Forged in Fire (13 page)

“There is mention of someone, a woman, a Vessel, in a prophecy. She will tip the scales one way or another in the war.”

“In what war? Like the Middle East or something?”

She shook her head. “The war between the hosts of heaven and hell.”

I blinked several times. “Excuse me?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “The hosts of the two realms have battled one another from afar, using humans as pawns, since the beginning. But there will come a time when the powers of light and dark will wage their war on this middle ground, on earth. This war will ultimately determine who reigns for eternity.”

“And when will this war take place?”

“It could be any time. Today, tomorrow, in a year, in a hundred.”

“Well, if it’s a hundred, then it definitely can’t be me.”

“Why is that?”

Could she be that bad at math?

“Umm, I’ll be dead by then. I mean, we have longevity in my family genes. I had a great grandmother who lived to ninety-six, but I doubt I’ll live to a hundred twenty.”

Her head angled to the right. Her eyebrows rose in a questioning way. The long rope of her golden braid fell across one shoulder. “Jude did not tell you?”

The way her words were spoken slow and low, my heart skipped a beat or two. “Tell me what?”

“All human Flamma are ageless. This would include you.”

Now my heart was really pumping. “Ageless. What does that mean? Immortal?”

“Not exactly immortal. Your human body can certainly die, there is no doubt. However, we do heal faster. All Flamma, that is. One of the perks of fighting nasty demons.”

My stomach muscles clenched, straining the stitches along my abdomen. Yes, definitely mortal, though I’d noticed the angry red line had already faded greatly beneath the stitches.

“Though not immortal,” she continued with my rapt attention, “you will not age beyond your current years, and you will not die of natural causes. At least, that’s what we’ve noticed of the Vessels we’ve been able to keep track of.”

A choking laugh escaped my throat. “Are you telling me I could live to be a hundred? And still look like this?”

“One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, who knows? Just as a Dominus Daemonum.”

I flinched. “You’re immortal? Jude is immortal!” My voice escalated into a fever pitch.

“Not immortal. Our physical form can die as surely as a regular human. Our souls are a different story, of course.”

She said the last with a sad sigh. I couldn’t get past the idea that Jude was much older than I’d originally thought. Holy crap! How old was he? This explained so much about his demeanor and crazy vocabulary sometimes. Ageless. You’d think I’d be past shocking revelations, having encountered shape-shifting demons and sifting hunters, but still my mind reeled from the idea.

“How old are you? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

She smiled. “I was born in 1803 in Manchester, England.”

I laughed. “Seriously?”

“I realize that may be difficult to accept, but it is true.”

“Difficult? You have no idea. So, how old is Jude?”

She glanced back up at the empty balcony. “Older than me.”

“When was he born? Where was he born?”

“I don’t know exactly. You should ask him, though I doubt he’ll tell you. He’s a bit secretive.”

“That’s an understatement.”

I bit down on my bottom lip. What the hell? What else didn’t I know? This was a huge piece of information that he failed to pass along. I was grateful for the forthcoming, albeit ridiculously beautiful, demon hunter sitting before me. The idea that I could outlive my father was not too distressing as that was always going to happen, but the idea that Mindy and my friends would continue to grow old while I remained the same gave me a sinking sensation. How could I keep friends for any extended period of time without them knowing? How could I ever possibly have a husband and children and watch them grow old and die, while I remained? The answer was clear—I couldn’t. My stomach clenched into a knot with all the tragic realizations passing through my mind.

I thought of Jude. Now, that forlorn, almost lonely expression he wore sometimes made total sense. How long had it been since his family and friends had died? I wondered if he’d ever been married. A stinging pang pierced my heart.

“Any more questions before we try our first lesson?”

I shook off this new revelation and thought for a minute. There was something I’d been wondering but was too afraid to ask Jude, mostly because I was afraid of the answer.

“Will I ever be able to protect myself from demons, specifically a high demon?”

Her dark eyes swirled with more green than black. So strange. From afar, the eyes of a demon hunter appeared normal, just dark. Up close, one could see the pools swimming with something not of this world.

