Between the Bleeding Willows (The Demon Hunters Series Book 1) (6 page)

My blood coursed through Cassidy’s tattoo; she was bound to me. While some might cherish the thought of being bound to such a beautiful and brave mortal, I was plagued with guilt for damning her to be forever connected and drawn to this realm and its danger. I needed to get her well and take her home, where she’d be away from the chaos that was about to unfold. Sure, she would always feel a pull toward wherever I was, and potentially feel my emotions, my pain, but I couldn’t let her think she could crossover and do something foolish like follow me into battle. Getting her home and convincing her to not want to crossover was the only way to keep her safe.

Chapter Nine

“Lena, any change in Cassidy?” I walked over to the girl lying peacefully asleep on a bed in the dark corner. There was a shift in my feelings toward her, whether it was from seeing her strength in the cemetery, pity for her current state, or from the tattoo that bound us, I couldn’t quite tell. But an attraction that could not be ignored had taken root. A monitor beeped for her IV. “The bag’s empty, want me to change it while I’m here?”

Lena walked over. “I need to do a vitals check anyway. I got it.” This was her expertise, and she was fast and efficient. I stepped back and watched her change IVs and check Cassidy’s vitals and responses. “She’s about the same. We had progress after the tattoo but not much since then.” She looked me in the eyes and spoke quietly. “You might have to consider what we do with her if she doesn’t improve.” I looked away, unwilling to consider anything like that—not now. It was too soon. She needed time to fight this. “Just consider it, Killian.”

No. Cassidy’s life would not be cut short. She was still alive and fighting. I stormed out of the room, and headed straight for the training corridor—the hand to hand combat room.

The room had fiber mats to cushion the floors that were crafted by a few talented Harvester women who mended and sewed for the Clan. Racks of sticks and weapons hung on the wall, and a cabinet of wraps and bandages sat in the corner. The sounds of flesh pounding into flesh came from the room. Jackson had five of the new soldiers practicing moves on each other. Each guy was covered in sweat, and all but one was bleeding.
Good work, Jackson.

“Killian, what can I do for ya?” Jackson’s handshake was firm, bone-crushing.

“I need to go a few rounds. No holding back.”

With a wide smile, Jackson turned to his students. “Listen up, we have a new challenge. Three of you, Wicks, Ren, and Casper against Killian. Five minute match, no weapons.” The other two trainees stepped back to watch as I approached.

“Names.”

“Wicks, Sir.” A lean but fit male, about five foot ten, stepped forward. He had black, wavy hair held back with a bandana and a deep scar on his chest.

“Ren, Sir.” A stocky kid, about five foot eight, looked like he could be Jackson’s, stepped up. I eyed Jackson and saw the tiniest glimmer in his eye even as he gave a casual chuckle, knowing where my brain went. I may have only been a child when he was eighteen or so, but we all knew the reputation he’d had in his youth.

We no longer married within the Clan. Not anymore. Not after what had happened during the Breach. The loyalty to our community and our purpose was most important; it needed to be all of our focus. Marriages…complicated that loyalty. But a lack of marriage binding two together didn’t stop us from producing children—whether we planned to or not. And while some men might prefer to not know about their offspring—so their loyalty wouldn’t be compromised—I suspected Jackson might think of things differently. Especially with how proud he was trying
not
to look as I sized the kid up.

Ren had hair as red as a Mackleberry, which made for a good fighter; the red ones had more spunk in them. And
if
he was Jackson’s kid, it could be an interesting spar.

“Casper, Sir.” Casper was tall and gangly. He didn’t look like much of a challenge, but I’d find out soon enough. His voice cracked, which made his teammates chuckle.

“Very good. Ready?” The three youths nodded. I did not want to attack first, so I held my ground and waited to see their offense.

Wicks ran at me full force and tried for several jabs to my stomach. He got a few past me and there was some strength behind them. I grabbed his next punch, twisted him into an arm lock behind his back, and held him against the wall, waiting for him to say the one word that meant you’d had enough, “mercy.” He said nothing, so I pushed harder, stretching his muscles to the point of pain. His face clenched, but he did not speak out.

