Demonosity (9 page)

“I
s it dead?” The stench was making her head spin, while unwanted adrenaline coursed through her body until she was unsure whether she should be laughing, crying, or collapsing into a heap.

“It is, but it won’t stay that way for long unless we burn it. And since I doubt you’ll be so lucky the next time you fight, we need to act with haste.”

“Lucky?” she spluttered, as the horrors of what had just happened started to catch up with her. Her shoulders ached from holding the sword, her dress was ripped, and she was pretty sure that the dark stuff on her arm was demon ooze. “You call this
lucky
? That thing tried to kill me. Like, for real.” But when he didn’t answer, she just let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. I’m acting with haste.”

She bit back her nausea and grabbed one of the arms of the dead demon so that she could roll it over, but the thing weighed a ton, and it wasn’t until her third attempt that she managed finally to half push, half pull it onto its back.

Her muscles screamed with pain at the exertion, but she knew better than to complain to Thomas. Up close the demon was even more hideous, almost like it was standing in a distorted mirror at the fair, with grotesque muscles making the reddish-black, decaying skin bulge like they had outgrown the body in which they were meant to serve. Then she caught Thomas’s impatient look, and she reached for the sword, which was still buried deep in the demon’s chest. Her fingers curled around the hilt and . . .
ouch
.

Pain enveloped her skull, and she instantly released her grip on the sword, clutching her ears as she dropped to her knees. But nothing could stop the vision of chaos that suddenly slammed through her mind.

A thousand screams.

House after house was burning. Person after person was bleeding. Crying, terrified, dead. And above them all was one person. Its face distorted, eyes filled with madness. And in the distance was a voice calling out to her: Pick me. Pick me.

“Cassidy.” Thomas’s voice dragged her out of the terrifying abyss, and she turned, surprised to see that his whole expression had softened so that even the angry scar didn’t seem quite so red. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know,” Cassidy said in a shaky breath as the tattoo on her arm prickled her skin. “I saw something. There was blood. So much blood.
Wh-what was it?
”

“Paris. The year 1151,” he said, the words sounding flat and dull as he uttered them. “A returning Crusader brought home something that he shouldn’t have. The Black Rose. He pulled it away from its guardians, and once he discovered its secrets, he inhaled the essence to become immortal. The guardians followed him, but they were too late and he killed them and almost destroyed Paris, which, as you saw, became ash and blood.”

“That was real? It happened?” Cassidy was overwhelmed with horror. “How did I see it?”

For a moment Thomas was silent; he clicked his jaw several times before he finally spoke. “I don’t know. I-I get visions. Some of them are what’s happened in the past. Some are what might happen in the future. All of them have the potential to be real. I didn’t expect you to get them as well,” he added before he once again stiffened. “Please. Our time is short. You must retrieve the sword, cleanse the blade, and burn the demon.
Now
.”

Cassidy was too perturbed by the vision to protest. Instead, she got to her feet and gingerly reached for the sword. She caught her breath as her fingers wrapped around the hilt, but this time there was nothing but the feel of rough, bound leather that had been crudely wrapped around the handle. Relief flooded through her, but after catching Thomas’s glare she refocused and used all of her strength to pull it out through the demon’s thick skin.

Once it was free, she threw it down to one side before she reluctantly searched for Nash’s lighter. Thankfully, the silver casing made it easy to find, and she walked back to the corpse, getting just close enough to set it alight. Then she waited until the flames danced and licked their way along the hideous body. She watched as they sparked higher and higher into the night sky, her eyes trapped like a hypnotic lure.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been standing there when the flickering fire suddenly sucked back in on itself, like a DVD being played in reverse. Then both body and fire were gone, as if they had never existed.

“And now the blade. You must run the fire along the blade to cleanse it of the demon filth,” Thomas said in a tight voice.

Of course she must. However, she couldn’t be bothered to argue, so she merely held the lighter up to the metal blade and watched as the flame went racing along the steel, turning a violent green color before disappearing. Leaving behind a blade that was clean of the blood that had been covering it only seconds earlier.

“Someone comes.” Thomas broke the reverie, and Cassidy once again held the sword up in the air just as Nash came crashing through the trees, holding a flashlight, his annoyance highlighted by the beam of light. She quickly lowered the blade before he noticed it.

