But before she did, why not tell the Godseekers of the false goddess in their midst?
The Slayer would then have far more than demons to contend with.
…
Hunter had explained the layout of the city to Airie, so she had no worries about becoming lost in it. All major streets led to the city center and ended at the outer wall. Once she left the market she had only to find her way back to it, then follow the street that encircled it to the tunnel and make her escape.
Layers of desert dust coated the board sidewalks and the wooden fronts of the buildings of Freetown. Dust, in fact, layered everything, although the sun shone bright and hot overhead, and the sky was an endless blue.
Yet there was an odd tension in the streets, as if people struggled to maintain a pretense of normalcy during the day despite what happened at night.
She was not oblivious to the stares she received as she walked—she, too, had seen the golden cast to her skin that she could not control—but she held her head high and pretended not to notice the stares even as her spirits plummeted.
Was she fated to be so very different, then?
Once in the market, the majority of stares disappeared as people’s attention gravitated toward a high platform in the middle of a large, open courtyard.
Airie saw a few of the traders from the wagon train in the crowd, although they did not recognize her dressed as a woman.
“What’s happening?” she asked a man with heavy white eyebrows and thick, gray-streaked hair.
He spared her half a glance, then another, longer, look, as if not quite able to believe what he saw. His eyebrows disappeared into his shaggy hairline.
“Slave auction,” he mumbled, before sidling away from her.
The crush of bodies, combined with the heat, fast became stifling. Hundreds of voices, all talking at once, blended into a dull, distorted roar that made her ears ache and her heart beat a little faster.
The majority of the spectators were men, she realized. The market might not be the best place for her right now. Hunter had warned her of a woman’s status in Freetown. No vendor stalls had been assembled. She could see nothing for sale that she might need. Whatever sort of market this was, it was not for her.
Airie tried to push back the way she came, but the number of people had now swelled to the point that departure was impossible.
The crowd carried her forward, not away, and she was swept to its front where ten or so naked women stood shackled together at the back of a platform. Most kept their heads down, averting their faces, although a few held their chins high and stared at the crowd in defiance.
The despair behind it was what caught at Airie’s heart. Anger kindled to life in her. She could ignite the platform. She could burn the entire city to the ground. Both options tempted her.
But, as her skin glowed more brightly in response to her thoughts, a gentle voice spoke.
Rain is a part of you, too, the voice whispered. You don’t need to pray for it, any more than you pray for fire. They are both yours to command. But remember, you alone own your actions.
Hunter was wrong. The goddesses did speak to her. The knowledge gave her a sense of confidence that she had lacked of late. Airie closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky.
Bring me the rain.
Within seconds the sky darkened and opened up, and a downpour began. Chaos erupted as people scattered and fled, seeking shelter. Soon, the streets were flooded with rushing torrents of dirty water.
Someone draped an oiled leather duster over her head to protect her from the driving rain, and Airie could see once again. She wiped water from her face with her free hand and looked into steady, familiar blue eyes.
She waited for recriminations. Braced herself to receive them. But this was an action she gladly claimed and could not regret, because no matter what else might happen, she was different, and that would not change.
If she could not accept it, then how could she expect anyone else to do so?
A huge grin creased Hunter’s face.
“Nicely done,” he said, and he kissed her deeply as the deluge continued around them.
…
The wet taste of her, the wary hope he saw in her eyes, made him wish they were not standing beneath his coat in an open market, even though at the moment it felt as if nothing existed beyond this private world.
She called rain on behalf of the goddesses. She had called it that night at his cabin, when the sky over Freetown was on fire. She’d offered to call it again to protect the wagon train from the demon attack. She had told him a goddess had spoken with her. She could heal with a touch.
He did not need Mamna’s word to know the truth. Why else would a half demon be permitted to live on the goddesses’ mountain unless she was half goddess, too?
He thanked those same goddesses that he had gone back to Blade’s with the supplies he had purchased and discovered her missing. He had stumbled on her scant seconds before she opened the skies.
Considering what she had witnessed, and what he knew of her, rainfall was not the reaction from her he would have expected. It was very welcome nonetheless. Goddess rain meant they would have added protection when crossing through demon territory.
Unfortunately, it would also act as a beacon.
The rain continued to fall, although more gently now. She was soaked to the skin. There was little that could be done about that as he hustled her through the empty streets. Word of her presence would already be spreading, and the unseasonal rainstorms would confirm it. With the newly acquired golden glow to her skin, and the subtle sensuality, she looked every inch a goddess now. Even Ruby had remarked on it.
“Did you see what was happening in that market?” Airie demanded as they hurried along, indignation quivering in her tone.
“I saw.” And there was little to be done about it. He had tried to warn her that her expectations of Freetown were too high, but she’d had to see this for herself.
If anything were to convince him she could control the demon side of her nature, this was it. She had behaved magnificently.