Fast footsteps weren’t enough warning to avoid being hit by a ton of bricks. It broke my hold on Wicks, and I found myself face to face with Ren—the little tank.

“Nice,” I said. Without the right angle, he would have never knocked me off Wicks. Then Casper launched himself in my direction and I lunged to grab his leg. I needed to pin him and count him out, but he was too fast.

“Looks like Casper’s too fast for ya, Gramps,” the Mackleberry-head said, egging me on.

“‘Gramps’?” I scoffed back. Yes, I was in charge, but Jackson was almost twice my age, and I doubted he got that kind of talk. However, Casper had most of my attention, keeping me from knocking Ren upside the head. The skinny ghost evaded every move I made, as if he could predict my movements. I tried to fake him out by pretending to grab his arm but get his leg instead. My plan was foiled when I found myself face-down in the mat with Ren sitting on my legs. He’d been waiting for the right opening while mocking me. Wicks, who’d not called “mercy,” pinned my arms, and Casper stood in front of me.

“I give.” The guys released me and helped me up. “Impressive. Are these fellows on squads for the Harvest?”

“Already got them teamed up with seniors.”

It was a shame to split them up since they worked so well with each other, but they had no experience in the field and needed the guidance of a seasoned soldier. I clapped each of them on their back in congratulations for their win.

“Can I have Casper stay back to guard Cassidy or will that mess up your squads?”

Jackson knew that if anything happened to Cassidy I would drown in guilt. He thought I was crazy for having Lena use my blood instead of anyone else’s for the tattoo. But she’d followed me here the first time, and I dragged her here the second time. If she died…I needed her safe until she could crossover—then she could forget about all of this. And although her ability to crossover without incident the first time remained a mystery, I hoped my blood would only heal her and not grant her full access to our gates. She had to stay away, even if that meant I had to push her away.

“He’s yours. I’ll make adjustments.”

“Send him to the med clinic tomorrow mid-day for instructions.”

Jackson nodded and patted my back.

The physical exertion helped me feel better, and it was reassuring to see how the trainees were coming along. Harvesting outside of our boundaries was risky but necessary. Our realm was like a young Earth—wild and untamed with the occasional demon lurking about. We rarely traveled past the boundary, and when we did so, it was in small groups because our spells could not cast out that far. With all our Harvesters traveling with us, we would need plenty of soldiers to guard each Harvester.

I walked to Angeline’s quarters. “Knock, knock.” Her door was open, but I wanted to give her some warning.

“Come in, Killian. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” She poured us both a cup of hot tea from a silver kettle. I never knew what herbs Angeline put in there, but the tea always tasted good, and I always felt better after drinking it. “So, I came to tell you I don’t want you to go to the Harvest.”

She paused and looked at me with shock on her face.

“It’s too risky, and I need you safe so that you can keep the spells intact on the gates and binding chamber.”

She stared at me, assessing me.

“That’s an order, by the way,” I said casually as I took a sip from my cup and sat back in a relaxed position.

“And what about you and the others harvesting? You’ll be at risk and you won’t be able to detect dangers without me there.”

“I realize this. It’s not an ideal situation, but I guess we’ll just have to use our senses and do our best. It’s a half-day journey, maybe longer with the carts. Besides, if we lost you, there would be no point to any of this. We’d be doomed the moment you were gone. Your spells would fade, demons would be unbound, and it would be Hell on Earth. You’re staying put.”

She sighed and sipped her tea. I could see her trying to come up with a good argument; her body language made it evident she didn’t like my decision. “When do you leave?”

“Sun up in two days.” I set my empty tea cup down. “I saw some of the new trainees. Jackson has worked wonders with them. Very promising.”

“Jackson is a good warrior. He would expect the same of anyone underneath him.” Angeline set her tea cup down as well and looked closer at me. “Something else is troubling you.”

