by Amy Braun
Warrick turned up his right wrist, showing me a small tattoo of a name with two hummingbirds on either side of it. The name read ‘Emma’.
“Second,” he said.
I looked from the tattoo to him when he pulled his arm back. I wondered who Emma was. Probably a girlfriend, or a woman he loved and couldn’t let go. Warrick must’ve been the sentimental type.
This was the first time I had been more or less alone with the demon slayer. It was as good a time as any to get answers and tips from him. It would keep me from getting distracted by those spellbinding eyes that seemed to warm the very center of my being.
But first, I had to know why he was sticking around. Unlike earlier, we were both in the mood to talk.
“So, why are you here?” I asked.
Warrick looked at me curiously. “What do you mean?”
“What I said. Why are you here getting inked with us? There are probably demons out there for you to kill, and you haven’t taken off to chase them.”
He held my eyes for a moment, then dropped them to my boots. “I knew Max’s dad. Met with him a couple times when I needed information. He was a good man, and when Max told me what happened… I had to help.”
The memory came back, the one of Drake standing in front of me, lifting the gun and pulling the trigger on Manny. The way he had instantly crumpled, not even able to scream. The amount of blood that had pooled underneath him staining the carpet and the hardwood underneath…
All because Drake had been looking for me.
“Max told me about your sister,” Warrick added quietly. “I know what she can do.”
I tensed, looking as dangerous as I could. But Warrick didn’t seem to be intimidated. He raised one of his hands, as if he could stop me with that simple gesture.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt her.” He looked over my shoulder at Dro. “She seems like a sweet girl, and you all really care about her. I only kill demons, and your sister is anything but.”
I wasn’t too sure about that, but I wasn’t going to voice my doubts to anyone. Especially not to a demon slayer. I was halfway into a bad mood, and decided to curb it by changing the topic.
“How long have you been slaying?” I asked, leaning against the wall.
His eyes were heavy. “About five years. That’s a long time in our world.”
“What’s your secret?” I asked curiously.
Warrick smiled at me. It was a nice smile, if a little sad.
“Lots of belief, and lots of bullets.”
I stifled a laugh. “Didn’t peg you for the church-type.”
“I’m more agnostic, really,” he clarified. “But I believe there’s something out there stronger and wiser than us. At least I hope so. People can be pretty crazy sometimes.”
“No lie there. Is that why you became a slayer? Because you believe in all that noble destiny stuff?”
His green eyes turned haunted, and I stopped pushing him. I recognized a look of pain when I saw one.
Warrick took a seat near the wall. He started rubbing the ‘Emma’ tattoo with his thumb.
“My sister was a medium,” he said, eyes on the ink. “She could see the dead. Around Halloween she would tell me that she could see more than just spirits. She saw creatures, things that couldn’t exist. It turned out she was seeing demons.” He was quiet for a long time. “I did it for her. To keep her safe. I wanted to protect her from them.”
Part of me wanted to ask more. The other part of me knew better. Prying into Warrick’s past wasn’t going to win me any points with him.
After a moment, I asked, “What did your parents think?”
“Nothing, because they didn’t know. I was the only one Emma ever told. She knew I would believe her when no one else would.” His eyes lifted to mine. “Kind of like you and Dro.”
I was quiet for a long time. Mom and Dad had known Dro was special from the moment they saw her. It hadn’t just been the way she looked. There was something different about her, something you knew when you saw her. Only we never knew how much, or what it would cost us in the end.
But we had loved her anyway. That was what family did. They loved each other, no matter how different and strange some of that family was.
“Is that why you got her name tattooed on you?”
Warrick’s eyes clouded, my first warning that I was starting to walk on shaky ground.
“No,” he replied. “I got it as a tribute.”
Oh. “I’m sorry,” I said honestly.
I didn’t need to know the details. Whatever had happened to Warrick’s sister was obviously painful for him. I was a sister myself, and I couldn’t justify hurting him with old memories. Even though being around him made me anxious and confused.
