow away, or he’d do more damage to her. Only positive emotions could help her now, and it was the most positive emotion of all. He could shower her with that, let her feel how close he was to loving her. She was everything he’d expected and more, brave yet shy, sweet and determined, strong yet vulnerable. She wasn’t perfect, but her imperfections only made her the woman he’d begun to care for more than any other woman except his mother.
Speak Thy Name (The Nephilim Book 3) Page 19
