The Knight: The Original's Trilogy - Book 3

by Cara Crescent

  The curses were one issue. The coven could help with the felo-de-se curse, time would heal the memory curse.

  But after they’d been removed, would he still have the urge to cut himself?

  For the first time, the full ramifications of having Julius as a mate settled over her. Their relationship would never be perfect. He would never be perfect. After everything he’d been through . . . she was lucky. He was sweet. Attentive. Kind. A wonderful lover. A good listener. Yet he might never be a well man. She couldn’t leave him on his own. Not to go shopping. Not to go out with friends. Not ever. Not as he was now.

  What had she expected? That she’d wave a hand over him and heal the damage done over the years? Or that they’d have magic sex and he’d fall in love with her and all their problems would fade away? That only happened in story books. Never in real life.

  So maybe he’d been right. Sort of.

  She needed to decide. Was he worth the sacrifice?

  Confronted with his severe issues, she might lose her freedom. The freedom to be alone. The freedom to walk away from him when she got upset or frustrated—because in doing any of those things, she could lose him for good. He might always be a threat to himself.

  The coven would say handing him over to the humans for termination would be a kindness. He’d never be how he’d been before the Watcher possessed him.

  That thought alone sent rage shooting through her. She got up and paced. What it came down to, was: Could he still bring something good to the world?

  The answer rose in her, an empathetic yes. He was a blessing. She’d already learned so much from him. He challenged her bias to the mentally ill. Through his art and their interactions, he challenged her ideas of self-worth. Of whether strength, or lack thereof had anything to do with rape. Of what mattered. He mattered to her. Their time together mattered. Not what anyone else thought. Not whether they were ‘normal’ or not.

  A week ago, if someone had asked her what she wanted her life to be like, she’d have painted them a picture of a typical couple. Going out on dates. Laughing with friends. Cooking together in the kitchen. Now, none of that would ever be. In part because they weren’t human, in part because of his health. They’d never be typical anything.

  “And that’s okay.” She drew in a deep breath and when she let it out, tears came with it. She grieved for what would never be. For what she wished could be. For what they’d both lost before they’d even found each other.

  When she finished, a new determination filled her near to bursting.

  She needed help and that was okay.

  Abaddon was evil. The goddess could not risk him regaining his power as the Destroyer. She would not allow him to destroy her creations. She didn’t like cursing him; he was hers, after all. But she did so in case Abaddon found the Original and Samael on Earth. If he brought the two males and two females together, his powers would return, which would enable him to destroy everything. She cursed him—should he survive and regain his powers, he’d have to perform the ultimate sacrifice to make up for the body he stole.

  The goddess shifted uneasily. She didn’t like cursing any of her creations but how else could she ensure their continuation?

  Chapter 18

  Her Magic was growing weaker.

  Kat had to expend much more effort than usual when she spell-traveled herself to the walkway outside the doors to the Citadel in Machon and the veins in her hands turned as black as if she had crude oil flowing through her veins. This was only the third spell she’d used today—one to heal Julius’ cuts, one to put a sleeping spell on him, and one to travel here. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Time was running out.

  Once she grounded her energy, she pushed open one of the doors and entered the main hall. Last time she’d been here, the place had been mostly deserted. Tonight, daemons hustled along the corridors busy at one task or another. The main hall was one giant room with alcoves off to the sides. Some housed libraries or herbal stores, others held weapons or potion-making stations. One of these days she’d love nothing more than to explore the place.

  Lilith and Trina, the coven’s high-priestesses and her best friend, stood on a raised dais in the center of the hall near a fire pit surrounded with tables, arguing with several males who stood on the main floor below them. She slowed her pace and hid her Magic-burned hands in the folds of her skirt.

  As she approached, she caught the name Crowley and froze.

  Lilith looked up and met her gaze. Her words, though, were directed to the males, “So you say he’s Julius Crowley?”

  The daemons fired back a round of yesses.

