Demon Marked tg-7

by Meljean Brook

  Good. Damn good. Lilith had survived two thousand years of service to Lucifer without landing in the frozen field. If anyone had tips for the poor girl, it was her. Then Khavi murmured, “Good,” and it took everything within Taylor not to rush after Lilith and bring her back.

  Because maybe that was just what Khavi wanted.

  And, Jesus, now she was beginning to sound like St. Croix. Fucking insanity. How the hell had she gotten into all of this? She’d jumped in front of a bullet for Joe, yeah, but that should have just made her a Guardian. Not a woman with an ancient half-demon in her brain and his blood written all over hers.

  What the hell did that even mean?

  “How is this any different than me?” she asked Khavi. “I signed up to be a Guardian, but not the rest of this, but I’m doing what I can. And Ash, Rachel made all of her choices for her, but now that she’s thrown into this, she’s trying to make the best of it, doing what she can to help—and even as a demon, she’s a decent woman who hasn’t hurt a single fucking person. Now she’s being asked to kill herself? Is this the next step for me, too?”

  “No. If you killed yourself, it would not free him from the frozen field. It would mean that even if he did get out, he couldn’t leave Hell. Not without his body.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

  “Why do you even ask? If it were possible to free him, would you exchange your life for his?”

  It wouldn’t be possible. “He wouldn’t let me. He’d do everything he could to stop me—even if it meant preventing my free will.”

  “That is not what I meant, and you know it.” Khavi’s smile was thin and sharp. “But since it is not even possible, the question of whether you’d sacrifice your life for his hardly matters. Does it?”

  God. Taylor didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore. Except for one thing:

  “None of this matters, because Ash isn’t willing to do it.”

  “No, she isn’t.” Khavi’s eyes deepened to black. “But only because she hasn’t been pushed to her limit yet.”

  A halfling demon who could make her own clothes and carry everything she owned in a cache didn’t need to pack, so Ash simply waited in her room, plotting, contemplating the best time to go.

  The knock at her door told her she’d be waiting a little longer.

  She opened it to find Lilith, who swept into the room with Sir Pup. No bigger than a dorm room, Ash had never bothered to decorate or add anything to the place, and only one chair had been placed next to a small desk.

  Apparently, Lilith wasn’t there to sit, anyway. She stopped in the middle of the room. “So?”

  “So, what?” Ash settled back into her chair, the seat still warm from her waiting-to-go vigil.

  “Don’t fuck with me,” Lilith warned.

  All right. It probably wasn’t hard to guess what Ash had been plotting. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know, precisely. Last I knew, he was headed to New York. I don’t know if he’s there.”

  “I’m going to him.”

  “I can’t let you.”

  “But will you stop me?”

  Lilith’s eyes narrowed. “Clever. That was the right question. So there’s hope for you.”

  All Ash cared about was whether there was hope for Nicholas. “I want to take that call. Do you think he will place one?”

  Her gut still said he wouldn’t. But if he were hurt, dying—would he be in his right mind? Would he reach out to her? How could she not answer?

  “He probably will,” Lilith said. “Khavi’s not always precise, but she’s usually right. But she also has an agenda.”

  “Getting me into the frozen field.”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck her. And Ash couldn’t sit any longer. She paced to the end of the empty room, back. “Do you know what I hate? What I really, really hate?”

  Lilith’s brows rose. “Short brown hair?”

  God. Blond again. And Ash didn’t care. “This.” She gestured to the tattoos on her face. “And that shit downstairs. I’m so fucking tired of being the sacrifice to a fucking Gate, a goddamn frozen field. That there’s barely any use in doing anything. No, it’s what will be done to me. Oh, Ash, let’s carve some symbols into you. Oh, Ash, you’ll help us if you die.”

  Lilith didn’t answer, only watched her with unreadable eyes. Ash stopped pacing, tried to get her temper under control.