Desire would have been proud. The priestess had been right all along. In the ways that mattered most, Airie was no different from any other woman. If anything, she was better.
He had not quite come to terms with her birthright. But he would, given time. She had been born on this world and Hunter would help find her a place in it because that place now included him.
They reached the small compound behind the saloon. Hunter hustled her through the gate and into the kitchen, where he found Blade sitting at the table.
Blade paused with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, surprise in his eyes. He looked from Airie, with her clinging wet clothes and golden skin, to Hunter.
“Don’t ask,” Hunter said to him, then turned to Airie. “Go dry off. I’ll join you in a few minutes.” He took her hand to draw her back to him again, and looked into her troubled expression. “You had better be waiting for me this time. Don’t think I don’t know you were running away,” he added softly. He kissed her, a gentle brush of his lips against hers that instantly made him want her.
Banked fire sparkled in her eyes.
He watched as she left the room. When she was gone, the door closed tight behind her, he slid into a seat beside Blade at the table and dropped his forehead into his hands.
“I found her at a slave auction in the market. She took exception to it.”
“Was she noticed?” Blade asked.
“What do you think?”
He shrugged as if it were of no matter. “So what is your plan? The city has been sealed off. The gates are closed and guards have been posted near the tunnel.”
Hunter rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. Demons waited outside the walls, and Mamna waited within. The situation was not good.
He did not see that he had any real choice. He had spent years fighting demons, and had been wrong to think he could leave Freetown undefended against
them. He could not have lived with that on his conscience.
And he most definitely intended to fight for Airie. Whether he took a stand here or elsewhere made no difference. Wherever they went, the Demon Lord would come for her. Her mother had been a goddess. He wondered what that might mean to the Demon Lord, if anything.
Regardless, the Demon Lord had threatened Airie’s life. That meant he would die.
“I’ll stand and fight them,” Hunter said.
Blade was frowning. “Not even the Slayer can fight that many demons.”
An idea began to form. “What if he heads the goddess’s army?”
“Airie certainly looks like a goddess,” Blade said slowly. “Do you think enough people saw her today for word to spread quickly?”
“Enough saw her for word to have reached the Borderlands by now,” Hunter replied, only partly joking. “Although it might be more credible if she hadn’t set one of the Godseekers on fire.”
Blade tapped his thumb on the table as he stared at the wall, lost in thought. “They’ve already been hard at work spreading their message in Freetown. What if we can convince them that you’re ready to lead them on their goddess’s behalf, then get them back out on the streets to spread the word that the Demon Slayer now heads their army?”
“Good idea, but the Godseekers I’ve met lately have all tried to kill me,” Hunter said. “I’d never get close enough to speak with their leader.”
“I might not, either. They recognized me.” Blade pushed away from the table. “But I think I know someone who can.”
…
The youngest whore, Sapphire, had been reluctant at first to admit she knew where the young Godseeker assassin was staying. But private words from Ruby had made her confess.
While Blade went with Sapphire to find him, Hunter joined Airie.
She sat on the bed wearing only her shift, watching Scratch play on the floor. Hunter threw himself on top of the blankets beside her, wanting nothing more than a few hours of sleep with her in his arms. The springs creaked beneath his weight.
The child was too quiet, Hunter thought. He knew very little about children, but with so many older sisters, he’d had a few nieces and nephews to compare him against. That had been a long time ago, however. His memories might not be accurate.
“Why were women about to be auctioned off in the market?” Airie asked him before he could question her about why she had left the saloon in the first place. Her eyes sparkled with fire.
It was odd that not so long ago, he had viewed the fire in her eyes with suspicion. Now he recognized it as passion, and an integral part of her personality that he had come to appreciate and value. It entranced him. He did not fear it.
He traced a finger along the outside of her thigh, from her knee to the curve of her hip, lifting the edge of the thin cotton shift in an attempt to tease a smile from her.
“Freetown supports the sale of women to outlying areas,” he explained. “They usually end up as wives to men who work in the more remote mines.”
“Priestesses would never allow such a thing,” Airie said, sounding as if she wanted him to confirm the truth of her statement.
He wished he could do so, because he liked it that she was so ignorant of the more terrible things that went on in a virtually lawless land. Immortals had once ruled it completely. Now, it was struggling to find a new path.
“The priestesses are the ones who began the tradition.” Hunter rolled to his side and rested his head on the heel of his hand so he could better see her face. “At first, they claimed it was because they wanted nothing within the walls of a newly established city to draw demons to Freetown. After a few years, they said the slave trade honored the hardworking men of the north by giving them wives made in the image of the goddesses. When all is said and done, the real reason for it is that Mamna hates women. And because she can do whatever she pleases.”
