“So if you, or anyone else here, could come up with something else to call my wife, and say it in the right tone of voice when you speak of her, I’d deeply appreciate it.” The man’s gaze had gone hard as steel. “Otherwise, we’re going to have a problem. And I don’t like problems.”
Creed decided it might be time to intervene. He wished to speak privately with the Demon Slayer, not become involved in a public altercation on his behalf. He wove his way through the tables with Nieve following close behind him and good humor spreading in his wake.
He pulled out a chair at the man’s table and held it for Nieve, then sat down between her and the other man. The spectators in the room relaxed as they returned to their own business. The waiter vanished, taking advantage of the diversion Creed had created even if he was uncertain of its precise nature.
The man’s eyes narrowed in a way that said he didn’t like not having noticed Creed. He would like it even less when he realized Nieve was there, too, but Creed was not about to draw the other man’s attention to her until he knew for certain who he was.
“Would you be the Demon Slayer?” Creed asked.
The man assessed him from head to toe. When he finished, it was obvious that he was not pleased with what he found. Creed was not a man easily overlooked, and that he had done so meant something unusual was up. “That depends on who wants to know.”
Creed increased the level of amiability. “The Slayer and I have a mutual friend named Blade. He sends his regards.”
“And why would Blade send someone to the Slayer rather than come here himself?”
Creed smiled, wide and friendly, and repeated the man’s own words. “That depends on who wants to know.”
The man hesitated. He assessed Creed carefully. He looked directly at Nieve, then met Creed’s eyes as he spoke. “Stop trying to influence my thoughts and perhaps we can talk.” He smiled in return when he saw Creed’s surprise, although there was little amiability in his. “I never claimed my wife is one hundred percent mortal.”
“No,” Creed agreed. “Because she’s half goddess, and not mortal at all.”
The man examined Creed for several long seconds more. He leaned across the table and extended his hand. “Hunter.”
“Creed.” He shook the offered hand. “This is Nieve.”
Hunter nodded to her, but did not offer to shake her hand, which relieved Creed. He was unsure how his demon would respond to another man touching her.
Hunter addressed him. “Tell me why Blade, of all people, would send a half demon to speak with the Demon Slayer.”
Creed was unsurprised that the Demon Slayer had figured out what he was, although he did find it unsettling. “Blade said to give you his regards if I should ever meet up with you. The message comes from me.”
Hunter pushed his untouched tea toward Nieve. “Why don’t you have this?” he said to her. “Would you like me to order you something to eat?”
The gesture pleased Creed as much as it startled Nieve, who was not used to being acknowledged. She looked to him for help, uncertain how to respond.
He pressed her fingers, which were clenched together in her lap, under the table. How sad it was, he thought, that she had to seek confirmation in order to accept a kind act.
“Drink the tea if you want it,” he said. Then, to Hunter, “I’ll get her something to eat later. This isn’t really a place where she can enjoy it, and I can only do so much to keep attention away from her.”
“But thank you for the offer,” Nieve added, her smile for Hunter breathtakingly sweet. Light caught the brilliant green of her eyes and turned them to gold-fractured emeralds.
Creed watched with a possessive jealousy at how the transformation caught Hunter off guard. It was her smile that a man truly noticed. When combined with the unusual white-blond hair and the gemstone green of her eyes, it made her truly stunning in appearance.
Despite the unwelcome sensations of jealousy, it said a lot to him about Hunter’s character that he had been kind to Nieve before noticing how beautiful she was, not after, and it made Creed trust him even more than his natural instincts were already assuring him that he could.
But Hunter was frowning, as if puzzled by something.
“Have we met before?” he asked Nieve.
“I don’t think so.” She looked again to Creed, as if wondering if she might be wrong, and needing confirmation that she was not.
“She’s never been farther west than the farmlands around the Godseeker Mountains before now,” Creed said. “I can’t imagine how you’d ever have met.”
Hunter shrugged, then returned to his original inquiry. “How do you know Blade?”
“He married my half-sister.”
Hunter’s jaw slackened. “I don’t believe you.”
“I assure you, it’s true.” Creed gave him a moment to overcome his surprise, amused by his reaction to the news. The two men were, indeed, close friends. “I’m guessing from the conversation you were having when we came in that you’ve already heard the rumors about half demons in the Godseeker Mountains.” Hunter said nothing, so Creed went on. “The rumors are also true. A woman named Willow has destroyed entire villages filled with innocent people using demon fire. The Godseekers want her stopped.”
“The Godseekers and I don’t have a warm friendship. Where do you fit into this?” Hunter asked.
“I’m an assassin,” Creed said. “I serve the Godseekers.” At least he thought he still did. He was uncertain what the future held for him now, or if he would be welcome when he returned to them. He spoke from the heart. “I protect the innocent, all of them, regardless of birthright. Not every half demon is bad, any more than all mortals are good. The bloodlines, however, are far more complex and historic than the Godseekers realize.”
“I know. Spawn have been around for years. Possibly centuries.” Hunter looked at Nieve. Red crept past his collar as he remembered that a lady was present. “Beg your pardon,” he corrected himself. “Half demons.”
