Forged in Fire (14 page)

“Hold on tight, Genevieve,” he whispered, pressing me hard against his body. His lip grazed the sensitive shell of my ear. A warm tingle bloomed down low. “I wouldn’t want to lose you in the Void.”

“Wha-what?”

My brain had stopped functioning for a second. The exquisite torture of his body against mine had caused all circuits to misfire. Then I realized what he meant a split second before it happened. All air was sucked from my lungs. I wrapped my arms around his neck. A soft pressure seemed to fold me inward, pressing me into an enveloping darkness. We slipped fast, so fast, through a black void. Not all black. Unidentifiable images flitted by in flashes of white and gray. I had no idea what they were. Feeling the onset of motion sickness, I squeezed my eyes shut and clung to Jude. I felt the pressure of his unrelenting grip. Caged in muscular arms, I felt safe, despite the unnerving sensation of weightlessness as we crashed through time and space.

A soft whoosh, pressure gone, and all was still. I realized then I was panting with my forehead pressed into the center of Jude’s collarbone.

“Breathe, Genevieve,” he said huskily. “You’re home now.”

I opened my eyes. We were standing next to my bed in my apartment, my beige goose-down comforter half hanging off the bed. Some of my clothes were junked in a pile, including the last T-shirt of his I’d borrowed. I still clasped him around his neck, fingers laced at his nape, my body pressed intimately to his. I let go at once, stumbling back awkwardly. A crooked smile spread across Jude’s perfect face.

“Why don’t you give me some warning next time?”

“I did. I told you to hold on.” Still smirking.

“More than ten seconds’ warning please,” I said in a syrupy voice with a wide smile.

He chuckled. “Fine. At least ten seconds. Do you have class tomorrow?”

I shook my head. “I work at the dojo in the afternoon.”

“What time?”

“My first class is at one o’clock.”

A curt nod. “I’ll meet you back here in the morning for training with Kat, then drop you off at the dojo.”

I realized that he planned to escort me every place I planned to go for like effing forever. I rolled my eyes. “You know, Kat said my illusion casting is perfect. Maybe I don’t need an escort everywhere I go.”

“Mmm. I am sure you think that.”

“Seriously, Jude, I can drive myself to your apartment.”

“I am sure that you can. Nevertheless, I’ll be here at eight in the morning. You have my number. Call me if you plan to leave the apartment.”

I nodded, glancing at my shoes for no reason at all. He stepped closer. I fought the urge to retreat. He tipped my chin up with one finger.

“Genevieve,” he said, the scary vibe back in his voice. “Call me if you plan to leave this apartment.”

“I will.”

Maybe.

While still staring into my eyes, he sifted out with a snap. That was a little disturbing, to put it mildly. I sank down onto my bed, thinking of Malcolm. I’d promised him a movie date. Date. Yes, it would definitely be a date, and I was still trying to figure out how I felt about that. I certainly didn’t want Jude tagging along, watching from the corners, making Malcolm want to spit fire. For some reason, the idea of Jude hovering over us made me extremely uncomfortable. And I liked Malcolm as a friend. Maybe more. Jude wanted to control my every move. For my protection, of course, but Kat herself said I was more than able to shield myself from demons finding me. But, what if that demon prince came back?

“Arrgh!”

Okay. I’d have to tell Jude, but I was too cowardly to do it in person. So it had to be another text.

Me:
I’m meeting a friend for an 8:00 movie tonight at the theater on Prytania.

Jude:
A friend?

Me:
Yes. Please be discreet, if you come.

A lengthy pause as I turned on the hot water in the shower. Finally, my phone bleeped again.

Jude:
I’ll be there. You won’t see me.

I totally did
not
get a smiley face this time. “Okay, then. That’s sort of encouraging
and
disturbing.”

Taking a deep breath, I headed into the shower to get ready for my date.

Chapter Thirteen

“I still can’t believe you threw popcorn at those girls texting in front of us.”

“They asked for it. I mean, come on! How can you possibly do anything else while Gandalf is kicking ass onscreen?”

