Demonosity

by Amanda Ashby

  “Yeah? So why isn’t she here making me waffles then?” Cassidy wanted to know, and immediately regretted it when her dad’s face darkened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” she hastily added.

  “Try to give her a break. I know you’re still mad at her for going to Boston—”

  “She left for five years, Dad, and now she comes back.”

  For a moment her dad paused. “Cass, there’s something you should know. Your mom never wanted to go to Boston. But there were things going on that she felt she needed to help out with.”

  “What are you talking about?” Cassidy wrinkled her nose.

  “Remember when your mom’s pop died and there was all that talk about his mismanaging some funds?”

  “Yes, but it was just a mistake; it blew over in a week.”

  He shook his head. “It blew over in the media in a week. And it wasn’t shareholder funds, it was pension funds. The life savings of ordinary workers. Your mom’s spent the last five years trying to get those people their money back, and the job still isn’t done.”

  “What?” Cassidy stared at him for a moment, as if he’d just told her that polar bears were pink or that Elvis was still alive. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

  “There was no particular reason. It certainly wasn’t a conspiracy. At first you were too young, and then you were too mad and your mom didn’t want to use it as an excuse. She still doesn’t. I’m just telling you because I think you should know. She’s not as bad as you think she is.” Then, without warning, he suddenly shrugged his shoulders. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened with Travis?”

  For a moment she stared at him blankly as she tried to think of her mom as doing some cool, noble thing, but then, with the mention of Travis, her more immediate problems came crashing back into her mind.

  “I wish I could.” Cassidy used her fingertip to draw a circle on the bench she was sitting on. “He just wasn’t who I thought he was.” Neither was his brother. “And no matter how much I want it to be different, it’s impossible. Does that make sense to you?”

  “I’m afraid it does.” Her dad nodded before limping over to give her a hug. Then when he finally broke away, he shot her a weak smile. “Now, about those waffles . . .”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  After the waffles Cassidy and her dad spent a couple of hours chilling out before one of his friends came around to watch a tennis match on television. Her mom had gone to the office, and after Cassidy had roamed around the house far too many times, she finally put her sneakers on and decided to go for a jog. Not that she normally liked jogging, but right now she felt that if she didn’t find some way to get rid of her excess energy, she would go crazy.

  It was still light out, but the sun was partially hidden behind a cloud and the street was virtually deserted as her feet pounded along the pavement. She purposely turned left at Turner Road so that she wouldn’t go near the woods, and after ten minutes the houses had given way to an open field. Still energy poured through her veins, and she picked up the pace, so busy concentrating on the rhythm of her feet that it wasn’t until the owl was flying next to her that she even realized it was there.

  “Go away, Thomas,” she yelled, keeping her gaze firmly in front of her. The owl ignored her as it continued to fly beside her. Cassidy increased her pace, going so fast that she doubted her PE teacher would even recognize her. However, the owl matched her easily, its dark brown feathers making a swooshing noise as it flew. Finally, Cassidy realized that even with the superstrength of the grimoire, she was never going to outrun the bird, and so she reluctantly came to a halt by the side of a field.

  The owl landed several feet from where she was standing, its large amber eyes solemnly staring at her. Demon eyes. Why hadn’t she made the connection sooner? She stamped the damp grass in annoyance. Then the owl was gone, and Thomas was in its place. Or, should she say, the apparition of Thomas.

  “I don’t want to speak to you. I’m so mad.” Her voice shook, and she refused to look at him.

  “I take it you know.”

  “No thanks to you.” Her throat tightened as she studied the ground. The words choked out. “How could you lie to me like this?”

  “I didn’t lie,” he protested before letting out a sigh. “I just didn’t tell you everything.”

  “You told me nothing.” Cassidy folded her arms and walked away from him, her frustation mounting. “If it wasn’t for Travis, I would never have even known.”

  “Don’t be so fast to trust my brother, Cassidy. He is not as he seems.”

  “So are you saying that he lied to me?” She swung around and raised her eyebrows, finally looking at him.

