by Dianna Hardy
She saw the wheels turning in his head, the slow dawning that magic does exists, and if magic existed, then demons must too. She saw the powerful magician he'd become and prayed to God she was about to say the right thing.
"Amy, we have to go."
She saw the moment Paul finally understood what was going to happen; she saw the exact moment his heart died.
"Lizzie, don't go," he whispered, his words engrained with despair. "Don't let him take you. For God's sake, I love you, please don't go."
"Ssshhh, everything's all right," she choked out, as she traced his tears with her finger. "Elizabeth May loves you."
"Amy!"
She leaned forward, kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, "I forgive you."
Then she tore herself from him and grabbed Pueblo's outstretched hand. He pulled her into the spectrum of lights, and she didn't look back.
Chapter Eleven
It was three in the morning when Pueblo and Amy had arrived in Amy's flat in Croydon. She had still been in tears, and had asked to be left alone, and he had felt – still felt – like he wanted to throw himself off the tallest building he could find.
He'd bitten her. He'd fucking bitten her.
Hot tears of self-loathing pricked behind his eyes. Hadn't he known this was how it would be? Hadn't he known the beast inside him – his father's beast – would hurt the woman he…
He shook his head to clear it, and realised he was standing in Karl's road. He looked at the sky. It was just before dawn – he'd walked all the way here from Croydon and hadn't even realised where he was going.
With a sigh, he made his way up to the front door and knocked.
Elena opened it. "Hey," she said. "Come in."
"Hey. Can't sleep?" He closed the door behind him.
"Not yet. It's the new succubus thing. Apparently I won't be sleeping for months. Good job too with everything that's going on. Did you find Amy?"
He nodded. "She's home."
Elena gasped and tears of relief welled in her eyes. "Oh, thank God. Karl!" she called out.
"Karl's up too?"
"He's worried about Mary, and upset over John."
Pueblo followed Elena into the living room.
Karl looked up. "Hey, how's it going?"
"Amy's home," blurted out Elena.
Karl beamed. "That's great news!"
"Yeah," said Pueblo, sinking into the sofa.
"Which is clearly why you're all sullen and mopey. Want a beer? Gwain's got a stash somewhere…"
"Yeah, I think I will, thanks."
"I'll get it," said Elena, and sauntered off.
"What gives?" asked Karl.
Pueblo rubbed his face, and before he could stop it a sob heaved his chest. He shot up off the couch before he embarrassed himself further.
"Will you sit the fuck down, for Christ's sake? You've been looking for Amy tirelessly for one week, night and day, no sleep, I've barely seen you eat, you finally find her and you think you need to be all Alpha about it?"
"I'm not 'being Alpha'," he growled.
"Then quit stalking my territory, and sit down."
He threw himself back down on the sofa, angrily. "I screwed up. I bit her. I was aiming for the other guy, she was in the way."
"Because you didn't bother to ask her to move, or because she threw herself in the way?"
"She—how did you know?"
"I know, because you'd never hurt her on purpose."
"How can you be so sure?"
"How can you not be so sure? Did you hurt her on purpose?"
"No."
"There you go then."
Pueblo crossed his arms and stared at the TV, which was on low. Some woman with plastic looking hair in a shampoo commercial grinned back at him.
"Look—" started Karl.
"I know what you're going to say," he cut in.
"My father killed my mother with a lava lamp in a state of drunken rage."
Pueblo stared at him, speechless.
"If you look on the floor behind that cabinet over there, you'll still be able to see the faint outline of the blood stain I couldn't completely remove."
"Uh… Man, I'm sorry."
"Don't be, there was nothing I could have done that would have changed anything, believe me, I tried. But I'm not totally okay with my father being a murderous bastard. You see, if I was, I wouldn't feel the need to be teetotal, and every time I get angry, there's always that little tendril of fear that wonders if I'm going to freak out like my dad and end up killing someone." He paused, then added, "If you feel like taking that as your cue to share, please do."
Pueblo let out a little laugh that ended in a sigh of defeat.
Karl sat back and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
The thought of talking about it made Pueblo's gut ache, but then he thought of everything that Amy had been through – not that she'd told him her version yet. She had balls of steel, he thought with a smile. And what did he have? Three pairs of loin cloths going crisp on the radiator.
He leaned back against the cushions. "A human cannot enter the Dessec dimension, unless a Dessec permits it – the portal simply won't allow a human through. My father, being a shaman, could see into many dimensions, and one day, he spied my mother. She was the Dessec Queen at the time – tall, ebony skin, beautiful and regal … so I've heard. I've never had the privilege of meeting her.
"He saw her and he wanted her. For him, it was that simple. Since he couldn't enter the Dessec portal as a human, he shifted and entered as a black panther. No one knew. He approached my mother's hut, crept in while she was sleeping, and then discovered that he could not change back to human form – the rules of the dimension prevented it. Instead of leaving like any sane intruder would, he attacked my mother in panther form. He clawed her 'til she would lie still, and then he raped her. When he was done, he disappeared and never returned. But it didn't end there.
