The Seer: Chronicles of the Fallen, Book 2

by Brenda Huber

  Damn. Hurts. So bad.

  He’d forgotten about the burns. He should have waited long enough for his demonic anatomy to absorb the burns before he’d changed back. Too late now.

  His skull was being cleaved in two. Excruciating, nearly bringing him to his knees.

  But they had no time to waste.

  “Have to…go,” he rasped. He shifted her to the side and tucked her beneath his arm like a crutch. “Have to…leave…before assassin…returns…with backup. Ward stones…compromised…”

  “We have to go back,” she insisted.

  “What?” He couldn’t have heard her right. He must be in worse shape than he realized.

  “We have to go back to my house. I need to get my suitcase. We have to go quickly, Niklas. Before the fire—”

  “Gone…it’s al…ready…gone…” He gasped, pressing the heel of his hand hard against his temple.

  “No, we can still—”

  “It’s gone!” he bellowed, and then winced. Groaning. Oh, God. It had never hurt this bad before. “By now…the fire has probably…consumed the…whole house.”

  “Are you sure?” Her lower lip trembled. Tears filled her eyes. When he nodded, she lowered her head. She looked so defeated, he nearly promised the impossible.

  No, her safety came first.

  “I’m sorry, Carly.” A fresh wave of pain slashed through his head, just behind his eyes.

  She readjusted her hold on his waist and drew a deep breath. Resignation, resolve glinted in her expression. Even suffering from as much pain as he was, he couldn’t help but admire her resilience. She’d just lost everything. Her home, her safety, her freedom. But she hadn’t lost her spirit, her determination. God love her. If he wasn’t in such rough shape—and he wasn’t worried about uninvited guests shimmering in at any moment—he’d have kissed her then and there.

  “Where will we go now?”

  “The trunk…can’t leave…it behind.” Damn it, just talking was draining him of precious strength. The thought of what was to come nearly put him on the floor. “Please…pull it…to me.”

  He braced his weight on the back of the chair and released Carly so she could do as he asked. Unable to help, he watched as she struggled to pull the trunk from under the bed and then drag it across the floor to his side. After tipping it on end, she shuffled it closer so the handle was within easy reach for him.

  “Come here.” He motioned her back beneath his arm.

  “Isn’t there another way?”

  “Not right now,” he replied, conscious of the time they’d wasted lingering there talking. “Close your eyes. Remember, keep breathing…unless I tell you…not to.”

  “What?” Alarmed, she peered up at him. He offered her a pained grin, dropped an impulsive kiss on her lips, and then shimmered them to an alley behind a row of businesses.

  “Oh God, I’m gonna be sick,” she gasped.

  “Told you…to close…your eyes.” Every word ripped fresh pain through his skull. Wouldn’t give in to it. Couldn’t.

  “You didn’t give me time,” she snapped.

  “You know…I think I…like…this spunky…side…of you.”

  “You keep flashing—”

  “Shimmering,” he corrected, breathing through the pain.

  “Shimmering me all over the place without warning like that again and you’re likely to see all sorts of sides to me you’re just gonna love.” Carly peered around her. “Where are we?”

  Strangely enough, they stood smack in the middle of the alley, with a deserted parking lot on one side and a small patch of manicured grass on the other. The ornamental lawn was butted up against what was obviously the rear entrance of a pet store, the grass lined with a decorative fence and a pristine sidewalk. There was even a bright fire hydrant for convenient use. It was a miniature doggie oasis.

  “Algona. And before you ask, no, we’re not staying.” Every word was painful. Pulling her tighter against his side, he ordered, “Close your eyes.”

  This time he waited for her to comply before he shimmered them to their next location. She opened her eyes and glanced around. They’d landed in the middle of a sea of brilliant emerald rustling in the soft breeze.

  “Where are we now?”

  He made a point of dramatically peering all around them as well. “Looks like”—he paused, breathing through a particularly sharp stab of pain—“a cornfield.”

  The pain was excruciating. But teasing her helped take his mind off it.

  She blinked up at him, and then pinched his side, muttering, “Jerk.”

  He saw the half grin before she lowered her head. Despite the direness of their situation, he felt lighter, being able to banter with her like this. But she was so pale. “Closing your eyes helps, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does,” she grudgingly admitted. “I think I’m starting to get used to it.” She was quick to point out, “But I don’t like not knowing where we’re going to end up. For all I know, your aim could be bad. You might drop us in a lake or something.”

  It was as if she somehow knew he needed this, needed her prodding and pricking him to keep him going. She gave him strength. Right now, she was his strength.

  A strange warmth stole through him, catching him by surprise.

  “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me.” Suddenly that was unspeakably important to him, that she trust him.

  She peered at him with a thoughtful frown. Finally, with absolute conviction, she said, “I do trust you, Niklas.”

  The warmth in his chest swelled until he had trouble breathing around it. Her expression softened, and she tilted her head, searching his face. He couldn’t resist and leaned his head closer to hers. Her scent beckoned him.

  “Put both arms around me now and hold tight,” he whispered against her lips. She immediately complied, no questions asked, pleasing him to no end. He wished his hands were free to explore the texture of her skin. “We’re going to shimmer very quickly now to a lot of places before we stop again.”