  Kat’s gaze shot to the small group of males. She didn’t recognize any of them and while she couldn’t see the daemon they held between them, her mate was sound asleep on the floor of her bedroom, so they couldn’t have him.

  Trina folded her arms over her chest. “And you say you’re not.”

  The daemons shifted and she caught sight of a male with blond, curly hair. He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m Julian Crowley, not Julius.”

  Kat moaned. She’d forgotten about the doppelgänger. Fat lot of good he would do them if he was in prison or dead.

  She lifted her gaze and met Trina’s stare.

  Actually, that would work. Julian could die and then Julius would be safe. The humans would be satisfied and so would she. Kat smiled.

  Trina’s gaze narrowed.

  A flash of light drew her attention off to one of the alcoves where Brenda spell-traveled in with several males. “Kat!” Brenda waved her over. “We could use some help.” One of the males leaned his weight against Brenda as she helped him to a chair. Another moved under his own steam, but didn’t look much better. “Can you help Harry?”

  That was Harrison? “Yeah.”

  She hurried over to the alcove. He was covered in ash and blood. His blond hair was dark with the stuff. He looked worse off than he had after they’d battled the Watcher and Nephilim. He grabbed a towel off the table and dipped it into the contents of a cauldron before scrubbing at his face. George wriggled free of his open shirt and crawled down to sit on the table and lick the ash from his paws and scales.

  “What happened?”

  Harrison grimaced. “Nephilim won this time.”

  “So I see.” Deep scratches marred the angles and planes of his face, cut down one arm, and from the look of his shirt, across his chest. “Take the shirt off.”

  “Kat.” Brenda held up a canister in her hand. “Catch.” She tossed it.

  “What is it?”

  “Magic alone doesn’t work too well with the Nephilim’s scratches. Use that to clean the cuts first.”

  She pulled the lid off and the scent of arnica overwhelmed her. “Wow. That’s potent.”

  “Here.” Harry held his hand out. “I can do that part.”

  He never had seemed to like being touched, not by women, anyway. After they’d aged him, everyone had gathered to celebrate and relax before taking on the Watcher. As handsome as he was, and how the women of the coven had doted on him, he’d shied away from every touch, each hug. She handed over the container. “How bad is it out there?”

  His lips pressed together in a hard line. “Bad.” He dipped an edge of the damp cloth into the arnica and set to work scrubbing out his wounds. “I joined the DDC.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “What?”

  “It’s a daemon task-force headed up by the humans.”

  That was putting a pretty face on it. She snorted. “How could you join an organization called the Department of Daemonic Control?”

  “What do you suggest?” He sighed. “Should we leave it to humans to run it? That’s a sure-fire way to make the transition easier.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “It’s—”

  He reached up and tugged a strand of her hair. “I know. I get it. But better to have our own people there, making sure the DDC doesn’t become a fucking lynch mob, don’t you think?”

&nb
sp; “Yeah.” He was right. They needed good daemons manning that place. She reached over and stroked George’s head. “What’s it like? Are they treating you okay?”

  “Guy named Scott Mason’s in charge.” He shrugged. “Seems all right. He’s friendly enough to daemons. He’s been a good advocate for us. He understands the necessity of having humans obey the curfews.”

  Kat chewed her lip. “Is there still a lot of Nephilim?”

  “Yeah.” He winced as he scrubbed the scratches on his chest. “They’re hitting two, three cities at a time. People aren’t obeying the curfews and the Nephilim’s numbers keep rising. The DDC is still trying to get off the ground, so I’ve been helping the coven during non-work hours. We’re barely keeping up.”

  That didn’t sound good at all. “I thought Brenda said we’d avoided Armageddon.”

  “Something changed.” He pressed his lips together. “If you ask me, it’s Crowley. Scott agrees.”

  Her whole frame tensed.

  “We take him out of the picture and I bet everything gets better—he’s the wild card in all of this.”

