Slaying Monsters for the Feeble: The Guild Codex: Demonized / Two

by Marie, Annette

  When my glare snapped to his face, I forgot what I was saying. He gazed at me with a deepening crease between his brows, as though I were a math equation he couldn’t quite solve.

  “What will you do, drādah, when you have the grimoire?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked weakly, unable to look away from his probing stare. Our faces were much, much too close. “I’ll translate it and see if it has answers about how to send you home.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  “I’ll keep searching until I find a way.”

  He studied me, his dark eyes prying deep. “If I die, you will not have to do that.”

  My mouth fell open in disbelief. “If—”

  “You said that, before me, you did not need protection. If I die, you will not be in danger. You will not need me. If I die, you will be free of these burdens.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You want me to die.” His wet hand closed over my mouth, silencing my immediate protest. “I thought this, but then I was bitten and could not move. You could have run away. You could have left me.”

  I tugged on his wrist, forcing his hand off my mouth. “I would never have left you. You didn’t leave me when I was bitten.”

  “I promised to protect you. You made no promise. You—”

  “Then I’ll promise right now. I’m not strong like you and I know it isn’t worth much, but …” I stared hard into his eyes. “Zylas, I promise to protect you however I can, no matter what, until you return to your world.”

  He lowered his hand. “No, drādah, you cannot make that promise.”

  “Why not?” I asked fiercely.

  “I cannot protect you if you are protecting me.” He leaned in, bringing our faces closer. “Be smarter, drādah. Say this instead: ‘Zylas, I promise to be your ally.’”

  “Your ally?” I repeated, bemused.

  “An ally helps and does not harm, but an ally is not …” He paused, searching for the right word. “An ally does not do stupid things and die.”

  A laugh bubbled in my throat. “So an ally isn’t self-sacrificing, is what you mean. Okay, fine. Zylas, I promise to be your ally.”

  He blinked slowly. “Hnn.”

  “What?”

  “I have never had an ally.” He shrugged one shoulder. “No demon will ally with my House.”

  “What about the demons in your House?”

  “Guh. They have sworn to me, but they are useless. More useless than you.”

  “Thanks,” I said dryly. “But even a demon with half your strength and skill would be better than me.”

  “No,” he said confidently. “They are zh’ūltis and nailēris.”

  “Nah-ill-leer-iss?”

  “Easy to scare,” he translated. “Coward is your word, na?”

  “Haven’t you called me that before?”

  “I called you nailis. Weak. You are not nailēris.”

  He didn’t think I was a coward? Well, that made one of us.

  “But I am zh’ūltis,” I reminded him. “You’ve told me about a hundred times.”

  “Hnn.” He tilted his head. “Only sometimes, drādah.”

  My eyebrows rose and I smiled slowly. “Are you feeling okay, Zylas? You just told me I’m not stupid all the time and I’m less useless than some demons. I don’t think you’ve ever said so many nice things.”

  His tail slapped the tub with a splash. “I have more insults if you want.”

  “I have just as many,” I retorted. “We can start with how you thought I might try to kill you.”

  “Everyone tries to kill me, drādah.”

  My humor fizzled, an odd ache gripping my chest. I shoved the feeling away and slapped his shoulder lightly. “I’m not everyone, stubborn demon. I’m your contractor.”

  He snorted.

  The dryer buzzed loudly, breaking the odd moment. My cheeks flushed and I hastily dragged myself out of the tub—and off his lap. Water dripped all over the bathmat and I sighed at having drenched the clothes I’d only put on ten minutes ago. Leaving Zylas to soak, I returned to my bedroom to change.

  The water shut off, and a moment later, a soaking-wet demon walked into my room. His steps lacked his usual grace, but he was steady on his feet.

  “Wait here,” I ordered. “I’ll be right back.”

  I returned with an armful of hot towels from the dryer. He stood at the foot of the bed, water running down his face, exhaustion clinging to him. I flipped a towel over his head, swung a second over his shoulders, then reached up and scrubbed his hair, careful not to catch the towel on his small horns.

