Quenched in Blood

by Ari McKay

  “I reckon he was referring to the possessed members of ol’ George’s pack,” Eli said. He’d secured Arden on his lap with one arm and stroked Arden’s back soothingly with his free hand. “They’re still haunting me, that’s for damned sure.”

  “Maybe he was referring to the possessed werewolves about the haunting, but I think Gilorean’s mention of the lost souls crying out must be about the cauldron,” Harlan said. “I read everything I could find about it, and in some legends, the price of the cauldron bringing someone back to life is that they are then forever mute. In others, the cauldron contains the cries of all the warriors who fell dead when Efnisien broke it in two to stop the Irish from using it.”

  Julian nodded. “I read that too. And there is an obscure magical text that relates the cauldron being repaired in secret and spirited away to be hidden against a time of great need.”

  “I’d say that time is now,” Whimsy said. “What can we do to help? Look through the journals?” He glanced at Thomas. “Unless you remember which one you saw the reference in.”

  “I’ve been binge-reading the journals lately,” Thomas said, offering an apologetic smile. “It all runs together after a while. I just know I saw something about lost voices. I’m pretty sure it was one of the more recent ones. Maybe even one of my parents’ or grandfather’s journals.”

  “If you don’t mind us reading them, it would make it go faster,” Julian said. He took one of Thomas’s hands in his and squeezed it. “If you don’t want us to, that’s fine. It’s a part of your family you’ve only just found. I understand if you want to keep some things for yourself.”

  Thomas shook his head and tightened his fingers around Julian’s hand. “I don’t want to keep secrets, especially not when it comes to information that might be useful. Y’all can read any of the journals you want. The more information we share, the stronger we’ll all be.”

  “Then we’ll do it.” Julian leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Thomas’s cheek. “Let’s find what we’re looking for. Then we can figure out what we’re going to do to keep you and Whimsy safe.” He caught sight of Arden over Thomas’s shoulder and restrained his impulse to insist they get started at once. “Tomorrow. Tonight is for remembering Gilorean.”

  Fortunately he had plenty of booze, and they probably all needed to take a little time to think about Gilorean’s final vision. He just hoped the fact that Gilorean couldn’t see Julian’s future might mean things weren’t quite as grim as they seemed.

  Chapter Twelve

  MIDNIGHT had long since passed before the impromptu wake for Gilorean broke up, but even after the others went home and left him and Julian alone, Thomas wasn’t eager to go to bed. He wasn’t certain he could sleep with Gilorean’s final prophecy still roiling in his brain, and so he lingered in the library and stared into the fire still crackling in the large fireplace, letting his mind wander.

  As much as he wanted to convince himself that the prophecy was cryptic and could be taken figuratively, he couldn’t quite manage it. Gilorean’s words had been straightforward, and Thomas couldn’t avoid thinking about the workings of fate. He’d learned of his true nature just in time to help stop an impending demonic invasion—and to die in the process. But if he had to die young, at least his death would have meaning and he wouldn’t die in ignorance of his birthright, despite Micah’s best efforts.

  A pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, and Julian’s lips were close to his ear. “Don’t be too concerned about what Gilorean said. He only saw possibilities. Maybe they’re most likely ones, but we have free will. There isn’t anything that can’t be changed.”

  Thomas covered Julian’s hands with his own and leaned against Julian’s broad chest. Tears stung his eyelids as he thought about how much he enjoyed the comfort and safety of Julian’s embrace—and how soon he might lose it forever.

  “If I’m meant to die saving the world from this demon invasion, so be it,” Thomas said. “My only real regret is how little time we’ve had together.”

  Julian went so still Thomas couldn’t even feel him breathing. After a long moment, Julian spoke again, but his tone was flat, without any warmth. “So that’s it? An old mage says you’re going to die, and you’re resigned to it?”

  “No, but I’m not going to stick my head in the sand either,” Thomas said. “I don’t want to die, and I’m sure as hell not going to try to get myself killed, but I’m a neophyte demon hunter, and we’re facing some serious opposition. I didn’t need Gilorean to tell me I wasn’t going in with a high chance of survival.”