“Yes. I think you will. I won’t lie. Most Vessels are unable to continue the battle against the dark forces seeking you for their own, but I believe you will. Even now I can feel your essence beating brightly within your chest. It’s almost blinding to my hunter senses. I’m surprised you aren’t being attacked all the time.”

“Actually, I am. Or at least, it feels like it.”

My fingers went to the bite on my neck. She fell silent, then finally spoke softly. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes held so much compassion. I knew the vicious mark was hidden, but she seemed to know it was there all the same. I felt the sharp prick of tears behind my eyes.

“I am. I almost wasn’t. He…he called me his bride.”

I knew my eyes revealed the same fear I felt yesterday when Danté had me in his arms, leering down at me as if I were the mouse being batted around by the cruel, creepy cat.

She squeezed my hand. “I understand your fear. But we will do everything we can to keep you safe.”

“But, his bride? I mean, what the hell?” My voice lapsed into cynical humor.

Kat didn’t laugh. “When a Vessel is taken in possession by a high demon, she becomes his—body
and
soul.”

I shuddered, inhaling deeply and letting it go.

“Thank God Jude came in time yesterday. The demon, Danté, must’ve sensed him coming. He sifted out a second before Jude walked up.”

She gave me a warm smile. “He will lay down his life to keep you from harm. Trust me on that.”

“But why?”

“He has his reasons.”

“Which are?”

“You should ask him.”

I sighed heavily. More evasion. Well, not exactly. Perhaps Kat didn’t really know and was just putting me off.

“Now then. Let’s get started. Give me your hands.”

She held out both hands, palms up. Warmth covered me like lapping waves on a sandy beach. She cast illusion over me. A very different signature than Jude’s iron-plated vise and flaming aura.

“Do you feel it?” asked Kat.

“Yes.”

The sensation of being immersed in warm water was strangely comforting, like a baby in the womb.

“One Flamma’s cast can call to another’s, so I think it best to start this way and see if we can draw yours all the way out. Okay. Close your eyes.”

I did so.

“Now, I need you to imagine the safest you have ever felt, whether it’s a specific memory or a place or a person. Doesn’t matter. Picture it in your mind.”

She paused. I thought for a moment. The safest I’ve ever felt? My mind wandered, then fell upon a repeated memory from childhood. Mother would come into my room at bedtime and read my favorites by Dr. Seuss. Nestled into the crook of her shoulder with one arm wrapped around me and the other holding a book, I was safe and loved and completely innocent of the encroaching darkness in our future. I could hear her sweet voice crooning to me.
“Today, you are you. That is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”

“Do you have it?” asked Kat, startling me from the memory. “No, keep your eyes closed. This is your safehouse. When casting illusion, especially to cast a strong shield, you must go to this safehouse. That is where you start. Concentrate on the memory now.”

I closed my eyes again. My mother’s golden-blonde hair tickled my cheek as she leaned down. She snuggled in closer and turned the page.

“There are words, chants,” Kat continued in a low voice, “chants for many different things. We hunters have our own for what we do, but there is one for casting illusion, for protection. In Latin, the words are:
Per vicis quod tractus intus vestri pectus pectoris, illic est a locus qua unus must satus, intus is sperma of spes illic lies a proeliator contego frustro totus oculus.
The chant means this: through time and space within your heart, there is a place where one must start, within this seed of hope there lies, a warrior shield to deceive all eyes. So, repeat the words while thinking of your safehouse.”

Thinking of my mother’s lovely pale eyes and warm smile, I repeated the Latin chant line by line as Kat said them once more. As I spoke the last line, I felt a concentration of heat pool within me, extending to Kat in a burning flash. In my mind, I saw a starburst of light, like fragments of the moon, explode into glittering brightness. She gasped and squeezed my hands. My eyes popped open.

“What? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?”

Her greenish-black eyes swirled. She shook her head once as if trying to awaken herself from a dream. Then shock melted into a wide, wide smile. She laughed that throaty laugh.

“Oh, Genevieve. I wouldn’t worry so much. Your casting is already at full strength. How, I don’t know. Simply amazing.”