I laughed, totally loving Malcolm’s gushing rant on Jackson’s latest masterpiece. We sat across from each other at a small two-top in the back of the bar. Evanescence’s “Lacrymosa” crooned out of the jukebox next to the pool tables, where a few steroid boys yelled and laughed a little too loudly at their own antics. With the exception of a few other groups of two and three, the crowd was sparse.

I’d felt Jude’s presence all night—sometimes closer, sometimes farther away. Just as he’d promised, I never saw him. Even so, I continued to glance around, wondering how he hid from view so well, wondering what he thought or might say about my outing with my “friend”. The anticipation of our eventual tête-à-tête had my nerves on edge.

“You’re so much fun,” Malcolm suddenly blurted, taking hold of my hand across the table.

“Thanks.” The mood shifted from silly to serious. “You are too.”

He rubbed his thumb softly across my knuckles. His hand wasn’t clammy like the first time on the Riverwalk. His gaze held mine with a tender smile, his lips quirking up more on one side. I’d never noticed his eyes before. They were a shade of bluish green that changed hue in certain lights. Here, in the corner under a yellow lamp, they shone dark green, and were steadily fixed on me. I glanced down, my heart pounding in my chest. Not from butterfly feelings about Malcolm, but from what a certain stalking demon hunter might think of Malcolm holding my hand.

“I’m going to…” I pointed toward the restrooms, smoothly pulling my hand from his as I stood.

He nodded. “One more round?”

“Sure. One more.”

Malcolm headed to the bar, while I zigzagged around tables and through the pool area to the hall leading to the restrooms. I saw one of the muscle meatheads nudge his friend. Their attempt at low-talking was sadly inadequate.

“Nice.”

“Think she’d want to play with my pool stick?”

A vulgar gesture, I’m sure, sent them all into raucous laughter. Drunken idiots. Why must guys do stuff like that? I wanted to scream at them,
Can you please ogle me in a less conspicuous manner?
But of course that would defeat the purpose. And there’s no way they’d know what the word “conspicuous” meant.

I glanced to the right, avoiding their idiocy. One of their friends slouched over the front of the jukebox with both hands splayed on the top. His broad frame and beefy arms tensed as I passed, swaying slightly from side to side. The hazy light from the jukebox shone on a sickly pale face, eyes squeezed shut. I walked faster, afraid the guy might puke.

Zipping around the corner past the employee-only closet, I found the women’s restroom last on the left—a three-stall space, slightly roomier than one might think for this little dive. I did my thing and checked myself in the mirror while washing my hands. Glassy, dilated pupils around black-lined eyes radiated come-hither—the effects of lots of laughter, three beers and good company with a hot guy in a cozy place. I flipped the dark waves of my hair back over my shoulder and smeared balm on my lips, shoving it into my back pocket as I swung open the door.

“Ahh! Oh my God. You scared me.”

Big-and-beefy jukebox boy straddled the doorway, both arms gripping the frame. His head drooped low as he stared at the floor, swaying slightly.

“Dude. The men’s bathroom is behind you.”

He didn’t move. Well, except for the slow leaning of his body.

“Dude!”

I didn’t want to push on him for fear he’d tip over and never get up. Then I’d have to do the polite thing and go tell his perverted friends to come and get him.

“Hey,” I said, reaching out to tap his shoulder.

The second I touched him, a huge hand gripped my wrist. He snapped awake, reaching for my other arm. Piercing, blood-red eyes bore into mine.

“Oh, hell no.”

I kicked out, aiming at his groin. He blocked with his other hand. I twisted out of his grip, elbowing him in the chin and scurrying against the farthest wall. Trapped in this too-close space, I quickly scanned the room for some sort of weapon. Nothing.

He stepped fully into the room, closing the door and sneering with delight. It was then I realized my VS was no longer humming under my skin. Shit. Somewhere between the movies, beers and Malcolm’s sweet smiles, I’d lost concentration and let my shield slide away.

“So who’s your master?” I asked the hulking demon in front of me, hoping, praying he was a lower man on the totem pole. “Danté?”

His massive head tipped at an angle. This guy was way bigger than I’d realized. He blocked the door completely. There was no way to squeeze past him. I squared my feet, preparing for his attack.

He noticed and grinned, unmoving. “Danté?”