"My mother conceived that night. For some reason I will never fathom, she fought her tribe to keep me. Being the queen, she got her way in the end. Little did she know that the laws of the dimension would also apply to me, not just my father. I could not grow inside her as a human foetus; I grew as a panther cub, and killed her when I clawed my way out of her. I walk in the human world because I can walk freely here in my true form. In my own dimension, I have to walk as the cat."
He turned and looked at Karl, who was staring at him, wide-eyed.
"Holy shit."
"Yeah."
"Well, I can see why you have a problem with yourself."
"Yeah. When I hurt Amy tonight…" His eyes pricked hot again.
"She threw herself in the line of fire. Did she blame you for it?"
"No. She said it wasn't my fault."
"And it wasn't. Did you stop when she told you to?"
"Yes."
Karl let out a laugh. "Well, she's got you nicely in line. I'd be more worried about what she could do to you, than what you could do to her."
"I suppose," he said, wondering what exactly she could do to him.
Elena walked into the living room with her jumper, coat, scarf, woolly hat, gloves and boots on. She plonked the beer on the table. "Sorry you had to wait," she scowled. "Apparently our fridge isn't cold enough for Gwain; no, he likes to keep his beer in the fucking garden shed. I had to get dressed, find the key and go all the way down there – it's freezing outside."
As if on cue, a shirtless Gwain walked through the wall of the living room.
Karl shot him a look.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist," grumbled Gwain, "no one saw me."
"Where are your clothes?" exclaimed Elena. "It must be below zero out there."
"Oh, yeah, better get a new shirt."
"Guys," said Pueblo, standing up. "I'm going to head back to Amy's and see how she's doing."
"You got her back?" asked Gwain.
He nodded. "She's resting."
"Good, good. Tomorrow we start o
n—"
"Oh, my God," whispered Elena, "Look." She grabbed the remote for the TV and turned the volume up, until the news reporter's voice filled the room.
"—have no idea what caused the hole in the ground. Geologists have rejected the claim that it was caused by an earthquake, but admit that they can't rule it out. Prison guards are currently being questioned as to why there were no eye witnesses at the time of—"
"Is everyone looking at the picture of that hole? What is that?" asked Elena. "And isn't this the same police station where they took Mary?"
Pueblo felt the chill before he realised where it was coming from. A cold fury filled the room. Everyone visibly flinched.
"Er … Gwain?" mumbled Karl.
"—is asking everyone to stay on the look out for Mary Anthony. There is no confirmation that she fell during the quake and no body has been found. At the moment she is being treated as an escaped convict that should be considered armed and dangerous."
Gwain was staring at the photo of Mary on the television. Everyone else was staring at Gwain. Without any warning, his wings extended their full length. Elena screamed and ducked, while Karl and Pueblo stumbled backwards.
Gwain bunched his wings up at the top and curled his feathers in at the tip.
Pueblo knew sod all about angels, but if that wasn't a war stance, he didn't know what was. He surprised himself by being the first one to step up. "What do you need us to do?"
Gwain caught his eye, and he had to steel himself against what he saw there. He felt momentary pity for whoever or whatever took Mary, because sure as the sun would rise, they were going to get ripped to pieces.
"Go and look after Amy," he said softly. "I've got this."
Before anyone could say anything, the angel had disappeared, leaving three bewildered half-humans in his wake.
Chapter Twelve
Pueblo knocked on Amy's front door, wondering if he should have called first. Maybe she was still sleeping. Maybe he should just materialise for a second to check on her, then leave her undisturbed.
The door opened. "Hi," she smiled, behind puffy eyes.
His heart cracked a little more.
"Come in," she ushered, and shut the door behind him. "I was lounging on the sofa, about to make myself a second coffee. I've really missed decent coffee."
She waved at the television as she walked by. "Did you see that thing on the News about the quake?"
"Yeah, er … a lot's happened since you've been gone. I was going to wait 'til you were feeling a bit better before going through it all."
She looked pointedly at him, clearly waiting for him to tell her what was going on.
"Mary was in that quake. She was at the police station when it happened, and no one can find her now. I suspect that hole is a portal…" His voice trailed off as he saw her face go from placid to distressed at the mention of a portal.
"We've got to get her out."
"Gwain's on it."
"No, we've all got to—"
"Hey…" He took her hand, rubbing his thumb along hers. "Mary's tough, and believe me when I say that Gwain's on it. I've never seen anything human or otherwise look so deadly when he found out. He'll let us know if there's anything we can do." He hesitated. "How are you?"
She looked at him and offered up a sad smile. "Tired … in my heart."
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"And how's your shoulder?"
"Still sore, but you did some good healing on it – thanks."
"I can do some more."
"No. The pain's nice in a strange way. It's sort of a reminder that everything actually happened, rather that it all being some weird dream."
"What um…" He took a breath. "What did happen? When you were there…"
She stared at him, eyes still shimmering. His heart clenched. If at this moment, he knew that throwing himself under a train would make her happy again, he'd do it.
She took his hand. "Come on," she said, and led him to the sofa. "Lie down with me for a bit."
He lay against the back of the sofa and spooned her into him. She twisted and turned a bit until she was completely comfortable, and nestled that fantastic round arse right against his crotch.