  Julian grasped Thomas’s shoulders and turned Thomas to face him. Lines of strain creased Julian’s forehead, and his expression was grim. “Try not to get yourself killed? Do you hear yourself? Maybe we need you to find the cauldron, but then your part is over. You point the way; then the rest of us will handle retrieving it. The demons can’t have found it yet, or I’m sure they would have attacked us already. You’re right, you’re a neophyte, and you don’t need to be in on any fighting we have to do.”

  Thomas frowned as he tried to make sense of what Julian was saying. “Are you seriously implying I should sit this out?”

  “I’d rather you sat it out than went into something you weren’t ready for and ended up dead!” Julian’s hands were almost painfully tight on Thomas’s shoulders. “You’re not going to die. I won’t let it happen.”

  Thomas rested his hands on Julian’s forearms, and the tension he felt vibrating in Julian’s muscles alarmed him. “I know you have my back,” he said, hoping to reassure Julian. “But if something happens, you can’t blame yourself. I don’t want you putting that kind of burden on your heart again.”

  “Nothing will happen, because I won’t allow it!” Julian gazed at him intently, and Thomas thought he saw a glimmer of red in Julian’s eyes. “Even if I wasn’t as responsible as I thought, I still contributed to your parents’ deaths and to Micah’s. Maybe I couldn’t have stopped what happened if I’d known more, but maybe I could have. This time, I do know. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you go up against the same things that killed the rest of your family. If I have to tie you up and stash you in a church, I’ll do it. But the only way you’ll die is if they destroy me first.”

  Thomas drew himself up straight and stepped back, putting himself out of Julian’s reach. He wasn’t afraid of Julian’s bluster, but he wasn’t going to let Julian get away with thinking he could be so controlling either.

  “Excuse me?” he said, his frown deepening. Maybe Julian would realize how he was coming across and would back down, and Thomas wanted to give him the chance to do so before making any declarations of his own.

  Julian scowled, stepping closer to Thomas again. “If it comes to a fight for the cauldron, you’re not going to be part of it. Eli and Harlan and I can handle it, and you and Whimsy can just stay where it’s safe.”

  “The hell I will!” Thomas shook his head as he squared up to Julian. “I think it’s pretty safe to say Whimsy won’t go along with your plan either. You need us, especially me. I can fight demons in ways none of the rest of you can.”

  “I need for you to be safe, don’t you see that?” Julian held out a hand toward him. “I can’t fight if I’m worried about you!”

  As much as he hated fighting with Julian, Thomas ignored Julian’s outstretched hand. This was the most important mission their little group had undertaken, and he needed to be there. A single angel’s feather was a poor substitute for a demon hunter, even a new one.

  “You just told me not to worry about Gilorean’s prediction,” he said. “Now you’re threatening to tie me up because you can’t fight if I’m not safe. You can’t have it both ways, Julian.”

  Julian snarled and began to pace like a caged lion. “If you’re safe, then neither of us has to worry about Gilorean’s prediction, don’t you see?” He stopped and pointed at Thomas. “Don’t do this, Thomas. You don’t have to risk yourself. Let the rest of us handle it.
Don’t be reckless like your parents were, thinking you have to be in the center of everything for us to be successful. That’s what got them killed.”

  Thomas sucked in a sharp breath and pressed his palm against his sternum, feeling the impact of Julian’s words almost as hard as a physical blow. He couldn’t deny his parents had been overconfident and it had gotten them killed, but Thomas didn’t see how he was doing the same thing when he was facing the danger with five other people, not haring off by himself. The calm, rational side of his brain knew Julian was speaking out of fear and likely didn’t mean to hurt him, but a part of him—the lonely orphaned boy he’d once been—was devastated that Julian would use the death of his parents to manipulate him.

  “How about we make a deal?” Thomas said, deciding Julian wasn’t the only one who could hit at sore spots to score points. “I won’t behave like my parents if you don’t behave like my grandfather by trying to control me?”