“Many of them aren’t half-blooded demons. Not even a quarter. I have no idea what to call them,” Creed said. “Some have demon talents, others don’t. Either way, the world has a problem. While I don’t believe Willow has much true demon blood in her, there’s no doubt in my mind that she has all of their instincts. And I’ve seen her raise demons.”
Hunter’s hand, resting on the table, curled into a fist. He bounced his knuckles up and down, staring out a window for a long time. Life in the room returned to normal around them, their presence at its center now largely ignored. The waiter did not return, although it was possible he was afraid to, and not that he had forgotten.
“The Godseekers will have to handle it as best they can. I can’t help you,” Hunter said.
At first, Creed thought he must have misheard. “You’re the Demon Slayer. Your wife is the daughter of two immortals. The two of you have been credited with driving demons from the mortal world. I would have thought you’d be anxious to find some sort of solution to this problem.”
“That life is over for me,” Hunter said. “For Airie, too. We came here to get away from it. I want her to have a home here. I don’t want her to be seen as anything other than the special woman she is. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect her, and what I can for Cottonwood Fall. The Godseekers will have to find someone else to fight spawn for them. I have a family to care for.” He stood. “Be sure to tell Blade how happy I am for him.” He met Creed’s eyes. His own were hard with resolve. “Your sister must be an amazing woman. Blade deserves happiness. He’s a good man to have as your friend. Between the two of you, I’m sure you can give the Godseekers more help than I can.”
“So you won’t help? Not even for Blade’s sake? Is he a better friend to you than you are to him?” Creed asked.
Hunter’s jaw worked. “Tell him that Airie’s pregnant and I have my family to think of. He’ll understand.”
He walked away, leaving Creed sitting with Nieve in the mid
dle of a gentlemen’s club, wondering who he could possibly turn to now.
Chapter Sixteen
As Nieve finished her tea, she wondered what Creed would decide to do next.
It felt odd to be sitting with him in the cigar-smoke-filled air of a gentlemen’s club and have no one take note of it. Under normal conditions they would hardly make an inconspicuous pair. Creed’s size alone was enough to capture attention. Days in the desert had not influenced the delicate gold coloring of his skin. His smooth scalp emphasized the startling beauty of his face. She rather enjoyed how he rendered her invisible to others, even when he did not intend to, because he was so much more striking than she.
She mourned the distance between them that she had created and could not seem to circumvent. A part of her remained frozen, unable to accept what he was willing to offer. He was as kind and thoughtful as ever. But the intimacy was gone, and he had not tried to rekindle it. She had been stupid to run from him and she did not know how to make things right again.
He sat, lost in thought and staring into space, a frown puckering his brow. She wished she could do or say something to help him, but she had no useful skills or ideas.
“You can’t blame Hunter for putting his family first,” she said at last, when the silence seemed as if it might linger forever.
“I don’t blame him,” Creed said. He pushed at the teapot with one finger, edging it across the tablecloth. “I’m worried for him and his wife. Cottonwood Fall sees them as being the same as Willow and her young companions, and as good as he might be at fighting demons, not even the Demon Slayer can stop a bullet.” Creed’s frown deepened. “I’m not convinced he can stop half demons either. I don’t think he’s ever faced any before. I’ve fought both demons and half demons, and they aren’t the same thing at all. Regardless of her immortal blood, his wife is pregnant and won’t be much help to him.” His gaze met hers. “He thinks he’s left demon slaying behind him. What kind of man would I be if I walked away now and left him to fight this alone when he’s so obviously unprepared? What of the sacrifices I expected you to make when I brought you here with me? Was all that for nothing? Where is the justice in any of this?”
Creed had just been handed defeat and yet his thoughts were not of the impact on him, but of worry for others. While he might have demon in him, its ferocity came from protectiveness and not a thirst for blood. Gentleness was by far the more dominant side of Creed’s nature.
In that instant, Nieve saw him with a hot and blinding clarity that melted the final shards of ice encasing her heart. It allowed her to feel the enormity of a love for him that she wished she had the words to express. He was so much more than a demon or mortal. He was a man, with strong ideas of what was honorable and right and fair. He expected no reward for the things he did other than that he be able to live with himself afterward. She could not quite absorb how a man such as this, who was larger than life, could ever want a timid woman like her, but he did.
Impulsively, Nieve placed a hand over his. It looked very small and insignificant in comparison, and made her think of how they also compared as people.
He was a far better person than she. The day he had arrived at Bear’s ranch had been the luckiest day of her life, and yet from the first moment she met him, she had done her best to throw that away. Nieve looked into his eyes. They were very blue against the silky, brushed-gold luster of his skin. As well as strong, and larger than life, he was indescribably beautiful. Her pulse fluttered to life as he smoothed his thumb along the soft flesh on the underside of her wrist.
She wanted him. She wanted his love. And she would tell him tonight, when they were alone, how much she loved him, too. When he could, he would find her son for her. She should never have doubted that. She should not have given up hope.
But right now, he had to help Hunter.
“Then don’t walk away,” she said. “Go after him.”
Creed flipped his hand over so that he could link his fingers with hers. He squeezed them. “Thank you for understanding,” he said, which made no sense at all to her, but the rift between them narrowed ever so slightly as he rose from the table.