“Cass, where the hell have you been?” he demanded. “Are you insane to go racing off after a freaking demon?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” She shielded her eyes from the flashlight to stop it from blinding her. “I told Reuben to keep an eye on you.”

“Yeah, well, Reuben’s a douche. Now come on, we need to get out of here . . . and what’s that smell? Have you been burning something?”

“Um.” She looked at him helplessly before turning to Thomas, who was still standing there, his impassive gaze as unflinching as ever.

“Do
not
say anything,” the knight warned.

“Who said that?” Nash waved the flashlight around the clearing, but despite the fact the beam landed directly on Thomas, he didn’t even blink. Then he turned back to Cassidy, confusion written all over his face. “Cass, seriously, what’s going on?
Is Thomas here?
Is that who was just speaking?”

“You can hear him?” Cassidy asked in surprise as she once again turned to Thomas. “How is that possible? My dad looked straight through you the other night and couldn’t hear you at all, so why can Nash?”

“He shouldn’t be able to.” Thomas folded his arms, looking dangerous. “The only way it is possible is if he’s touched the—”

“The grimoire,” Nash finished off, as his flashlight focused on the discarded book. He hurried toward it and bundled it up as if it was a small child. “It’s here. It’s not destroyed?”

“He knows about the grimoire?” Thomas hissed. “You have allowed
a nobody
to touch our most ancient relic?”

“Hey!” Cassidy was stung into retorting as everything started to catch up with her. “Nash isn’t a nobody, and since he cares about the stupid book more than I do, I think you should watch what you’re saying. Now you might as well show yourself to him. And figure out a way to let him read the grimoire, too. Nash is a lot smarter than I am, so if I’m going to have any chance of doing this thing, I’ll need his help.”

Thomas glared at her, but instead of speaking he bowed his head and began to chant something she couldn’t understand. When he looked up, Nash let out a small gasp, and she realized that her friend could now see the bad-tempered knight. She was guessing that he could now read his beloved grimoire as well.

“Thank you,” Cassidy grudgingly said to Thomas before she quickly filled Nash in on everything that had happened. From the sword through to the burning corpse that had disappeared from sight. By the time she finished, Nash was rubbing his jaw in fascination, his eyes bright with excitement.

“So it’s all true then?” He stared directly at Thomas. “There really is an elixir of eternal life? An essence?”

The muscles of Thomas’s face flinched. “The Black Rose gives eternal life, but it can also bring death and destruction to many. And as you have seen, the demons will stop at nothing to get it.”

“S-so how many demons are we talking?” Cassidy croaked, as the blazing amber eyes and fetid breath of the creature she’d just fought came crashing back into her consciousness.

“We’re talking more. There are
always
more, and they will keep on coming until they get what they want,” Thomas replied in a weary voice that sent a shudder through her spine.

Nash frowned. “I’m still not quite clear on how that all works. If the demons use blood magic to time travel, then how did you send the sword through?”

“These questions are not relevant,” Thomas snapped in annoyance before realizing that they weren’t going to let it go. “With earth magic we can still send inanimate objects through time. Though it is . . . draining,” he said, and Cassidy suddenly noticed that except for the angry scar on his face, his skin was pale and pinched.

“And the grimoire?” Cassidy demanded as she realized that she hadn’t asked nearly enough questions. “How did it get back into my purse? I—”

“The same way. Once the grimoire restored itself, we used earth magic to guide it back to your sack. But enough of this idle conversation, we need to concentrate on the Black Rose,” Thomas growled. “You are the guardian, which means you must return to the feast and identify the vessel.”

“That could be a problem”—Nash coughed—“since the party is over. Everyone thought the demon knight was some drunk college guy who was dressed up and looking for a fight. Unfortunately, someone called the police, and suddenly everyone disappeared quicker than when Mrs. Webster calls for volunteers to work on the school blog. Still, on the bright side, we know that it was someone who was there, so once we get a list of everyone who attended the party, it shouldn’t take too long to figure it out.”

“And what happens in the meantime?” Cassidy wanted to know.

“You need to get some sleep,” Thomas retorted after he had finished cursing under his breath. “Because I will be back here when the lauds bells ring to start your training. We have a lot to do.” Then without another word he was gone, and there was only a faint rustle of feathers to let them know he had ever been there. Nash opened his mouth to speak, but Cassidy shook her head.