  Julian’s eyes went wide, and Thomas could see he’d struck Julian as harsh a blow as Julian had done to him. Then Julian’s face once again became a death’s mask, the same expression he’d gotten when Thomas had read him the journal entry where Micah had described how Thomas’s parents had really died. For long moments Julian stared at him. Then, with slow deliberation, he turned away.

  “As you wish.” Julian’s voice was low, his tone as hollow as the grave.

  Thomas’s heart ached for the pain he’d caused Julian, and he wanted nothing more than to fling his arms around Julian and beg for forgiveness. But at the same time, he didn’t want to back down. As little as Julian might like it, the team needed Thomas, and he had no intention of letting fear hold him back.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  He thought he saw Julian’s shoulders hitch once, but then Julian headed toward the door, not looking at Thomas. “I’m going out. See you tomorrow.”

  The desire to run after Julian and apologize and beg him not to leave grew stronger, and Thomas had to swallow hard to keep the words down. Being at odds with Julian made him feel sick to his stomach, especially when they should be spending what could be limited time together, not apart. In the aftermath of Gilorean’s prediction and death, Thomas wanted nothing more than to hold Julian and share his warmth and to be held close and tight in return. Instead, he watched Julian walk away.

  “See you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew Julian’s keen ears would hear him.

  Julian paused, and Thomas thought he might actually come back. But then the moment passed, and Julian continued through the doorway, never once looking back to see Thomas’s regret.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THIS wasn’t how things were supposed to be.

  Julian glanced ahead on the trail, just barely able to see Thomas at the head of the ragtag formation making its way up the ridge toward Roan Mountain High Knob. The day was chilly and overcast, the wind blowing through the balsam firs surrounding them with an ominous sound that almost seemed like a warning.

  He hadn’t spoken to Thomas in almost two days. After leaving Thomas standing in the library after their argument, Julian had fled into the night, turning into mist as soon as he left the house, then letting himself float on the wind. It was the only thing he could think of to escape the cold pit of despair that threatened to choke him.

  He should have known it would come to this, but he’d stupidly allowed himself to hope. After three centuries, he was well aware that he wasn’t good relationship material, but Thomas had gotten to him. Julian had allowed Thomas to get closer than even Whimsy or Arden. He’d basked in Thomas’s warmth, his purity of spirit, his strength and his youth. For a while it had lifted Julian from the darkness—which made it all the worse when things came crashing down at last.

  Being compared to Micah was a blow that had cut Julian to the quick. He didn’t want to control Thomas, he’d only wanted to keep him safe! Thomas had even admitted he was a neophyte, that he didn’t know everything. Then he’d turned on Julian when Julian had only been doing what he’d have done for anyone he’d trained, keeping them out of a situation where they might be in over their heads. Hell, Thomas had only known he was a demon hunter for three months! He was good, and he was getting better every day, but he wasn’t ready to face a demon of the magnitude they were dealing with. Julian was afraid that after Gilorean’s prediction, Thomas would feel it was his destiny to rush in and, with all the impetuosity of youth, attack whatever they faced, no matter how powerful.

  And the demon they faced definitely was powerful. The previous day, while Thomas, Eli, Arden, Harlan, and Whimsy went back through the Carter family journals looking for the reference to lost voices, Julian had excused himself and returned to the distant cave where his sire and mentor had stashed his reference books centuries before. Armed with the glyph they’d found at the sacrificial site of the wee folk, Julian had finally determined the identity of the demon whose minions had been tormenting them for the past two years.

  It was Murmur, a duke of Hell, commander of thirty legions of demons. Nor was Murmur any ordinary minion of the Unholy, for he had once been an angel named Matthias, a servant of the Most High.

  Julian had never faced a creature as powerful as Murmur. Even his mentor, who had fought demons for centuries, had never faced the power of a fallen angel. And now everyone Julian cared about was marching toward a cave hidden somewhere among the towering trees on Roan Mountain—a cave that held the Cauldron of Rebirth.

