“Think it’s a trap?”
“Could be. But if it took a demon’s kiss to open the door, whoever put it here assumed it would take a Darkin to get this far. And I don’t know of a single supernatural, ’sides you, who’d actually want the Book of Legend reunited.”
Colt stared at the small wooden box, the greenish hue of the light reflecting in his eyes and giving his face a goulish hue and an intensity that shook her to the core. She’d do well to remember that while he’d needed her help down here in the tunnels, that would all end the moment he opened that box and got what he was after.
They’d no longer be on the same side after that. And she certainly didn’t count on him keeping his word to help her escape Rathe. He was a Hunter after all.
“Do you want me to pick up the box?” she offered. Her voice shook slightly, betraying her insecurity. He was so fixated on the box that he didn’t even answer her. Damn, she should have glamoured him when she’d had the chance. Without the piece of the Book, would she even have a bargaining chip to force his hand in helping her escape Rathe?
Colt flexed his fingers. Every sense was coiled tightly. Here on the edge of Hell, anything was possible. The floor could drop away, the walls could collapse inward. Worse, the water might rise, trapping them inside the alcove and drowning them. He’d stared so hard at the box, trying to see if there were any visible triggers, that his eyes had become gritty. He blinked and glanced at Miss Arliss.
Her calico dress had turned dark blue from their swim and was still dripping water around the hem. The wet cotton clung to her form, surpassing his imagination, and he had imagined plenty. Her pale skin was flushed a delicate pink, which made him wonder if the tips of her breasts would be rose or apricot. Her lush mouth was slightly open, her small hands balled eagerly in front of her, her eyes bright, like a woman aroused.
Colt tore his gaze away from her and forced himself to ignore the tight, heavy heat in his groin and his increased pulse. She’s a succubus, he told himself, purposely designed to sway your thoughts and take over your body. Control. You need control. He took a deep, shuddering breath and flexed his fingers. Retrieving the Book was too important to let inappropriate thoughts and feelings interfere.
Inside that box were the pages his father had guarded with his life—the knowledge Hunters had passed on for centuries from one to another beginning with the three brothers in medieval times who had broken it apart. Each brother had trained their own portion of the Legion in each generation. Some said the Book of Legend had a power of its own, but Colt had never believed it. Of course, he hadn’t believed in the prophecy of the Chosen either.
Now, given that the Gates of Nyx were opening wider, he hoped he’d been wrong. Defeating Rathe and keeping the realm of the Darkin from overtaking the world and enslaving humanity was going to take a hell of a lot more than three brothers said to be some mythical leaders. It was going to take a damn miracle. And in that box was the start of the miracle.
“Here we go,” he said more to himself than to her. He reached for the box, praying it wasn’t a trap. His fingers curled with reverence and surety around its thick corners. Gently he lifted it from the shiny black pedestal. The age-darkened wood was warm to the touch and worn satin smooth, as if it’d been handled by thousands of hands.
He straightened, then blew out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. They were still alive.
He gave Miss Arliss a cocky grin as he moved his fingers to pry open the lid. “That wasn’t so bad.”
That’s when the rumbling started. Panic drained her face of color. Her eyes widened and her gaze darted about the room. It was bad, really bad, if the demon was worried.
The grinding of moving rock filled the cavern. Gritty dust fell from the ceiling, catching in the back of his throat and itching there. The crystals began to fracture and crack, their greenish phosphorescence turning crimson.
“If you were waiting for a sign that it’s time to go, the messenger just arrived!” she shouted above the rumble.
Chapter 9
The once placid green water of the enormous unnatural lake was a bubbling, boiling red. Naiads grappled and strained, creating a turbulent surface, their transparent bodies as fiery scarlet as the water. Elongated hands clawed for purchase on the stone ledge inches from Colt’s feet.
“Nobody invited you up here,” he said as he stomped on a hand that nearly grabbed his foot. The naiad shrieked like a damn banshee.