“If you say, ‘This is extraordinary,’ I will scream,” she warned him as she stalked around the small clearing. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Sorry. And hey, you did the right thing.” Nash wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug.

“I hope so,” she said in a muffled voice. “I mean, it’s one thing to say no when a crazy guy turns up near my recycling bin, but it’s a bit harder to ignore it when my best friend is attacked by a freaking demon knight in the middle of a Halloween party. Plus, turns out that now I’m linked to the grimoire, I’m like a demon beacon. That means they won’t just come after me, they might come after my family and friends. Everyone’s at risk.”

“All the more reason to stop them,” Nash said as Cassidy finally stopped her pacing. She retrieved her purse and then dropped to her knees to where the sword was. She paused for a moment and took a deep breath before wrapping her fingers around it.

Thankfully, there were no visions, and since she was fairly sure that walking out of the woods with a lethal weapon probably wasn’t the best idea, she quickly slipped Nash’s jacket off and wrapped it around the sword. Then she glanced around and realized that she didn’t have a clue where they were.

“I don’t suppose you left any bread crumbs on your way in here?” she asked as Nash swung the flashlight around until he finally found a small pathway. Then he turned the light off for a moment and checked the stars before nodding for her to follow him.

“Who needs bread crumbs when we’ve got Orion marching across the sky?” Nash grinned as he shone the light down the trail. Cassidy knew better than to question him. Instead, she eagerly grabbed his waist, suddenly longing to get away from the suffocating feeling of the trees and scrub. Five minutes later they burst through the branches and skirted around the side of Cade Taylor’s now-quiet house to where Nash’s car was parked. Then she turned to Nash and wrinkled her nose. “By the way, what time do the lauds bells ring?”

C
assidy wasn’t sure what to expect the following morning as the pale pink sun finally decided to push some weak tendrils through the overhanging canopy of the woods, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Don’t drop your shoulder,” Thomas barked as Cassidy threw a slim, sharp knife at him. Unfortunately, she had recently discovered that not only were her knife-throwing skills less than stellar, but throwing things at an apparition was completely pointless. Thomas seemed indifferent to her mental turmoil. “Now try it again. And this time concentrate.”

“I
am
concentrating.” She gritted her teeth and pressed the blade into her leather-gloved hand so that the point was facing her. Then she drew back her arm before throwing it forward. Once she released it, the metal blade spun as it flew through the air before landing harmlessly on the sodden leaves that covered the dark, damp dirt, nowhere near the apparition of Thomas.

“Well, concentrate better,” he retorted in an unyielding voice. Today his coarse brown shirt was rolled up to his arms. Cassidy could clearly see a tattoo similar to hers running up his forearm; all around it were crisscrossing scars. And though they paled in comparison to the angry red welt that ran down his face, she was sure each of the cuts would’ve hurt. However, whatever suffering he had been through seemed long over, and his face and mismatched eyes were an impassive mask.

He had been waiting for her and Nash in the woods, and it was obvious from the scattered feathers that he wasn’t happy about it. Even though, as it turned out, lauds bells rang at five thirty in the morning, so the fact that Cassidy was even awake was a minor miracle.

However, it wasn’t just having to get up early and sneak out of her bedroom window. Once she and Nash had pushed their way through the tangle of creepers and low-lying bushes to reach the clearing, they had discovered that, as well as a knife, a small shield, and some leather gloves that smelled of sweat and looked like the bottom of someone’s foot, Thomas had also sent forward a shirt of heavy chain mail that he called a hauberk.

The mail was a dull metallic color, covered in tiny spots of rust. The undershirt that he insisted would protect her skin was hot and prickly and the most uncomfortable thing she had ever worn. Worse was to come when Nash had helped lift the hauberk over her head and onto her body.

It fell almost to her knees, but despite its length, the arms were too short, making Cassidy think it must’ve originally been made for someone younger than herself. She had felt sorry for any child who was thrust into battle. But that thought, and all others, left her head the moment the full weight pressed down on her shoulders and chest, like she was buried under a pile of stone, leaving her gasping and short of breath.

