by Lisa Medley
Nate hadn’t completely drained her energy, but the inevitable result for him filled her with an unfathomable sadness she couldn’t bear. She’d killed before. She was good at it. But only once had she killed an innocent…and so intimately.
“Are you okay?” Deacon asked, dislodging himself from her.
“Yes.” Maeve sat up, her mouth dropping open with awe as she studied Nate.
His aura had returned to the calm yellow he usually emitted. Even when she came across him in that demon nest, his aura had been that same content yellow. It was a trait she admired in him, even though he was oblivious to it.
Nate’s chest was rising and falling in a regular rhythm again, and his body had relaxed into a more sedate position. He looked downright peaceful. His eyelashes fluttered as he came to.
Relief flooded Maeve.
She’d learned long ago to never show weakness—no matter what—so she stuffed her emotions into the black hole in her psyche where they belonged and stood.
The look Nate gave her when his eyes locked onto hers just about broke her. Something elemental had changed between them. She had no idea what, but when he smiled up at her, her knees shook, threatening to buckle beneath her.
“Well, I guess you weren’t poison after all, Maeve,” Deacon said, pulling a seemingly drunk Nate to his unsteady feet.
The goofy grin on the guy’s face was so off-putting; Maeve could barely look at him, but she couldn’t look away, either. Her heart did a little stutter, and she coughed to try to make it stop.
It didn’t.
What. The. Hell?
His smile faded, his forehead crinkling with concern, as he came back to himself and clutched Deacon’s steadying arm. “Ruth is still in danger…”
Before he could even explain, Deacon began to dissolve out of the chapel. Now that his friend was apparently on the mend, his mind must have turned inevitably back to Ruth.
“Deacon, no!” Maeve dove toward him, desperate to break his concentration.
He reassembled in front of her, angry and confused, looking like he wanted to tear her limb from limb.
“She’s here!”
“What?”
“Ruth is here in the hospital! Come, I’ll show you but… Olivia has been taken.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Maeve watched through the glass doors as the others conversed with Ruth’s doctor in the E.R. suite. She paced across the hallway, unnerved by her inability to hear what was going on and her itch to find Olivia.
Deacon’s obvious agitation and Ruth’s continued unconsciousness didn’t bode well for a happy ending to the Catastrophe du Jour. Where was Kylen? She hadn’t had a chance to ask them in the confusion. It seemed as though wires were crossed everywhere. For the supposed saviors of mankind, they surely had the worst communication system ever.
Maeve felt Nate’s gaze and looked up, meeting his eyes. She could almost feel the strange bond that now stretched between them. Something big had happened. Why or how she knew, she had no idea, but there was almost a tangible connection between them now, like she could reach out and pluck it. She turned away, breaking the link. Nate responded immediately, leaving the room to join her.
“How is she?” Maeve asked.
“Bad. The burns, of course, aren’t healing yet. The baby is still viable, but she’s going to be here for a good long while. Deacon wants her stabilized on both accounts before we take her home. He’ll juice her as soon as they leave the room. That should help, but he says he can only give her small doses of energy because of the pregnancy.”
Nate took a tentative step toward Maeve, but she backed away.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked. “What happened?”
Nate shook his head. “I don’t know. It was like I was feeling everything Ruth had experienced, but I couldn’t do anything to help her. When she was near the end of her rope, I went down, too. You and Deacon pulled me back from the abyss. You may have saved Ruth in the process.”
Maeve shifted from foot to foot, her eyes focused on the floor as if it were a treasure map, and mumbled, “Don’t bet on it.”
“What are you so afraid of, Maeve? Is it me?”
Maeve looked stricken. “Why would I be afraid of you?”
“I’m just trying to piece together what’s changed and why.” Nate reached out to comfort her, but she backed away again, reaching for her blade on instinct.
“Not here!” Nate snapped. He raised his hands in submission and backed away from her.
