Demon's Embrace (9 page)

“What is it?” she asked.

“Those cars,” he said.

With a lift of his chin, Ash indicated two cars that suddenly moved into the slow lane of the highway.

“I see them.”

“No doubt Templeton has his people searching the highway since this is the largest interstate around and it’s the last one we were on. It’s a logical assumption.”

It was likely they were looking around, trying to find them.

The pumps had been a temporary cover at best.

Ash had the sudden sense that the men in the car were likely calling for help since their last attempts to follow had been unsuccessful.

It was what he would have done if he could have, but he couldn’t. His brothers were too far away to come by any means other than flight, which might be noticed, and in any case they weren’t ready for this sort of a pitched battle. Not yet, not until they had
another refuge.

That was something they couldn’t afford and the reason why he, the best fighter and strategist among them save for Asmodeus, had been sent. If there was trouble he had the best chance of any of them.

The tank was full.

“We have to go,” he said, pitching the empty water bottle in the trashcan. “I’ll try to lose them in the interchange up ahead, so hold on as best you can.”

Beside him Miri nodded.

He quickly capped the gas tank and swung onto the bike. Miri scrambled on behind him.

He dared not race away from the pumps, not with so many vehicles converging on the exit, nor did he want to attract attention just yet. Before he wasted gas he wanted to be sure it wasn’t just his imagination.

Sure enough, he saw more black cars weaving their way through the on-coming traffic from the east as they reached the highway.

Ash opened up the throttle.

To no surprise, in his rearview mirror he saw two black cars race onto the highway from the next exit they passed and open up speed.

The chase was on in earnest.

He bent low over the handlebars to lower wind resistance, felt Miri crouch behind him to do the same.

Weaving in and out of traffic, behind him he could see their hunters do the same. Something about their movements told him that the gloves were off now. If they’d been cautious about drawing attention to themselves before, it was clear they no longer cared if they were noticed.

The interchange was as busy as it had been when he’d come through the day before, with a lot of truck traffic to shield them.

It would take timing… they would have to move quickly enough but not so quickly or recklessly that a truck driver would blow his or her horn and give them away.

He weaved in and out of traffic, the bike more maneuverable, waiting for the right moment, the right combination of factors.

Then he tucked the bike between two semis for just long enough for them to reach the division of the highways, and changed lanes just ahead of another semi, too swiftly for the fast moving black cars to see them and make the change. If they’d seen the shift at all.

Ash increased his speed and shifted to the next interstate, taking them north.

It was already later than he’d wanted it to be. Night was falling. They’d lost time on the back roads earlier. He’d hoped to be more than half-way home by now. Instead, they’d have to find someplace to stay for the night.

Scanning the roadside signs Ash saw an old battered sign that towered above the highway, yet the lights that normally would have illuminated it were dark. A For Sale banner had been draped from it. The banner didn’t look that old and the exit had the air of place the world had passed by. That had possibilities. He guided the motorcycle up the exit ramp.

He found a small deserted two-story motel that still looked relatively clean. Another new For Sale sign stood in front of the building and another was propped in the dark office window.

A victim of the economy and the influx of newer chain hotels and motels at other exits, it had clearly succumbed to its fate fairly recently. The parking lot was only a little clotted with weeds that tried to break through the tarmac but there were curtains in the windows still and no glass was broken. Yet.

Perfect.

The stars were bright overhead. He searched for the ones he knew. They were the one thing that had held from his youth, the name of those bright constellations. They were touchstones for him, familiar and known after being so long away. He could pick out the constellations of the Bear, of Pegasus, the north star still pointed north.

Ash pulled around to the back of the building in case their enemy still searched for them. The ancient dusk to dawn light in front, dimmed by the passage of time and the grime of exhaust, was still alight. It cast the rear of the building into deep darkness and he drove them into the thicker shadows there.

The parking lot was empty, occupied only by the great white bulk of a tank of natural gas to one side. It rose like a whale out of the darkness, slightly rusted with age, the blotches of rust like barnacles on its sides. Otherwise there was just the broad expanse of black tarmac, the lines that marked the spaces faded by time and light.

“It should be safe enough here,” Ash said, looking around as he helped Miri from the bike. He looked at her worriedly. “Are you all right?”

For all her brave words, she was still a college professor, an academic. The most of this kind of excitement she’d ever faced had likely been in movies and books. Reality was a bit different. Still, she’d held up remarkably well.

Miri looked up, clearly grateful for his steadying hand as he helped her off the bike.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, softly.

It took only a kick of Ash’s booted foot against the door to get them into one of the inner courtyard rooms on the second floor at the back of the small complex.

