Hellsbane 01 - Hellsbane

by Paige Cuccaro

  I was meant to be this woman’s magister, just as volcanoes are meant to erupt and tsunamis are meant to wash across land—inevitable, unstoppable, and most often deadly.

  I swallowed hard, accepting my fate and at the same time knowing I must struggle to resist it. “This time,” I said, and waited for her to turn back from enjoying the view, “you follow me.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “See it in my thoughts.”

  “Of course. Um, how?”

  I smiled, though my hands trembled at the thought of what I was suggesting. I clasped my hands in front of me. “I’m not shielding. Simply find me in your mind and my thoughts will open to you.”

  “Right.” She sighed, closing her eyes.

  The touch of her thoughts to mine was distinctly feminine, feather light at first and then stronger with each passing second, like the sensual squeeze of her hand. Her mind slipped through mine, finding my love for her, a love not so unlike the love I felt for all illorum—and yet nothing like it at all. She couldn’t know that, though, and so I relaxed, allowed her to push further.

  Her body trembled and warmed with mine when she sensed her effect on me, the way the feel of her still haunted over my skin and stirred deep at my core. An easy nudge turned her from the embarrassing truth and pointed her toward the destination I held in wait for her.

  Emma Jane’s skill at traversing another’s mind was beyond the norm. She’d had access to the gift most of her life, though she’d only just barely scratched the surface of her abilities until now. I could show her how to truly flex the power she’d been born with, and I realized her strength was even greater than I’d imagined.

  Follow me to the Shiva. Bangalore, I said in a rush, amidst the erotic caress of her mental touch, and then escaped. I moved to the spot in India I’d shown her the instant it crystallized in her mind.

  Far quicker than I’d anticipated, she walked across the black stone floor to me. I held my position, leaning against the guardrail at the base of the Hindu deity’s statue and trying hard to appear unimpressed.

  Her abilities were staggering. Far more than I’d ever seen. I didn’t know what it meant, the triumph or peril it might herald. But I couldn’t let her see my concern. If Emma Jane were to have any chance at all of being a force of good, she must believe to the very base of her soul that she was good. We all must.

  Emma Jane’s smile stretched with pride as she glanced up into the face of the four-armed statue.

  “Remarkable, isn’t it?” I asked when she was near enough. It wasn’t as large as the Buddha, but the stone man still towered high over her.

  “Pretty sweet. A little effeminate. Whatever. Could do without the snakes.” She looked back to me. “So how’d you like the entrance? No slamming into things or stumbling. Smoooooth as glass. Pretty slick, huh?”

  I cleared my throat, stiffening, wanting to test how truly powerful she might one day be. “Indeed. With each flex of your angelic abilities, your control sharpens. Shall we go again? Follow me, Emma Jane.”

  I turned and walked toward a canvas awning, where a crowd of tourists stood in line. For the briefest of moments I held in my thoughts the image of rocky cliffs and the towering water of Angel Falls, then I left her. A moment later she stood next to me in the dim early morning light, a warm breeze ruffling through her hair. Pride and trepidation filled my chest and tempered my smile.

  “Wow. How far down is it?” she asked.

  We both leaned forward. The mist from Angel Falls cooled the air and flavored the breeze with the earthy tastes of the forest.

  “Over nine hundred meters,” I said. “More than three thousand feet.”

  “Cool. Angel Falls. Venezuela, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nice they named it after you guys.”

  “Fitting, I think.” I met her eyes, deciding at that moment to push the test even further. Without warning, I chose our next destination. I knew by the look on her face she understood the direction of my thoughts and instantly felt her mental touch igniting a warm shiver through my body. I ran from the unsettling temptation under the guise of our game.

  A heartbeat and a half later—even quicker than before—she walked across the wide head of the Sphinx where I waited and stopped next to me. I could feel the soft brush of her mind on mine, the sensation quickly becoming a guilty addiction. She was already open to me, ready for the next test.

  A dry desert wind pulled at the edges of my jacket and knotted the blond strands of her hair. I blinked up at the sky and the afternoon sun. As strong as she was, this was only the beginning. How much more powerful might she be?