“Yes. Danté. You know, one of the princes of darkness. I’m sure you know him. You guys all hang in the same crowd.”

I sounded much more confident than I felt, a trembling now weakening my knees. He took one step toward me. I pressed back against the wall.

“My command comes from another master.”

“Great,” I mumbled. Two high demons after me. Then I remembered something. I pulled down the high collar of my button-down to reveal the bruised bite at my neck.

“Danté has marked me,” I said, hoping this would be enough to make him back off.

Jude hadn’t explained everything the mark meant, but I knew at the very least it was a warning to other high demons that I was taken. Jukebox-boy’s red eyes glimmered over the mark, then met mine again as he prowled forward, unperturbed. Definitely not the reaction I was hoping for.

“Danté will have to mourn your loss.”

My heartbeat fled into hyperspeed. His formal words were disturbingly out of sync with the muscular exterior. I reminded myself that it was a demon inside who spoke, not the man whose huge frame was crowding me in.

“What do you mean, loss?”

I shifted left, closer to a stall door. His hand flicked an oblong shape out of his back pocket. An ice pick! What the hell! I wondered briefly if he’d snagged it from behind the bar, which led me to ponder when and how lower demons hopped into their hosts. I didn’t wonder long as he stalked closer, caging me into the corner. My left hand slid up the stall door, gripping the top.

“True,” he sneered, glaring with so much menace I felt my pulse pounding in my throat, “it does seem a waste to dispose of so lovely a Vessel, but my master must have no challenger.”

He lunged. The ice pick jabbed straight toward my heart. I arched my torso back just in time, grabbing his arm with my right hand, thrusting it forward and slamming the stall door as hard as I possibly could. He grunted but didn’t drop the pick. The surprise gave me a split second to bend and duck behind him, darting for the door. As I gripped the door handle, a sharp pain stung my scalp. Yanking me by my hair, he dragged me back across the floor.

“No, no, my beauty. That won’t do,” he hissed.

He jerked my head to the floor, stretching my body out. With his hand gripping my hair, there was no way I could wiggle free. I rolled into a ball and kicked him squarely across the jaw over my head. He yanked harder, knocking my skull against the floor, clattering my teeth together. He pressed a knee onto my stomach, immobilizing me. My hands automatically gripped the wrist of the hand entangled in my hair, clawing hopelessly.

“Oh God, no,” I whispered, feeling tears prick, not sure if it was from the fear or the pain.

The demon bent low, malevolent crimson eyes glaring at me.

“He won’t hear you,” he whispered, raising the ice pick again.

I froze, watching the swing of his arm, but it never hit its target. A sharp pull on my scalp, then I was free, his weight no longer on my chest. Jude had the hulk of a man pinned against the wall. He’d sifted in superfast, a murderous expression tightening his face into hard, taut lines. A flexed arm shoved the point of his broadsword into the hollow of the demon’s throat. I scrambled back to the wall near the door.

“Give me your name, demon.”

The throaty malice of Jude’s command made gooseflesh rise on my arms. Jukebox-boy laughed, but not for long. Jude threw the sword aside with a clang, snapping the demon’s head back, cracking it against the wall and clenching the demon by the hair with violent force. The creature cried out. I felt some small vindication for the swelling lump on the back of my head.

Energy shifted in the room. A whirl of electricity crackled, emanating from Jude. The familiar aura of blazing flame licked around his shoulders, head and arms. An unnatural wind stirred the air.

“
Verum vel infinitas infinitio nex.
”

Jude bit out the words.
Truth or endless death.
I frowned in confusion. I couldn’t see Jude’s eyes but guessed the black had flooded them entirely. Angry scarlet eyes tried to resist Jude, but some force held him captive. My VS responded to whatever was taking place, flushing my body with a wave of starry light.

“Garzel,” grumbled the demon, his mouth twisting abnormally.

“Garzel,” commanded Jude, “give me your master’s name.”

The demon beat its head from side to side, trying to break free. Jukebox-boy’s head flopped to one side, while the demon’s true form popped its horned head out from within the human shell. Actually, the left horn was broken, the right curved like a goat’s. Jude snatched the unbroken horn like the handle of a motorcycle, chanting low and literally yanking the creature violently from the human form. One hard tug and the nasty creature was out, held aloft in Jude’s tight grip. Jukebox-boy crumbled to the floor, completely unconscious.