He heard an ominous crack, watched a fissure do a crazy zigzag along the ledge. Nowhere to go. Ah, hell! Miss Arliss screamed as the ledge beneath their feet crumbled.
He hit the scalding lake feetfirst. Plunged into the hot, viscous liquid, thick and rank like whale oil, the clutching hands of the naiads pulling at his clothing, hair, skin, forcing him beneath the surface. Where was Miss Arliss? he wondered, frantically trying to evade the grasping hands and keep his head above the roiling surface. Was she there with him in this liquid hell or back on the last shards of the ledge, safe?
But it was hard to think about anything other than his burning flesh and staying alive.
Don’t fight it. Relax. The water feels good.
The hell it did. A cool hand gripped his sleeve, then slid lower to his hand as he sank beneath the surface, and the contrary thoughts invading his brain dissipated like mist. A pent-up breath burned within his chest. His muscles went rigid as panic once again shot through him. Breaking the surface, shockingly one arm still locked around the box, he gasped, kicking against the viscous fluid for all he was worth. Finally—thank God! Finally, his toe scraped bottom.
Still gripping his hand, the succubus bobbed up beside him, red hair slicked back from her face. “Just keep in touch with me until we reach the shore. They might make our way difficult, but they can’t take you if we’re connected.”
A bubble of raw fear swelled in his throat. “I’ve only got one free arm.” Hold on to Miss Arliss, or drop the box? Neither was a viable option. There was no way he was letting go of the box, even if it meant fighting the naiads every inch of the way to the shore.
“There,” she said, gripping his shoulder with her other hand before she released her tight grip on his fingers. “Now you have a free hand. Let’s go.” Her fingers on his shoulder dug in, becoming a death grip.
They struggled through the thick water, the rushing liquid-spirit bodies bumping against them and grasping at them like an undertow.
The shore seemed as though it were receding with every laborious step, yet Colt knew they must be making progress. He could now see his Stetson, boots, and saddle packs, small brown dots on the black sand. Colt’s limbs were lead weights, pulling him down in the water, making it a challenge to keep just his nose and mouth above the surface.
“Don’t you dare give up!” Miss Arliss yelled.
He didn’t have the heart to remind her that he was only human. They were never going to make it. Hell’s bells, he could barely move. The liquid of the lake was the consistency of warm aspic.
He was going to die for nothing. The portion of the Book he held would be lost forever in the depths of this cursed lake. He’d failed not only his calling, but his brothers. Without these missing pages, there was no way the pieces could be reunited.
“We’re almost there. Keep going,” Miss Arliss urged. With her small, strong hands she pushed him through the water, unwilling to let go.
They were in the middle of the lake when Colt’s vision began to turn black at the edges, his heart seeming to beat right behind his eyes. “I’m not going to make it. Take the Book,” he gulped, struggling for air. “Take it to my brother at the sheriff’s office in Bodie. Winn will know what to do with it.”
She tugged harder. “Save your breath. Move, Mr. Jackson. Don’t you dare quit on me now.”
He didn’t know how they made it to the shore. He just knew he pitched forward in the lake as the bottom sloped up out of the water, forcing him to crawl onto the gritty shore beside his ha
t. Exhausted, Miss Arliss collapsed beside him, her pale, wet cheek resting against the black sand.
“I hope it was worth it, Colt Ambrose Jackson.”
He blinked and stared hard at her with stunned disbelief, his chest still heaving. “What’d you say?”
“I hope it was worth it, Colt Ambrose Jackson?”
Colt lifted his head. Confusion crowding his brain. “You know my middle name.” Middle names weren’t just names in the Darkin realm. They were a means of control. She could have put him under a glamour at any time since he’d released her from that circle he’d cast. She could have owned him body and soul and there wouldn’t have been a damn thing he could have done about it, and yet, she hadn’t.
She turned away from him, placing her back to the sand and staring up at the arch of the cavern above them. Her delicate profile was utterly feminine, and Colt couldn’t drag his gaze away.