  “Non,” Thomas said, though it seemed like it cost him some effort, and she watched as he clenched his hands until his knuckles were white. “He doesn’t lie, but he can distort things to suit his own desires.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” Cassidy retorted. “And in case I’m being too cryptic for you, I’m talking about you, Thomas. Did you think that you’d have a better chance of convincing me to do this for you if you didn’t tell me the truth? That if I thought you were the nice guy, I would choose you?”

  Thomas flinched for the merest second as he let out a small gasp. “You know about the prophecy?”

  “Oui,” Cassidy mocked. “I guess that was another thing you forgot to tell me about. Was anything true?”

  For a moment Thomas didn’t answer. Instead, he bowed his head and ran his scarred hands through his hair before finally looking up, his face leached of color. “It’s all true. Everything. The Black Rose needs to be protected. Please, I know that the hatred you feel for me burns through you like fire. I know that you don’t ever want to see me again, but everything is as I told you. If the Black Rose is used, the world will be destroyed. You saw Paris.”

  “The Crusader who inhaled the essence was human.” Cassidy found herself repeating Travis’s words.

  “My brother has no proof that demons can control the Black Rose any better than the Crusader could.”

  “He told me something else as well,” Cassidy said, emotions spinning through her body. “About your father. He said you—”

  “He’s right,” Thomas cut her off quickly and was then silent. Cassidy stared at him in sickening horror. “My foster father, Hugh de la Croix, died by my hand.”

  “That’s it?” Cassidy felt as if she was being kicked in the stomach as she studied his impassive, unyielding face. “You’re not even going to give me an explanation? You once told me that you had no time for sentiment, but to be so cold about killing your own foster father. W-was he that evil?”

  “Non. He was the best of men.” Thomas looked away. “I’m sorry. I know you want more, but this is not something I can talk about. I-if you want answers, then you must trust my sword.”

  “What?” Cassidy started to protest, but before she could even finish, there was a rustle of feathers and Thomas was gone, leaving her alone in a field and more confused than ever.

  He admitted to being a demon knight and to killing his father, the same way he might’ve admitted to spilling ketchup on the carpet. Cassidy felt sick and betrayed. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there before slowly jogging home, her excessive energy completely gone, leaving her weak and drained.

  By the time she reached the house she was exhausted, but her mind kept swirling around with images of Travis and Thomas. Two brothers who both seemed to be telling her the truth, despite the fact that only one of them could be right. And the voices in her head begging her to “pick me.”

  There was a text message from Nash to say that he’d managed to keep Celeste inside the entire day, which was one less thing to worry about. Then she caught sight of the corner of her sports bag, which was poking out from under the bed. Thomas had told her that if she wanted answers, then she must trust his sword.

  What did that even mean?

  She dropped to her knees and retrieved it. His father’s sword.r />
  The late-afternoon sun bounced off the metal blade, lighting up the runes one by one until they all glowed with a piercing white light, so strong she had to shield her eyes. Instinctively, Cassidy lay flat on her bed and let the sword rest on top of her, her hands firmly clutched around the handle. The bedroom ceiling began to swim and undulate above her, and then everything went blank, apart from the sensation that she was falling. . . .

  TWENTY-NINE

  The cold made her skin prickle, and Cassidy knew instantly that this was no vision. Darkness surrounded her, and the smell of damp soil and stale air invaded her nostrils. The light didn’t improve so she crawled on her knees, dirt and stone scratching her skin. She groped to find a wall and was greeted by more earth. She reached higher, and the dirt made way for rough wooden beams.

  Was she underground?

  Cassidy thrust her hands into her pocket, grateful for Nash’s Zippo. The small flame gave her enough light to confirm that she was definitely in a tunnel. Panic pounded in her chest, but before she could give in to her emotions, she heard a noise coming from farther down the cavernous tunnel. She looked up to see a flickering flame moving toward her and two voices, both achingly familiar.

  Thomas and Travis.

