"Tay?" Ren put his hand on my arm.
Blinking, the vision fading, I looked straight ahead and saw the door standing wide open and Morris walking inside. I followed him with Ren behind us.
This room was much smaller than the ballroom—maybe a fifth of its size. But it had the feeling of being something bigger. As if the domed walls actually extended much further up and down. Statuary, like the pieces in the foyer, lined the curved walls. Morris moved to each of them and lit a torch to the right of the statues. Ren and I moved to the center of the room to a raised dais. In the center of the dais was a sword, chained to a series of odd metal brackets holding it in place. Wow…were they that afraid someone would steal it?
And why would they? With a second look at it, I was pretty sure I'd seen this thing on an episode of Star Trek. It looked like a Klingon sword, or something out of a medieval fantasy film. Aged black leather wrapped around the hilt and at the back was the head of a demon, complete with horns. The guard matched the same ornate carving, but completed the body of the demon with wings that bent down in the direction of the blade.
The blade? That's where it really got crazy. If I had to compare it to something for a description, I'd say it looked like a tribal tattoo near the hilt and the blade grew smaller in width down to its point. Seriously—the damn thing was a movie prop.
Morris set the torch in an empty holder and stood behind the sword. "Behold! November!"
In the silence I just…blinked at it. "This is November?" My voice echoed in the chamber.
Morris looked…irritated. "Free the sword."
"You got a key? There are a lot of chains on it."
"Only the Heir can free it."
Oh come on! Of all the things in my life where I didn't know what I was doing, this one took the trophy. Seriously. I'm supposed to free the sword. Which…opened up a whole new can of words for me. I assumed it was chained to prevent theft—but the way he said that suggested it was chained to stop it from getting away.
I took a deep breath. Time to prove to these goobers I was not this Demon Hunter Heir they kept talking about. Not knowing what else to do, I put my hands on the chains.
They were cold and hard, and nothing happened.
I released the breath. Thank god.
The metal moved under my fingers as if it were picking up the vibrations of an oncoming train. Abruptly, the chains vanished. Just…poofed into dust.
A murmur spread from the others that had squeezed in the room and traveled down the line to those still outside. I jumped back as the sword sat on its brackets with no chains. I think I sort of half-expected it to get up and do a dance.
Morris clapped his hands. "Now, Taylor Cavanaugh, Heir of November, take your sword!"
What?
I narrowed my eyes at him, but what the hell. I figured if I could just show them I'm not who they think I am, then this would all go away. So, I rubbed my hands on my hips because my palms were sweaty, reached out and grabbed the handle. I tried to lift it but oy…it was heavy. So I grunted and used both hands to lift it off the brackets.
Stumbling back, the sword out in front of me, I was able to hold it up for about a half second before the tip came down and thunked against the stone floor. So there I stood, the sword in my hands, and I couldn't even lift the damn thing. My grandmother used this? To slay demons? She must've been channeling her inner Schwarzenegger to lift it.
The silence that followed the clang of the metal on stone gave me back my goose bumps. I looked at everyone in the room and noted their disappointed faces. They hung their heads as they turned and filed out of the room, which took a while since they had to wait for those on the other end to get the message and back up.
I stood there with the sword in my hands with my head down until Morris approached. He lifted the sword from my hands and set it back on the brackets. No one said a word.
"You can go," was all Morris said as he followed the others out of the room.
I felt Ren's fingers on my bare arms. "Hey, don't look so sad."
"They're all disappointed."
"Yeah. They are. But what did they expect? I mean, you didn't even know about this part of the family."
I wiped at my eyes but kept my head down. I wasn't used to feeling like this. This combination of embarrassment and anger. "No, I didn't. But you did. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was told not to." Ren put his arms around me and I leaned into him. "I don't know what their thinking was. I mean, I always assumed they didn't want to bring up the past in case they had to repeat it."
"The demon hunting?"
"Yeah. Look, if you want, we can leave tonight. I can get you back to your dorm."
