Forsaken (The Netherworlde Series) (24 page)

“Relax,” he said to Jason. “This won’t take a minute.”

A sharp
bang!
ripped through the room
,
accompanied by a sudden flash of light that Jason mistook at first for another flare from the overhead strobe. At this, Mei shrieked and the Wyrm burst, a mess of blood and something black, ichor-like, splashing against Jason’s face, splattering back against the wall. Startled, Jason looked toward the door and saw a man standing just behind Sitri, a pistol clasped in his hands. It took a long, bewildered moment before recognition dawned on him. Jason had seen the man before, the black clothes and clerical collar: Gabriel Darrow, the young priest who had visited with Sam.

“Are you kidding me?” Sitri asked, pivoting slightly and dragging Mei in tow, keeping the gun shoved to her forehead. “A priest? They put you here as a
priest,
gatekeeper?”

He threw his head back and laughed, shoving Mei forward, then clubbing her in the back of the head with the pistol butt. He swung the gun around, leveled it at Gabriel and squeezed off a round, no warning, no hesitation. The bullet slammed into the priest’s chest with enough force to knock him backward, off his feet, crashing into the door frame and sprawling against the ground.

“Mei!” Jason cried as her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor in a limp, lifeless heap. In an instant, he shifted into the shadowy form of the Eidolon. Almost as quickly, he crossed across the room, hovering over Mei in an indistinct, smoke-like cloud.

Sitri saw him and his brows furrowed deeply as he brought the gun around again, taking aim right through Jason’s diaphanous form, straight for the back of Mei’s head.

No,
Jason thought and when Sitri fired, when the pistol discharged, he rematerialized again, his body crouched protectively over Mei’s, his shoulders and spine hunched to cover her head. The moment he physically touched her, he again dissipated into shadow, this time taking her with him, just as he had from J-Dog’s apartment.

They vanished before the bullet reached them, leaving it to punch into the floorboards, sinking deep and leaving a splintered wake. They reappeared in another of the museum galleries, with Jason cradling Mei in his arms, clutching her against his chest.

Momentarily disoriented, stumbling dizzily, Jason fell to his knees, struggling not to drop her in the process. He laid her gently against the floor and pushed her hair back from her face as he leaned over her. “Mei? Mei, can you hear me?”

She groaned softly but didn’t stir. At the sound of more gunshots in loud, rapid-fire succession, his gaze whipped to over his shoulder, his eyes wide in alarm. He knew he needed to get Mei out of there, to someplace safe.

But that priest,
he thought.
Gabriel Darrow. He’s still back there. He saved me.

He had no idea where in the museum he was, or how to get back to the chamber of horrors, but when gunshots rang out again, sharp and loud, coming from his right, he got to his feet and headed in that direction, leaving Mei behind. As he rounded a corner along the way, he plowed nearly headlong into Gabriel, who had been limping down the corridor from the opposite direction.

The two men scrambled back from each other in wide-eyed surprise, and Gabriel swung his gun arm up, his pistol still clasped in his fingers, the barrel leveled at Jason’s chest. He’d been stumbling along, nearly doubled over, his free hand clasped against his gut, and Jason could see blood streaming through his fingers, soaking into the dark fabric of his shirt.

“You’re hurt,” he exclaimed, reaching for Gabriel.

He froze when Gabriel jerked the gun in warning, not lowering his arm or his aim. “Get out of here,” he seethed through pain-clenched teeth. “Sitri’s still back there. You can’t let him find you again. Go someplace safe and stay there until tomorrow. Then get to Saint Stephen Martyr, the parish house. Come and find me.”

“What about Sitri?”

“I can hold him off, but not for long,” Gabriel said grimly. “He’s stronger than me.” He moved his hand from his gut long enough to give Jason a surprisingly firm shove, leaving a bloody handprint on his clothes. “Go, goddamn it, before I shoot you myself.”

Jason ran back to the gallery where he’d left Mei. He stooped, gathering her in his arms again. She moaned at this, her eyelids fluttering open.

“Wh-what…?” she murmured. “What’s going on?”

