Bittersweet Blood (30 page)

“So,” Asmodai said, “what do you want here, Christian Roth?”

“I want you to finish this.”

“This?”

“You’ve been killing innocents when it’s me you want dead. It’s a coward’s way.”

Asmodai shrugged. “I didn’t ask for details, just that they go after the ones you love.” His dark gaze ran over Christian, and the first signs of emotion showed in his eyes. Black hatred, deeper than the Abyss itself. The wings at his back unfurled, framing him in darkness. “Oh, yes, I want you dead, but first, I want you to understand what it feels like to have those you love ripped from you.”

“You showed me that many years ago.”

A frown flickered across the demon’s face. “I did?”

Disbelief swept over Christian. He’d always held Asmodai accountable for the death of his wife and children, and now it appeared the demon wasn’t even aware of it. “You probably don’t recall all the humans you slaughter.”

“Actually, I very rarely slaughter humans, myself. I have no taste for the sport. At least the fae or even vampires show a little spirit.” He studied Christian carefully. “I killed someone close to you?”

“You killed my wife and daughters.”

“Humans?”

Christian nodded.

Asmodai paced the room, deep in thought. When he returned, he was frowning. “When you insisted on my banishment after the last wars, was that in revenge for what I did to your family?”

“No, you were banished because you broke the Accords. You started a war.”

“I asked for time.”

“I chose not to give it.”

“Because I murdered your wife?”

Christian forced himself to acknowledge the truth. “Perhaps.”

“I understand revenge,” Asmodai murmured. He sank back onto his chair, rested his chin on his fingers, regarding Christian through heavy-lidded eyes. “Are you aware why I have ordered the death of those close to you?”

“No.”

“Do you wish to know before you die?”

“All I require is that it ends here. That you won’t pursue those close to me after this night. Fight me now, and whatever the outcome you leave my people alone.”

“Fight you?” Asmodai seemed amused at the notion. “You know there’s no way you can defeat me here.”

“I can try,” Christian snarled.

Asmodai smiled. “Are you aware of the closeness of bravery and stupidity?” He studied Christian, and his eyes narrowed. “I see it. There is one you love. One you seek to protect. You have no choice in this.”

Asmodai stood again and paced the room, then came to a halt in front of Christian. “Very well. I take into account the ones I have already taken from you and will consider the books balanced with your death.”

Christian released his breath. Tara was safe. He’d never thought much about dying, or whatever it was vampires did when their time was over. Would he be reunited with his soul, or was this end of everything? For a long time now, he’d thought he could go out with no regrets. Now, he realized that he wanted to live. He wanted to spend an eternity with Tara, but that would never happen.

A rush of hatred almost swamped him, followed by a wave of unexpected excitement. He was going to go out fighting. The bastard would pay for Gabe and Stefan. For Tara’s friend.

He drew the long sword from his back. The blade glittered in the flickering light from the fire.

Asmodai smiled. He strolled to the wall where a huge sword hung. He pulled it down and dragged the blade from the scabbard. It glowed crimson as he held it up two handed in front of his face.

Something moved in the corner of the room as demons slipped into the hall. They hung close to the walls, their eyes gleaming in the dim light. He turned back to concentrate on Asmodai, saw the moment he made his move and swung the huge sword around to bear on Christian.

Christian raised his blade to counter. As the swords clashed, he staggered under the force of the blow. Pain ripped down his arm. He ignored it, gritted his teeth, and attacked.

…

Nobody appeared willing to make the first move. Tara caught Piers’s eye, he grinned and raised an eyebrow. It was obviously up to her.

She realized the warlock was still with them. “You don’t need to be part of this, Jonas.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep out of the way.”

“And don’t you dare do that spell while I’m not looking.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Graham was still green, as though he was about to throw up at any moment, and Jamie didn’t look much better. She crossed over to them. “You two, stay down here.” She wanted them safe.

“No way,” Jamie said. “I’m coming with you. I can shift and fight if I need to.”

“I don’t want you dying because of me.”