  With a deep breath, she said, “And it’s not even death. It’s torture, forever. And I will not go through it again. I’d prefer to let Madelyn have me. At least then, I really do just die.”

  “Actually, the preferable choice would be to live. At least, it would be preferable to me.”

  Yes. Yes, to her, too. Ash nodded. “That, too.”

  “Then listen. The Guardians are proof that the universe likes to reward those who sacrifice themselves for others—but I’ve never been interested in that martyr bullshit. I don’t think you are, either.”

  “No.”

  “So the rest of us, we have to get that reward some other way. Me, I lied, cheated, and killed my way into it. I had the same fucking impossible choice to make: the frozen field, or Hugh’s life. And instead of choosing either of those, I fucked up Lucifer’s agreement with a horde of nosferatu, cut off his lieutenant’s head, and lied so well that Lucifer lost a wager to Michael and released me from my bargain. I paid for it in blood, and so did Hugh—and I’d have paid more if I had to. But I’d be damned before I let that price be our lives or my soul in that field.”

  “So that’s what a demon would do,” Ash said softly.

  “Only one of us so far. But I survived.” Lilith pointed to the chair. “So sit back down. We’ll talk. And when we’re done, if I’m satisfied, I’ll let them patch that call through to you.”

  Ash’s heart pounded. “What about Madelyn?”

  “It occurred to me on the way to your room that Khavi didn’t mention one rather important thing happening in your future.”

  Oh, God. She’d missed that, too. “Being sacrificed to open a Gate,” Ash realized.

  “If that screwed up her plans to sacrifice you for Michael, she’d probably be doing something to stop it, don’t you think?”

  “I would if I were her,” Ash said.

  Lilith smiled thinly. “Me, too.”

  The waiting was endless. Ash tried to busy herself by looking through SI’s budget, by buying up more of Nicholas’s shares. Only a few hours had passed since Lilith had left her room, but the time already sat like a rock in her chest, weighing, weighing.

  She wanted to go now. Wanted to leave these Guardians and their crumbling city and their shattered king behind, and just go. Wanted to hear Nicholas’s voice, to find out where he was, whether he was all right. Wanted to find him, find and kill Madelyn, and do everything she’d planned—and now, save his life, too.

  God. What was going to happen to him?

  Her phone’s ring shot her heart up into her throat. Ash stared at the glowing screen in disbelief. Snatched it up.

  “Hello? Nicholas?”

  “Ash.” A novice’s voice. “Lilith said to put him through if he called, and he’s on the other line now. Do you want to take it?”

  A choice to be made, now.

  Fuck that. There was no choice at all.

  “Yes,” she said, and then—“Nicholas?”

  “Don’t hang up, love.”

  “I won’t. I—” Oh, God. He’d never called her “love.” And the accent was all wrong.

  Now she couldn’t hang up. But she could toss the phone away—

  “Keep listening. Ah, there’s my girl. I can almost hear your heart pounding. Been hiding from me, have you?”

  Ash didn’t answer. She didn’t have to answer. Not unless told to.

  What now?

  Get help.

  “Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t alert anyone. Is anyone with you, within hearing distance? Answer me.”

  “Ye
s.”

  “Answer me truthfully.”

  Panic caught at her throat, almost prevented any answer at all. But no. No. She had to be quick. She had to be clever. She couldn’t lose her wits.

  “I’m alone,” she said. “How did you find me?”

  It didn’t matter. Not really. But Ash needed to stall, needed to think.

  “Well, love, it was the oddest thing. I saw you on TV, and so I flew to Duluth to see this Rachel, who was grieving her parents so deeply and putting their effects in order. And I thought: Oh, my poor little Ashmodei. Lucifer didn’t rip out as much as he should have. But while I was standing there, I happened to overhear a very nice sheriff talking to one of the city police about a visit he’d had from two federal agents, who thought Steve Johnson might have been someone else. So I wondered, ‘What kind of federal agents go looking into such a cut-anddried case?’ The answer seemed simple: Guardians posing as federal agents. So I started looking at Special Investigations. And since you’re here, not in London where Rachel supposedly is, that’s probably a good thing, too.”