Embarrassed, she blushed and pushed the blade back into its sheath. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We need to find Olivia. Where is Kylen? Why didn’t he come to the hospital with you?”
“He went to the house to make sure Ruth and Olivia were okay.”
“Great.” Fresh dread coursed through Maeve. “The house was on fire, and we ran from it when Ruth was injured. The imps breached the circle as soon as Ruth got hurt, and they chased us all the way to the cemetery. I thought they were after us all, but now I’m sure that they were gunning for Olivia. We were trapped at the cemetery. I was about to flash when something showed up and snatched Olivia. I had no choice but to get Ruth out of there.”
“Camael?”
“I can only assume. He flashed into and out of the consecrated grounds of the cemetery, and he wasn’t a reaper. Know anyone else who could do that?”
“Ah, hell. Let me go tell Deacon. Camael is the only one who is actively playing both sides. His angel essence must allow him to still travel the consecrated subway. Kylen could still travel through consecration even while he was possessed. Camael must be able to do the same. We should see if we can find Kylen before things get worse.” He returned to Ruth’s room, and she watched through the door as he spoke to Deacon.
Maeve tugged her jacket smooth and tight over her scabbard and pulled her sleeves back down to her wrists, completely covering her sheathed blades. What had she been thinking? She’d practically wielded one of her weapons against Nate in the hospital hallway. And for what, invading her personal bubble? She was losing her mind.
The moment passed, her tension shifted yet again.
She tried to pull herself together as Nate kissed Ruth’s forehead, and then snatched up his backpack from the corner of the room before heading her way.
“Let’s go get Bo. I left him in the chapel.” He nodded toward her and held her stare a little longer than was comfortable. “We’ll leave from there and go straight to the house. Deacon needs to stay here with Ruth.”
Nate led the way through the sterile maze of hallways to the chapel. The room was dark and empty save for a row of candles that softly illuminated the area around the altar at the front of the small sanctuary. They walked into the room and the doors closed behind them. Bo emerged from behind the altar, his persistent tail wagging like a propeller and swiping the brass accoutrements from the altar. He approached Nate and flopped over for a belly rub.
Maeve’s eyebrows inched upward. “That’s the hellhound?”
“Yeah. You ready?” Nate gave the dog a pat and Bo rolled over and sat at his side. He gripped the scruff of the dog’s neck with one hand and offered his other hand to Maeve.
“I got it.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for me. I can use the help. No telling where I’ll end up on my own.”
Maeve smirked and clasped his hand.
“Rookie.”
They landed in a pile of smoking rubble.
* * *
Maeve immediately flashed them back a hundred or so feet to the edge of the circle, putting them out of harm’s way. Nate was in awe. The destruction was total.
Gone was the house, the trailer, the garage…everything. All that remained was the burned out husk of his Honda and the stone walls of the house and the basement. He tried to make sense of it, but it was impossible. What if Ruth or Olivia or…Maeve had perished in the flames?
He shuddered. Bo sn
iffed at something wet and gelatinous in the smoldering wreckage to his left. Curious, he walked over to investigate. It was a head.
“Imp.” Maeve toed at the glob with her boot.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins and his blood thrummed in his ears as he realized that he could now see the imp for what it really was. For the first time he was seeing with the eyes of a reaper.
What does that mean?
Another realization took shape in his mind, gelling into a terrible truth. “Holy hell, Kylen must think Ruth and Olivia are dead.”
Maeve turned to him abruptly, her eyes wide. “How do you know?”
Nate pointed to the ruined creature. Not burned, which meant it hadn’t been killed by the fire. “Kylen did this.”
“Shit.” Maeve walked around to the edge of the circle, toeing at various burned flotsam and jetsam. “Where would he have gone?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. Considering he’s a man who thinks he has nothing left to lose? I’d say he’s on a suicide mission and looking for Camael. Alone.” Nate kicked at the remains of the trailer and toed out the pile of blades left in the debris. He bent to retrieve the most wicked-looking blade, its steel still hot to the touch.