“Do you know how many demons I’ve fought since you moved us to London? You don’t want to know. I’m not giving up now and letting the fae have you.”

“And I’m not sitting around waiting to spontaneously combust or whatever it is happens to me if Christian dies. I can’t shift into anything, but I can shoot a gun,” Graham said.

“Okay.” She gave Jamie a hug. Then turned and embraced Graham.

“I’m coming as well,” Carl said. “Do I get a hug?”

“When we get back,” she said.

“Let’s go get more guns,” Piers said.

They followed him down the corridor and into the gun armory.

“I’ve got one,” she said as Piers gave her what looked like a sub machine gun. She passed it on to Graham who peered at it dubiously, but slung it over his shoulder. Jamie shook his head. “I’m going to shift remember? Paws don’t work too well with triggers.”

Piers handed her a jacket. “It’s Kevlar. Bullet proof.” He handed one to Graham as well.

Tara looked at it doubtfully. “Are they going to shoot us?”

“Who knows, but Graham has a gun, and he doesn’t know how to use it, so it’s probably best to be prepared. Put it on.” He turned to the werewolf. “Carl, you want one?”

“Nah, unless they’ve got silver, which is unlikely, I’m okay. A jacket will slow me down too much, and I might want to shift.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Piers came over to Tara as she struggled with the jacket. He brushed her hands away and tightened the buckles. She shrugged her shoulders to get comfortable, but it was heavy, constricting.

“I can’t move,” she said.

“Of course you can move.” He yanked the last buckle even tighter. “But you don’t need to move. You need to stay out of the way when the fae come.”

“Do you think they will come?”

“No doubt about it and I promised Christian I would keep you safe. So no stupid heroics.” He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. He took her by surprise, his tongue gliding between her lips to taste her, drawing back before she had a chance to object.

“Mmm, delicious,” he said, against her mouth. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you. Thought I’d better do it now, just in case.”

Presumably, just in case, everything went wrong, and they all died up there.

Piers slung a sub-machine gun over each shoulder and headed out of the door. Tara took a deep breath and followed.

They rode the elevator to the roof. Tara stood between Carl and Piers, the top of her head somewhere close to their shoulders. The air between them thrummed with excitement. Like they were going to some sort of party. A small smile played around Piers’s lips—he was looking forward to this.

Suddenly she was overwhelmed. Standing between the werewolf and the vampire, she felt small, insignificant, and immensely vulnerable. She was supposed to be half-demon and at that moment, would have given anything to feel a little more demon-like.

“I want a drink,” she murmured to herself.

She fiddled with the necklace at her throat. It had always been part of her. Now she planned to take it off, and this time it wasn’t going back on.

The time to hide what she was had passed.

From now on, people could take her as she was and if they didn’t like it they could—her thoughts ground to a halt. The fact was, not many people did seem to like her, except Christian, and he might very well be gone forever. She forced herself to finish the thought—they could kill her.

“So, who is this guy who wants to kill me? This Walker?”

Piers glanced down at her in surprise. “He’s your uncle. Well great-uncle I suppose. His brother is your grandfather.”

“And he wants to kill me?”

“He will do as soon as you take that talisman off, but don’t take it personally. He wants to kill a lot of people. Me for one.”

Tara glanced at him, and he grinned.

“Why does he want to kill you?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m just popular, I guess. Here we are.”

The elevator door opened and Tara stared out into the dark night. The sky was clear, the air cold. She stepped out after Piers. They stood on top of the tallest building in the area. All around them lay the sprawl of London, the Thames winding its way through the heart of the city, the London Eye glowing red across the water, but up here, it was as if they were alone, cut off from the rest of the world.

Everyone watched her. It was time. She remembered removing the talisman with Christian, how he had distracted her with his kisses. Tears stung her eyes, but thoughts of Christian also filled her with urgency. Even now, he could be fighting with Asmodai. Fighting with her father. Would her father sense her, and would it be enough to stop him, or maybe at least divert him? Would he come for her? According to Jamie, he had loved her mother. Would he feel something for her because of that?