The creature was much bigger than the first one I saw in the alley on my birthday. Long, gray skeletal limbs dangled from a bony body. An oversize chest cavity and emaciated pelvis held together by papery, leather-like skin wrinkled over the bony frame as it twisted and writhed, beating against Jude. My demon hunter didn’t budge an inch. Still as stone. One of the beast’s arms contorted and shortened into a black bat wing, then elongated again into its regular, ghastly form with filth-encrusted claws.

“You cannot shape-shift away, Garzel. Give me his name!”

I flinched, never having heard such violence in Jude’s voice. Ripples of ethereal flame banked higher, reflecting in the demon’s serpentine eyes.

“No,” rasped the creature between tight lips, dribbling spittle.

The constant jerking of the demon had angled Jude so I could view his profile. He closed his eyes, not chanting but obviously doing something. My VS throbbed in response. I gasped. Then all was silent and unmoving. No, not silent. Deaf. I could hear nothing, absolutely nothing. A vacuum consumed all sound until only the faint thrum of my heart beat within my ears. The light deepened to darkest blue, touching everything with an eerie shade of twilight.

Jude opened his eyes but never moved. The demon hung there midair, no longer flailing, just staring wide-eyed into the mirror along the wall. I followed his gaze and gasped at the sight. The glass reflected a creature straight from darkest nightmares, from mythical underworlds, from horror stories of the ferryman and the Grim Reaper. Shrouded in tattered gray cloth, corpselike remnants of the grave lifted in a wispy wind that wasn’t there. Long, black-boned limbs extended from the gray trappings of death. A skeletal head of black bone, oddly stretched and angular, held eyes of liquid red. The words
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
came to mind. This being was the shadow of death personified, carrying with it the promise of eternal night.

The being floated closer, then crossed through the glass, sliding out of the mirror, gliding into our space, filling it up with static darkness. My heart beat faster, throbbing in my ears.

It spoke in a whispering breath. “
Acherontis pabulum.
”

A cold shiver shot up my spine. Ominous words.
Food for Acheron.
Confused and terrified, I could do nothing but watch.

“Garzel,” said Jude, his voice clipped and hollow. Sound resonated like something trapped in a jar. I shrank farther into the corner. “Give me your master’s name, or go to the Collector. Your choice.”

Jude didn’t even glance at the hovering specter only a few feet from him, but the gangly beast did, closing his blood-red eyes in resignation. “The Collector’s kiss.”

Jude still held the demon by one horn. “So be it.”

Without pause, he released Garzel the same instant the black-boned wraith opened its arms for an embrace. Sucked swiftly to the angel of death, its hideous head tilted, pressing a gaping, fleshless mouth to Garzel’s. At once, I heard and felt a piercing sorrow wash over me. Overlapping voices cried and wailed in soul-deep anguish. Hot tears streamed down my face though the pain was not mine. Pain that was sharp and intimate, as if the voices broke all barriers, piercing straight to my heart and shattering it into tiny pieces. Garzel’s sinister eyes glared at me, an unspoken warning, just as the Collector inhaled. The demon evaporated into a black stream of vapor, sucked into the mouth of the grim creature.

Jude bowed his head to the Collector. It swept one black arm outward in a regal gesture of farewell, slipped back into the mirror, then vanished. Instantly, the blue-tinged room brightened, and I could once again hear the hazy sound of music and voices from the bar.

Jude took two long strides and lifted me by my upper arms. His dark gaze shimmered with emotion—compassion, fear, frustration, anger. Definitely anger. He shook his head in slow motion from side to side, pulling me within a hairsbreadth of his chest. Black eyes scanned my entire face in a swift blink.

“Oh, Genevieve, Genevieve.” My name slipped from his lips like a broken prayer. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Must something be done with me?” I choked out, tears still coming, though I didn’t know why.

“Be calm.” His voice soothed. He brushed the tears from one cheek with his thumb. “Relax. The pain will disappear soon enough.” He brushed the other cheek, both hands cupping my face in warmth and safety. I closed my eyes.