“We’ll have to split up.” Maeve drew her scythe from the scabbard on her back. “Purgatory to talk to Rashnu or downtown to roll some demons for intel on Camael? If he’s there, he’ll be on a tear. Wanna flip a coin?”
He didn’t. Both choices were equally bad. He wasn’t even sure if he could go to Purgatory by himself since he wasn’t a real reaper. Maeve had much more experience fighting demons, but he wasn’t willing to admit to his weakness. Still, he didn’t relish the thought of going to the other realm alone.
“Meridian.”
“Works for me.” Maeve took one long last look around the grounds. “We’ll meet back at the hospital chapel in two hours. With any luck, one of us will have Kylen.”
Nate waited for Maeve to vanish into the consecrated subway. When she disappeared, he and Bo flashed as well.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nate successfully landed in downtown Meridian. At this rate, he should be earning frequent-flier miles for all his supernatural travel. His best chance of stopping Kylen from self-destructing was to find him or Olivia, stat.
The St. Mary’s Catholic Church portal they’d used to rescue Deacon had been sealed as soon as they returned from Hell. If Kylen was going after Camael, there was a good chance he was already well on his way to finding an exit portal. Nate had no doubt a motivated Kylen could devise a satisfactory method of finding a way to Hell, even a well-hidden one.
The next problem was how to get Kylen back against his will. The guy was volatile on a good day, and if he was under the impression that Ruth and Olivia were dead? Nate didn’t think Kylen would even be capable of hearing reason. Besides, the guy wouldn’t leave a fight this big without a resolution.
A man with nothing to lose was hard to beat.
This was without a doubt a job Deacon should be doing, but the big guy was fighting for the lives of his lover and unborn child. No man—reaper or otherwise—would be able to worry about anything else under those circumstances.
Tamping down his own feelings about Ruth’s current situation, he marveled at the fact that a few short months ago he hadn’t even known most of these people. But now his life was intimately entwined with theirs. He and Ruth had so much in common, right down to being adopted. She felt like family.
Nate took stock of where he was, and set about making a more focused search for the portal. He walked quickly down one alley then another trying to cover a grid pattern like they had earlier. It wasn’t the first time he’d wished he had the reaper sensory projection Kylen could sometimes use to sense their quarry. But what he did have was a hellhound. Bo sniffed the ground beside a cardboard recycling bin, scaring a rat out from behind it.
“Bocephus, come.”
Nate wasn’t privy to the secret Reaper Authority handshake, let alone the Hellhound Use and Training Manual. He had no idea how this demon-tracking thing worked. Or even the commands needed to get the dog to do his thing.
Moments later, Bo hurtled toward Nate, skidding to a stop before jumping on his chest. The great dog’s forepaws struck him square in the solar plexus, pushing him down and pinning him to the ground as the brute panted his hot dog breath all over his face, with a liberal slathering of dog drizzle.
Nate laughed in spite of his grim mood, rolling away from the monster’s immense bulk. The dog was the friendliest nightmare creature he had ever met. Better than the imps by far. Now he knew why he’d never been a cat person.
Grabbing great tufts of fur behind both of the dog’s ears, Nate gave him a good scratching. He’d never been allowed a pet of his own until his Wiccan guardians had adopted him. Even then, pets had been more like family members than animals. Familiars, some called them. None of the familiars that were attached to the members of his coven had ever been as happy to see him as Bo was now. A glimmer of hope sparked in Nate’s chest and bloomed, spreading warmth through him and filling him with a momentary calm. Maybe this would all work out after all.
The spark of hope was extinguished seconds later when Nate smelled the reek of a demon. Bo jumped to his feet, a low growl emanating from him as four demons, using college-aged men as hosts, ambled into view. Hell, they weren’t even going to have to track the bastards down at this rate. The demons were so thick they were coming to him.
