Bound in Black (29 page)

He snapped his satchel shut and turned to me. “That is all I can do now, dear,” he said in his thick, clipped English accent. “Why don’t we have a spot of tea to calm your nerves?”

I moved to the head of the bed and swept Dad’s bangs away from his brow, then kissed him there, relishing the warmth under my lips. A tear rolled off my cheek into his hair. “Get well, Dad. Please,” I whispered. “I love you.”

No response. I followed Jude, who glanced back at Dommiel with a scowl. Dommiel held up one hand and one hook as if to say
I didn’t do anything
. I hadn’t the energy to chat with the high demon at the moment, especially knowing it was his own kind that had done this to my father. Of course, it was Damas who’d put those nasty holes through Dommiel’s wrists. The injuries were visible when he’d raised his arms in mock protest of whatever he thought Jude might do to him. The black stitching was the same that Father Clementine had used on my father.

I pushed Jude on when he stalled at the doorway, probably considering whether to interrogate Dommiel. But I knew the ousted demon had nothing to do with this.

“What about Xander?” I asked when we stepped into the den. No television or computer anywhere. A wall of books and old furniture filled the room. A brown wingback chair faced the warm fire crackling in the grate.

“George must’ve had Xander watching over your father. They obviously ambushed him at the dojo.”

“Yes. I’d asked him to put two guards on my dad and—”

Jude turned sharply. “And Mindy.”

I nodded, a wave of fear swamping me again. Without a word, he grabbed my hand. We rushed from the house out the back door, through the gate and beyond the wards that protected the house from any Flamma sifting directly inside.

“Jude,” I practically cried, knowing what we’d find.

He pulled me hard into his embrace, and we were gone, sifting through the black once more, gray shapes blurring past. We landed outside my apartment in New Orleans. The street was quiet but for a dog yipping in the distance.

“No.” Our apartment door hung on the hinges. I sprinted.

“Wait!” yelled Jude, following fast.

The door had been splintered, a massive footprint indented in the wood. Someone had muscled their way inside. I ran straight to her bedroom, seeing no one and nothing amiss in the living room. Her bedroom was empty. So was her bathroom and her closet. I looked every tiny place Mindy might’ve hidden from an intruder. Jude hadn’t followed me.

I found him standing in the kitchen entrance, staring down at something. I rushed up beside him.

“No, Gen.”

Too late.

“Is it Mindy?”

Blood smeared the kitchen floor, painting our white tile red. Crimson splattered our fridge and countertops. A young man’s body lay on one side, having bled out from a stomach wound. Dave. Mindy’s boyfriend.

Two large, male hands—chopped mid-forearm—lay on the floor a few feet away. Tarquin’s head had been propped on one of our white dinner plates and set on the counter next to the toaster, facing the doorway, where sightless, glassy eyes would greet anyone who entered. Blood had pooled on the plate and dripped off the counter. Streaming rivulets dribbled down the cabinets, dripping steadily into a pool on the floor.

Our popcorn popper sat on the counter, untouched. A flash of Mindy came to mind, tossing a popcorn kernel into the air and catching it in her mouth. I could hear her tinkling laughter, then I could hear her screams as this horrific nightmare unfolded.

My stomach roiled. I clamped my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet. Gripping the toilet seat, I emptied my stomach, sweat breaking out over my entire body. Jude was there. He pulled a dishcloth from the cabinet, wet it under the faucet, then pressed the cool rag to the back of my neck.

I stood upright and took the cloth to wipe my face, now fevered from the horror in my kitchen.

“He’s killed Mindy, Jude.”

“No,” he said with confidence. “If he’d killed her, he’d have made sure to leave her body. He wanted us to see those he left behind.”

“Poor Dave,” I said, wiping my eyes. As much as he wasn’t my favorite of Mindy’s boyfriends, I’d never wish this on him. Or anyone, for that matter. “And Tarquin.”