  “If you want to lie down on my bed,” I said before he could complain, “you need to be dry first.”

  He grumbled something under his breath, then plucked at the straps over his shoulder. The buckles came undone and he pulled his chest armor off. It hit the floor with a thunk, just missing my toes.

  I pulled the towel off his head, his hair mussed in every direction. Shedding the towel on his shoulders, he resumed stripping off his armor. Blushing all over again, I retreated to the laundry closet and pulled my spare blanket, reserved for the coldest winter nights, out of the dryer. A faint burnt smell clung to the overheated fabric. By the time I returned, Zylas was stretched across my mattress on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms and reasonably dry. Also, again, naked from the waist up.

  Could he keep his clothes on for more than a few hours? Geez.

  I flipped the warm blanket over him. “Are you going to heal yourself?”

  “Later,” he mumbled. “It is difficult vīsh and I am … what is the word for when the ground is moving but not moving?”

  My eyebrows scrunched together. “Do you mean dizzy?”

  “Var. I am too much dizzy.”

  I twisted my hands together helplessly. “Those vampires really had a thing for your blood, didn’t they?”

  “Na, of course.” He peered at me with one eye. “Hh’ainun blood tastes terrible.”

  I giggled despite the fatigue weighing down my limbs. My back ached so badly I couldn’t fully straighten my spine. I gazed at the demon in my bed, then sighed and climbed onto the mattress beside him, on top of the blanket while he was under it. He watched me, head resting on his folded arms.

  Plumping a pillow, I propped it against the wall—I didn’t have a headboard—and leaned into it, legs stretched out. The ache in my spine lessened slightly.

  My gaze turned, seeking the object I’d been pointedly ignoring. The infernus lay on my bedside table, the chain curled neatly around the disc-like pendant. And beside it, crumpled and stained, were my graduation photo and the notebook page I’d found amidst the “garbage” the vampires had discarded.

  Something akin to panic boiled through my chest. I sucked in a deep, shaky breath and steeled my heart. Ignoring the tremble in my fingers, I carefully lifted the lined paper off the table.

  Dear Robin,

  Hey there, little bird. If you’re reading this, it means I can’t say those words to you anymore. And it means, whatever happened, I didn’t get to tell you some important things I needed to share. But I already told you the most important thing. I told you every day:

  I love you, baby girl. Your father and I love you so much, and we’re so proud of you.

  The other things, they aren’t as easy to say. They aren’t pleasant to hear. There’s so much I should have told you, and even as I write this letter, I know I should be saying all this right now, face to face. But how can a mother tell her daughter that her life and her dreams have to change? If I can spare you this burden for even one more day, how can I not?

  It’s because of our desire to protect you, Robin, that we’ve hidden so much.

  I guess I should start at the beginning. The Athanas Grimoire. I’ve shown you this grimoire, but I never told you what it really is. To most of the mythic world, it’s an ancient myth nearly forgotten. But for our family, it’s our past, present, and future. It’s our legacy and our burden—a
burden that, if you’re reading this letter, is now yours. And because of my shortsightedness, you’re completely unprepared to shoulder it.

  That’s my fault, and my greatest regret. I should have prepared you. I should have nurtured your love of magic and Arcana, not pushed you away from all power. I thought if you could leave magic behind entirely, the grimoire would be even safer in your care than mine.

  I was so wrong. Instead of keeping you safe, I’ve left you unarmed.

  But Robin, I know how strong you are. How smart and capable. You’re ready for this, little bird. Your inquisitive heart will lead you where you need to go. You’ll find the answers I never could.

  I’ve written so much and I still haven’t explained the grimoire—what it is and what it means. It’s among the most dangerous books to ever exist. That’s why we’ve kept it hidden. Those who covet power nearly wiped our family out of existence trying to get it, and only by fleeing to America and changing her name did your great-grandmother end the bloodbath.

