Cassandra's Dilemma (10 page)

Glass shards flew through the air, sparkling with late-morning sun. Helcyon stood between her and the writhing, black mass, sword drawn. His body vibrated with pure, entrancing power. She could see the veins throbbing in his shoulders. His scent changed from warm cinnamon and vanilla to sage, lemon, and something hotter, spicier.

Cassie’s nose flared because, in direct opposition to Helcyon’s spicy goodness, the inkblot from hell smelled of roofing tar on a hot summer day, acrid and harsh. She choked as the scent clogged her nose and mouth, as though a hand reached out to suffocate her in the scent.

Helcyon’s sword sliced at the air between them, spinning and moving fast enough to generate its own music. Cassie’s ears roared at the harsh notes the sword carved along the inkblot’s flank. The creature’s screams filled the air, foghorn loud with their intensity.

Clapping her hands over her ears, Cassie tried to back up a step. The ink stuck to her feet. Helcyon swore, and his sword danced close to her feet, slicing through the ribbon-thin bonds that stretched around him from their attacker to encompass her.

“Salt!” he yelled over his shoulder, dancing forward to thrust, parry, and slice. “Salt!”

Cassie looked around wildly before grabbing the Royal Albert blue-rose sugar bowl from the table and throwing it, underhand like a softball, at Helcyon’s oily opponent. The entire picture window was blotted out now, allowing no measure of sunlight into the room. Black tendrils waved toward her like so many tentacles from an octopus. The fine china impacted on the oily mass with a wet thunk.

“Salt! Dammit—salt.” Helcyon spared a moment to point his sword toward the salt and pepper shakers on the counter, five feet from the table which vanished underneath the weight of the tall, inky blob.

Cassie dashed across the floor, swearing as a tentacle shackled her ankle, sending her crashing into the floor. She found no purchase on the sandstone tile, doused in coffee, blood, and other viscous fluids.

“Helcyon!” Cassie screamed as the creature dragged her backward. Helcyon twisted, and his sword sliced through the air, severing the shackling tentacle. Cassie banged her knees scrabbling forward on all fours to grab the Morton salt container off the counter. She tore out the aluminum spout. Whirling, Cassie gaped at the writhing black mass that continued to expand to fill the available space.

“Cassandra!” Helcyon yelled. “Throw it now.”

Never one for ball sports, Cassie put her whole arm behind the salt container. The world slowed down as it flew through the air, turning end over end. Salt spurted out every time it flipped upside down until it impacted with a thud against the black mass.

Everything stopped.

The mass ceased writhing.

Cassie’s heart paused.

A scream tore free from the creature like the sound of a thousand wounded animals being murdered at once. Cassie clapped her hands over her ears as it screamed and screamed. Glass shattered from every direction. Helcyon threw an arm up, and a dark, rich, green light encircled them. Cassie flinched away from glass shards that never touched her.

Seconds later, the sun shone through the now-glassless window, reflecting off the myriad of glass shards lying all over the tile floor. The oaken breakfast-nook table lay broken and battered. Broken china mingled with the glass, fruit, and oily black droppings.

Cassie tried not to look too closely at the remnants.

“Are you okay?” she asked, focusing on Helcyon instead. His bare chest was a myriad of cuts and welts. One arm looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to it. On his right shoulder, the black, swirling tattoo pulsed and twisted sinuously like an agitated snake.

“I will heal. Are you injured?” Helcyon scanned the room once more before turning to her. His sword vanished back to wherever he seemed to keep it—though she was curious, it didn’t really seem like the time to ask. He ran his hands over her arms, legs, and then up across her torso.

“Some cuts—ankle’s a little sore.” They both glanced down at her right ankle. A ringlike bruise encircled it. Cassie wiggled her foot right and left. Despite the bruising, she could still move it. “What was that?”

“A Feth Felen. It should never be on this side of Underhill, and it should never have been able to enter your home.”

“Okay, two things. Let’s skip the word ‘never,’ because so far you fall into that ‘never’ category, too, and you’re here.” Cassie fought for some levity in the situation. “Second, just give me facts and figures, not speculation.”

“A Feth Felen is a creature of the wild hunt. It is a dog, an animal of the Underhill. It hunts in the shadows, consuming negativity and feasting on pain. Your home has none of these things, yet it was moving with purpose and it hunted you.”

“Are you sure it was hunting me and not you?” Cassie tried not to wince as Helcyon turned away and one of the slices on his back gaped open. Despite the number of injuries, he bled only sluggishly. Grabbing a clean dishtowel, Cassie pressed it against one of the worst wounds, trying to stem the blood flow.

“I am sure. It fought to get around me or go through me
—
it wanted you. It tore through your home
—
it was sent here on a blood hunt for you. There is no other reason it could have entered your home so freely and come at you so suddenly.” Helcyon’s mouth pursed into a thin, terse line. His dark-green eyes seemed to harden to granite. For all his sensual behavior in the bedroom, she saw the battle-hardened warrior in front of her.

“Pack your bag. We move now.”

“Hels—can I call you that?” A tempest of emotion swirled in her voice.

“Yes, you may, m’lady.” Helcyon answered her tempest with gentility.

“Hels, thank you.”