  “Why can’t we just shimmer directly to wherever it is that we need to go? Or pick some random place so that they can’t guess where you are going? Why do we have to make all these stops?”

  “I have to be sure we aren’t being followed. Every time we shimmer, we leave a shimmer trail, faint but there nonetheless. After a few minutes, the trail dissipates, but if someone is following us, shimmering right behind us, they’d be able to follow.” He scanned the area around them, extending his senses to be sure they hadn’t already been followed. “Besides, I can only shimmer to places I’ve already been.”

  “But you shimmered into my house.” Her eyes narrowed. “Have you been there—”

  “No, I shimmered to you,” he corrected.

  “You shimmered blindly into a place you’ve never been? What if those other demons had been there before you came? You could have popped right into the middle of a trap.”

  “Shimmered,” he corrected her. “Popped sounds so undignified.” And then he turned serious. “You are the exception to the rule for me. Wherever you are, I will find you. I will always come for you,” Niklas said forcefully. “I promised I’d keep you safe. My honor is all that keeps me from reverting back to what they are. Now…” He drew a deep, bracing breath. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered, once more inexplicably pleased when she immediately and without question complied. He wanted to stand there and watch her all day, hold her for the rest of eternity and never let go. The feel of her arms around him was exquisite. He longed to kiss her senseless.

  The blistered flesh on his shoulder, back and thigh sent a fresh wave of agony washing over him, making him dizzy. He wanted to give in to the pain and just pass out.

  He needed to get them to their final destination as quickly
as possible.

  Niklas pressed her head against his chest, closed his own eyes, and centered his focus. The next series of stops were a complicated zigzag of motion, taking them from Des Moines to Atlanta, Reno to Chicago, Seattle to Miami, and a dozen places in between. He didn’t have the energy to shimmer them any farther than the continental US. England, Spain, India, South Africa would have been better, would have pushed other demons beyond their limitations, but Niklas just didn’t have the energy.

  He was drained. He knew he couldn’t go on much longer, and he couldn’t risk passing out and leaving her defenseless. Needing a moment to gather the last reserves of his strength, he paused at the next stop, gasping for air.

  “Now where are we?” Her eyes flew wide as she took in her surroundings.

  “Not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.” Unable to help himself, he sagged against her.

  “This looks like a whorehouse, Niklas,” she hissed.

  He didn’t waste the breath to tease her. Didn’t have any to waste. And so he grinned wickedly down at her. Or as wickedly as he could, given the circumstances.

  “A whorehouse? Seriously?”

  “Didn’t tell you,” he wheezed, “to open your eyes.”

  She gaped at the tousled bed, the bordello wallpaper, and the red velvet drapes. A rainbow of slinky lingerie hung from chairs and dresser drawers, and off a decorative, trifold room divider with Asian symbols.

  The glare she sent him could have seared the eyebrows off Lucifer himself.

  Whoever had coined the phrase “still waters run deep” must have had Carly in mind. Anyone who took his precious tá’hiri at face value—as nothing more than a placid paralegal—was making a serious mistake. The word firecracker came to mind. He’d never understood that euphemism. Not until her.

  The pain in his head was getting worse. He didn’t know how much more he could take. Niklas shimmered them away before she could let loose the temper crackling in her eyes. They shimmered onto the steps of a beautiful church.

  Gripping him tighter for a moment, she turned an unbecoming shade of green, blinked.

  “Close your eyes,” he reminded her.

  “I think I prefer to see where we end up, thank you,” she said primly.

  Gritting his teeth, he finally took them to their last stop. He dropped the trunk and sagged. Carly braced herself against him and helped him to the nearest chair.

  He’d brought her to an old farm place in southern Minnesota, one of a dozen places his legion kept as a safe house. He didn’t like to think that he might have compromised the place by bringing her here, by leaving a shimmer trail leading here, but he couldn’t think of anywhere else that would be safe for her.

  “You look horrible.”

  “Thanks.” Nausea gripped him by the back of the throat.

  “What can I do?” She dropped to her knees in front of him. Her cool hands cupped his clammy cheeks. “How can I help?”

  “In the…trunk.”

  Immediately, she dragged the trunk closer, popped the catches and lifted the lid.

  “Purple pouch.” Scrunching his eyes closed, he willed his stomach not to rebel. “Mix with water.”

  Without hesitating, her hand plunged into the compartment containing pouches. She drew out three.

  “Dark one.”

  Dropping the two lavender-colored bags back into the trunk, she returned to his side. “How much?”

  He swallowed. Considered. “Half.”

  “In a full glass of water?”

  He nodded. The pain was overwhelming. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sustained so much damage, certainly none that he’d tried to heal while still in his human body.

  Carly rushed to open cabinet doors, searching until she found the glasses. She took one down, filled the glass with tap water, and then located a spoon. After setting the glass on the table beside him, she began pouring the powder until he nodded to indicate she’d poured enough. She stirred, then handed the glass to him. The once clear liquid was now lime green and thick as sludge.

  Niklas sucked in a shaky breath and downed the potion in one long guzzle.