Jude’s stony expression hid the anger simmering under the surface. But he could never hide his emotions from me. His fiery aura lit once more, the way it used to before he’d ever been to Lethe’s lair. A dangerous flame burned around him.

“How could they have gotten in?” I asked. “The wards. They couldn’t sift inside. After you were gone, I made George double your efforts so no one could. So how did this even happen?”

I’d known if the wards were strong enough, no Flamma of any kind could sift inside. Even then, I hadn’t trusted that my so-called guardian angel, Thomas, wouldn’t do something underhanded. Of course, he wasn’t an angel at all.

Jude’s expression was distant, pensive. “Mindy’s boyfriend was killed first with no resistance. Tarquin must’ve been watching and saw something or someone come into the apartment.”

“But who? Mindy would never have opened the door for a stranger. Never. She’s not stupid. We’ve discussed this time and again.”

“She let them inside, there’s no doubt. You’re right. With the wards, no Flamma of Dark could sift inside, but a sentinel working for a demon prince could walk in.”

“But I know no sentinels.”

“Apparently, you do. Someone Mindy would’ve trusted. What about that guy you dated, the study partner?”

“Malcolm? No way. Not him.” Someone we both knew?

As if my world was sliding sideways, the truth knocked me off balance. I gripped the edge of the countertop.

“Oh God.” There was only one person I knew who Mindy might let inside without hesitation. One person who fit the bill as a sentinel, a guard, but not for the Flamma of Light. For him. For Damas. “Erik.”

“Who?”

“Erik. He works for my father. He’s like family. He’s like…my brother.” I thought I was going to be sick again.

Damas had told me he’d watched over me my entire life. Erik had come into our lives right after my mother died. He’d been planted by Damas. The truth dug its claws so deep, I thought I’d vomit again.

“If Mindy knew him,” said Jude, “then he could’ve led Damas inside.”

“But, Jude, this isn’t like vampire mythology. Damas couldn’t walk in just because he was invited.” My sarcasm was uncalled for, but Jude endured it with grace and nonchalance as usual.

“No.”

The timbre of that one word snapped my attention to him. I set the wet cloth on the counter. “What is it you’re not saying?”

“Genevieve, when you accepted his gift of power, you opened yourself to him in ways I think we’re only now beginning to comprehend. He paralyzed you back on that bayou and prevented you from using your power, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then he left some of his essence behind. Who’s to say he didn’t take some of your own? Some part of you that was able to mask his identity, even to the wards created by the Flamma of Light. When I told you he was the master of deception, of lies, I wasn’t exaggerating. He can hide himself in ways no one else can. He’s had thousands of years to perfect his art.”

I folded the dishrag over the edge of the sink, my hands trembling. “When Damas was standing over my father, George didn’t even sense him, as if his signature wasn’t even on his radar. Yet I could feel him the whole time. I knew he was there.” I leaned forward on the sink, bracing my weight with both hands. “It’s my fault my father is dying. It’s my fault Dave is dead. And Tarquin. And possibly even Mindy.”

Jude pulled me away from the sink and twisted me around to meet his gaze. He swept away a lock of hair sticking to my cheek from the wet cloth. He curled his fingers around my nape, keeping my focus on him. His aura of flame and iron wrapped me in a cocoon of protection, the way it used to.

“Don’t go there, love. Hear me now, and hear me well.” He brushed his thumb along my jawline. “I’ve lived with the bitter fruit of regret. It will eat you alive till there is nothing but the black pit of hatred left behind. Every time you look back at a mistake you’ve made, wishing for a different end, wishing you’d been a better person, you give a piece of your soul away. If you want to live in the now, for me, for our child, then you must forgive yourself and let it go.”

I wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “It’s hard.” I didn’t want to cry. I was so sick of crying. I’d wept enough tears to fill a fucking river. Yet, even now, after all I’d seen of the Flamma of Dark and their evil, I longed to curl up and weep for what they’d done, for what they could still do. “My heart isn’t hard enough, Jude.”

