Forged of Shadows ms-2

by Jessa Slade

  CHAPTER 23

  As the sun came up, Corvus eased back on the musty mattress. When his demon went dormant, it tended to forget to position his body in ways that wouldn’t leave him aching and stiff. After all their years together—centuries, actually, not that he could remember them—it now treated him like a rag doll it had not quite outgrown.

  Which made him wonder when it would need him no longer.

  Almost without his awareness, his hand crept across the dirty sheet to touch the first faint beam of light. No warmth yet, but spring was coming. He smelled it sometimes, when the wind was right.

  He sighed.

  A gentle hand reached out to stroke his brow. “You okay?”

  “Never better.” The slur in his voice ever since he’d fallen should have belied his words. But it was true.

  How right it would be that when the blooming season came, the last of those vile talyan who’d left him crushed under the tons of brick and glass would be gone.

  He rolled his head carefully against the pillow. The djinni had knit up the flattened bones of his skull, but sometimes he imagined what was left inside rattled a bit. “Never better,” he repeated, though he wondered if that made him sound like the idiot he was now.

  But the woman beside him smiled as if he’d said something profound. The light of the sun and the smile gave life to the otherwise gaunt lines of her face. In his time, the women had been round, soft, but these days everything seemed to have become tighter and sharper. One of the many reasons destroying it all had seemed so reasonable. Oh, he supposed he could always find a rounder woman. Like the newest female talya.

  But that one wasn’t soft at all. He frowned as the woman beside him traced her finger down his chest, lingering a moment on the faint parallel scars, as if someone had tried to open him on the dotted line. “She did that to me,” he said.

  “Who did, baby?”

  “Your sister.”

  Dory’s eyes widened, though even in the brighter light, her pupils never changed size. “What?”

  “She stabbed me.”

  Dory sat back, dragging the sheet up to shield her naked breasts. “I didn’t know—”

  He smiled. “Don’t fret. I am not angry.”

  The sheet sagged. “You’re not?” A bit of animal cunning returned to her pinched features. “At her? Or at me?”

  He chuckled, a grating sound. “Either. Remember how I said you must let go your hurts before you can move on?” When she nodded, he tucked a strand of her lank blond hair behind her ear. He moved slowly, lest he accidentally poke out her eye with his clumsy hands. He who had once wielded swords finely enough to carve birds on the wing. “Let it go, Dory.”

  She leaned into his touch, and let go.

  “Into thin air,” Archer growled.

  Liam spiked his fingers through his hair. In the brilliant—and frigid—March light, his teshuva’s sensitivity to the dark side was less powerful. But to not pick up a single trace of Dory’s passage?

  “No signs of struggle,” he said at last. “She went willingly.”

  Ecco nodded. A white thread was all that remained of the jagged wound at his hairline. “A feralis on the wing could have plucked her up any time in the night if it knew where to find her. If she summoned it.”

  “She’s a confused woman,” Jilly objected. “Not some djinni witch.”

  Liam had planned the search to rendezvous at Grant Park after quartering the area near the warehouse and then expanding in concentric rings through the morning, jumping ever farther afield as they found nothing.

  Under the bright sun, the lake sparkled, and the white breasts of the wheeling seagulls soared like foam whipped from the whitecaps. Dozens of people braved the cold to stroll in the light.

  “She told me Corvus liked to come down here,” Jilly said. “This was my last idea.”

  “We don’t know that she went to Corvus,” Liam cautioned.

  They all, even Jilly, stared at him until he shrugged, hoping he’d wrestled down the flush of embarrassment on his face. Of course his teshuva-ridden talyan had seen through his lie.

  Jilly paced with jerky movements. Liam watched the pulse of amethyst in her eyes as the demon sputtered in and out of her control. She was exhausted. They all were.

  And they couldn’t afford any more mistakes. “We’re going home.”

  The others turned to head back to their vehicles, but Jilly stiffened. “We’re abandoning her?”