“How could the priestesses have strayed so far from the goddesses’ teachings?” Airie asked in dismay. “My mother observed their rituals until the day she died. She never taught that the goddesses were perfect, but said they bring new life to the world, as mortal women do, and for that alone, we should respect and honor them.” Airie looked at him. “Perhaps I could talk to Mamna. Try to find out what went wrong.”
She was such an innocent. And a little too honest for what he was about to suggest.
“It’s too late for talking.” He stopped playing with the hem of her shift and braced himself. “Blade and I have a plan for fighting the demons when they return.”
“I can call rain against them,” Airie offered. “That will chase them away, just as it did before.”
“Chasing them away is no longer enough. They will return. The time has come to take a stand. The Godseekers believe you’re a goddess, and we can use that to our advantage.”
She went still. “Go on.”
“Blade has gone to speak with them. He’ll tell them I’m willing to lead their army—which I am—and that I fight on your behalf.” Which he did. “We need you to speak with them, too, and persuade them that you are who they believe you to be.”
“You want me to pretend that I am a goddess so I can convince people to die fighting demons?” She folded her arms. “No.”
Dismay settled like a stone weight inside him. If he had not been so tired and overwhelmed he would have realized she did not know she was half goddess as well as half demon. A small-spirited, selfish part of him did not want her to discover it either. Its full meaning had not quite sunk in. When it did, he suspected their future together might not be as inevitable as he had assumed. The priestess had been partially correct about one other thing—it was not that he thought Airie could not be loyal to him. Rather, why should she wish to be his?
He did not know what to say, or how much to tell her, to win her support. Godseekers, who expected to be addressed by her, would soon descend on the saloon. He was bone-tired already from too little sleep, and he had another long night ahead of him. First, he had to persuade Godseekers to fight beside him rather than try to kill him.
Dismay turned to frustration. It was her life he was trying to protect now, even though turning her over to the demons would end this standoff for Freetown. He betrayed his own kind for her, and she did not understand. She was not mortal, and mortals owed her nothing.
He, however, would walk through fire for her.
“Have I ever asked so very much of you,” he said, “that you can’t find it in you to help me now when the people of Freetown need me the most?”
He might as well have slapped her. The hurt in her eyes made the sensation a thousand times worse.
“I’ll gladly help you save lives. But I’m half demon,” she said quietly. “Fighting them, driving them away, is one thing. Killing them seems wrong to me. I don’t want anyone to die, mortal or immortal. There must be another way.”
For her sake, he wished there was because he had never considered what a mixed heritage might mean to her. Killing demons was what he did, and what he would continue to do as long as they remained in the mortal world.
But he would not force his battles on Airie, or tear her in opposing directions.
“You don’t have to do or say anything,” Hunter said. “Make an appearance, that’s all I ask.”
She finally nodded, and some of the heavy weight inside him eased, but he saw the doubt lingering in her eyes. He took her in his arms. Whatever happened with the demons when night fell, he would make certain Airie played no real part in it.
What happened in the future, however, remained to be seen. He now knew who her father was, even though that was something else of which she was unaware.
That was good, because Hunter intended to kill him.
Chapter Sixteen
Steam rose from the muddy streets to disperse almost immediately in the dry desert air, the red earth cracking beneath the hot sun.
The creosote-soaked sidewalks had dried enough that they were no longer grea
sy, although treacherous pockets of water continued to pose a hazard to the inattentive.
Mamna drew the hood of a tan-colored canvas cloak forward so that her face was in shadow. The cloak was not for disguise, an impossible feat because of her deformity. She wore the cloak because her bald scalp and face burned quickly and required vigilant protection.
Snippets of conversation overheard on the streets told her many people held out hope that the rains would recur to save them from the next demon attack. She could have told them that goddess rain, falling in demon territory, would not withstand demon fire for long. The only thing that had saved Freetown from devastation already was the Demon Lord’s desire to possess the spawn. Once he had it, the lives of mere mortals would be forfeit.
Mamna, however, was no mere mortal. She counted on enough strength remaining in her amulet to protect her from demons until she reached the Borderlands.
She was too easily recognized to leave the city through the gates, and she wanted no one to know of her departure. Several hours remained until sundown. Once night fell she would escape through the tunnel and put as much distance as possible between her and Freetown while the demons were occupied. Before that, she would leave the Slayer a parting gift.
The Godseekers had made their presence in the city widely known. They had taken shelter in a four-house rooming complex near the city’s outer wall, one mostly used by teamsters accompanying the larger wagon trains. Several requests for a meeting had been sent to her. Until now, she had ignored them.
Mamna found the entrance to the rooming house complex and walked through the narrow, arched tunnel into the cobbled courtyard. It was almost empty.
She remained in the shadows as two people crossed the open area ahead of her. She recognized the crippled saloonkeeper from the establishment where she had met with the Slayer. A woman accompanied him, pretty and probably younger than she appeared, but who nevertheless had the hard-edged look of an experienced whore.
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