“No time to explain. Can you stand up?” he asked, setting her on her feet when she nodded, letting her lean unsteadily against him. She reached for the back of her head, grimacing, and when she drew her fingertips away, they were spotted with blood.

“What the hell happened?” she croaked.

From behind him, more gunshots rang out, and she jerked against him, crying out softly in frightened surprise. “I’ll tell you later. Can you walk?” Jason asked and she nodded again. He slipped his arm around her waist. “Come on. We have to hurry.”

They stumbled together down winding corridors and through dimly lit exhibits, trying to find the exit. When they staggered out into the lobby, bursting through a pair of heavy drapes marking the doorway, Jason laughed out loud in hoarse, shuddering relief.

“I called the police,” the cashier bleated from behind the ticket booth, peeping up from over the edge of the counter, her eyes enormous, her voice quavering with fright. “They’re on their way. I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re in big trouble!”

Jason ignored her, catching the door against his hip and shoving it open, squinting against the sudden bright glare. He led Mei outside, blinking in the sunshine and momentarily blinded. When he could see again, he saw a loose cluster of teens standing nearby, watching them with wide-eyed apprehension—Mei’s friends, the ones who had given him the drugged wine.

“Uh, hey, Mei,” Liang said as Jason hobbled toward them, leading Mei in clumsy tow. “What’s going on in there, huh? We thought we heard gunshots. You okay?”

Mei paused long enough to give him a withering glare. She pulled away from Jason, balled her hand into a fist and knocked the boy on his ass, landing a fierce right hook square in his nose.

“Fuck you, Liang,” she said, spitting at him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I was clubbed in the back of the head once,” Jason told Mei, kneeling in front of her as she sat against the edge of the bed in their hotel room. He’d filled a small trash can liner with ice, then wrapped it in a towel and leaned forward, reaching behind her to press it gently against the base of her skull. A nasty goose egg was forming here, and blood had dried, crusting in her hair.

“A guy hit me with a beer bottle, just like in the movies. Sorry,” he said when she jerked, sucking in a sharp, pained gasp.

“It’s okay,” she mumbled, but her eyes were glossy with tears. He’d set another ice pack against her hand, resting against her bruised and swollen knuckles, and she held it lightly in place with her free hand.

It seemed surreal that they were sitting there making small talk when less than an hour ago, he’d been hacking his way through a swarm of demons. Mei hadn’t stopped trembling since they’d entered the room, and her eyes were somewhat dazed and distant with shock. When she spoke, her voice was small and quiet. “Why’d he hit you?”

“He’s an asshole,” he replied, drawing a quick but discernablediscernible smile from her. “Trust me. His name’s Dean Abbott. He’s a doctor. And he was in love with Sam, my girlfriend.”

He told her about that night, the fight in which he’d knocked Dean flat on his ass.

“Good for you,” Mei exclaimed.

“Yeah, well, not so good in the end. I told you Dean’s a doctor? So’s his dad, as in the chief of staff at Midtown Hospital, second cousin to the governor or some such bullshit. So Dean gets off the hook, not even a fine, while me, I went to jail for ninety days on assault charges, had to fork out a hundred and fifty bucks in fines and court costs, plus about ten thousand dollars in medical bills the son of a bitch choked up.”

“
Ten thousand?
”
Mei gasped, eyes wide.

Jason smiled with little humor. “Hey, it’s expensive work, recapping teeth and reconstructing a broken nose.”

“No, I mean, you had
ten thousand dollars
you could just blow like that?”
Mei said, and not for the first time, Jason found himself charmed by her ingenuousness.

“I didn’t, no,” he said. But Sam had. And she’d offered to give it to him.

“
We can work it out in trade,” she’d told him with a wink, wriggling against him suggestively as they’d spooned together in bed. He’d stiffened at her offer, not in a sexual way, but in an insulted, too-proud-for-his-own-damn-good sort, then shoved back the covers and abandoned the bed.

“
Where are you going?” Sam had been genuinely bewildered as he’d stomped into the bathroom.

It was a man’s place to provide for his family. That had always been Jack Sullivan’s mind-set, and thus, had always been Jason’s too. More often than not, he and Sam had avoided the topic of money because it was the only sore spot between them, and one which Sam had been pretty much unaware of. Jason had taken out a second mortgage on the tavern so he could repay Dean’s medical bills, too ashamed and humiliated to accept Sam’s offer.