  You must move faster, Emma Jane. Reason quicker; open your mind to your prey on reflex. I knew she was listening. I could feel her there in my mind. And I liked it.

  “I’m trying,” she said.

  I fixed my gaze on hers. “There’s one more thing I wish to show you.”

  “Lucky me.” There was a hint of irritation in her voice, but she asked, “What is it?”

  Only this. Capri, Italy. Walk with me in Augusto’s gardens. I spoke directly to her mind. It was different than waiting for her to search my thoughts and find my words. This time I placed my voice inside her head, knew the effect my voice had on her.

  Father, help me.

  I closed my eyes and vanished.

  I waited for her on the wide terracotta-tiled terrace, leaning against the high stone wall that lined the edge of a cliff. Far below, the Mediterranean Sea crashed over large boulders, the water so clear I could see the underwater vegetation swaying in the current. It was a beautiful day on the Italian island, and my heart raced, anticipating Emma Jane’s arrival.

  Tour groups marched by, following guides as they recited practiced scripts, relaying dry antidotes about the gardens and Augusto’s time here. I smiled, hearing the watered-down history and pretending I wasn’t near breathless for Emma Jane’s arrival. Never had I been so aware of time, each passing second practically an audible tick in my ear.

  It was taking too long. I straightened, restless to go find her, to have her there. She’d proven herself a quick study—more than capable, and yet I struggled to remain the objective observer as never I had before.

  Just when I’d nearly reached the limits of my restraint, I saw her. She raced with blinding speed, seeming to appear out of thin air. None of the humans mulling through the gardens noticed as she stepped up beside them, her bright eyes scanning the crowd…searching for me.

  She didn’t see me, her view blocked by others each time her gaze swung my way. I took a moment to watch her, the grace of her movements, the power glowing under her skin. Amazing. But I’d waited long enough.

  I pushed from the railing and stepped around a young family of four, the parents eager to point out the beauty and history that surrounded their children. She didn’t turn until I spoke. “Well done, Emma Jane.”

  Her surprise at finally seeing me jolted through my heart an instant before her desire slipped like hot lava straight down to my center. I banished the maddening sensation and allowed pride to stretch my smile.

  “Eli. Y’think? You know, I’ve never been here before. I didn’t even know Capri was an island. I almost didn’t make it.”

  I gave a shallow bow. “That was the point. To force you to think on your feet, to use your instincts, your innate abilities to track and hunt.”

  “Yeah? Well, here’s some news. Apparently I speak Italian now,” she said.

  “You are able to understand all languages,” I said. “Some are more difficult to speak. It’s a simple matter of training the tongue.”

  “Nifty.” She shrugged. “So, where to next?”

  I reached for her hand, my power reflexively spreading out to envelop her. The next moment I transported us deeper into the gardens, past the terracotta-tiled grounds, giving way to a lava stone path. Water babbled in a small fountain in front of us, and the path we stood on traced in a circle around it. Trees and fl
owerbeds filled the rolling landscape, the grass meticulously cut and lusciously green, the air fragrant and sweet on my tongue.

  Emma Jane’s wide blue eyes darted from one flowering plant to the next, quickly taking in her new surroundings. A small twinge of guilt pinched at the back of my neck. I should not take such pleasure in her company. But watching her childlike awe and the quick working of her mind was such a joy—and such a danger.

  Suddenly her enthusiasm shifted, pain lancing across her milky white face. She flinched and stared at the illorum mark on her wrist. Her skin burned like fire, and I felt her pain sizzle through me. It was a signal, a warning, to let her know a Fallen was near.

  I searched the garden. He should be very near to trigger her mark. Then I saw him, and anger exploded through my chest. John of Lancaster, first duke of Bedford.

  The bastard who’d killed Jeannette.

  It was hard to breathe. I’d end him before I let him near Emma Jane. “Stay here.”