  Kat forced herself to relax. He didn’t know Julius. If he did, he wouldn’t still have that narrow-minded view.

  He finished with the last cut and looked up. Frowned. “Your eyes are red. What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “I met my mate.” She stepped closer to Harry, spread her fingers wide and let her hands hover over his wounds, careful not to touch him. Immediately, the burning sensation returned. She shouldn’t be doing this, but she couldn’t stand to see Harrison hurting.

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He winced as her spell took effect and shifted his weight.

  So did she. Her fingers were turning dark. Ached. Harry didn’t notice; his gaze stayed focused on her face, so she kept going, hoping to finish his healing. “He’s not too sure about the idea. He thinks I’m attracted to the idea more than him, and if I found another man I thought attractive, I’d find him as appealing, if not more so.”

  His stare seemed to singe her skin as he studied her face. “Reasonable . . . if a little condescending.”

  “A little?” She laughed and shifted her hands to hover over his arm, the veins under her wrists turned color as her forearms began to throb. Almost done. “I think he’s wrong. Doesn’t matter how handsome someone is, if he’s not the one, he won’t flip my switches.”

  She finished with him, and when she looked up, Harry still had those amazing baby-blues fixed on her. He was huge—broader than Julius, though an inch or two shorter—and handsome as all get out.

  “Maybe you should take his advice.” He tipped his head to the side, a hint of a smile curving his lips.

  Her lips parted. Had all the males in her life lost their minds?

  He slid off the table and she stepped back. “Maybe we could help each other out. See, I’m having some problems with . . . .” He shifted his weight and looked away. “I thought, you know, once I had a body that matched my age that maybe . . . .” He raked his hand through his hair. “I’m having women problems.”

  She found that hard to believe. He was gorgeous. “Oh?”

  “Not the finding women part. . . .” He looked up, then off to the side. “They seem to be coming out of the woodwork.”

  She chuckled. That, she could well imagine.

  “But they’re all . . . .”

  “Wrong?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Aggressive.” He frowned. “You’re not.”

  “Aggressive?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “You’re not interested in me at all. Which is perfect.” He braced one of his hands on the wall behind her. “And you should find out if your mate is right. Let me kiss you.”

  Kiss him? Not that it would be any hardship, but he never touched women. She couldn’t even remember him even touching Trina and they were good friends. “Why me?”

  His lips quirked. “You’re safe.” He shrugged. “We get along.” He leaned in.

  Everything he said was true of him also. He was safe—and while attractive, he didn’t send flocks of butterflies loose in her belly. He was sane. Well. They did get along.

  How do you know if you even have the right guy? Maybe you just want someone.

  Julius’ words echoed in her mind. Harry was offering her the perfect opportunity to see if he was right. Would any male do? “Yeah, okay.”

  Harry crowded her until her back came up against the wall. He kept his hands on the wall. Julius would’ve held her. He would’ve pressed every inch of himself up against her. Harrison’s breath brushed her lips as he ducked his head and when his lips touched hers it was . . . okay. Awkward. A little like kissing a cousin. All the motions were right, pleasing, but there was nothing behind them. No passion. No feeling. No . . . nothing.

  This really wasn’t working. She pulled away.

  He smiled. “Yeah, not for me, either.”

  They shared a laugh.

  “Okay.” She drew in a deep breath. “I gotta go. I came to talk to Trina and Lil.”

  He nodded. “Tell your mate I said he’s an idiot.”

  Oh, she would. As soon as she got home and released him from her spell. She left the alcove.

  “Kat.” Lilith waved her over to where she and Trina were exiting the hall.

  She hurried over to follow them.

  While they walked, Trina asked, “Who did I put in prison?”

  “Um, no one really.”

  “No one?” She held up her hand. “Don’t answer that.”

  They turned down the hall and climbed a flight of steps. They headed the opposite direction from the room she’d stayed at while here. “Where are we going?”