Then his eyes filled with anger. “Not as sorry as Drake Talbot is going to be.”
I blinked and was unable to speak. I hadn’t expected that. Now I had to ask. Drake wasn’t going to be on anyone’s best friend list, but what did he do to Warrick’s sister to make him so furious?
I thought about the way Drake had been touching and threatening Dro in front of me, and then decided I didn’t want to know the details to that story either.
Warrick’s phone rang on his hip and he stood up, checking the caller ID on the screen. He gave me an apologetic look, then brushed past me and walked outside the tattoo parlor to take the call. I watched him from beyond the glass, wondering if another slayer had finally gotten back to him.
Trusting Warrick was a bad idea, but for some reason I wanted to. He was fearless and confident at the border when I was possessed. He was willing to put his life on the line to help us stop the demons, and he hadn’t accused Dro of being some monster that needed to be killed when he learned what she was. The man had even let himself get tattooed so he would be better at his job.
But he was a mystery, and mysterious men had betrayed me in the past.
I turned away from the door and looked at Dro, who was sitting next to her almost-boyfriend. I walked across the parlor to them. Like Warrick, Max had removed his shirt for the tattooing. Unlike Warrick, Max wasn’t rippling with the muscle of a boxer. He was a little on the scrawny side, but I wasn’t the one chasing after him. Dro was doing as very good job of not squealing like a teenage girl at a boy band concert.
My eyes shifted over Max’s chest to the spot where he had been shot. There wasn’t a raw, gaping wound since someone healed him, but there was a small circular scar near his shoulder. Dro must have healed him, just not fast enough to take away the scar. My heart ached then twisted in anger for Drake. Warrick might want a piece of him, but if I found Drake first, I was going to kill him. And I would smile when I did it.
“How do you like getting tattooed?” I asked, pushing away the dark thoughts.
Max couldn’t lift his shoulder, so he grimaced and shrugged his eyebrows. “It’s like a day at the spa, right? A day at the spa with a million needles all the time.”
I stifled a laugh. “It’s not that bad, wuss.”
“Says the badass chick who’s done this before.”
My laugh was more genuine this time. I was glad to have met Max. He was the only honest person I knew who wasn’t my sister. There was no way I could thank him enough for taking us in and showing Dro a kindness I never thought she would see. But at the same time, I regretted it. I’d brought pain and suffering to his door, been the reason he was shot, and the reason his father was dead. He should have hated me. I would have, if I were him.
“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Max said.
I glanced up at him. For a moment I’d forgotten that he could sense things about people around him if he concentrated enough. He reached out and gently touched my hand. I wanted to pull away, not wanting him to see all the terrible things swirling around inside my heart. But he refused to let go.
“I’m not mad at you,” he assured me, his eyes showing no hint of pain, “and I definitely don’t blame you for what happened.” Max’s eye
s went dark. “It was his fault.”
He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right, either. Drake had been after me. Might still be after me if he’d somehow survived the demons at the border. I had to live with that for the rest of my life, no matter how short it was going to be.
“Don’t think like that,” Max stressed, getting my attention again. “You did everything you could. I’m grateful, and Dad would have been proud.”
It wasn’t Max’s intention to hurt me, but that was exactly what he did. My heart ached to think about how much more I could have learned from Manny. How patient and understanding he had been when I’d pushed him away. How he hadn’t blamed or scolded me for the things I had done, thinking that I could still save myself. He was wrong, but the sentiment had been nice.
Max looked ready to say something else, but I put my hand on his shoulder to silence him.
“Noted,” I said quietly. I yanked my hand back. “Now stay out of my head.”
Max must have seen that I wasn’t joking around, because his expression wasn’t as playful anymore. Dro sighed and shook her head at me.
The tattoo artist finished up on Max’s ink and let him out of the chair. Dro would speed up his healing, just as she would for Warrick and me. The last thing we needed was to fight demons with an infected anti-possession tattoo.