  He didn’t see any way to soften the decision. “For now.”

  “Go, then. I’ll keep looking.”

  “We’re all going.” He kept his voice even.

  She spun to face him, golden eyes flaring pure violet. “You told me no one was leaving,” she mocked. “But you couldn’t keep one weak human woman from sneaking out. How will you stop me?”

  The other talyan melted back. While he appreciated their discretion, he half suspected a touch of wariness drove their tactful retreat.

  Having lost her puffy jacket in the salambes’ attack, Jilly had borrowed Sera’s coat, which was enough like Archer’s coat that it had always made Liam think of matching velour tracksuits. Except now the sleek red leather, hanging on Jilly long enough to touch the ground if it weren’t for her brand-new shit-kicker boots, made him think of concubines.

  He realized his own thoughts were none too coherent, so he shouldn’t blame her for challenging him. Even if his demon, hovering unnecessarily close to the surface as his control slipped, made such a challenge particularly unwise.

  In the face of his silence, she bristled. Literally. The crescent knives appeared in her hand, fanned to array all four forward points at him.

  He kept his hands at his sides. “That really what you want to do? Right here on the pier with everyone watching?”

  The demon flash in her eyes clashed with her coat. “I just want to find Dory.”

  For a second, he contemplated lying again. But he thought that just might set those blades in motion.

  So instead he reached out and touched her face, just a fleeting glance of his fingertips against her skin. When he stepped closer, the knife tips prodded at tender places, but he let out a breath and gave himself some room. “Remember what I told you. You can only take on so much before you risk getting taken over.” He should know.

  Despite the cold, a faint blush rose on her cheek where his touch had passed. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, the violet had leached away as purely human pain surpassed the demon’s barriers. “I thought I had another chance,” she whispered. The gleaming points of the knives dipped away from his groin. “Why would she leave?”

  “Maybe she wasn’t ready for another chance.” Now she might not get a third, but he didn’t think he needed to add salt to Jilly’s wounds.

  “I just can’t believe she went back to him. She kept riding me what trouble you were, but then she went back to Corvus.”

  Her words twisted in him, sharper than the knives. “So maybe you shouldn’t listen to her.” She glanced up, and he realized abruptly how much of the grievance was in his tone. “Maybe you should let the talyan get some rest, which you know they can’t do if you won’t call a halt.”

  She swayed on her feet and glanced around her, as if she couldn’t quite remember where she was. As if she didn’t quite realize what it meant to be in charge of other people’s fate, balancing one against another.

  When she finally looked back at him, her throat worked in a hard swallow. She put away the knives. Without a word, she followed the other talyan away from him.

  He stood for one more moment, between the lake and his league. Except for Jilly in her wild red, their sleek dark clothes, so suitable for night hunting, made them outcasts on the sunny pier. The afternoon of rest he would give them was no vacation—more like purgatory, waiting for the burning to begin.

  He turned his back on the water and headed for his men. And woman.

  He ignored the one last flare of his demo
n at that thought.

  At the warehouse, Liam followed Jilly to her room, feeling like the black shadow of doom hovering behind her.

  “I’m not going to double back to continue the search,” she said, her voice dull.

  “I know.” He pushed open the door and she edged past him.

  It took her a full heartbeat before she realized he’d followed her in.

  Her gaze snapped. He could almost see her shove her weariness away. Next she’d be shoving him away. “I said I wasn’t going to leave.”

  “And I said I know.” He went to the window to pull the curtain against the sun. Still, enough light leached around the edges of the fabric that he didn’t have to summon his demon to see as he sat on the chair to pull off his boots.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking my boots off.”

  “Don’t fuck with me.” She huddled in her long borrowed coat, which took some of the threat out of her words.

  “Truly, I’m too tired.” But now that she’d said it, some of his fatigue lifted. Which was unfortunate. Just so long as nothing else lifted, he’d be fine.