  Trina glanced back. “To my rooms.” They went up a flight of stairs and down a hallway where she flung open a door and strode in. Lilith followed. “Now we can talk in private. Speak freely, the Watchers can’t hear us and now no one else can, either.”

  Kat took a deep breath, went inside and closed the door. Both women stared, waiting.

  “I need help.” She grasped her aching hands behind her, hiding the evidence of her waning Magic.

  They shared a glance.

  “Julius isn’t crazy,” she rushed the words out, walking deeper into the room. “He’s sane, but he’s cursed. I need help with the curse and also with—” Her skirt brushed against a side table, spilling a stack of Tarot cards. “I’m sorry. I’ll—”

  “No.” Trina waved her away. “Look.”

  All the cards had fallen face down except four.

  “The Tower.” Trina frowned. “What were you going to say? You need help with the curse and . . .?”

  Kat twisted her hands in her skirt. “Maybe there are some . . . mild . . . side-effects of the possession.”

  The two women glanced at each other again. They could communicate psychically. Every time they looked at each other, she worried they were talking about her and her mate. Deciding their fate. She dropped her gaze to the cards. The Tower card showed a man and woman jumping out of a burning tower—it was a card of difficult choices.

  What were they saying to each other? “He’s not a threat to you or to the humans.”

  “But?”

  Kat shrugged. “He may be a threat to himself. I don’t think he should be alone. At least, not right now. I could use help, someone to hang out with him while I shower. . . . ” She trailed off, the sympathy in Lilith’s gaze almost undoing her. “Maybe he’s not as perfect as your mates, but he’s good to me.”

  They exchanged glances and laughed. “Perfect?” Trina shook her head. “I doubt anyone could live as long as they have and not have issues.”

  Lilith nodded. “But the Tower is about having your blinders removed, and suffering the consequences of past naivety.”

  Trina folded her arms across her chest. “Or it could mean major sudden changes for the better.” She winced. “After some suffering for past naivety.”

  She’d had a good long cry today after r
ealizing that their relationship would be a little . . . different than what she’d always hoped for. The rose-colored glasses she’d worn before were gone now. “Done.”

  “You need to clear any Karmic debt,” Lilith said. “There can be no future otherwise.”

  How could they accomplish such a feat? She carried quite a lot of debt. She needed to repay Lilith and Trina most specifically. But what about Julius? How much of the disaster taking place on Earth filled his Karmic scorecard?

  “What else do we have?” Trina pointed to the center card. “The Eight of Cups. You’re going to choose a new path.” The card showed a long hilly road in front of the character, leading to eight shiny cups. “It’s a tough road but at the end you’ll find your karmic destiny.”

  “That’s not surprising.” She held up her hands, almost cringing at the sympathy in their gazes. She was losing her Magic; she wouldn’t be able to heal anymore. “I have to find a new path.”

  “This might be good news.” Lilith smiled. “Eights are positive cards. It sounds like you’ll succeed in clearing your debt if you’re going to find your destiny.”

  “Maybe.” Kat sounded unconvinced even to her own ears. “It doesn’t specify what kind of destiny I’ll have. Mother met her Karmic destiny—and there was nothing good about it.” She’d died a horrible death after being possessed by the same Dybbuk she’d cursed Lilith with.

  “True,” Lilith agreed. “But you’ve never been like Rowena.”

  Kat rubbed her hand over her chest, only stopping when she realized she’d seen Julius do the same thing dozens of times over the past few days. Did he carry as much guilt as she did? Maybe even not knowing why?

  Her gaze shifted to the last two cards.

  “The Three of Swords crossed by the Three of Wands. Lots of threes for you,” Trina said. “That’s tough. I see poor communication leading to a grave misunderstanding. Many are watching, but unseen.”

  Lilith nodded. “The Watchers.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  Trina’s gaze narrowed. “Not you. We weren’t talking about you when you knocked the cards over. These are Crowley’s.”