There was no hiding anything from Angeline. “Cassidy hasn’t shown any improvement in the past couple of days. Lena wants me to think about what to do with her if she fails to improve.”

“Ahh yes, that is what I sensed. Guilt. And some affection toward her.” I tightened my lips, not sure how I felt about Angeline knowing I had any particular affection toward Cassidy. “Listen, Killian, you did not initially lure her over here. She seemed fated to be a part of this world. There is something special about her that I have yet to figure out, but she would have found her way here regardless of your involvement. You must let this feeling go.” Angeline stood and took our empty cups to her washbasin. “And I sense that she will come out of this soon, so do not give up hope.”

Hearing those words eased some of my anxiety. I stood. “Thank you, Angeline. As always, you enlighten me with your wisdom.”

She escorted me to the hall. “You’re welcome as always.”

I needed to see Cassidy, so I headed to the medical unit.

Lena was organizing her bandaging shelves. “Lena, take a coffee break. I need a moment with Cassidy.” I did not have to say
that’s an order
this time; my tone of voice told her that it was. She stood and left the room without exchanging a word or glance with me. Cassidy lay still on the bed in the back of the unit, unchanged from earlier. She had been here for some time, unable to care for herself or speak for her needs.

Walking over to the basin, I filled a small bucket with water and soap, then grabbed a small wash towel and headed over to the bed. I cared about Cassidy and wanted her safe. What caused my emotions to shift? The bond we now shared through the tattoo or seeing her laying her defenseless? Or maybe it was both? I wet the towel in the soapy water and squeezed it out, then began washing her extremities.

Her skin was soft and flawless except for the long scar she’d acquired from the husky demon-bait with the knife. She had a slight pink hue across her freckled cheeks. The tattoo looked good on her. Cassidy was tough. She’d lost her boyfriend, fallen through a gate to the Demon Realm, and been attacked while trying to save a girl. The tattoo and scar made her look badass. I washed the parts of her that were uncovered; I’d let Lena take care of cleaning her other parts. Returning to the washbasin, I rinsed the bucket and refilled it once more to wash her hair. It had been days since she’d crossed, and if she was trapped in her body, at least it would be clean. Her brown hair swirled in the bucket, and I used my hands to bring the water up to the hair near her face. Then I placed the bucket on the floor and lathered her hair with some herbal cleanser. I brought the bucket up to rinse her hair the best I could and then set it back down. Next, I wrung the long tresses into the bucket. My fingers ran through her locks over and over again to undo any knots. Leaning closer, I whispered, “You can do this Cassidy, you just have to fight.” I kissed her forehead one last time before returning everything where it belonged and heading to my room.

***

The next morning, I stirred awake when my daylight lamp turned on and illuminated the room. Being so far under the ground, our only sense of daytime were the lamps. Casters had always been able to reflect and bring sunlight from the Human Realm into our subterranean home, but Angeline had created the more efficient lamps. It wasn’t enough to tan us—we were all still pale white—but the light gave us a sense of time and kept us physically and mentally healthy.

Today was the day before the Harvest. We needed to run extra patrols at the gates and binding chamber, check and prep the carts, stock provisions for the journey, and rest.

When I returned from rounding with patrols, I informed Angeline that the binding chamber spells seemed thin and she should reinforce it.

In the halls, I ran into Sam, the Master Harvester that usually reported at our meetings. He told me that they were ready for tomorrow, though all the Harvesters were worried. They were not trained for combat, and they were afraid of the unknown. I reassured him that we did not intend for them to fight—we had multiple soldiers guarding each Harvester so their focus would not need to stray from harvesting. This seemed to give him some relief, but worry was still evident on his face.

“Sam, I don’t know when we’ll have another necromancer in our Clan. I want you to take half the current Vinka supply and use the seed to plant more trees within our land.”

“Yes, we will do that, Sir.”

“Thank you, see you in the morning.” I left Sam and checked on the carts.

I was surprised to see a familiar face inspecting the cart wheels. “Casper, they have you on cart duty?” The tall, skinny warrior stood and wiped his hands on his pants.