  By the time Julian had returned with the news that he’d discovered the identity of the demon, the rest of the group had completed their task, finding the reference Thomas had remembered. Julian could have kicked himself for not realizing it before. The “lost voices” Gilorean had mentioned were also known as the Phantom Choir of Roan Mountain, a phenomenon where the rising winds around the summit of the mountain created sounds resembling the unearthly keening of human voices.

  Thomas had been subdued as he read the passage he’d found in his great-grandfather’s journal. “A man in Asheville was recounting a story that he’d been up to the Cloudland Hotel on Roan Mountain, and he’d gotten caught in a sudden storm while out hiking. He took refuge in a cave, and the voices were there, surrounding him, not only with sound but with spectral visions of souls that seemed trapped within, their bodies maimed. He passed out, and when he returned to his senses, all was silent, but his clothing was torn, and he fled the cave to discover he’d spent the entire night within.”

  Thomas’s great-grandfather had gone in search of the cave but had never found it. Indeed, Thomas’s own parents had also tried to find the cave, wondering if the ghosts were bound to it by demonic forces, but they’d never found anything. James and Alicia Carver had dismissed the cave as a myth. Now, however, they all knew differently.

  That was why, at first light this morning, all Julian’s friends, along with Tharn’s and Eli’s werewolf packs, had gathered at Julian’s house, then set out from Asheville to Carvers Gap, where they left their vehicles and set out on foot to ascend the mountain.

  It had taken them almost two hours to reach the trail and a few hours to hike the twisting switchbacks that ascended the eastern side of the ridge. Now it was past midday and they still hadn’t reached the summit. Julian wasn’t sure if it was his own dark mood or something else that made him feel as though each step they took brought them closer to something they weren’t ready to face. They might be climbing upward, but every foot of ascent only made Julian’s heart sink lower into an empty pit.

  “If you clench your jaw any harder, you’re going to break a tooth.”

  Julian had been so lost in his own morose thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Arden and Whimsy had hung back until he caught up with them. Now Arden fell into step on one side of him with Whimsy on the other.

  He didn’t turn his eyes away from the trail before him. “If I do, I’m sure it’ll be the least of my worries.”

  “There is the whole ‘taking on a duke of Hell’
thing,” Whimsy said, inclining his head in acknowledgment. “But I don’t think that’s what is bothering you most right now.”

  Julian shot Whimsy a sour look. “Isn’t that enough? And shouldn’t you two be up with your mates? If we’re all going to die, you should be spending time with them, not me.”

  “Harlan and I have spent the last few days saying and doing everything we need to so neither of us will have any regrets if Gilorean’s prediction comes true.” Whimsy’s voice was matter-of-fact, but he glanced over at Harlan with soft affection in his eyes. “That was a pretty good attempt at deflection, though. I’ll give you points for it, but it does leave the door open for us to ask why you seem to be avoiding Thomas instead of spending time with him.”

  Julian scowled and turned his attention back to the trail. He could have turned into mist and avoided this conversation, but he, like the werewolves, was wearing a large backpack containing salt and holy water, just in case they needed it when they reached the cave. He also had a sheathed sword strapped around his waist. Theoretically they might find the cauldron before the demons and be able to escape with it before they were discovered, but Julian didn’t believe that any more than he believed in dragons.

  Given that he couldn’t escape, and knowing just how persistent his friends could be, he decided to tell them enough to get them to go away. “Thomas doesn’t want to be with me any longer. Apparently he thinks I’m trying to control him like Micah did. It doesn’t matter, I guess, since he seems determined to meet his supposed destiny head-on.”

  “Wait, what?” Arden gasped. Julian saw the disturbed look Arden exchanged with Whimsy. “He knows you’re nothing like Micah! What did you say, Julian?”

  “Does it matter?” Julian snapped, then drew in a deep breath. He might have lost Thomas, but he didn’t want to lose Arden and Whimsy as well. “I said he should help us find the location of the cauldron, but then he and Whimsy should leave the retrieval to the rest of us. There’s no need to tempt fate, and I know Gilorean’s vision doesn’t have to come true. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He thinks he’s destined to do this and if he dies in the attempt, so be it. Those were his exact words.”