  They were arguing. and Cassidy pressed herself against the wall, willing herself to be small and invisible. As they marched past, she realized that while this wasn’t a vision, it wasn’t quite real, either.

  The brothers couldn’t see her. She let out her breath and followed them.

  “I tell you, it’s true,” Travis hissed in a low voice as they approached a thick wooden door. “Our foster father plans to betray us.”

  “You are mistaken.” Thomas thrust his torch into a wall bracket with an economy of motion that Cassidy knew so well. Then he stepped into the light, and Cassidy cried out loud at the sight of him.

  He was younger. Perhaps fourteen, and if it wasn’t for the mismatched eyes, she wasn’t sure she would’ve recognized him. Despite his youth, he was wearing full armor and a long white tunic with an inky black rose embroidered across the chest. On his hip was the leather sheath and the sword she was now so familiar with. His hair was darker and longer, and his normally pale face was tanned. But most of all, there was no sign of the angry red scar that was now his constant companion.

  Her heart pounded as she turned her attention to Travis, though the change in him wasn’t so great. His beauty and warmth were still there, though there was a hint of harshness around his mouth that she’d never noticed before.

  “How can you be so sure? Now is the perfect time for our father to take the Black Rose. With everything that’s happened in Paris, it’s only a matter of time before Philip turns his eyes to the treasure here at Landévennec. I tell you, our father means to use the confusion to take it for himself.”

  “Our father is no traitor, Travis. Your words are unfounded, and you do him no justice,” Thomas snapped in his blunt manner. Travis flinched as if Thomas’s words had actually hit him. But instead of showing his anger, he merely shrugged.

  “Well, shall we go to see which brother is right and which brother is wrong?”

  Without waiting for an answer he pushed the wooden door open, and the two brothers marched through, their heavy armor announcing their presence. Cassidy followed them. Unlike the dark passage, the chamber was well lit, though she soon discovered that most of the glow didn’t come from flickering flames, but rather from the treasures that were casually lying everywhere: gold coins, plates, goblets, and semiprecious stones and jewelry. Then her gaze fell on the man who was sitting in the far corner of the room in the middle of a crudely drawn circle.

  He looked to be about forty, with a weathered face and long blond hair that was streaked with gray. To one side of him was a plain urn, and in front of him was . . . the grimoire! Cassidy’s eyes widened with recognition. Unlike the twins, he wasn’t wearing armor, but rather a coarse brown shirt that fell down around his hips. He didn’t look up when they entered; instead, he appeared to be in a trance. Cassidy guessed he was their foster father, Hugh de la Croix.

  The tattoo on Cassidy’s arm burned, and the voice in her mind screamed, “Pick me. Pick me.”

  “It’s too late.” Travis’s face paled as he hurried toward him, but before he could step across the line of the circle, he was hauled back by Thomas, the strain of his steely muscles showing on his face.

  “Step down,” Thomas growled.

  “What are you doing? We must stop him.” Travis spun around, his amber eyes swirling with urgency. “We can’t let him get the Black Rose.”

  “It is not our foster father who seeks the Black Rose, brother.” Thomas’s voice was low and dangerous, and for the first time his mismatched eyes were gone and were replaced by two swirling pits of amber. Demon eyes. Cassidy gasped as her emotions threatened to choke her. “We know what you were planning. Our foster father is putting a new ward on the Black Rose. To protect it from your betrayal. It means that never again will you be able to touch it. It will now be lost to you forever. You have failed.”

  “You and your noble beliefs. Thomas, you know nothing. You understand nothing,” Travis suddenly spat as he once again tried to reach his foster father, but Thomas was there, formidable and deadly, as he took his stance with his sword. “The Black Rose is not what you think it is. It can be used for good. It can be used to heal. But not if a human like our foster father uses it. It needs to be a demon. Let me prove it to you, Thomas. Help me and we can both be free.”

  “Enough. You cannot sway me from my duty,” Thomas snapped as Travis raised his own sword.