  Searing heat exploded in his gut, drenching his entire body. Panting, he set the glass aside, tipped his head back, closed his eyes and welcomed the burn. The potion would help. It wouldn’t heal him like feeding would, but it would go a long way toward getting him back on his feet. He wouldn’t tell her she’d just brewed more “dark magic”. He didn’t need the lecture right now.

  Besides, Niklas couldn’t count on God doling out any miracle healings.

  Not for him anyway.

  “What about ward stones?” She glanced back at the trunk. “Do I need to distribute them or something?”

  “No,” he replied, already feeling strength seeping into his muscles. “We’ve already placed ward stones all over the grounds.”

  “We? Oh, you mean you and your friends.”

  “Our legion, yes.” His limbs no longer felt like rubber.

  “So this is—”

  “A safe house, one of many.” He could feel his strength returning, sweeping through his system in wave after wave of heat. Even his splitting headache was receding. “Sebastian primarily uses this one whenever he’s in the area, but it also serves as a meeting place when we all need to gather.” He drew a deep breath, the first one since the battle that didn’t set pain ricocheting through his body. “This farm’s about fifty miles north of Ridgefield, just over the Iowa/Minnesota border. It’s completely isolated. It suits our purposes.”

  “How long will we stay here?”

  “As long as we need to.” The thought of shimmering anywhere right now made him sick to his stomach all over again.

  “What else can I do for you?” She twisted the thick silver ring on her middle finger.

  Oh, the answers to that were endless, and very erotic.

  “Rest, you’re tired. Eat. The cupboards are kept stocked.”

  “What I really need right now is a shower.”

  “There are five bedrooms upstairs. Use the one on the left, first door. There’s an adjoining bathroom. A change of clothing will be waiting on the bed for you.”

  “How can there be a—” She looked to his shirt, widening her eyes as if remembering. “Oh.”

  One corner of his lips lifted. “Remember, my talents are handy.”

  She looked as if she wanted to say something, but doubted the wisdom of doing so. Silent, she turned to leave the kitchen. He snagged her wrist. The urge to touch her, to draw solace from the simple caress of her hair against his fingers, was far too strong to resist. The need to snuggle her against him and feel that she was safe took control of his body.

  He shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t give in.

  But caring was beyond him at that point. His body had been ravaged, his control was in tatters. And he kept remembering how those assassins had looked at her.

  With a deft tug and twist, he pulled her down in his lap. She gasped. Her hands landed on his shoulders. She blinked at him with wide, surprised eyes. Her lips parted, and her attention slid to his mouth. His fingertips coasted up her spine, urging her closer. Her breasts brushed tantalizingly across his chest.

  Lifting his chin, he waited, eyes hooded. Breath suspended. Would she kiss him?

  She met his silent challenge, slipping her arms around his neck. Carly lowered her head, brushed her lips across his. Light. Butterfly soft. Warm as sunshine. And then, by slow degrees, she melted against him.

  Her tongue slid inside his mouth, tentative, questing, curious, sweet as honey. He let her explore, met her budding passions, just enough to keep her questing, but not so much that he scared her off.

  Tremors of desire swept through him. Never had it been so difficult to restrain himself.

  Niklas cradled her in his arms, gentle, possessive
but careful not to press too hard or go too fast. Instead, he basked in the glow of her exploration. His heartbeat felt unusually thick, sluggish, echoed in his ears. His shaft grew painfully hard, but he resisted the urge to flex his hips against her, unwilling to do anything that might give her pause. Unwilling to do anything that might bring this sweet interlude to an end.

  At length, drawing a shaky breath, she eased back in the cage of his arms, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe her boldness. That minimal distance was suddenly too much for him to bear. He needed more of her. Needed the feel of her skin against his lips. Leaning forward, holding her still, he nipped kisses down the side of her neck. Resting his forehead against her jaw, he hugged her tight and held her for a moment, letting the scent of her seep through him, letting the feel of her in his arms imprint itself upon his soul.

  When those minions had raided her house, when he’d been forced to throw her to the floor to keep her from being incinerated by that plasma ball, his heart had nearly stopped. Never before had he experienced such fear. Or such fury. The very memory of his helpless tá’hiri smack in the middle of a demon battle left him shaken. Too easily, one of those plasma balls could have ended her precious life.

  For the first time since rescuing her from Ronové in the park, Niklas finally came face-to-face with the truth. Carly had quickly become more than just another innocent to him. Keeping her safe—keeping her by his side no matter the cost—had absolutely nothing to do with his mission to reclaim his immortal soul.

  It had everything to do with his heart. Or maybe it was just that damned binding spell. Whatever it was, this obsession with her held him in an ironclad grip.

  He would still lose her. Maybe not tomorrow to a demon attack. Maybe not next week. But someday. Years from now, a human illness, an accident, old age. Sooner or later she would die.

  And he would go on living…if you could call what he did living.

  True fear settled upon him. His arms flexed, tightening around her. He buried his nose against her flesh, then rested his cheek on her shoulder, his forehead pressed to her throat. His heart shuddered as her arms slipped more securely around him and drew him closer, cuddling him.