Cassidy marched over to retrieve the knife, the hauberk making it almost impossible to bend. Sweat beaded her brow from the exertion. She gritted her teeth as she tried to walk back, the heavy steel rubbing harshly against her skin despite the prickly undershirt. Then she turned and tried throwing again. Her shoulder immediately dropped, causing the knife to land in the pile of leaves with a thud.

“This is useless,” Thomas growled.

“I know.” Cassidy ignored the knife and sighed. She longed to wipe the sweat from her brow, but the heavy gauntlet made it difficult. Instead, despite the discomfort, she waved her arms in frustration. “Perhaps we could practice without all of this mail?”

“Non,”
Thomas corrected. “We could not. The demons you will be fighting are stronger than you and better shielded. The only reason I didn’t bring you more is because, even with the added power of the grimoire, you would never be able to bear the weight.”

“People wear
more
mail than this?” Cassidy groaned, wishing she could sit down but not sure if she would ever be able to stand up again. “Okay, so the mail stays, but didn’t you say that the grimoire had given me extra strength, and if you’re with me, then you can just tell me what to do, right? I mean, it worked last night, and—”

“Last night you were lucky; you can’t expect it a second time. The demons you will be fighting are all fueled by rage, strength, and insanity.” He clenched his fists, and Cassidy noticed that his hands were as heavily scarred as his arm.

“He’s got a point,” Nash piped up from the large fallen log where he was sitting, reverently studying the grimoire. His dark hair was casually tousled, and his pale blue eyes were lively with curiosity. It was easy to see that, despite being attacked last night, he was actually dealing a lot better than she was. Then he caught Cassidy’s beady glare and flushed. “Sorry, I just meant that I’ve found a section in the grimoire that talks about the demons. It says that they are highly trained warriors who will fight to the death to reach the Black Rose.”

“It does?” Cassidy suddenly felt the full weight of the metal shirt pressing down on her shoulders.

Nash nodded. “It does. And speaking of the Black Rose, I’ve just gone on Cade Taylor’s Facebook page to try to get an idea of who was at the party last night.”

“What are they saying about the demon attack?” Cassidy pulled off one of the gloves and wiped away the layer of sweat from her brow.

“Just that some smacked-out, sword-wielding college guy crashed the party. So far, I’ve got a list of fifty people, and all but three go to Raiser Heights High. The thing is, I was thinking about it. What if
I’m
the vessel for the Black Rose? After all, I was the one the demon attacked,” he reminded them. “And I’m most definitely a virgin. In fact, I would’ve thought that Cassidy and I were the only two virgins there. Me, because of my complete lack of interest, and Cassidy, because it was a better alternative than hooking up with Reuben. Plus, it would hardly be fair if Cass was both the vessel
and
the guardian. That’s just bad logic.”

“Nash.” Cassidy glared at him as she felt her cheeks start to flame.

“What? You don’t want me to talk about this in front of Thomas?” Nash asked in surprise. “Because I’m pretty sure he has no opinion at all on if we do or don’t hook up with anyone.”

“That’s hardly the point,” Cassidy retorted, still annoyed at him. However, when she looked at Thomas, it was obvious that Nash was right: the not-really-there knight looked completely indifferent to what they were discussing.

“You’re not the vessel that houses the Black Rose,” Thomas merely said, and if Cassidy hadn’t known better, she would have said that Nash actually looked disappointed.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I am a guardian, and when I see the Black Rose, even encased within its human vessel, it glows. Radiating out with a bright but terrible beauty. It will be the same for you.”

“Are you seri—?” Cassidy started to say before breaking off, since it hadn’t taken her long to realize that Thomas was
always
serious. “So now that Nash has a list of people who were at the party, I need to walk around and see who ‘glows’ at me?”

“That is correct. Now that you have said the oath and become a guardian, you will be able to see the Black Rose.” Thomas nodded before reluctantly sighing. “Unfortunately, with their blood magic, all the demons can
also
see the Black Rose, which is why it’s so important to protect the vessel.”

“Hey.” Nash looked up in excitement. “I was just reading about that in the grimoire. There’s an amulet you can make so that, when the vessel wears it, it makes them invisible to any demons, no matter how much magic they’re using.” Then he turned to Thomas. “Is this something that we could do?”

“It is possible,” Thomas admitted, but before Nash could begin to look too happy, he narrowed his eyes. “
However
. For the ritual to be done correctly, everything you use must be consecrated. You will find another chapter on that. If you master that, then you will master the protective amulet.”