  Cassidy screamed, despite the fact that they couldn’t hear her, and was forced to watch them face each other, the runes of their swords blazing. It was a terrifying sight. Thomas, his movements so concise and minimal, while Travis kept pressing and countering with a flourish that Cassidy had seen when he’d helped her fight the other demons.

  Back and forth they went.

  Two brothers who had obviously sparred together for years. They matched each other stroke for stroke, strength for strength. Neither of them spoke as the sweat beaded on their foreheads, their amber eyes both blazing with determination. However, for all his flourish, Travis couldn’t reach the circle, and the frustration started to show in some of his movements. Inch by inch, Thomas pressed him back, and Cassidy marveled at his sheer strength.

  Travis ducked, and with his foot he stretched out and kicked one of the heavy candelabras that were sitting on the floor. Cassidy watched in horror as the thick waxy candles went crashing into a bolt of silk. Soon small plumes of smoke began to rise up from it. For the briefest of seconds, Thomas blinked, and in that moment Travis’s sword sliced down the side of his face. Cassidy flinched as if her own skin had been cut.

  “Please, stop. Both of you. You need to put out the fire,” she cried, but her words were unheard just as her presence was unseen. Then from behind her, there was a flash, and the trance that their foster father had been in was suddenly broken.

  Cassidy had no idea what ritual he’d been doing, but it was obviously complete, and she watched as he rose to his feet, his quick eyes taking everything in: The battling twins. The betrayal. The small fire that was quickly gathering purchase, fueled by the wooden chests that were placed about the room.

  Travis saw the movement, too, but Thomas, his back turned, didn’t seem to have noticed. Suddenly, Travis darted to the side just as their foster father went racing toward the flame. Thomas, his aim true, pulled out the small knife tucked in his belt and threw it directly at his brother, but at the last moment Travis dropped to the ground and the knife went slicing through Hugh de la Croix’s coarse brown shirt, and he fell to the floor in a heap.

  The room was silent, with only the sound of the crackling fire as it searched for fuel. Thomas dropped to his knees and desperately tried to stop the dark crimson blood that was flowing freely from his foster father’s wound before pooling on the earth below, mixin
g with the blood from his own injured face.

  Cassidy’s hands flew to her mouth, and the tears stung in her eyes. Thomas’s face paled, and for the smallest moment Travis stared at the dying man and his brother before turning his back and stalking toward the plain urn.

  His whole face radiated with joy as he held the urn up to his mouth. But his happiness was quickly replaced by anger as whatever he had been hoping for didn’t happen.

  “Noooo.” The howl echoed around the chamber. Then he narrowed his eyes and hurried back to Thomas, joining him down on his knees. “You need to remove the ward. Brother, you need to help me. Remove the ward and we can all be free. We can save our father. We can both live a real life. Join me, Thomas. My twin. Please, I’m begging you, remove the ward and trust me. I know I can save him.”

  “Non.”

  For a moment Travis just stared at him, his beautiful face ravished with pain and anger. Then he snarled. “Fine. Let our father die just so you can be right. But remember, you are not the only guardian. There are sixty knights who can help me. One of them will remove the ward, and then you may very well regret this day’s work, brother.”

  From the ground the dying man began to groan, and Thomas leaned over him and whispered something in a soft voice that Cassidy couldn’t hear and didn’t want to know even if she could.

  Then he turned to his brother and Cassidy braced herself, waiting for the scathing reply that she knew was coming. But instead, he had tears in his eyes as leaned forward to embrace Travis. It was such a startling action that Travis was caught unaware. Before he knew what had happened, Thomas’s arms were around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs, and Travis fell into a heap next to his dying foster father.

  He wasn’t dead.

  She knew he wasn’t dead, but still Cassidy couldn’t help herself from screaming as she watched Thomas rise to his feet and hastily retrieve the urn and the grimoire before racing from the room. The fire was growing worse, and Cassidy longed to do something, but she was helpless. She watched as Travis slowly rose to his feet and let out a tormented scream. He looked down at his foster father and pushed back a strand of hair.