  You see, Robin, our family aren’t merely Arcana mythics. We’re demon summoners—generation upon unbroken generation of summoners. We weren’t just the best. We were the first

  I stared at the last word. Her handwriting filled both sides of the paper, loopy and so familiar, but the last sentence cut off, incomplete and unfinished. There must’ve been a second page, maybe several pages. Lost in the destruction, the fire, the collapsed ceiling.

  My vision blurred, causing the final line to waver. We were the first … the first to do what?

  A sob shuddered through me and I fought for composure. Zylas was watching me and I didn’t want to break down in front of him. He’d already called me stupid for crying from grief, and I didn’t want to hear it again. I rubbed my sleeve across my eyes and sniffed.

  His gaze weighed on me, heavy and assessing. “What does it read?”

  The quiet question caught me off guard. I glanced at his scarlet-tinged eyes and refocused on the page. Swallowing, I read the letter aloud. My voice trembled but I made it to the end without breaking.

  “There’s no more,” I concluded. “The rest of the letter probably burned with everything else.”

  “What happened to the other papers?”

  “The other demon … Claude’s demon took them.” I slumped miserably. “You knew he was there, didn’t you? That’s why you tried to call me back.”

  “I sensed his vīsh. I could have sensed it before he got so close but I was not paying attention.”

  “It isn’t your fault. We weren’t in a position to escape anyway.” I glanced at my desk where the grimoire page and half-completed translation sat. “What kind of demon is he?”

  “Dh’irath. Second House. He is very powerful.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “No, but Dh’irath is always powerful. He will be the same to fight as Tahēsh.”

  Despair clung to me, filling my mind with doubts. Could we find Uncle Jack before either Claude or the vampires? Would I ever get the grimoire back? Maybe I could send Zylas home without it, but what other dangerous secrets did it contain?

  “Well,” I said heavily, “Claude and his demon have all the important documents the vampires collected, and everything else was destroyed. We have nothing.”

  “We have no less than we had before, drādah.”

  I absorbed that. He was right. We hadn’t gained any ground, but neither had we lost any. It could’ve been worse.

  My gaze drifted to the bite mark on Zylas’s neck. It could’ve been much worse.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I woke up with a demon in my bed.

  Three seconds after I realized I must’ve fallen asleep curled up beside Zylas with only a thin blanket separating us, I was out of the bed, across the room, and through the door.

  Maybe in the next century, the blush would finally fade from my hot cheeks.

  Zylas noted my sprint from the room but didn’t seem to care. Not that I could tell if he was embarrassed. With the reddish undertone of his skin, a blush would be difficult to notice, and besides that, he had yet to show the slightest hint of self-consciousness. Maybe he wasn’t capable of embarrassment.

  The thought occurred to me as I leaned against the kitchen counter ten minutes later, a spoonful of yogurt halfway to my mouth. What I would give to never feel embarrassed again. Shaking my head, I resumed eating my simple breakfast.

  Amalia woke up half an hour later and we got to work discussing our next move. No matter how we looked at it, we had no significant leads to follow. Claude and his demon had all the information and we had no idea where to find them. Plus, if Zylas was right about the strength of Claude’s demon, a Second House Dh’irath, we didn’t want to chance a confrontation.

  As much as I never wanted to see another vampire again, we didn’t have much choice: we were going back to the tower.

  While Amalia prepared cantrips on flashcards for self-defense—we weren’t going near the vampire nest unarmed—I took a quick shower. Hair blow-dried, contacts in, and clothes on, I winced back to my room. I’d hoped the shower would ease the pain in my back from last night’s intimate meet-and-greet with a wall, but the bruises flared with my every movement.

  Red light glowed across my room. Zylas, back in his armor, lay in the middle of the floor. A spell surrounded his body, the twisting lines and spiky runes forming overlapping circles within a peculiarly oblong hexagon.

  The light faded and the magic shimmered away to nothing. Zylas sat up with a grimace and examined his wrist. The vampire fang punctures were gone without a trace.