“I know a great deal more about you than that,” she said softly.
“You’re not at all what I expected from a demon.”
She turned her head to look at him. Her unnaturally green gaze caught his briefly. And there it was again. That sensation that she could reach in and twist his very heart around her little finger. The knowing that if he let her get to him, she’d forever change his life. His breath hitched.
In an instant those same eyes turned wary and guarded. “Demons are just like mortals; every one of us is different,” she added, her tone defensive.
“You don’t have to look at me like that. I’m not going to dispatch you just because we found the box. I’m going to help you escape Rathe. I promised.”
Tears welled along her lashes and she looked back across the bubbling red water. A tear slipped down her cheek, leaving a glistening trail against her creamy skin. He’d said he’d help her escape Rathe. Clearly she didn’t believe him. She wanted to, but she couldn’t for reasons he had yet to understand.
She swiped her face with the back of her hand, then sat up, dusting the black sand from her palms. “You ought to open that.”
Colt’s fingers flexed on the box under his hand. “I’ve been working more than three years now to find my pa’s part of the Book of Legend.” His fingers traced over the ornate gold filigree of the latch and hinges. The box wasn’t nearly as old as what it held. “Funny how something so small could make such a big difference. The whole future rests on what’s in this little box.”
His eyes focused on hers. “You sure we should open it now? I mean, look at me.” He gestured to his sagging wet pants and tattered, singed shirt. “I’m soaked in God knows what and it might drip all over the pages. And isn’t opening it here kind of like sending up a flare to the Darkin, saying, ‘Hey, we’re over here! Come and get us.’”
“Perhaps. But it sounds like you’re searching for reasons not to open it. I’m scared too, but eventually you’re going to have to open that box.”
The temptation to crack it open and look was immense, but the risks outweighed the benefits. Gut deep he knew what was inside. It was Pa’s part of the Book. Everything he’d researched and discovered had led him to it. “It can wait until we get outside.” His voice cracked as he picked up his hat and settled it back into the familiar, comfortable place on his head.
“Are you sure?”
He had to admit she did have a point. After all they’d gone through to get the box, they should at least look inside. Hell’s bells. For something this monumental, it was worth the risk.
She scooted closer, her breath catching as his fingers popped open the latches on the wooden box. The strange water of the lake seemed to bead and roll off the smooth black finish of the box, leaving it perfectly dry. He held it reverently; a jolt of expectation zipped from his fingertips to his scalp, making the hair all prickly. Slowly he lifted the rectangular lid, and the scent of old wood, mellow and musty, rose with it.
What was waiting for him was nothing like what he’d expected.
Nestled deep in the box on a ripple of burgundy velvet was a single small scroll of yellowed paper curled in upon itself.
A crushing invisible weight pressed in on Colt’s chest, making it hard to breathe. The edges of his vision started first to darken, then turn red. Rage boiled up inside him. He clamped down hard with his jaw, the grinding sound of his teeth filling his ears. Not the Book. Not. The. Damned. Book. “Damn filthy liar,” he growled.
Lilly leaned in closer, crowding into him, glancing first into the box and then expectantly at him. “Where are the pages? Where’s the Book of Legend?” Panic laced her voice.
For a second his brain stuttered. She’d known all along about what he’d been searching for, but she’d never hinted at it? He was so angry he couldn’t take time to absorb this new bit of information.
“They’re not here! Nothing’s here but this!” He snatched the scrap of paper and crumpled it in his hand, then threw the wooden box he’d been willing to die for down into the black sand at his feet. He stood, stalking away from the box and away from the demon who’d brought him here.
“Maybe there’s a hidden compartment. Something.”
Colt glanced back. She’d picked the damn box out of the sand and was turning it over and skimming her fingers along it, searching. Her determination was as fierce as his.
“Leave it. It’s worthless.” His tone was harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t control it. He wanted to tear the rocks of the cavern down with his bare hands. He wanted to punch something, preferably Winn. But Winn wasn’t around.