  “Perrin is dead, Jonah mutilated, my sister missing.” She took an agitated step, prelude to pacing.

  He caught her arm. “Sleep.”

  She stiffened against his hold. “No demon mind tricks.”

  “No such thing. And the demon’s got nothing to do with it.” Recklessness loosened his tongue. “Wouldn’t it be easier if it did? Then we could deny what’s between us with a righteous heart, knowing we were denying sin itself.”

  “It is a demon,” she whispered.

  He stood, barefoot, and stripped the shirt over his head. Then he faced her. “I don’t see the demon in your eyes.”

  But he was playing with some kind of fire. He called himself a hundred kinds of fool as he took a step nearer and closed his fingers around cool red leather.

  He slid the coat over her shoulder, down her arms. He trapped her there for a heartbeat, felt her sway toward him. He steeled himself for a head butt. Instead, her cinnamon-honey eyes were half closed, as if she were falling asleep in his arms.

  He gave the borrowed coat another nudge, and it pooled in crimson at her feet. Underneath, she was in the same unrelieved black as his other people.

  But she wasn’t like the others. And that’s what would get him in trouble. That’s what would destroy the world.

  Still he could not release her.

  Instead, he knelt, trailing his hands down her arms. His knuckles brushed the outer curves of her breasts, and she trembled. Down he went, pausing at her midline. He lifted the bottom of her T- shirt. The shrapnel gash in her side had knit to tender flesh, her reven swirled around to encompass the fading scar with the inky darkness of dormant demon.

  With a flick of his thumb, he unfastened the button of her low-rider jeans and eased the denim over her thighs. Good little talya. Even her underwear was black.

  He lifted her feet, one at a time, from the loosened laces of her boots. She braced her hands on his shoulders and looked down at him.

  And he stopped cold.

  He’d seen her charge salambes, leap across voids, tease the Veil that separated the realms, without fear. In her eyes now he saw the fear that he would hurt her, that he would not be what she needed.

  And she was right to be afraid. Not of herself, or what she could do. Of him.

  He didn’t speak, only rose to his full height and swept her into his arms. She didn’t resist. He carried her to the bed and laid her down. It was all his muscles doing the resisting as he tucked her against his side without desiring more. Or at least without reaching for more.

  “Just sleep.” He didn’t recognize his own voice.

  For a long minute, he listened to the grind of her teeth. But finally her fist, hard as a rock on his chest, loosened, and her breathing smoothed into sleep.

  Gingerly, so as not to wake her, he smoothed her fingers over his heart. He stared into the dark as his pulse matched itself to hers.

  CHAPTER 24

  Jilly awoke at a cool breeze running along the small of her back, like fingers.

  That better not be anyone’s fingers.

  She bolted upright, wrestling a moment in the covers that had been tucked around her. She wasn’t exactly cool, she realized; she’d just been warmer before. With that comforting weight at her back.

  Liam eyed her warily from across the room, where he had pulled back the curtain just a bit. He reached for his shirt. She’d seen enough when he’d taken the shirt off, so she knew she should avert her gaze as he dressed. It wasn’t like he was some great work of manly art. The lean length of him was more whipcord than stud, and the wild tangle of his hair was definitely the work of demons rather than modern haute couture.

  And yet she didn’t look away. Her fingers tightened on the sheet with the ancient-by-now memory of gripping his flanks as he eased into her. Only the faintest evening light trickled into the room, but traceries of old scars glimmered on his skin as her demon roused to the coming darkness. And the tripping pulse of her heart.

  He did up the buttons of his shirt with quick fingers, as if it were some kind of armor. “I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer so I could change before I had to come back and make sure you didn’t run off.”

  “You could tie me down.”

  He paused, his stillness taking on a predatory air. Her breath caught.

  Then she narrowed her eyes when she wondered if he might be taking her seriously. “Don’t even try it,” she warned. “Not when you won’t listen to any of my other suggestions.”