“Jesus,” Mei laughed again, snapping him from his thoughts. “Punching someone out, doing time for assault. You know, you seem like such a nice guy, cute but sort of lame—”

“Thanks for that.”

“And now I find out you’ve got this whole secret
cool
life thing going on I wouldn’t even have suspected. It’s kind of hot.” Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry for what happened back at the waterfront.”

He drew back from her, his brows narrowing, his expression growing somber. “What’d they put in the wine?”

“Special K, I think,” she said quietly as he stood and walked toward the windows. “It’s sort of like Ecstasy. It makes you feel good, makes you do things. It can make you see things too. Things that aren’t really there.” She said this last in a small, tremulous voice, as if she hovered on the brink of tears again. “Liang meant it as a joke,” she offered, and Jason uttered a sharp, humorless bark of laughter as he parted the heavy curtains with his fingertips and glanced outside.

He turned to her, folding his arms across his chest. She was trying to play on his sympathy, and even though her words sounded honest enough, her expression earnest and remorseful enough, he was hard-pressed to believe her. “There was no camera, was there?” he asked. “At J-Dog’s apartment. That’s not why you wanted me to take you there.” When she still didn’t answer, didn’t as much as move, he continued. “There was no rape either. You made all that up to get me to feel sorry for you, agree to help you.”

You always have to play the hero.
Again, Eddie’s words came to mind.
Some pretty girl comes in here with tears in her eyes and a sob story, and off you go, riding to the rescue
.

“You went to his apartment to get drugs. He had a stash somewhere in his closet and you knew about it, so you went back there and stole it. That’s where all your money came from, isn’t it? What you were doing this morning, your so-called favors from friends. You were out selling drugs.”

“Jason, I…I…” She began to tremble again and he heard her sniffle, a soft gasp against tears.

I’m not falling for it this time,
he thought, his brows narrowing as he struggled to steel himself.
Not this time.

“But you didn’t sell all of it, did you?” he demanded. “You needed some for yourself. That’s why you tried to get that money at the strip club. So you could buy drugs.”

Her tears spilled and her bottom lip quavered as she nodded.

“What is it?” he asked. “What are you on, Mei? Tell me right now, or I’m out of here. I swear to God, I’ll leave your ass.”

“Heroin,” she mumbled, more tears falling. “It’s heroin, all right? J-Dog got me into it. I’m not a junkie, though.” Her eyes were round, glossy and pleading. “I’m not, Jason, I swear. I don’t shoot up. I just snort it sometimes, like last night, just to relax, you know. To forget about shit for a while.”

“You used it last night?” he asked, surprised, then mentally kicked himself in the ass, remembering how she’d seemed dazed to him when he’d stepped out of the shower. He’d thought she was suffering from shock, but understood now.
She was on a nod, snorting dope right here in the hotel room.

“He hurt me,” she cried. “The other night, when we met, I’d caught him with another girl, a dancer from the club. He was fucking her in the apartment. We started fighting and he tried to choke me. I just wanted to teach him a lesson.”

“Was the Special K in the Mad Dog your idea?”

“No,” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “No, Jason, no, I’d never do that to you. I—”

He laughed. “You’d never what? Lie to me? Trick me? Jesus Christ, Mei, you haven’t done anything
but
lie to me since I met you.”

“Me?” she cried. “What about you? I know that shit at the wax museum wasn’t all in my head! And yesterday, that wasn’t a meth lab explosion, and I know that too. You know what happened, you know what’s going on, don’t you? Don’t you?”

She clapped her hands over her face and wept. Something in him crumbled, the part of him that could never resist a woman’s tears, that always had to ride to the rescue, as Eddie had so duly noted. Jason went back to the bed and knelt in front of her again.

“Hey,” he said gently, stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she said, over and over. “I want to stop. I’ve tried but I can’t. It’s always on my mind. I think about getting high all the time, except…” She looked up at him, tearfully. “Except when you’re around. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why, but I don’t need it as bad around you. It’s like you do something somehow and I’m okay for a while.”