“I’m on it.” Nash immediately turned the pages of the grimoire to find the chapter Thomas was referring to.

“So what about me?” Cassidy asked in a hopeful voice as she looked longingly at the water bottle that was sitting over by Nash. “Can I have a break?”

“Non.”
He shook his head. “You can pick up the knife and try it again.
And this time, don’t drop your shoulder. . . .
”

By three o’clock on Sunday, there was no part of Cassidy that didn’t hurt. Even her eyelids felt as if they’d been working out. At least she’d found it surprisingly easy to slip in and out of the house all weekend—her mom had been in her home office, and her dad had been either doing his exercises or talking to a legion of visitors who wanted to see how he was doing. Unfortunately, Nash hadn’t been so lucky and had been forced to go to a family lunch, which meant that Cassidy had been on her own. Then she realized that Thomas was looking at her expectantly, and she forced herself to concentrate.

“If you’ve stopped daydreaming, we can start working with the sword.”

“Really?” Cassidy was surprised, since so far everything they’d done had been with the knife. Thomas had said she would have a better chance of surviving if she could kill her enemies from afar, and so, after she had finally managed to hit the makeshift target, he’d drilled her in how to roll, kick, and duck—all while wearing the horrible bulky mail. She dropped down next to the sports bag that she had been using to store all the equipment in and looked at the sword. Ever since she’d had the vision of Paris burning, she had been scared to touch it, and so she sat there, staring at it with uncertainty.

“It won’t hurt you,” Thomas said, as if reading her mind. “Just because you got the vision, it doesn’t mean it’s your enemy. That sword has been my faithful companion.”

“It’s
your
sword?” Cassidy couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Oui.”

“But why did you send me your own sword? I don’t understand. What if you need it?”

For a moment he clenched his jaw before relenting. “The sword is . . . unique. It was a gift from my father. I sent it to you because what I ask of you is difficult. I can’t be there to fight myself, but my sword can.
It will help you.
”

“Is that why I got the vision the other night?” Cassidy’s voice was only a little above a whisper, despite the fact that she had only birds and insects for company.

“It is possible,” he admitted, his harsh features softening, making him look almost handsome in a brutal way, though his mismatched eyes were still laden with pain. Suddenly, she had the most overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his savaged face. “I feel . . . shame about that. I did not wish to pass on that particular burden.”

Cassidy managed to resist the urge to touch him and instead she solemnly nodded. “I’ll take care of it. It must mean a lot.”

“I do not value sentiment. My true father was not the one who raised me; my foster father did, and he taught me better than to worship before an inanimate object. The sword holds value to me only because of the power it affords me. Nothing else,” he said as the softness was replaced by a fierce expression, which rolled in like a storm. Cassidy shuddered at the mercurial change in his demeanor before she busied herself unsheathing the sword.

On Friday night it had been dark and her mind had been too filled with the smells of death and blood to pay any attention to it, but now in the cold afternoon light she could study it properly for the first time. Underneath the leather binding, she could see that the handle was the color of dull brass, with a circle at the top; at the bottom of the handle there was a flat bar, which Cassidy could only figure was to stop her hand from accidentally slipping onto the blade. Not something she was eager to do. She turned her attention to the blade itself. The metal was pitted with small nicks and imperfections, while down the center were a series of symbols that Thomas had told her were runes.

“That one is for strength, that one is for protection, and that one is for courage.” Thomas was suddenly next to her, his face carrying a more even expression, which Cassidy could only assume was his version of an apology. “My father carved them himself. If I’m not around to assist you, you must trust the sword. It will help you. The first thing we will work on is your stance, next blocking, and finally attack. Normally, you would spar with someone, but since you are alone, you will have to practice with me.”

“How will I know if I’ve hit you when you’re only air?”

“You will not hit me,” he assured her in a blunt voice. “I fear that your sword skills will be as poor as your knife-throwing skills. Now, let us commence.”

Cassidy, guessing that the moment was over, reluctantly got to her feet and put her heavy leather gloves back on. She winced as Thomas proceeded to bark out orders, urging her to bend her knees lower and hold the sword higher, making sure that the tension in her arms was stronger.

It was going to be a long afternoon.