"Can we just go home for the night?" I wanted to go to the home Ren raised me in. One of the smaller Cavanaugh estates.
"Sure. Let's go."
With his arm around me, Ren and I left the crypt. I heard the door close behind us, and the torches went out as we passed. But there was one sound I never heard. So when we stepped out into the wine cellar, I turned and looked down the passageway.
"What is it?"
"I just…" I shrugged. "I never heard the chains come back. The door locked. But no chains."
"Eh," Ren said. "You want to go back and check?"
"No. Not really." I finally exposed my emotional pity-cry face to Ren. And as always, he didn't give me a judgey face or even say a word. He just used the edge of my hoodie to wipe my tears. "Why don't we get the suitcases back in the car and head into town. I'm in the mood for some café au lait and beignets."
"Cafe Du Monde?" Oh man…the thought of that sweet, fried treat perked me right up. "And gumbo. I want some real gumbo."
"Now that's my smile." He wrapped his arm around my neck and held me to him. "No matter what they say, Tay. I'm proud of you."
We drove into the city as the rain let up. Ren bought us gumbo at Evelyn's. It was good, just like I remembered it from my infrequent visits to see my grandmother. The rain came again and then left without much conversation. I sensed Ren knew I was feeling sad and as he always had, he waited for me to start a conversation.
But I didn't.
It wasn't until dessert that the questions came. The rain kept most of the tourists off the streets, so Ren and I found a seat under the outside awning of Cafe Du Monde. Once we sat down with our coffee and treats, I stared at the design in my au lait as Ren bit into a beignet. Sugar instantly coated his lips and I couldn't help but laugh. He looked panicked and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "It's nice to see a smile. Even if it's at my expense."
"Sorry. I'm just…what the hell, Ren? I'm the Heir—or so everyone believed—to a demon hunting family? I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around all of this. I don't think I can get past believing demons exist."
"Why? You dreamed about the worst of them."
"I dreamed about it," I said. "Wait…you believe this?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because I've seen them."
"Where? I thought the story was the Cavanaughs got rid of them."
He took another bite of his beignet, and then used his napkin. I'd never noticed how neat he was when he ate. Clean. And he always enjoyed his food. Especially sweets. Ren was the reason I usually kept hard candy in the pockets of my hoodie. "Over a hundred years, the Cavanaughs have vanquished, or for a better description, banished demons to the Darker Streets."
"Yeah," I put up a finger. "About this Darker Streets. What is that? A town?"
"It's more like a place that isn't a place. It's a dimension, a realm that can hold demons indefinitely and it's hard for them to get out of it."
"But this Abbadon did."
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know. No one knows. That's why the family was so eager for you to take the reins."
And there I was back to feeing like a failure. I didn't even want the beignets anymore. Though I did sip the coffee.
"Tay—"
&nb
sp; "It's okay. I just…"
"I thought you didn't want to be a demon slayer."
I laughed. "Are you crazy? Until today I didn't know that was a job option. No one bothered to tell me these things exist—and I'm not saying they do." I put my hands on the table and stared at the beignets and the melting sugar. "Can you understand how I'm feeling?"
"Believe it or not, I can. It's disorienting to find out your life has pretty much been a lie."
"Well, I don't think it's been a lie. I just think everyone conspired to keep me oblivious to it. I can't understand why."
"Because Mom didn't want you to have to worry about the things she did. She didn't want you to end up as some shining beacon wielding a sword that…causes you all kinds of trouble. Your mother was just as adamant about you making your own choices and not falling prey to the family business."
I narrowed my eyes at him as the evening wore on. The clouds made it darker than it was, but night would fall soon and I wanted to get on the road back home. "Why didn't you tell me all of this before?"
He smirked. "Would you have believed me? I mean…me, telling you you're the descendant of a famous Demon Hunter? In this day and age?"