He stifled a groan. He was already growing hard. "Maybe I should sit up."
She gripped his thigh and pulled him closer. "Don't be such a wuss; I love your body up against mine." She turned to catch his eye. "I just want to feel warm for a bit, okay?"
"Okay." Of course okay … he'd do anything she wanted. Karl was right. He was totally under her thumb. And with the feel of her soft body against his, he wasn't sure there was anywhere else he'd rather be. He let out a little laugh. He never thought he'd see the day.
"What's so funny?"
"The way I feel about you."
"You feel funny about me?"
"Now who's being funny?
She grinned, then turned, so she was facing him. She took one of his hands and placed it on the shoulder he'd ripped into. Guilt hit him right in the centre of his chest.
"I don't want you to blame yourself for this, all right?"
"That's hard for me to do."
"I knew what I was doing when I jumped in front of you."
"Why did you?" he asked with more force than he'd intended.
"Because Paul didn't deserve you coming at him like a sabre-toothed tiger on drugs."
He wrestled to keep his face from showing any reaction to the man's name. Clearly, he failed.
She touched his cheek. "Don't, please. It's over."
"Did you love him?"
"Not in the way you think."
"That's not a no."
"No, it's not a no. But love isn't black and white, and I'm really not ready to talk about it yet." She sighed. "Pueblo, I'm yours. I meant that when I said it. But you need to give me room, and time. At the moment, I don't know where I begin and end."
He brushed the tear that fell down her face.
"And I can't seem to stop bloody crying," she added.
"I'll give you anything you need. You do know that, don't you?"
Her beautiful mouth tilted upwards.
"I'm starting to. I haven't known you long – I'd like to get to know you better. If you're waiting for me to declare my undying love for you, I can't do that yet, blood-bond or no blood-bond. If you think I'm the swoony type of heroine you find in romance novels, who'll fall into your arms just because you saved me from an alternate reality or whatever, get ready to leave empty handed, because I don't want to be caught."
He raised an eyebrow. "I've never read a romance novel … but I hear you. Amy, I don't want to catch you – unless we're talking about some hot sex, where I can pin you down and make you moan 'til you're screaming my name in surrender." His cock jumped just at the thought of it. "I'm going to give you very little say in the bedroom, I hope you realise that – that's my nature … whether I like it or not … and I need to learn to like it.
"But I love your independence, I love that you don't swoon, I love that you'll fight me with your last breath if you think I'm wrong, and if I ever have to catch you, I swear I'll make sure you're standing on your feet as quickly as you can manage it. I—"
She shut him up with a kiss. A soft tongue swept along his bottom lip. He moaned and opened his mouth to let her inside. The sweet taste of roses and lemons … with a hint of coffee … drew him in and possessed him. She was truly in his system. He wasn't going to be getting her out without a full blood transfusion, and even then he doubted that would work.
"Amy—"
"No," she whispered, "don't say anything else. That was perfect, what you just said. Perfect. Including the bit about the hot sex," she smiled. "Just hold me for a bit, please."
He did hold her, and he continued to hold her after she fell asleep, and he'd still be there when she woke up. Because he loved her – he knew he did, and his damned cat had always known it. He didn't know if she could ever love him. It didn't matter. He would give her
what she needed. And if she needed him to hold her until the end of time, he would.
Epilogue
Gwain circled the floor of the cell, ignoring all the bodies of the security people and reporters that he'd lulled into a stupor for the second time since the early hours of the morning. The shirt button that he'd found on the floor by the far wall seemed to burn a hole in his palm, as it forced images into his mind of what had taken place. Damn it. He crushed the button between his finger and thumb.
He'd gotten here too late; the gateway had already closed up. He wondered how the geologists would try to explain that one … or what he was about to do next.
He flared his nostrils. There was that scent again, like hot spice and burnt tar – it heightened his fury. Her aroma was also there, mingled with it – Jasmine. She smelt like fucking Jasmine, and he hadn't been able to get it out of his mind since he'd first caught the tang of her blood in the air, when she'd sat next to him on the porch. What the hell had he been thinking, asking her to call his name? He hadn't been thinking. He'd just known he could help her – known what she needed but could never find. He hadn't been thinking at all, completely caught up in the wonderment of how that blood might smell on a fresh cut, rather than the old ones his senses could pick up on. But then he never did do anything right.
He shook the thoughts out of his head, and concentrated on that first scent, the spice and tar. Here – it was strongest here. He ran his foot over the spot, then pressed down. He could feel it – the give in the cement. No one else would be able to, but he could.
He pulled Mary's necklace from his pocket, closed both his hands around it and uttered a prayer in the Old Tongue. Then he fastened the silver clasp around his neck.
With a rumble that began somewhere in the pit of his stomach before it erupted as a roar from his lungs, he threw himself down and drove his fist into the ground. The cement cracked. He did it again, and the earth shook. Again – his fist bled. Again, again, again … until red light emerged from the split and the heat from the Underworld threatened to scorch his skin.
Standing, he looked at his handy work – not a large gateway, but big enough for him. And he was the only one going in. So much for staying away from Hell.