She followed him from the gentlemen’s club.
Outside, their packs were where they had left them. The sand swift, too, remained in the same place as before, although Nieve noted with relief that its color had stabilized to a steady and peaceable green.
Creed’s thoughtful frown settled back in place at the sight of the solitary sand swift. “Where could Hunter have gone?”
“He went into that club determined to make a point. Now he’ll want someone to enforce it,” Nieve said.
Creed looked at her. Admiration warmed the startling blueness of eyes that contrasted starkly with the gold of his skin. “You’re right. He’ll have gone to the sheriff.” He looked up and down the street. Traffic flowed to their left, giving the sand swift a wide birth. “Come on.”
It did not take long for them to find the jail. The building was false-fronted and weathered, and looked very much the same as many of the others she and Creed had seen in their travels.
A crowd had already formed in front of it, neither ugly nor benign, but it would take very little to shift its mood. She could see in the way he kept her close to him and how his head continually turned that Creed sensed it, too. The tattoo that peeped above the collar of his shirt came to life in a way she knew meant the demon in him was also restless and wary, and protective of her.
She was much smaller than he, and therefore saw things from a different angle. She looked around, curious but unafraid in a way she would not have been a few short months ago, all because Creed was with her.
A slight movement to their left stirred the shadows against the side of the bank, where the scorching rays of the sun did not quite stretch. Nieve pressed the palm of her hand against Creed’s broad back to draw his attention to it, but he was distracted by a scuffle at the front of the crowd, near the entrance to the jail.
The tattoo burned hot beneath her hand, a sure sign of danger. Creed stopped. His head turned. Nieve felt the change in him as his demon fully awakened. Her own heart beat faster, but not from any fear of him. Something was wrong and now Creed knew it, too.
“I don’t understand,” he said, scanning the shadows. Frustration thickened his voice. “I don’t see any danger. There’s nothing unusual. And yet it’s here. I can feel it.”
“Perhaps something’s happening inside the jail,” Nieve suggested, but before Creed could reply, someone threw a rock.
Protected as she was by Creed and compulsion, whoever had thrown the rock could not have seen her. It was no doubt aimed at a window of the bank they stood in front of and not at her in particular. Nieve saw it coming out of the corner of her eye, but could not move fast enough to avoid it. It hit her hard in the temple, above her left eye. She collapsed against Creed, who caught her beneath her arms so that she did not fall.
A dull, bellowing roar filled her ears with heavy puffs of air, like the sounds an enraged kyson made as it got ready to charge. She clung to Creed, her face against his chest, both her hands flat on the tattoo on his back as she willed him not to change form here, of all places. The pain in her temple where the rock had struck her ebbed away and all was forgotten, except for the need to keep him from shifting so that people would not see his demon emerge.
The skin of her palms tingled, then burned, and within seconds, her arms were engulfed to the shoulder in flames.
“What in the name of the goddesses…?” Creed began, pulling away for a better look, but not releasing her.
They had the attention of the crowd now. People turned from the jail, a few heads at a time, then in greater numbers, to focus on Creed and Nieve with an incredulous and pervasive shock that did not bode well.
Nieve dropped her hands from Creed’s back and the scorching hot tattoo that burned beneath her touch. The flames that licked up her arms died away. She wiped at the trickle of blood from the small cut o
n her forehead with her fingertips. They came away damp and red, but only slightly so.
“I’m fine,” she said to Creed, a little afraid of what he’d do next, not for herself, but for others. “It was nothing more than an accident.”
Hunter had come to the door of the jail. He spoke a few words to the sheriff, who nodded, then he pushed his way through the onlookers until he reached them.
“You should have told me that she’s sp…half demon,” he said to Creed, his voice low and hard.
“She’s not.”
Hunter had the good sense not to call Creed a liar. Instead, he gave a sharp jerk of his head in the direction they had come from. “Let’s get out of here before people begin to ask questions you won’t want to answer. Follow me.”
They walked at a normal pace back to the sand swift and their belongings. Not fast, but not leisurely either.
“You can’t stay in town now,” Hunter said. “You’ll have to come home with me.” He did not sound happy about it.
Why would he, Nieve thought. He had enough problems of his own.
He and Creed began to fasten their packs to the sand swift’s back.
…
Hidden by tall grass and a deep hollow in the otherwise flat land, Willow watched as the assassin and the mortal woman rode through the town gates in the company of the Demon Slayer.
The lone road they followed took a circuitous route around the fortified walls, then snaked off in a single linear direction. Sprawling ranches, with miles of grazing between them, dimpled the landscape along the length of that road until it disappeared from sight.
One of those ranches hid the half demon Airie. The Demon Slayer would be riding to join her. Willow needed to draw the men back here, separating them from Airie and the mortal.
She waited as distance and the fields of swaying grass swallowed the three travelers from view.
Willow narrowed her eyes in thought. Far to the east, against the horizon, a craggy mountain range scraped a blazing sky. The sun had just passed its zenith, and it was still hours before night.
The Demon Creed (A Demon Outlaws Novel) (Entangled Edge) Page 22