"Well, if Granny fought them, it wasn't that long ago." I picked up my au lait and sipped it. The taste was perfect, with just the right amount of milk. "I'll admit, it sounds kinda fun."
Ren choked on this coffee. He gathered his wits and wiped his mouth. "Are you serious?"
"Well, yeah I guess it's fine to think about it now, knowing I'll never get to find out."
"You want to be a Demon Hunter?"
I shrugged. "What else am I going to do, Ren? I'm not good at anything. I have no real desire to do anything. I mean, I like volunteering at the shelter now and then." I set the cup down and blew air across my untouched beignets, spraying powdered sugar everywhere. "I need direction."
When he didn't comment, I looked at him. And he was looking at me. Hard. His brows had pulled into a single straight line over his eyes. They looked…I don't know. It was a strange mixture of shocked and confused.
"What?"
Ren sat back as lightning broke through the clouds. "You're serious."
"Am I? Do you have any idea what just happened? I don't, on this demon level thing. What I understand on a more human level is that it hurt. I felt their disappointment in that crypt. And it was a crypt…don't argue with me. It was as solid and real as this table and these chairs. All of those people believed I was their savior, their hero, their—"
"Demon Hunter."
"That. I don't know what they expected to happen—what I do know is that it didn't. I let everyone down."
"You've never worried about that before."
"Well, I have. I just haven't felt that motivated. I mean, what can I do in the world? I'm an heir. I have money. I have everything I've ever wanted, except my parents and…"
"A purpose."
He was right. My shoulders slumped. "I think I just want to go home. We can get these to go."
"Okay. Maybe a movie night? Wanna binge on a series? You can finally binge watch Stranger Things with me."
Even with my heart flipped upside down in my stomach and weighed down with my own limitations, Ren managed to make me laugh. "Geez…you're the weirdest guy I've ever met. But I guess it makes sense, you liking Stranger Things, because you know…"
"Know what? That it's a cool show?"
"That and it's all about the weird." I shrugged. "That and I always figured you'd be more into The Good Wife or something. Things straight men wouldn't be into."
"I will admit I have watched a few episodes of The Good—" Ren had been in the middle of putting the remaining beignets in a bag he'd requested. With his fingers covered in sugar, he glared at me. "What do you mean straight men?"
"Just that. Straight men don't like that, so I figured you would."
He set the bag on the table. "What exactly are you insinuating?" He blinked and then his expression widened. "You think I'm gay?" And he was loud. Luckily, we were the only ones on the patio.
In fact…
I looked back at the counter, and then the street. We were the only people outside. And in a town like New Orleans, especially the French Quarter, that was all kinds of wrong.
"Hey, you need to answer me!" Ren put his hand on the table.
"Ren," I said and put my hand on his. "Is something kind of strange?"
He frowned at first, and then looked around. Ren twisted in his seat and then stood up fast. I knew I'd been right. All kinds of wrong. Ren knocked the bag out of the way and grabbed my hand. "We need to go. Now!"
I jumped up as well, and let him pull me from under the patio and onto the sidewalk.
We were parked a few streets over and I figured it'd take us a good ten minutes at a brisk clip to get to the car. The only problem with that was something changed as we crossed the road.
The moment my foot touched the opposite curb, everything darkened. Even the smells turned acidic. I smelled urine and alcohol as Ren pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. I looked over his shoulder. The buildings were the same, even Cafe Du Monde, but the names were different. Everything was dirtier, grimier, and felt…oily. "Ren…"
"Just…take a deep breath. I don't know how it happened…"
I swallowed. "What happened?"
"We're not exactly in New Orleans anymore."
But I'd kind of already guessed that. "So we're…"
"My, my, my…" came a voice I recognized. The voice of my dream. The woman with the smoky hair. "What kind of mouse did the cat drag in?"
Ren moved me around as the same woman from my nightmare rounded the corner of the building in front of us. I started trembling. This wasn't real. This had to be a dream. The same dream. The one I'd had that morning.