“But what about the Book?”
Yep, what about the Book. The Book he didn’t have a blasted chance in hell of finding. His lip curled into a sneer. She’d known about the Book and never let on. If she could do that, what else was she capable of hiding from him? Ironic, really. This close to Hell and he hadn’t been able to find what he’d been searching for. Now he was back to square one, partnered up with a supernatural he’d vowed to send to Hell, yet as much as he doubted her, he trusted her in equal measure. Trusted her and admired her courage and strength. Hell, was even beginning to like her. Too much. It had to have taken a lot for her to give her soul to save her little sister. It had taken even more for her not to glamour him when her need was equal to his own. If she could be that stalwart and loyal, so could he. And that’s the precise moment where he stopped thinking of her as Miss Arliss or a succubus, and instead as Lilly. His to protect and help, just as he’d promised.
Colt shifted his gaze to his fist. The crumpled paper was growing damp in his palm. He released his hold, letting the paper unfold slightly.
He sighed and pressed it open with his fingers. The writing was small, some swirling gibberish thing-a-ma-do. “What the hell is this?”
The weight of her small hand on his shoulder was so light he barely felt it, but it was the heat and scent of her that caught his attention as she peered around his arm. “Looks like it’s in some kind of code.”
“That yellow-bellied horse’s ass.”
“Surely you aren’t talking about your father.” She sounded a bit sarcastic, as if she had one she thought of in precisely that way.
“No. My brother. He sent me down here knowing it was a wild-goose chase. He’s afraid of joining the Book of Legend together.”
“Are you certain?”
“There’s only one way to find out. We’re going to jail.”
Chapter 10
Both of them knew getting out of the Dark Rim Mine wasn’t an easy proposition. Lilly peered back at the tunnel entrance they’d come through, which yawned like a dark open maw high above the frothing red underground lake. “Which way now? We can’t go back out that way. It’s blocked past the waterfall.”
Colt knew she was strong, but how strong? “Don’t suppose you could use your powers to take us out of here.”
Lilly gave him a look that clearly said no. “That would take a more powerful demon than me. I can materialize to a place I’ve been to before and I can materialize small objects wit
hout a problem. But two of us? Impossible.”
Colt cast a narrow-eyed glance, scanning the rock walls. “Mines always have more than one entrance. They’d need ventilation shafts. We’ll find one of those and make our way out.” His frown ironed out a bit. “There.”
He pointed to a small, dark opening in the rock at the far end of the black stretch of shoreline. It was tall enough to accommodate them only if they crawled through it. Not by any means his first choice. He didn’t like tight spaces that left him no room to maneuver. Hunters stayed alive because they thought through how things could go wrong and prepared for them. But there was no preparing for what had happened so far, especially with his changing feelings for Lilly, and he wasn’t fool enough to believe it was going to get any easier any time soon.
Lilly’s shoulder brushed his. Despite what they’d already been through, she still looked fresh-smelling, sweet, and womanly to him. She had a sense of humor and a dogged determination and was brave enough to stand with him shoulder to shoulder even against tough odds. If he weren’t a Hunter, she could have been damn near perfect.
“Fighting our way out of the Darkin realm is far more difficult than fighting our way in, but I think I can guide us out.” Lilly’s voice seemed to shrivel. The haunted look in her eye told him she’d seen far more of the Darkin’s ruthless side than he had, even as a Hunter.
Putting his life in Lilly’s hands didn’t seem nearly as horrible as it had before. There’d already been several times that day alone she could’ve let his ass be dragged off to Hell in the bat of an eyelash, but she hadn’t. Considering how difficult it had been to find the worthless box in the first place, he didn’t relish the idea of fighting God only knew what to get out of the mines. He still didn’t have the pages, which meant he had more work to do once they got out. He shot her a smile, touching his fingers to her cheek. “You haven’t failed me yet, sweetheart.”
The Hunter Page 10
