Black Widow Demon (14 page)

“How fortunate for me.” Raven’s dry tone indicated she thought the opposite.

Roam finished his meal and lingered a while longer before disappearing into the shadows, but Blade did not suggest that he spend the night. He knew that while Raven probably would have liked to, she would not offer Blade’s hospitality for him.

But the visit disturbed Blade and he wanted time to think. While Roam seemed harmless enough, if he could find them so easily, others could too. And they might not be as benign. Blade itched to be moving.

“Are you strong enough to walk?” he asked Raven once Roam was gone.

“Yes.”

He did not know if he should believe her, but he would watch her and stop if he thought she was becoming too tired. They had to leave this place.

“We may as well climb as far as we can while the moon is up,” he said. If they traveled at night and she did not sleep, the demons might not try to reach her. He began to scoop dirt onto the fire. “Roam had the right idea. Hiding under their noses is a good enough plan, at least for the winter.”

Stubbornness etched the line of her delicate, lifted chin. “I’m going to the temple first, as we planned. I’ll hear those directions from Creed and no one else.”

He finished with the fire, then wrapped the cooked quail in broadleaves and tucked them into one of the packs. They dismantled the shelter together and packed up the last of the campsite. He strapped on extra weapons because knives were not enough in the dark. As far as he could tell, she seemed recovered enough to walk for at least a few hours if they went slow.

He did not argue with her as they set out, even though she had overlooked two minor details of her plan.

Creed had not said for her to wait for him. And Blade had never agreed to take her to Creed.

Raven followed Blade through moonlit mountain terrain that grew steadily steeper as they progressed. Her eyesight was better than his, so she would occasionally point out an obstacle or hazard he hadn’t noticed. In return, he would grunt his thanks.

As they climbed, she worried about Roam. Judging by the wounds he bore, he had received an unduly harsh lesson regarding life and trusting others. And yet he had delivered Creed’s message to her without thought to his safety. Blade easily could have killed him.

She had her bow and quiver of arrows slung across her shoulder, but Blade would let her carry nothing else. While she had been unconscious, he had cut down clothes for her and crafted makeshift shoes from worn-out leather. They were far from beautiful, but comfortable and warm, and she was grateful to him and touched by his thoughtfulness.

She had not intended to continue to rely on him but had been unable to refuse. She blamed it on the prospect of seeing Creed again, so tantalizingly within her reach, but that was not the true reason.

They understood each other now. He knew she was half demon. She knew he hated and feared them, and would do what he had to in order to keep them from the mortal world.

And still, a quiet but insistent part of her could not bear the thought of being parted from him.

Perhaps when she reached Creed, this blossoming hunger she felt for Blade would diminish.

The path Blade was forging led them through a deep mountain gap. High walls of jagged rock encased them on either side.

As the bright sliver of moon passed behind a thick bank of cloud, plunging the world into smothering blackness, Raven’s flesh prickled. A faint whisper of sound—a stirring of the air—brought her up short.

Blade gripped her elbow and bent his head close to hers. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” She angled her head to the side, straining to hear if the faint whisper would repeat itself, but all was still. Unnaturally so. The demon inside her stirred, a clear indication of danger. Blade unsheathed the short sword he had strapped to his hip, the sound of metal slithering against leather alarmingly loud.

The tangy scent of something wild stung her nose. Something was definitely not right. She shrugged the bow from her shoulder and eased an arrow from its quiver, snagging the fletching between her fingers.

A pebble, dislodged from a rock shelf, clattered loudly down the cliff wall, and Raven glanced upward just as Blade slammed her aside with his shoulder. She heard him swear, then something sharp, like claws, dragged along rock. Thick, coarse fur brushed her arm.

Wolven.

More than one, judging by the rustling movements now clearly audible in the night.

As the moon reemerged from the clouds she saw Blade slash upward with his arm, slicing open the belly of an enormous, four-legged creature. The wolven hunched and snarled, but despite its wound, did not retreat as it continued to face him. Fangs as long as Blade’s hand jutted from the jaws of its muzzle.

Raven nocked the arrow and drew back her elbow, steadying the fletching against her cheek. The bolt she let loose embedded itself solidly in the wolven’s temple, and it dropped to the ground with a heavy, sodden
thump
.

The scent of fresh blood settled, thick and sharp, on Raven’s tongue, drenching the air flowing into her lungs. Her vision blurred as an intense, unexpected craving struck. The provocative smell sent all rational thought from Raven’s head except one.

Her demon was gaining strength.

She should be horrified. And a part of her was, but overriding any terror was the need to draw more blood.

Three more wolven crouched not far from Blade, their hungry, unwavering eyes fixated on him as he stood between them and Raven. Genetically modified by Old World scientists long ago to fight demons, they worked well together and hunted in packs. She clawed for another arrow as one of the wolven attacked, letting loose as it went for Blade’s throat. The remaining two separated, circling to either side of Blade, and Raven saw that they planned to attack him as a team.

Her demon went wild inside her at the threat to him. It was impossible for Raven to control it and concentrate on Blade at the same time. Faint glimmers of blue-green fire, drawn to her demon from its connection to the demon boundary, seeped through Raven’s pores to illuminate the narrow funnel of rock in which they stood. As she slid an arrow from the quiver, she sent out a silent and fervent prayer for help. She was unprepared for the response she received.

Summon me
, her father commanded.
I will come to your aid
.

Her fingers froze on the fletching. Dismay slid like a finely honed knife between her ribs and into her lungs at the sound of his voice in her thoughts. She was half demon. Who else but a demon would answer her prayers?

And there would be a price for it. Demons did nothing for free.