I couldn’t help but grin back at her. She inhaled a deep breath. “Your defense is more than ready.”

“Really?” I heard my voice squeak. “So I could shield myself entirely from demons finding me now in public?”

“Oh, yes. If you shield yourself in this capacity, they’ll only see a pretty girl, nothing more.”

I was beaming.

“Now that your defense is in order, tomorrow, we will work on offense. Yes?”

“Yes.”

As she told me farewell and sifted out of the courtyard, I decided I truly liked Kat. She was genuine and compassionate. I grimaced at her ability to disappear and go wherever she wanted. Like Jude. I wondered how someone got that power. That would certainly come in handy.

I glanced at Eros and Psyche, frozen in passion, then went to find Jude. I was hoping he was watching television or something, but then I hadn’t seen a television anywhere in his house. What I didn’t want to do was interrupt another of his swordplay episodes in his training studio, all sweaty and half-naked.

Of course, that’s exactly where I found him.

Thankfully, he had his shirt on this time and was kicking a punching bag in the center of the room. Okay, kicking was putting it mildly. Tool’s “Schism” pumped through the room. At the end of each line “I know the pieces fit”, Jude would kick the hell out of the bag. The bag fell all the way to the floor with each roundhouse, slowly righting itself before he’d smash it again.

“What did the poor thing ever do to you?”

He snapped up, broad shoulders tense, face guarded. He walked to the iPod station and stopped the music. “How was the training?”

“Enlightening.”

He moved toward me in a smooth, slow manner. I’d seen that movement before. I watched this show on the Discovery Channel once where a lion walked into another pride to challenge the male leader and take over. His gait was sinuous, almost sultry, in his determined stride. I held Jude’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated. Well, trying anyway. He stopped only a few inches from me, totally in my personal space, where he seemed to like to be.

“Enlightening how?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I was ageless?” I bit out the last word as if it were offensive.

“Because there are some things you are not ready for.”

“How old are you?”

“Very.”

“Ha. Something else I’m not ready for?”

“No. I just don’t particularly like your attitude at the moment.”

“Is there anything else you deem me not ready for?”

His eyes flickered down my body and back up in a flash. “Yes. For now.”

“You’re infuriating, you know that? You’re really good at giving orders, making demands and dragging my ass to every hellhole in town, but you can’t answer a simple question of mine.”

“Not can’t. I won’t. At the moment.”

I was fuming. My mind and mouth switched gears, continuing to attack. “Why didn’t you warn me about Danté?”

I hadn’t seen him move, but he was imperceptibly closer. I could feel the heat radiating off his chest, pressed only an inch from mine. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you didn’t warn me demons could shape-shift into the appearance of other people. Like you.”

“They can’t shape-shift into just anyone. And I didn’t know the one who was hunting you was that sick fuck.”

He spat the last word with so much venom. His irises had gone super-black, and I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but some inner demon (pardon the pun) was poking me with a pitchfork and egging me on.

“You didn’t tell me that he wanted me for his bride either. I mean, hell, he got to sample the goods and everything, and I didn’t even know who it was that I was—”

His hands shot out, gripping my upper arms. I swear I saw flames licking around his shoulders, but I didn’t budge. I couldn’t if I tried. His fingers dug into my skin. There would definitely be bruises there tomorrow.

“What did you just say?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Answer me.”

His voice had dipped to that low, gravelly pitch. Full of trepidation, I could barely whisper when I finally replied, “I thought he was you.”

The storm raging in his eyes stilled. For a fraction of a moment, he held me there in his burning gaze. He struggled with something, though I didn’t know what. Finally, his brow softened. His grip loosened. Yet there was an edge of danger flaring between us, igniting to a melting point. One hand came up and tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. Slow and steady. I felt as if I’d been burned where his finger traced along my skin. Pleasantly so. The same arm snaked around my waist, his hand pressed at the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. I gasped. The other hand dropped my arm, gripping my hip instead. His thumb pressed against my pelvic bone. I resisted the urge to squirm. He dipped close to my ear, his breath hot against my neck.