  “Did you heal your blood loss too?” I asked as I moved stiffly to my bedside table.

  “Var.” He rolled his shoulders. “This time, they will not get my blood.”

  I lifted the infernus off my bedside table and looped the chain over my neck. The pendant settled on top of my thick, comfy sweater, the pale green cotton splashed with the logo of my favorite book convention. My mom had owned a matching one.

  Warm breath stirred my hair.

  Squealing in fright, I whirled around and lurched back, hitting the table and almost knocking the lamp over. Zylas frowned at my reaction. I hadn’t noticed him stand up, let alone sneak up behind me.

  “Go sideways, drādah.”

  “Why are you testing me on that now?” I asked breathlessly, pressing a hand over my trembling heart and wishing he’d step back. “This isn’t the time for—”

  He laid his hands on the sides of my neck, palms warm and thumbs resting against my cheeks. I froze as he stared down at me. A sizzle of cool magic sparked over his hands and tingled across my nerves.

  Releasing my neck, he seized my wrist and hauled me into the middle of the room. I huffed in confusion as he pushed me down to the floor and crouched, strangely focused on my face.

  “Zylas, what—”

  “You waste breath making noise when you are scared.”

  “Huh?”

  He pushed against my upper chest, and the next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my back on the carpet, gazing at the ceiling. His fingers, splayed across my collarbones, lit with crimson power that veined over his wrist.

  “You make too much noise,” he repeated, his tone absent. Red lines spiraled across the floor on either side of me. “Drādah ahktallis is quiet when hunters are near.”

  “I don’t intend to,” I muttered, distracted by the zing of magic sinking into my chest. “It’s reflexive. Zylas, what are you doing?”

  “Making noise is not useful for escaping danger.”

  “I know but Zylas, what are you doing?”

  His gaze flicked up to mine—and the cool magic drifting through my body flashed hot. The spell circle blazed brightly and burning pain flared down my spine. I went rigid, arching off the floor, but he pushed me down. After a moment, the agony subsided.

  “You are injured. I am fixing you.”

  Yeah, I’d figured that out now. “You didn’t have to do that … but thank you.�
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  I started to sit up, but he forced me down yet again, his claws pricking me through my sweater. The spell circle twirled, runes fading and new ones forming as he adjusted its shape.

  “I am not finished,” he growled. “Your back is still damaged … bruised.”

  Relaxing into the floor, I watched the way concentration pulled at his mouth and tightened the line of his jaw. “Zylas … thank you. Really.”

  “You were moving too slow.”

  His words triggered a short but unpleasant slash of disappointment. “You’re healing me because I’d be too slow against the vampires?”

  “Why else?”

  My cold disappointment deepened. I said nothing as he tweaked the spell, working through some unfathomable process required to heal my bruised back muscles.

  “Zylas …” I drew in a slow breath. “You feel pain, don’t you? When you’re injured, does it hurt?”

  “Na? Of course, drādah.” He didn’t add “zh’ūltis” because his disparaging tone said it for him. “But maybe not as much as the same wound hurts a hh’ainun? I do not know.”

  I had been reasonably sure he felt pain, but I’d wanted to know for sure. “If we weren’t hunting vampires today, would you have healed me?”

  “No.”

  He said it without thought, without consideration, without even looking away from his healing magic.

  I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “Even though you know what pain feels like … and you knew I was in a lot of pain … you wouldn’t have helped me?”

  His head came up. His crimson eyes turned to mine, the slightest crease between his eyebrows.

  “I see,” I said softly, heavy sadness weighing down my lungs. It wasn’t that he would have decided against helping me. The thought of easing my suffering hadn’t even occurred to him.

  The furrow between his eyebrows deepened. He glanced across me from head to toes, then swept his gaze back to my face. His mouth turned down, but it wasn’t his usual irritated-by-the-stupid-human scowl.

  “Is this part of protect? I am supposed to heal all your pain?”