The danger to Blade—and the agitation of her inner demon—would not let her dismiss her father as she knew she should. If he could save Blade, then she should summon him. But that would mean bringing him into the mortal world. Blade would not forgive her for that.

Indecision tore at her. The only thing she was sure of was that she could not stand here and watch him die.

Reaching through the connection to the boundary her demon had tapped, she called to her father. It was an invitation he did not hesitate to accept. She felt him reach out to her in return, his triumph palpable, to follow her back to the mortal world.

As she brought him through the connection, however, Raven pulled part of the demon boundary along with him so that within the mortal world, she created an overlap in a broad circle around her feet. Although she had done something similar as a child, only in the opposite direction, she discovered her imagination as an adult was not so vivid or unrestrained. This section of boundary was less stable and much smaller, barely large enough to encompass her, Blade, and the wolven.

But also her father, enormous in his demon form. Heady elation, as well as relief at her success, filled her. Here, in this small piece of demon boundary, he could not fully cross into the mortal world. Not as long as it held. If she released it, he would be drawn back with it.

But she had not yet gotten cooperation from him. Nor did she have complete control of her own demon. Fire continued to blaze from her skin as it fought her for the freedom to reach Blade. She could not hold the section of boundary for long.

“Help him!” Raven said to her father.

Her father grinned. “As you command.”

He caught one wolven by the neck as it sprang for Blade. The claws on his hand tightened, and Raven heard a
pop
as it crushed the wolven’s throat, then tossed its limp body aside.

When Blade registered the demon’s presence, he lunged for Raven, throwing himself on top of her and covering her with his body. He swore through clenched teeth at the heat from the flames. As soon as he touched her, however, the fire emanating from her skin receded.

The last wolven loped off, disappearing into the mortal night with its tail between its legs.

“Explain this to me,” Blade said to her, his voice grim and low in her ear. He clutched his sword, bloodied with gore from the wolven he’d killed, and held it ready to defend them against her father.

She could not yet speak. Intense emotions coursed unchecked through her body and mind, from both her and her demon, as well as the knowledge that there would be repercussions for summoning her father and commanding him in this manner.

The beat of Blade’s heart was steady and reassuring where he pressed against her back, and the ground cold and solid against her hands and her cheek. She pushed upward, but was still weakened from three days of hallucinations and he was too heavy for her to dislodge easily.

“Let me up,” she said. “I need to speak with him.”

Blade got slowly to his feet and extended a hand to help her rise. When he had time to think about this night, to understand what she had done, she wondered how he would feel about it all. About her.

The demon’s head turned. A subtle shift in the pressure of Blade’s hand on hers was the only sign that it affected him.

Her father shifted from demon to mortal form. Blade would surely see the resemblance between them. While she looked most like her mother, there were enough similarities between her and her father, most notably in their hair and eyes, to make the relationship obvious.

“You asked for my help, and I gave it to you,” her father said. “There’s a price to be paid.”

She had known there would be. Dread slithered through her. “What do you I owe you?”

His attention fixed, cold and predatory, on Blade, then shifted to their linked hands. “First, send the mortal away, or I’ll kill him.”

Blade’s expression grew harder. He shook off her hand so both of his would be free. “You can try, demon.”

She did not dare try to force Blade to leave. “He stays,” Raven said. “Tell me what you want from me.”

Her father looked at her. “I want Justice.”

At first, she was relieved. The price was not as high as she had expected. And then, after the first heady wave of euphoria passed, cold reality settled in and she knew it was impossible. For her to give her father someone she already hated would increase her obligation to him, not pay off any debt, because her demon warned that it was more than Justice he wanted. She did not dare trust him, even to pay him what he claimed he was owed.

And while she wanted Justice dead too, it would not be at the hands of any demon. She could not allow this other side of her nature to touch her mortal existence. She did not like the thought of what she would become if she did. When she killed him it had to be by mortal means. And at a price she could afford.

Blade watched her without comment. Not a single word of protest. He, too, wondered what her response would be, and how deep her hatred for Justice ran.

“I won’t give him to you,” she said.

Her father’s beautiful face twisted to reveal the ugliness it disguised. “You don’t get to set the price for my help.”

“I think I do,” she said slowly. “Demons and mortal men hate each other too much to ever work together. A son would never summon a demon father, but I’ve just proved that a daughter will. You need me. So I do get to name the price, and I will, but not yet.”

She sensed his fascination at her refusal and worked hard to fight back a shudder. At some point, she would not be able to refuse him. He was prepared to wait for that moment. This was a game she did not know all the rules to, and he enjoyed playing it with her.

“We’ll see who needs whom, little demon.” His eyes flickered to her amulet, then to Blade, before returning to her face. “Remember me in your prayers.”

He did not wait for her to release him, but withdrew on his own from this temporary, in-between boundary to return to the other.

Raven remained where she was, conscious of Blade and his simmering anger as he stood beside her, but needing a few moments in which to reclaim her own emotions. Demons pursued her, as did Justice. And soon the Godseeker assassins would as well. On top of that, she was now indebted to her demon father.

She couldn’t bear to be afraid of Blade too, on top of everything else.

She took a deep breath and turned to face him.

…

She had summoned a demon.

Blade had known a demon fathered her, but to be presented with irrefutable proof had come as a greater shock than he had expected. Worse, now she owed it a favor because of him.

He took a deep breath, trying to think reasonably. He was not angry with her for wanting to save him. It was his inability to stand between her and a demon—and the sensation of helplessness he’d experienced—that infuriated him with such intensity that it left him shaking.

For ten long years, he’d had no choice but to accept helplessness. He did not have to accept it now. He was not as inexperienced at fighting demons as he had been back then.

He only wished it were not her father.