The woman put her hands on her hips. "Not many can enter the Darker Streets, unless they are of the dark. So I'd say…this little girl is Millie's granddaughter. My trap has sprung."
"Trap?" Ren said. "Oh shit…run Taylor!"
He did not have to tell me twice. I took off down the sidewalk away from the woman in blue. I heard Ren's feet hitting the pavement behind me. I turned left…then right…and then right again until I rounded a corner and found myself in an alley.
The same alley.
"Wait, this is a dead end." Ren came up behind me. I turned and hit him. "What was that for?"
It was the same in the dream, but different. In the dream, I hadn't known what we were running from. But I did now. Because I'd had the dream. "That was Abbadon, wasn't it?"
Ren nodded. "And somehow we've moved through realms," he put his hands on my arms. "We've got to get out of here. If I recall the dream, we die at the end."
"Yeah." I wasn't going to waste my time looking at the back of the alley. From the dream, I knew there wasn't a way out there. So we turned to run down another street. But same as before, Abbadon blocked the entrance.
Ren pushed me behind him. "How did you escape, Abbadon?" he said in a commanding voice. "The Darker Streets are meant to hold your kind."
"How isn't important," she said as she took another inch or two of the space between us.
It was the same! No! Abbadon's dress dissolved and in its place was the tendrils of smoke, the living pieces of her hair. She glided in further, blocking our only way out.
"I don't see the mark," she smiled. "There is no contract!"
I had warning this time and I expected the tendrils of smoke to shoot forward. I knew they'd wrap around Ren's body, so I shot forward and knocked him out of the way. He hit the alley wall with a sickening thud and collapsed on the ground. The tendrils encircled me like the long, powerful arms of an octopus. They pulled my arms and legs in and kept me from moving. Their touch was like ice against my skin as she pulled me close to her. Her red eyes looked into mine and I saw no humanity. No reason for existence except to torture and kill innocents. I saw the grab for power and I saw…
I saw…
That couldn't be. But it was right there, hovering between us.
Accept it.
The sword from the crypt. It was right there! Shining in the air. The look of triumph on Abbadon's face told me she didn't see it!
I wanted to shout to Ren to look, but he'd been knocked unconscious. I pushed through the smoke, moving as long as I knew it was smoke and nothing more. There was no substance to it. It was little more than air. A puff of smoke from a pipe. No power.
My right hand broke free, and I grabbed the dusty leather bound handle. Again, it felt warm in my hand, but this time it was lighter.
A lot lighter.
The instant my hand connected, a bright light flared in my face. And in Abbadon's as well. She tossed me backward, and I fell onto my back and lost hold of the sword. Abbadon turned and cursed, her hands over her eyes as if she'd been blinded. I took that opportunity to get back to my feet and run to Ren.
"He's okay. Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to him."
This was a new voice. Male. Very nice. I turned to see a man leaning against the wall of the alley, just on the other side of Ren. Even in the shadows, I could tell he was nice to look at. He had longish hair to his shoulders and wore a long-tailed suit jacket, a black hoodie beneath, tight leather pants and boots. His boots were the same as mine and buckled up from his ankle to his knees. He had his hands thrust into his pockets as he straightened and looked down at me.
He had the same red eyes as Abbadon.
Dammit! Another demon!
Then he spoke in a commanding tone, a lot like the one I'd heard Ren use when we first saw Abbadon. "Do you, Taylor Cavanaugh, as the Heir of November, accept this covenant that was once blessed by the Twelve Angels in accordance with the strict laws of my penance?"
Wh-what?
"I—"
"You!" Abbadon recovered and now faced us. Her hair stuck out all over the place and she was starting to look like a really, really big spider. "You live!"
"Of course I live," the red-eyed man said. "I will always live."
"Because you bartered your life for revenge," she spat. "Traitor!"
But he looked back down at me. "Answer me if you want to live."
Pandora: An Urban Fantasy Anthology Page 4