His intense expression fell, softening with a half smile and a look of complete adoration shining in his dark eyes. “Oh, my love. Thank God for that. Your good heart is what I cherish most.” He cupped my face with both hands, angling so that I couldn’t look away. “Your heart is warm sunshine in the cold winter. And I would want nothing else.”

A tear slipped down one cheek. “Goddamn it.” I couldn’t help it.

Jude swiped my cheek with his thumb. “What is it?”

“I didn’t want to cry.”

His smile widened. “You’re a sensitive woman. It’s natural.”

“Are you calling me moody?”

“I’m saying you’re human, and wonderfully feminine, and therefore fragile. In some ways.”

“Great. I’m weak. That should help us out a ton to kill that fucker Damas.”

“Genevieve Elizabeth Drake.”

Well, that silenced me. How did he know my middle name? Wait. What was I thinking? This was Jude Delacroix, master of secrets and detection.

“Listen to me, woman. You marched into the deepest pit of hell, killed a demon prince and dragged me back to life.”

“I got you out, but Uriel brought you back to life.” Yes, I was being a petulant child. Feeling sorry for myself felt better than facing reality.

He brought his face closer to mine. His fingertips combed farther into my hair. “When I was lost in the darkness of my mind, I dreamed of the stars and the moon. Over and over again. A sparkling canvas shone in the night wherever I wandered. The torture inflicted upon my body drove me far, far away. But I was never alone. It was the moon…the moon, Genevieve, that kept calling to me in these dreams. Her beauty and brightness shone like no other. I didn’t even know my fucking name after I passed through the veil of Lethe. Under Danté’s whip, I wished I’d never been born. So I let my mind wander. And always,
always
the night sky would appear. That luminescent beauty called to me, soothed me, kept me from losing my sanity.
Mea luna tenebris
. You have always been my moon in the darkness.”

No point in fighting the tears now. How could a girl not cry when the man who owned her heart said such things? I wrapped my arms around his waist and let my head fall to his shoulder. He held me close while I let it all out.

“And you’re my guiding star,” I muffled into his shirt.

He tightened his hold and pressed a tender kiss to my temple. “Then we’re a perfect pair, you and I. We belong together. And nothing, not even the demons of hell, will ever tear us apart.”

And that was a truth I felt bone-deep. No matter what Damas and his demon brothers planned, my bond with Jude was strong enough to withstand anything. My heart might be human and fragile, but my will was iron and steel. And I had a fiery bad-ass Master of Demons who would always catch me when I fell.

Like now.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dad still hadn’t woken up, but his pulse was steady. I’d been at his bedside for hours. Jude had gone out to meet with George and Uriel. I’d dozed in the chair by my father’s bed. When I opened my eyes, I found my katana leaning against the wall. I’d forgotten it. Of course, Jude had fetched it for me.

Father Clementine used oil lamps. I turned one up so I could check on Dad. After a few hours in this place, I realized he lived without electricity or modern technology of any kind.
“I like the simple life. It’s easier to stay close to God this way,”
was his reply when I’d asked. The local newspaper and visits with the townspeople were the only ways he knew what was going on in the world. But what was there to know other than the world was quickly going to hell? Literally. Terrorist strikes increased across Europe, the Middle East and even Russia. Riots had erupted in all corners of the US for no reason at all. Of course, I knew who was at the heart of every strike and every riot. Demons.

Dommiel stirred in the bed next to me. “I have something for you.”

I stood with the quilt that had been draped over me while I slept by either Father or Jude and wrapped it around my shoulders. Angling my chair nearer to Dommiel, I sat again and finally observed him closely. He had no piercings of any kind in his lips, nose, cheeks, brows or even his ears. It was odd. At the same time, the absence of all the metal revealed the face of the handsome angel he had been before the fall. Dark stubble was growing back on his shaved head.

“What is it?”

He opened a small drawer in the nightstand and pulled out my St. George medal, dangling it in the air for me to take. I took it and traced the figure of St. George and the dragon with my finger. I’d never realized I’d meet the man in the flesh.