  In less than an instant I’d moved across the gardens to where his horde of demons, masquerading as human beings, followed a very human tour guide. I stopped behind the last in line—ten demons plus the duke in all. I didn’t know the Fallen’s given name. In truth it was our rule not to acknowledge a Fallen’s existence at all. But rules seemed less dogmatic where Emma Jane was concerned. So I called him by the only name left to me. “John of Lancaster.”

  The tall man in the center of the group stopped and turned. He looked much as he had the last time I’d seen him more than five hundred years before. A middle-aged man, athletic, with corn-silk blond hair, cut short and feathered to the side. Although back then he’d worn loose cotton shirts and thick leather vests, chainmail, and armor, now he presented himself as a modern man, responsible-looking, with a short-sleeved blue shirt untucked from his beige cargo shorts.

  It was all a lie.

  “Elizal, you deign to speak to me?” he said, his demon minions parting around him, leaving the two of us to face each other. “You risk war, brother.”

  “We are not brothers,” I said. “And I risk nothing but the purity of my own spirit.”

  He snorted, looking away and back again. “What do you want?”

  I glanced at Emma Jane. She was strong, an extraordinarily quick learner, but she was still so new to this reality, to this fight. She’d never survive against a horde this large—not to mention a Fallen as old as John of Lancaster.

  “Ah…” he said, noticing the direction of my glance. “We have a warrior in our midst.” His demons behind him had already picked up her scent—raising their human noses, sniffing the air. Brimstone wafted up from their skin, excitement electrifying among them.

  “Again, Elizal?” He tsked. “The last time we spoke, you begged mercy for your female illorum. And when I refused, you stood by while the flames ate away her flesh. Would you sacrifice another of your warriors to maintain peace in a war the Council created?”

  Anger jolted through me, but I would not let him pull me into the ancient argument. “Please. She is no danger to you. Her power has only just been awakened.”

  His smile was wicked. “What better time to strike her down?”

  “I will not permit it.” Until that moment I hadn’t known what lengths I would go to protect Emma Jane. I knew now—there was no limit, no line I wouldn’t cross. I was doomed and I couldn’t care.

  “No?” The Fallen raised a brow at me, his smile fading. “And yet you refused to do half as much for young Jeannette. I was certain you loved her, but this one…this one heralds your fall. What’s her name?”

  I blinked at the question, but answered. “Emma Jane. Emma Jane Hellsbane.”

  He looked back to her. “Hellsbane…”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I won’t stay my forces.” He looked back to me, his face stone cold and serious. “Understood? You have less than no time to take her before our hands are forced and the war begun.”

  It was a contradiction, of course. His demons should’ve already set upon Emma Jane as we spoke. They hadn’t. He’d given me the sliver of time I needed to save her and with it a way to walk the razors edge of our treaty with the Fallen. I was forbidden from interfering between illorum and their battles with demons and the Fallen. I could, however, end our training early—coincidentally, moments before a demon horde took notice of her and attacked. A thin excuse at best, but I’d take it.

  I was at Emma Jane’s side at the same instant the desire to be there occurred in my mind. “We have to go.”

  “Why? Who is that?” Her gaze shifted past me to the Fallen. “Oh shit.”

  “Exactly.” I took her hand.

  “No. Wait,” she said. “That was a Fallen.”

  “Yes.”

  “You know him. Who is he?” she asked, too clever sometimes for her own good.

  “The Duke of Bedford.”

  “The Fallen who killed Joan of Arc?”

  “Yes.”

  Her gaze shifted back to the seething wickedness behind me and I could hear her mind working through the contradiction of what they were and their innocuous appearance.

  We were running out of time we didn’t have. “You must let me take you from this place.”

  “Those are demons, aren’t they?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re interfering?”

  “No. I’m simply ending our training session and returning you to your home.” The demon horde was twenty feet back, but I could feel them nearing, I could smell the brimstone thickening with their excitement.

  Emma Jane met my eyes. “You’re asking me to run from a fight?”

  I glanced at the demons and then back to her. “Yes.”

  “Well…just this once…I’m okay with that.”

  My will asserted, transporting us to safety and despite my reasoning, in my heart I knew for the first time in my eons of existence I’d purposely defied my Father’s wishes.