Looking around, the darkness no impediment to his enhanced sight, Ash nodded. “At least we won’t have to sleep as rough.”

While he’d slept out beneath the open sky many times in his long life and enjoyed it, it was just that little bit too cold, when there was no need to suffer he wouldn’t. Nor would Miri if he could help it.

And he needed the sleep to restore himself.

The room was musty, dark and dank from being closed up in the shadow of the great towering pines native to this area but a little magic took care of that. It would do well enough. He had just enough magic remaining for what he needed.

With a gesture, he conjured a few candles, scattered them around the room. A fire spell lit them.

Another spell banished any vermin that might have taken up homes in the carpet.

Lastly, he summoned some of the bedding from his old quarters on the ethereal plane, let it settle over the rusting bed frame that remained here so they would be suitably comfortable.

He conjured up some food, enough to give him some sustenance. At least they wouldn’t starve.

Looking around, Miri shook her head in astonishment. Candlelight lit the room warmly, softly.

The fear had worn off but she felt jittery and unnerved by the violence. Until now.

Magic. She’d felt it. The room had been nothing but shadows and darker shadows, Ash’s body sensed more than seen, the warmth of it a beacon beside her. Then, suddenly, there was light.

While she understood the concept from her vision of him and from what she’d seen of the ethereal planes, she’d never seen such profligate use of it.

The mattress overhung the full size bed frame by inches on each side and the sheets, judging by the rich golden sheen of them, were silk. A light quilted covering in a deep scarlet satin lay overtop of it. The candleholders were gold filigree.

A platter of meat appeared on the sole table, along with a thick round of bread, olives, cheese, fresh vegetables and a bottle of wine.

Miri just shook her head in wonder, turning to look at Ash.

In the dim light his stoic expression showed nothing but there was pain in him, it was evident in the way he stood. Blood had trickled from a wound in his arm and another in his thigh, staining his jeans. Small cuts and scratches were scattered over his arms. Those, at least, had stopped bleeding.

Both breath and heart caught as the bond between them echoed his hurt.

“Ash,” she gasped, pained.

Stepping closer, she could see the wound that had passed through one biceps. Half-healed, it had reopened under the twists and turns they had taken. It had to hurt like hell.

“Ash, my God,” she said, softly, stricken.

“It’s nothing,” Ash said, with a shrug. “They’ll heal.”

They would, eventually. They pained him but he’d taken worse, much worse, over the centuries. He’d become almost accustomed to pain over time. In time they would heal of their own accord.

 “There has to be something I can do. Magic up some bandages for me,” she said, clearly horrified. “The least I can do is clean and dress them.”

Ash smiled. Magic up. The phrase amused him. He would have chuckled but her gaze was so intent.

With a wave, he did as he was told and produced some antiseptic and a small package of gauze bandages from his house here on this plane. As one of the Healers among the Daemonae there were times when a simple dressing was far easier than magic, which cost energy. Or those times such as now when the Healer – who couldn’t heal himself – needed to be bandaged.

There was tenderness in Miri’s touch. It moved him to see the care she took.

It had been a long time since anyone had tended him and never with this kind of solicitude, not since his mother when Ash had been very small. Before they’d killed her.

For all the excitement and gunfire, for all her fear, Miri’s touch was gentle and her scent was soft. She smelled of the sea and Miri. As close as he was he couldn’t miss that delicate perfume as she gently cleaned the wound in his arm. For all the pain, there was Miri and her soft scent to ease it.

Seated on the edge of the mattress he’d layered on the bed, he was at eye level with her, all too conscious and aware of her attention on him, of her sea-foam eyes focused on the wound in his arm. Just her touch was enough to send heat coursing through him.

He studied her while he had the chance, while she was so close and so intent.

Save for those otherworldly eyes, she reminded him of a clever, pretty fox with that rich red hair and those high cheekbones. Her nose was straight, her mouth perfect, neither too thin nor too full. Candlelight flickered softly over her fine features, caught in the red and gold highlights in the rich waves of her hair as it cascaded around her face. The light was too faint for even his enhanced vision to see the light dusting of freckles over her nose.

To his eyes she was beautiful.

Aware of his regard, she slanted a look at him and the beauty of those celestial green eyes struck him nearly like a blow. His entire body went taut, his abs tightened and his cock stiffened. There was something in her eyes.

“I want to see you,” she whispered, her eyes on his. “All of you, Ashtoreth. The real you.”

Ash hesitated, fearful for once in his life as he looked back at her, knowing what it was she wanted. She wanted to see him, Ashtoreth, as he truly was. She would see what had been done to him, see the scars without his clothes and the concealing darkness to hide the worst of them from her.

It was one thing to see his Daemonae self in the heat of battle, this was something entirely different.