His stony expression softened, the corners of his mouth turning up into a gentle smile. Stepping into her, he bent his head down. The touch of his lips, featherlight against hers, sparked electricity in the contact. The tingling sent shivers vibrating through her.

“I will keep you alive, m’lady. I swear it.” The soft caress of his voice whispering against her mouth was nearly her undoing. He chuckled as she leaned into him, limp and warm. “If all I needed to seduce you was to slay a few dragons, I would have done so much sooner.”

His humor acted like a tonic on her electrified senses. Jerking back from his embrace, she fought for a modicum of composure. A flick of a glance up into his darkly serious eyes and Cassie suppressed a groan.

“Yes, annoying, aren’t I?” he teased.

She quirked a grin then sobered. The slices on his chest were already half-healed.

“Oh, now that’s a nice trick.” Her soft fingers traced the line of one of the deeper slashes. It closed to an angry red line. His flesh jerked and jumped under her touch.

He couldn’t hide the swift intake of breath. Cassie smiled, front teeth biting into her lower lip. A frisson of pleasure speared her at his reaction. Her fingers traced another quickly closing wound, but he caught her hand in his.

“We must travel swiftly now, m’lady. Your bag. Strong shoes. Quickly.” His stiff manner suggested he was just as reluctant to leave as she was, but a sideways glance at the destruction to her beautiful kitchen sent a shudder through her.

Cassie strode out of the room and headed for the stairs. She was going to need more than just a couple of outfits and some sturdy shoes. “Hels,” she called back over her shoulder. “The repairs here go on the Danae’s tab.”

His bark of laughter chased her up the stairs.

* * * *

An hour later, Cassie stared at the entrance to Grant Park with trepidation. She carried her clothing changes in a practical, navy-blue duffel. She’d trapped her frantically curling hair back into a ponytail and washed away the traces of their earlier battle.

She hated leaving her house in such a state of disarray, but they had no time to clean it, repair it, and she didn’t dare call the police. Helcyon moved like a warm shadow, flanking her. Yellow police tape marked the area of destruction. Tourists were at a minimum, and the air smelled of Chicago with a hint of breeze coming in off the lakes. In person, the damage didn’t seem to reflect the sense of loss. The scorched ground was littered with debris of wood and metal fragments that remained of the bandstand and podium.

A trashcan lay on its side, melted and scorched. Near the lip facing her, Cassie could see a white cup with a familiar green logo. Her heart paused between beats as pain filled the cavity.

“Peppermint mocha, just the way you like it,” Billy announced while pressing the hot cup of coffee into Cassie’s hands. She nodded absently, watching the scene being set as cameramen got into position and light meters were being tested. The podium stood forlorn in the sea of cables, cameramen, and reporters. Some of those reporters were checking their makeup, and others were catching a quick smoke away from the thick of the crowd. Cassie’s nose wrinkled faintly as the crisp smell of burning tobacco brushed her nose.

All that remained of that forlorn podium and reporters were sticks and ash. The smell of scorched earth and burned flesh still clung to the ground, and not even shallow breathing could keep it away.

“I knew you’d be back here.” The familiar voice jolted her from her reverie.

Chapter Seven

Six Months Ago…

“Cassie, your lunch appointment is here. I’ve set out the fresh fruit and salads in the conference room as well as the drafted contracts and extra pens. Do you need anything else?” Billy stood in the doorway to her office, holding out the white summer jacket and pale-pink jacket.

“The white, Billy, and that’s all. You had a lunch meeting yourself today, didn’t you?”

“Old girlfriend from college. She’s here in San Diego on business. I can reschedule it for you.”

Cassie strode out from behind the desk, finger combing her hair into a more patient style. Twenty minutes with a flattening iron every day kept her natural curls from taking over, but one could never take too much time with grooming.

“Don’t be silly! You never blow off a woman you have a date with, whether she is an old girlfriend, current girlfriend, or future girlfriend. Have I taught you nothing?”

Glancing in the mirror, Cassie checked her makeup. Subtle, soft, and feminine, the palest pink pearls worked well with the white jacket and pale-pink shell top. She’d waffled between white slacks and skirt that morning, but the slacks looked better with the rest of her ensemble and let her wear the three-inch heels. A definite plus when her clients all topped her diminutive five foot six by several inches. She may still be shorter, but she wouldn’t be craning her head up to look at them.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind. I know it’s taken you six months of dancing to get this company to the table.”

“Billy, you couldn’t sit in on the meeting anyway. The CEO is very particular about what she wants from me and what she wants from this company. It will be a one-on-one between her and me within twenty minutes of the party arriving. If you stay in there, it’ll just be one more hoop we have to jump through in order to get you out again.”

“You ever think that some clients are more trouble than they are worth?” Billy straightened up her desk, packing up the folders for clients she worked on in the morning and creating the neat office space she would need after she finished up negotiations today.

“Occasionally, but that is why they come to me. I cater to the needs of the client no matter how ridiculous or complicated the hoops. We may not appreciate why they want things done the way they do, but then look at Howard Hughes…”

“Hughes kept urine in a jar.”

“He was exceptionally wealthy and successful. Andrew Lee is another.” Cassie freshened up her makeup, adding just a touch of blush to her cheeks. She’d not been to the beach in several weeks. She needed to schedule some deck time so her tan didn’t fade to pasty whiteness.