  “I see,” Ash said.

  “Good. You do know what I did to your parents, don’t you, love? Answer me truthfully.”

  “Yes.”

  “And how did you feel about that?”

  Evade. “I didn’t remember them.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Well, my effort wasn’t for nothing. They screamed so well. Your father tried to protect your mother and failed. It was so very lovely.”

  The edge of the desk cracked under her hand. Beneath her, Ash’s seat trembled with the force of the rage shaking her body. And she’d thought she’d hated being a puppet? It was nothing to the hate she felt now.

  She hoped Madelyn told her to get up, to go to her. Ash’s boomstick was in her cache, and by God she would use it.

  “I don’t suppose you know where Nicky is? Answer me truthfully.”

  “He was in Montana a few months ago. I don’t know for certain now where he is,” she said, managing the truth. Might be heading toward New York wasn’t certain.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. A pity, but we can do this without him. Now, listen carefully to me. Shield your mind, so tight that no one can sense any emotion from you.”

  God. Fuck. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Every Guardian and vampire in the warehouse would have felt her terror, her rage, would have known something was wrong. Now they wouldn’t.

  “That done? Good. Now, at no time are you to attempt to kill or injure me, or encourage anyone else to do the same. Understand? Answer me.”

  Ash dragged in a ragged breath between her teeth. “Yes.”

  “All right. Now dump all of the weapons out of your cache. You will not collect any others, or vanish them back into your cache.”

  Oh. A mistake. With relief, Ash set her shotgun on the floor. Everyone knew that she wouldn’t go anywhere without her boomstick. The moment they checked her room, they’d know something was wrong.

  But how long before they checked?

  “Now, do exactly as I say. When I give you the order, leave the warehouse and walk directly to the café that you were at with the hellhound today. Do not tell anyone that you’ve spoken to me. You will not give any indication that something is wrong. If they ask, you will only tell them that you talked to Nicky, and now you are going for a walk, that you need to be alone, because you need to think. You will not ask anyone to accompany you, and you will discourage anyone who offers. You will not stop for any reason, you will not write any kind of message, you will simply leave. Do you understand? Answer me truthfully.”

  “Yes.”

  “You will be at the café in one minute. Hang up and go now.”

  Ash cut off the call, stood up. Think. She’d leave the door open, but it was possible that no one would look into her room to see the boomstick until much later. Lilith expected her to leave SI after Nicholas’s call, so she wouldn’t believe that Ash was truly just going for a walk, but she’d also have no reason to think that Madelyn had been the reason Ash had left.

  All right. Okay. Ash couldn’t leave a message . . . but she could let everyone know that this was a very special occasion.

  She vanished her clothes, walked out of her room. The low murmur of conversation died when she passed through the novices’ common area. They stared at her in surprise, jaws dropped, eyes wide.

  No one said anything until she’d almost reached the stairs. “Ash? You okay?”

  “Fine,” she said. “I’m just taking a walk. I just finished talking to Nicky, and I need to think.”

  “You want company?”

  “No, thank you. I want to be alone.”

  Down the stairs, her breasts bouncing at every step. Come on, someone. She needed to run into an older Guardian. Any older Guardian. Even now, the novices were buzzing between themselves about her strange behavior, a thread of unease in their voices, but they wouldn’t act quickly enough.

  She didn’t meet anyone through security, just answered the same questions when the novice at the desk saw her. Are you okay? Do you want me to call someone to go with you?

  God, she wished.

  Ash formed her clothes again just before stepping outside—no need to tip Madelyn off that someone might be quickly coming after her. And just before the door closed behind her, she heard a novice’s voice—

  “We need to let Lilith know.”

  Yes. Yes.