  “Whatever keeps the rest of my crew safe.”

  He didn’t make a sound, but she knew by the change of air pressure, by the whispered scent that was just his, that he had come over to the bedside. His voice was a low murmur that barely reached her ears. “I’d chain you to me if I had to.”

  He might have come to lead the league by default, but he didn’t shirk his duty. His never-ending, undying—until he was summarily executed by some vicious hell beast—duty. And he didn’t have to say that she could get him killed too, just as Perrin had lost what was left of his life. The chill that had started in her spine when he’d left the bed enveloped her like the black lines of the reven that curled toward her heart.

  “I won’t go anywhere.” She looked up at him so he could see the truth in her eyes.

  The touch of violet lent his blue eyes a searchlight brightness as he studied her.

  “I might find Dory without you,” she continued, never dropping his gaze. “But whatever else you think of me, I’m not stupid enough to believe I can take Corvus by myself.”

  Still he did not speak.

  So she added, “I don’t want to be bound to you any more than you want to be bound to me.”

  She gave him a chance to say he did want it—wanted her. Instead, he stiffened, almost imperceptibly, but with her focus on him, she saw it. She knew it had been a cheap shot, but she didn’t really care. He couldn’t have his arrogant, dictatorial league-leader cake and eat her too.

  She kicked back the covers, ignoring the flash of skin she was giving him. He’d already made clear he wasn’t going there, so what did it matter?

  He averted his gaze—more than she’d done for him—as she grabbed her jeans. It was the same pair she’d worn looking for Dory, the same as she’d worn in the hunt for the salambe. The denim was soiled with birnenston, shards of glass, and blood.

  She dropped it. “Go. I just want to shower. I’ll be here to hunt tonight, no worries.”

  She turned away, stripping off her T-shirt, and heard him scramble. She huffed out a breath. She’d scared away men before, but not usually at this point. What an ego buster.

  The bathroom wasn’t much nicer than a utility closet, her skin sallow in the humming fluorescents, but the water scalded away the filth and the worst sting of the past twelve hours.

  Not that she expected the memory of Perrin’s broken body o
r Jonah’s spurting blood would ever go away. And ever was a very long time now.

  She didn’t linger, and she barged back into her room wrapped in a towel, determined to shock her boss once and for all.

  But Liam was gone. As were her dirty clothes. Fresh blacks were laid out on the crisply made bed.

  “Sure knows how to wipe away all the evidence,” she muttered. “Like he was never even here.”

  She dressed, wincing when she bumped the tender skin on her side. The demon was taking its sweet time patching her up. Although she supposed if she compared it with her recovery time after her stabbing, she should be grateful. No sense being all unappreciative just because she had to sell her soul. Her health insurance plan hadn’t been that great before either.

  She pulled on the clean jeans. They were sized for her ass but a little too long in the leg, so she rolled the cuffs. Her new boots smelled of fresh leather, and her throat tightened briefly with ridiculous sadness. Her old boots had been perfectly broken in.

  As she walked out into the hallway and closed the door to her room, she contemplated leaving the warehouse. But no, that was something best left to the clueless chick running toward danger, usually with her pants off. She’d keep her promise to Liam, since she’d already laced up her boots, so it was a little late to get half naked and full-on stupid. The moment for that had come and gone last night.

  She passed the kitchen on her way out and saw a dozen talyan eating leftovers. A few looked up and nodded as she went by. She nodded back. She’d have to find some way to get the KP duties taken care of on a regular basis. The league didn’t offer a golden parachute—she blanked the image of Perrin going over the roof—so it could damn well provide a prep cook. She banished the memory of her sister at the counter too.

  At this rate, she wouldn’t have many memories left.

  The basement lab was dark except for one bright construction light clamped above the central table. Sera and Ecco hunched over an empty glass-walled container bracketed with metal electrodes. Off in the shadows, the fishbowl lay open, its angelic glow exhausted.