I heard the door open behind me and turned quickly, my hand resting at my hip where I could reach my hatchet. The people in the tattoo parlor couldn’t see it underneath my lucky jacket and were probably wondered what the hell I was doing, but I didn’t care. If a demon stormed through the doors, I would be ready. They wouldn’t be.
But the only person who walked through the door was Warrick. He slid his phone back into his pocket and walked through the parlor to us.
“That was my contact with the Marshals,” he said. “No one’s seen Drake or anyone matching his description. He might have crossed the border.”
Warrick wasn’t pleased with that. I wasn’t pleased with him knowing the Marshals.
“You have a connection to the law?” I asked.
“Of course. It’s not like slaying pays my rent.”
I turned to Max, who was standing next to Dro beside the chair. I gripped Max’s elbow and dragged him over to me.
“It would have been nice to know your emergency demon slayer does work for the U.S. Marshals,” I said in a quiet, dangerous voice.
Max frowned, pulling free from my grip. “If I’d have known, you’d have known.”
There goes all the trust I could have given Warrick. If he collected bounties for a living, there was no way he didn’t know about me. No way he wouldn’t want that twenty-five grand. My body tensed but my heart raced. If he was on the phone with the Marshals, he might have told them I was with him, and that he would bring me in. I kept my eyes from Warrick, already planning on how I was going to cut him loose.
“That’s not a bad thing though, right?” Dro said, knowing the problems Warrick might bring but focusing on distracting him. “Maybe he’ll give up on the bounty now that he knows demons are involved.”
Warrick gave her a cold look, but the hatred wasn’t directed at her. “You don’t know Drake Talbot. Once he sets a goal or takes a job, he sees it through to the bloody end.”
Dro looked at me, as if I knew something she didn’t. I shrugged. Her guess about Warrick and Drake’s history was as good as mine.
Warrick didn’t elaborate, stalking off to the wall to be alone while Max finished getting patched up. When we started leaving the tattoo parlor, I tried to ignore the whispers of the tattoo artists and customers at my back. I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, couldn’t tell if they were going to call in the bounty on me now that my face had been seen. Going back to threaten them wouldn’t help my case. I was just going to have to keep my guard up and watch the shadows.
Sephiel and Rorikel weren’t in sight when we got outside. I wasn’t about to start shouting for them, but I didn’t like that they were gone.
“Where the hell did they go?” I asked, scanning the dark streets.
As I said it, the world seemed to shiver. Sephiel and Rorikel suddenly appeared out of thin air, literally in the blink of an eye. I frowned, really not liking how they could do that. Angels showing up randomly didn’t sit well with me.
“We must go to Athens,” Rorikel stated, as if materializing out of nothingness was normal and humans should expect it all the time.
“Athens?” I said with heavy sarcasm. “You mean we get a trip to Greece out of this mess?”
He glared. “No. Athens, Texas.”
I sighed, and solemnly vowed never to try and humor Rorikel again. His brain probably couldn’t comprehend bitter jokes of any kind.
“What’s in Athens?” Warrick asked.
“We have sensed a powerful magic presence there,” Sephiel answered. “Dark magic. It seems prudent to investigate the possibility that the witch is summoning demons there, and perhaps uncover clues to stopping the Opening ritual.”
“I can feel it too,” Dro whispered. I looked at her, and she at me. “I can feel the darkness coming from there. Almost like it’s in my blood.”
Dro sounded calm, though she was the opposite. I wasn’t about to question her judgment, though I did see the nervous look Rorikel and Sephiel gave each other.
“What?” I asked.
Rorikel looked away. Sephiel turned to face us. “To feel black magic in her blood like that… It is, unusual for a Nephilim to do.”
“But they can do it, right?” Dro asked. “I’m not the only one?”
He looked at her sadly. “If there is another Nephilim with that skill, they are not known to us.”