Enough to give her back Christian, the man
she
loved.

She put her hand to her throat, lifted the necklace, and slipped it over her head. She opened up the locket and took the strand of hair from under the clip. It was the only part of her mother that remained, and she didn’t want it destroyed. Then she dropped the locket to the ground at Piers’s feet.

“Finish it,” she said.

He glanced at her in surprise. “I can see it now. How amazing—you’re a demon and the fae is there as well.” He looked from her to the talisman at his feet. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once you do, there’s no going back. What you are will be out in the open.”

She nodded. “I’m sure. Destroy it.”

Piers raised his foot and ground his heel on the crystal. She heard the crunch as the thing disintegrated. “Is that enough?” she asked Jonas. “Is the spell broken?”

“It’s more than enough.”

“So what happens now?”

“Now we wait and see who finds you first.”

…

Falling back under the storm of savage blows, Christian accepted it was only a matter of time. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, blinding him, and he wiped it clear with the back of his hand. The attack was relentless now, soon it would be over, but something inside him refused to give in. He rallied, cursing and slashing with his blade, standing his ground.

Asmodai threw back his head and laughed.

“You’ve been a good opponent, but you can’t beat me.”

“Fuck off,” Christian snarled and raised his blade.

Asmodai came for him. The crimson sword beat him down until he stood exhausted, breathing hard. Asmodai raised his sword for what Christian knew would be the final blow. He held it high above his head but at the last moment, he stumbled and fell to his knees in front of Christian.

Christian stepped back. He raised his own sword and was about to bring it slamming down when something stopped him.

Triumph gleamed in the demon’s eyes.

“My daughter is alive,” he said, and his voice rang with wonder. “She has destroyed the spell. She is no longer hidden from me.”

Christian frowned. He was getting a bad feeling about this. He watched warily as Asmodai rose to his feet.

“Put down your sword, Christian Roth. I have no time to kill you now. My daughter might need me.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yes. Mine and Lillian’s.”

Christian’s sword clattered to the floor. He stared at Asmodai, rank horror churning in his belly. Shock washed over him, threatening to drown him in a tidal wave of disbelief. He searched Asmodai’s face, hunting for any small hint of similarity, but there was nothing of Tara in him. “It’s not possible.”

Regarding him curiously, Asmodai put down his sword. “What, exactly, do you find impossible?”

Christian laughed, but the sound was void of humor, harsh in his ears. Why had it never occurred to him? Then again, why should it? He was in love with the daughter of his worst enemy. The daughter of the demon who was about to finish him off.

“Shit,” he said. How would Tara feel? Her own father had, if not murdered her best friend, at least arranged and condoned that murder. And now her father would be responsible for killing the man she loved. He laughed again and Asmodai’s eyes narrowed.

“Speak,” he growled. “Or I will kill you.”

“And will you tell your daughter that you killed me? At the same time you tell her you ordered the death of her best friend? It would have been her, you know. It was only by error that she wasn’t taken. Your own daughter raped, mutilated, and killed at your command.”

“What do you know of my daughter?”

Christian smiled. “She looks like her mother.”

“What?”

“She’s beautiful, and she has nothing of you in her.”

Asmodai’s dark eyes glittered. “Tell me what you know of her.”

“I love her. I came here tonight to save her life.”

“What is her name?”

“Tara,” Christian said and grabbed his blade. Asmodai tensed, but made no move when Christian sheathed the sword. “Kill me if you like. If not, I’m going to see if I can get to your daughter before the fae kill her.”

“The fae know of her?”

“The Walker is already close by. He’ll have sensed her at the same time you did and he will kill her.”

“You know this for sure? She is his niece.”

“I spoke with him tonight. We made a deal. Part of that deal is that Tara never takes off the talisman, never reveals what she is.”

“So why has she removed the spell?”

“My guess is she’s found out what I’m doing and this is her way of calling me back.” Christian’s frown deepened as something occurred to him. “Or maybe, she’s found out about you, that you’re her father, and she’s calling out to you. Maybe she thinks she can appeal to your better nature.”