The group paused at the entrance to the alley. Nate reached over his right shoulder and pulled a short sword from his scabbard. Only reapers rated the “government issued” scythes. He was grateful that he’d heeded Kylen’s advice and started to carry a more effective weapon. With the short sword, he didn’t have to come as close to make a kill as with the push daggers, but he still didn’t like his odds. He’d never faced one demon alone, let alone four.
Adrenaline rushed to his heart, which drummed loudly in his chest and head, blocking out all other sound. He tried to ground himself, retrieving the calm he’d experienced moments earlier, but it was long gone. Fight or flight was his current modus operandi.
Bo made the first move, charging toward the quartet in a flurry of fur and teeth. The demons carried no visible weapons. They had thrown out any notions of subtlety… All they needed to do was get close enough to their victims to jerk out their souls. Nate had no intention of becoming one of their victims.
Bo barreled toward Thing One and Thing Two while the remaining two demons strode toward Nate. Their toxic stench was overwhelming, worse somehow than what he’d experienced while in Hell. As they closed the distance to him, his eyes began to burn and water, blurring his vision.
He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his line of sight, but something was wrong. The stench had surrounded him in a fog, and was mudding his mind as well as his vision. None of the demons he’d helped kill and dispatch had used this sort of weapon before…this was something new.
The demons were evolving.
Nate needed a better defense. He was almost incapacitated, and the first blow hadn’t even been struck. Although he’d never knowingly manifested a protective aura alone, he and Ruth had done so together many times in the past. The magical circles he’d cast around his home and Ruth’s were mostly static. What he needed now was something more mobile. He imagined a protective circle of energy projecting out from him, pushing away the debilitating poison from the demons. The circle wouldn’t stop the demons from attacking him, but he hoped it would reduce or eliminate this new advantage of theirs.
Focusing inward, he drew in a long, deep breath, and then watched in amazement as light began to glow around him. Soon he was enveloped by a bright green radiance.
A screeching noise drew their attention. The demons turned back to see their fallen comrades being ripped and sliced by Bo. The dog’s size and ferocity was impressive, and he was more than a match for his two opponents. When one fell to the ground, the dog
latched onto its throat, tearing it open like a bloody Christmas gift, all but decapitating the host before he renewed his attack upon the other one. Raking his claws down the demon’s fleshy shell, the dog then inflicted a well-placed bite to its neck.
The hosts’ heads were still attached by tendons and dangling bits of flesh, but the job was completed—they lay dead and worthless and Bo began to consume the bodies in great fleshy chunks. Two black torrents of smoky mist streamed from the torsos, followed by several lighter gray shadows. Unable to resist the call of the untethered souls, Thing Three and Thing Four retreated from Nate to retrieve the freed souls for their master. They were programmed for one duty: collecting souls. Right now that was working to Nate’s advantage.
He watched as they collected the errant souls. The two unhoused demons hovered nearby for a few moments, obviously weighing the possibility of taking Nate’s body, and then abandoned the alley in search of easier prey. After gathering the stray souls, the two remaining demons, stuffed and confused, also abandoned the fight, retreating down the alley at a jog.
Nate hoped they would be drawn to the portal to deliver their latest cargo. It was the best plan he had… It was the only plan he had.
“Bo, come!” Nate called to the hellhound, who reluctantly obeyed his command this time and retreated from the already-spotless site of his frenzied dinner party. He dropped one remaining bloody femur at Nate’s feet, wagging his tail. “No time for fetch now, boy. Let’s follow those demons to the portal.”
Careful to stay far enough behind them not to draw their interest, Nate and Bo followed the quickly deteriorating hosts to the edge of town. The demons were slow and lethargic, but they seemed determined. Nate was becoming increasingly certain that they’d lead him to exactly what he was looking for.
They were heading into the industrial part of town near the old railroad hub, an unfamiliar area for Nate. The train yard had long since closed and only the daily coal trains passed through the area on their way to the power plant. No cargo loaded or offloaded here anymore, and auto traffic was virtually nonexistent. It was the perfect place for nefarious activities…and a portal to Hell.