  A minute had almost passed, but it only took her a second to run the three blocks to the café, already closed for the night. Her heart jumped into her throat. Nicholas sat at one of the darkened tables, but it was a poor version of Nicholas—handsome and slick, but not pared and hardened by his obsession; amused, but not burning with cold intensity. He’d crossed his legs at the ankles rather than his knee, tucked his legs beneath his chair. How strange. How strange and awful to see Madelyn in his shape.

  “There you are, love, finally. We don’t have all night, you know. We have places to fly.” Madelyn’s eyes narrowed. “Can you fly? Answer me truthfully.”

  “No.”

  “After three years? But I suppose halflings cannot help being incompetent and weak. I’m only surprised you came out of your stupor at all.” She stood, uncoiling from the chair. “I will carry you, then, but there is to be no movement from you, no word spoken, no attempt to escape. You understand that you must obey me, no matter the order I give? Answer me truthfully.”

  “Yes.”

  “Let us see how well you understand.” A dagger appeared in Madelyn’s hand. “Cut off your forefinger, and then give the blade back to me, handle first.”

  Which forefinger? Make the cut at which knuckle? Evade, delay. But Ash couldn’t evade everything . . . and she had no odor, not really, but the scent of her blood would leave a trail to follow.

  So without question, she took the dagger, and cut.

  “So you let her go?”

  “I let her go,” Nicholas said, and it echoed through the hollow place in his chest. God. It still hurt to say, to think it. But he had let her go—he’d had to.

  Leslie didn’t immediately reply, and he could feel her studying his expression. Trying to read into him. Funny thing was, she didn’t need to look that deep. He’d told her everything that had happened from the night he’d met Ash to the final day in the cabin, spilling his guts right out at her feet; the legs of her armchair might as well be swimming in them. But he waited, sitting on her couch, elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped loosely in between.

  Twenty years, they’d sat talking together like this. The salt-and-pepper in her hair had turned completely gray in that time. She’d moved offices, replacing drapes and soothing shadows with open blinds and pots of leafy flowers. Her two children had grown from gangly teens in a photo into a surgeon and an artist, now with children of their own. For twenty years, she’s seen into him, understood him better than anyone.

  Except for Ash.

  She drew in a soft breath. “Nicholas,
have you been reading the news at all in the past few months?”

  “Every day.”

  “Then you know that Rachel Boyle has been found. That she suffered some trauma, lost her memory, but has spent the past three years at Nightingale House—just as you say this demon Ash did. Have you spoken to Rachel at all?”

  “No, because that’s not her. Rachel’s dead, and Ash is what’s left of her.” And so much more. God, so much more than a woman stripped down to nothing. “The Rachel you’ve seen is a Guardian, drawing Madelyn out.”

  “Have you spoken to the Guardians? Have they told you this?”

  “No. But I know. She looks exactly the same, but she doesn’t move like Ash does. She doesn’t speak like Ash does. It’s close, but it’s not perfect.”

  “I see,” she said.

  Nicholas grinned. When she raised her brows to encourage him, he said, “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Tell me.”

  “That whatever ‘trauma’ Rachel went through probably first occurred six years ago, the night that she and Madelyn disappeared. And that because I was with them, I probably suffered the same trauma—except that I repressed the events, and my mind created another scenario that seemed so real that I’m convinced that Madelyn shot Rachel, despite the lack of blood and other evidence. But now that Rachel has returned, I’m trying to fit the story from the news into the version that my mind has created. So I came up with Ash and all the rest.”

  Leslie didn’t confirm or deny it. “Do you think that explanation is so impossible?”

  “Not impossible. It’s just not what happened.”

  “Nicholas, in our first session after you met the vampire who told you about the existence of demons, we discussed the possibility that you had constructed a mythology that not only eased your sense of guilt and responsibility for Rachel’s disappearance, but one that also allowed for her return. A resurrection, of sorts.”

  “Yes, but this ‘mythology’ has never eased my guilt, and Rachel coming back never even occurred to me until I met the Guardians. Bringing her back was certainly never a goal. Only revenge was.”