Of course not, I thought grimly. That would mean Dro is actually a Nephilim. And she isn’t.
“We’ll worry about what that means later,” I said, hoping it wasn’t anything serious. And knowing I was probably wrong.
Chapter 12
Since Rorikel and Sephiel were the only ones who could teleport, we were forced to drive. Sephiel produced a car from somewhere (since Rorikel was probably too virtuous to steal) and we decided to stop at a motel in Abilene for rest.
The angels checked us into an almost decent motel that took cash for joint rooms. Rorikel, Max, and Warrick took one while me, Dro, and Sephiel took the other. The angels took some time to set up invisible walls– wards, apparently– and spells that would avert human attention and soundproof the rooms. There was no telling who might be possessed since the incident at the border. We hadn’t really listened to the news in the last few days, but I hardly imagined all of those demons had been killed yet, even if the portal was closed. I just hoped no one else had been killed. Well, except for Drake. I hoped the demons had torn him to shreds.
Despite the joint rooms, there wasn’t much privacy. The guys wanted the room doors open in case they needed to come in and rescue us from a demonic attack, as if we were helpless damsels. I swear they forgot I was carrying a jacket full of throwing knives and a well used hatchet.
We didn’t have much to do, so we spread ourselves around our room. I was sitting on the edge of the bed. Warrick leaned against the dresser with his hands at his sides. Sephiel and Rorikel stood like white statues on either side of the front door. Max decided to sit at the blocky table in the corner with Dro and use his cell phone to find clues about the town of Athens. He stopped when he came across information regarding a place called Fuller Park. The Park was famous for its haunted gravesite, and the satanic rituals that often went on there.
“They have a tunnel system shaped like a pentagram,” he added.
“Seriously?” I said.
“Yup. There are five stone markers for each of the entrances.”
“Is it occupied?”
“Not for a long time. Only paranormal hunters and Satanists venture out that way, but these days they seem to be staying away from it. Like even they can tell it’s a messed up place.” He held my eyes. “They say it’s curs
ed.”
“Probably because it is,” muttered Warrick. “Slayers get called out to this part of Texas all the time to deal with possessions.”
“How many of you are there?” I asked, suddenly wanting to know how much backup we might have if things went straight to… Well, if they went straight to Hell.
He hesitated. “Most of us like to stay under the radar, but we make sure to keep up on one another’s movements. Passing warnings, updates, that kind of thing.” He took a deep breath. “Right now, there are six living slayers. Including me.”
“Only six?” I said, shocked. “In all of the States?”
He paused, then said, “In all of North America.”
I dropped my head into my hands and let out an angry sigh.
“It’s not a career people get into, Constance. If you’re not born into it, you find a damn good reason to join. Then you pray you’re good enough to stay alive.”
I lifted my head when he said that. From the hurt expression on his face, I realized I had hit a sore spot. But I wasn’t going to apologize when any hope for more help had been slashed to ribbons.
“Fair enough,” I said, leaning back and trying to look apologetic. “So we can’t expect any more slayers.” I looked at Rorikel. “What about other angels?”
Rorikel snorted like I’d just asked a stupid question. I held back from throwing something at him.
“Angels avoid the affairs of demons at all costs,” he proclaimed in a ‘no-duh’ tone of voice. Which I hated.
“To have the power they have, the witch must be willing to give themselves to possession, regardless of the consequences to their body, mind and soul,” said Sephiel, quickly diffusing the hostility between Rorikel and me. “We may encounter resistance from possessed individuals.”
I held back a shiver, remembering what it had been like to be possessed all over again. The excruciating pain, the desperation to claw out of the crushing trap and take my soul back. I wrapped my arms around my middle. My brain couldn’t comprehend a single reason why anyone would think demonic possession was something worth doing.
“They use astral projection and mortal immolation, assuming the demons will grant power to them once the possession is complete.” Rorikel added.
